Soon the elves were standing on the path and their leader spoke.

‘You are safe,’ he said. ‘Welcome to the land of Sheigra. I am Faraid, battle leader of the sea elves and I have come to take you to Saurelon, Lord of the Sea. It came to us that you were assailed by the forces of Dréagg and you were long overdue. Come now, drink this; it will revive you until you can rest and eat in the caves of Elgol.’

From under his garments of spun silver Faraid produced a flask and handed it to Nab, who raised it to his lips and drank deeply of the sparkling liquid inside. The colour he could not see but the flavour reminded him of the sweetness of sun-ripened clover and he could feel it coursing through his body, reviving and refreshing him. He passed it to Beth and then Faraid took the flask back and poured it into a large bowl-shaped shell inlaid with mother-of-pearl for the animals to drink from.

When they had drunk their fill and vitality and life had begun to appear once more in their eyes, Faraid led the little band out over the marsh with the elven army following behind. They shuddered with repulsion as they walked through the area of battle and saw the black blood seeping out of the goblins’ wounds and mixing with the stagnant oily waters of the bog. The whole area was now thick with the foul stench that escaped from these wounds and the animals found great difficulty in getting their breath. They picked their way between the fat ugly bodies lying where they had been felled and could hardly bear to look at the faces which in death were even more vile than in life. The hideous puffy features were twisted and contorted and the slavering viscous lips had pulled themselves into such an attitude of hatred and contempt that even in death they still made the animals feel afraid. The sight of death reminded Nab of Golconda and he told Faraid of the goblins’ treatment of the heron but the elves already knew because they had passed the awful spectacle on their way.

‘He is once again whole, and will rest content,’ said the elf, and Nab was relieved for he felt guilty that he had ever doubted Golconda’s allegiance and could not help feeling in some way responsible. This was yet another animal who had laid down his life for him and the thought of their love and faith made him feel intensely humble.

Slowly, as they walked, the mist started to become less dense and the ground less marshy and then suddenly they were dazzled by the sunshine of a warm March afternoon. The golden light seemed to bathe them so that all the evil and horror of the marsh was washed away and became a memory. Now they were standing on the edge of a small flat area of trees, heather and tall grass, a patchwork quilt of browns and greens, and at the far end of it they could see, glistening and sparkling in the sun, the sea. None of them except Beth had ever seen it before and that first magic glimpse of blue vastness was something that would live for ever in their minds. For Beth, to whom the sea was as precious as the land, it was like a homecoming, and her heart beat in excitement and anticipation as her memory was stirred by the cry of the gulls and the salty breeze that blew against their faces, and into her mind and soul came recollection of all the enchanted moments she had ever had by the sea in the past.

The animals stood on the clifftop, gazing out in wonder over the sea. There was a strong wind and the surface was quite rough and choppy so that hundreds of little white horses raced towards the shore, gaining speed and strength as they got nearer and finally crashing down on the little rocky beach below where they were standing. At either end of the beach a huge column of rocks jutted out into the sea and as the waves smashed against them fountains of spray were thrown up violently to fall in little harmless showers all around. Sometimes the sun caught the spray and shone a rainbow through it which lasted for no longer than the blinking of an eye and then was gone. Nab and Beth stood with their arms around each other for the wind that blew their hair back from their faces was cold and the dampness of the marsh still clung to their bodies. The savage strength and might of nature, which is perceived inland but rarely seen, was here exposed, visible and awesome and, standing next to this vast, constantly moving mass, Nab felt very humble and small. His problems and worries seemed to be taken from him by the ceaselessly changing blue-green depths to be lost in the ripples and eddies of the water as it rushed in among the rocks. He was mesmerized by all this movement and he lost himself in the patterns and rhythms of the waves charging in and then retreating, charging in and retreating, on and on until he became one with the sea.

Beth, very cold but happy and relieved that their ordeal in the marsh was over, found herself looking at the elves as they stood scattered in ones and twos along the top of the cliff. Although Nab had told her about the wood elves of Ellmondrill she had been unprepared for the intense fascination which she felt towards them. She was entranced by them. ‘Elves,’ she said slowly to herself as if it was a magic chant, and then again, as if in disbelief that they were really there: ‘I’m with the elves’. Their existence, of course, is rumoured amongst the Urkku and Beth recalled some of the stories she had heard from her mother when she had been read to at night, but no one, not even the Eldron, believed that they really existed. Where the idea of elves came from no one could say but nevertheless they were dismissed as fantasy. Fantasy! Here they were with the golden sun glinting off their helmets and shields and their faces turned into the wind. The battle with the goblins had taken its toll and they were regaining their lost energy and strength at this, their Scyttel, so that they stood or sat in stillness and silence and let its power break over them. Beth stared at them, amazed that she could have been unaware of their existence for so long, and the sight of their fragile and delicate beauty pulled at her heart and brought tears of melancholy to her eyes. The other animals were sitting in a row alongside, all quietly looking out to sea, feeling the magic of this place and moment wash away the evil of the bog until they felt clean again and the awful memories had been blown away. Only the tall white figure of Golconda striding through the darkness like a bright star on a moonless night remained in their thoughts from their time in the marshes. He was whole again and, as they looked towards the horizon, sometimes, far out to sea, they thought they could see him flying low over the waves, his great wings slowly beating up and down and his long beak pointing forward to carve a way for himself through the air. Then, as they blinked, he was gone to reappear somewhere else.

Eventually, as the sun began to descend in the sky, Faraid stood up and producing a large horn-shaped shell from his belt, he blew upon it to produce a long low mournful sound which seemed to boom out over the sea long after he had removed the horn from his lips. He waited a while and then blew again and the call echoed and bounced off the cliffs and on to the rocks below and then rolled over the waves until it faded in the distance. This time there came an answering note from out at sea, forcing its way through the roar of the waves and the cry of the wind until it came to them where they stood; a sound full of sadness and suffering but not despair, for within its deep tones lay hope. The elves then stood up and began to move off along the cliff and Faraid came over to them.

‘You look better,’ he said happily, for their eyes, which when he had found them in the bog had been flat and dull with misery were now sparkling and bright. The wind and sun had also dried them out and the mud and dirt on their coats and on the garments worn by Nab and Beth had turned to little flakes which they had easily removed. Brock, who hated to be dirty, had spent a long time cleaning himself and then he and Sam had groomed each other so that now their fur shone; the one deep and black, the colour of ebony, and the other, the gold of the sun on an autumn afternoon. Warrigal’s feathers lay even and perfectly placed and Perryfoot stood on his hind legs with his ears erect and his body quivering with alertness.