Tales from Watership Down (14 page)

One evening, as they were making themselves comfortable in the straw on the floor of an old barn, Rabscuttle said, “We’re not far from home now, master. I can feel it all through my body, can’t you?”

“Well, I can’t feel it all through
your
body,” replied El-ahrairah, who was often unable to resist gently testing Rabscuttle, “but I can feel it, all right. All the same, I’ve got the notion that we may have to get past some big obstacle or
other before we get there. We’d better keep a good lookout and go carefully. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it, to stop running so close to home?”

It was getting late in the afternoon of the next day when they came in sight of a thick forest. It was no ordinary forest, as they could see. To right and left it stretched way into the distance, and there seemed to be no gaps or openings which might have been the beginnings of paths through the tangle of trees and undergrowth.

“I’m afraid there’s no help for it,” said El-ahrairah, when he had gazed at the forest and pondered for some time. “Through that nasty-looking place we’ll have to go. I can tell that, can’t you?”

“All too clearly, master, I’m afraid,” answered Rabscuttle, sitting down in the grass and cleaning his face with his front paws. “But we can’t do it on our own. We’re going to need some kind of help. It would never do just to go plunging into a place like that by ourselves. We’d be lost in half an hour and dead in half a day.”

“What sort of help, though?” asked El-ahrairah. “We’d better start by trying to find someone who knows a bit more about it than we do.”

They had not gone far toward the forest before they came upon a huge rat, almost as big as El-ahrairah himself. It was sitting in the sun and no doubt, thought the rabbits, meditating on the details of some vile and murderous scheme. Neither of them liked the look of it at all, but all the same, thought El-ahrairah, as the rat eyed him silently
with an evil and cunning expression, we’ve got to start somewhere. He greeted the rat politely and sat down beside it on the edge of a ditch.

“I wonder if you can give us some advice,” he began. “We’ve got to get through that forest.”

“What for?” asked the rat, its whiskers twitching unpleasantly.

“To get home,” said El-ahrairah.

“Then how in bones and blazes do you come to be here?” asked the rat.

“It was on the orders of Lord Frith,” answered El-ahrairah. “We had to undertake a long journey at his bidding. We’re lucky to be alive. But now we’re going home.”

“You’re not home yet,” said the rat, showing its yellow teeth in an odious grin. “Not yet. Oh, no.”

El-ahrairah made no reply, and for a little while there was silence.

“You’ll never get through that forest,” said the rat at length. “No one ever has, so far as I know.”

“Do you know anyone who might help us, perhaps?” asked Rabscuttle.

“The only creature who might be able to help you, if he had a mind to it”—the rat sniggered—“would be Old Brock; but he’d be more likely to eat you than help you.”

“Where can we find him?” asked El-ahrairah.

“He’s not easily found,” replied the rat. “He’s always up and down along the edge of that forest, grubbing about. If you go up and down the edge too, he may find you. It’s as
good a way to be killed as any. Why should he help you? Have you thought of that?” It gave a sudden leap and was gone through the hedgerow.

It was getting on for ni-Frith on the following day before the two rabbits reached the outskirts of the forest. They were rough and wild, and to look further into it was not encouraging, to say the least. There seemed to be no big trees, which they took to mean that the trees were never thinned or cut back at all. The forest was an unkempt wilderness. The trees grew together so closely that even now, at midday, they shut out a great deal of the light. The undergrowth was thick; so thick; that even the rabbits, accustomed to creeping through difficult places, could not see any way through it. They went further along the edge and looked again, but saw nothing better. El-ahrairah, who was persistent and not easily discouraged, continued looking along the outskirts for a long time, but at length was forced to admit himself at a loss.

“I suppose we’ll have to try to find that Old Brock the rat talked about,” he said to Rabscuttle.

“But if he’s as likely to eat us as help us?” said Rabscuttle.

“He won’t eat me in a hurry,” replied El-ahrairah. “I tell you, I’m
determined
to get through that forest, and if it can only be done with the help of Old Brock, then I’m going to find him. And I’ve just had a thought. We’re probably more likely to find him by night than by day, confound it.”

Rabbits do not care to be about in darkness, which frightens them. Dawn and evening are their natural activity times. That night, even El-ahrairah felt a good deal of apprehension about setting out along the outskirts of the forest. The waning moon gave very little light, and every slight night sound, its source only to be guessed, was like an alarm. They made little progress and startled continually. However, they were lucky (if a swift outcome to a search of this kind could be called “lucky”). The night was not half gone when El-ahrairah, crouched at the foot of a tree and listening carefully, suddenly felt himself held down by a great paw, while a deep but very low voice said, “What are you doing here? Why are you here at all?”

El-ahrairah was half smothered and could not speak. It was greatly to Rabscuttle’s credit that he did not run away but answered, “We are looking for—er—Lord Brock. Are you he, my lord?”

The huge badger made no move to release El-ahrairah as it said, “If I am, what does it matter to you? Why have you been looking for me?”

“We have to go through the forest, my lord—through it to the other side. It’s our only way home. We’ve been told that nobody but you can help us.”

At this, the badger raised its paw and allowed El-ahrairah to crawl out and sit up. It looked at the rabbits with a grim and hostile expression.

“Why do you suppose that I’ll help you?”

“We have come a long way and overcome many
difficulties and dangers. We know you are the lord of this forest and can spare or kill whomever you choose. Pray, my lord, be patient while I tell you what we have undergone and how we come to be here.”

And then, squatting in the waning moonlight at the feet of the lendri, El-ahrairah told it of King Darzin and the plight of his rabbits, of how Rabscuttle and he had confronted the Black Rabbit of Inlé, and of the dangers they had encountered in their journeyings since that time. “And we beg you, my lord,” he ended, “to grant us your protection and help to overcome this last obstacle between ourselves and a peaceful homecoming. If there is any way in which we can help you or be of service to you, we’ll gladly undertake it. You have only to command, and we’ll do your bidding.”

“I have a sett near here,” growled the lendri. “You had better come with me.”

They went with it as best they could along the tangled forest verge until they came to a kind of shallow pit, in one side of which was a great hole. In front of this lay a pile of earth mixed with withered grass and bracken. The lendri went down the hole, and the rabbits followed.

It was a daunting place: a maze of tunnels, leading in all directions and extending, so it seemed, over long distances. Indeed, the tunnels were so long that the rabbits became exhausted and had to beg the lendri to let them rest. But after a short time it became impatient and went on without a word, so that they were forced to stumble along behind it as best they could or else be left alone in the dark.

At last it stopped at a place which seemed no different from any other in the tunnels, except for being lined with straw and dried grass and for the overpowering stench of badger. The lendri lay down, waited for the rabbits to come up and then said, “How do you suppose that you can be of use to me?”

“We can forage for you, my lord,” said El-ahrairah.

“Tell us what you eat, and we’ll find it and bring it to you.”

“I eat everything. Chiefly worms; and beetles, caterpillars, grubs, slugs and snails when they’re to be found.”

“We’ll bring you plenty, my lord, if only you’ll guide us through the forest when you’re ready.”

“Then you can start now.”

It led them back aboveground to the forest verge. And now began surely the strangest life that rabbits can ever have led. Each night they met the lendri and foraged with it, sometimes in the forest, but usually in fields and even in the gardens of nearby houses. It was a long and tiring business, for the lendri was voracious and kept them at work until daybreak and sometimes after. It was horrible work for rabbits. Often they dug in wet places for worms or, after rain, simply collected them aboveground. They carried them to the lendri in their mouths: not only worms but also slugs and snails and every small living creature they could find. Sometimes, although it was late in the season, they came upon pheasants’ nests, and the lendri would crunch up the eggs with relish. Mice could often be caught, since by instinct they were not afraid of rabbits. At first the rabbits
were nauseated by mouthing worms and slugs, but as they grew used to it, they ceased to be troubled at all.

Harder to bear was the dislike and contempt they incurred among their fellow creatures. As they became known in the fields and copses, they came to be universally hated and despised. For several nights, from tree to tree, a squirrel followed them, chattering, “Slaves! Lendri’s slaves! Work harder or Master will be angry.” On another night a wounded and helpless rat sneered, “I’m delighted to be of use to the cowardly rabbits.” Owls gave warning of their approach, and voles squeaked insults from the safety of their holes. It was as depressing and unnatural a life as could be for rabbits, by nature gregarious and the least carnivorous of creatures. They grew surly and short-tempered with each other and often felt on the point of giving up the disgusting work and running away. And yet they knew the lendri was their only hope of getting home.

At the outset they had supposed that as they got to know the lendri it would treat them in a more friendly way. However, it did not. Its manner to them remained bleak and cold. It seldom spoke except to give orders or warnings of danger, or to find fault with something they had done. It never commended their work. Initially El-ahrairah did his best to converse with it, but was met only with silence or inattention. They grew less alert, less swift, less responsive to the countless signals that healthy rabbits continually receive from the wind, from scents and from noises and movement round about them.

One cold, wet morning, when they both felt worn out by a long night of carrying worms, Rabscuttle said, “Master, do you think we could get the lendri to
say when
it will release us and take us through the forest? For I don’t know how much more of this I can stand; and you don’t look or smell right either, for the matter of that.”

El-ahrairah plucked up courage to ask the lendri that night, but the only reply he got was: “When I’m ready. Work harder and I may feel like it.”

One night they met a hare in the fields. After the usual scornful and wounding words, it ended, “And why you’re doing it I can’t imagine and nor can anyone else.” El-ahrairah explained why they were doing it. “And do you seriously suppose that that lendri will ever let you go and help you on your way?” asked the hare. “Of course it won’t. It’ll simply keep you working until you either die or run away.”

At this, even El-ahrairah felt close to despair. Yet had he only known it, Lord Frith was not so far away from his faithful rabbits as they thought.

Two or three nights later, as they were digging for worms quite near the sett, Rabscuttle noticed a place where the ground had been newly disturbed. “Look, master,” he said. “Look at all that loose earth. That’s not been dug long. It wasn’t like that the other day. It’ll be a good place for worms, don’t you think?”

They began digging in the soft soil. They had not dug very deep before El-ahrairah paused, sniffing and hesitating. “Come over here, Rabscuttle, and tell me what you think.”

Rabscuttle also sniffed. “There’s something been buried, master, not so long ago. Something that’s been alive but isn’t now. Should we let it alone?”

“No,” replied El-ahrairah. “We’ll go on.”

They dug deeper. “Master, that’s a hand, the hand of a human being.”

“Yes,” said El-ahrairah. “The hand of a woman. And if I’m not mistaken, the whole body’s there. It wouldn’t smell like that otherwise.”

“Surely we’d better leave it, master?”

“No,” said El-ahrairah. “We’ll uncover some more.”

In the darkness and silence, they went on digging until it was plain that a whole human body had been buried.

“Now just leave a light covering of earth,” said El-ahrairah, “and we’ll go away and forage somewhere else. What we want is for human beings to find that body, and soon.”

It was two days, however, before a man, wearing heavy boots and carrying a gun, came strolling along the verge of the forest. The rabbits, watching from the mouth of the sett, saw him catch sight of the newly dug ground, stop to look more closely, then go up to it and kick away some of the earth. As soon as he was sure of what was there, he marked the place with a torn-off branch and set off running as best he could with his gun and clumsy boots.

“Now we’ll go and tell the lendri,” said El-ahrairah.

Having heard what they had to tell him, the lendri joined them near the mouth of the sett. They had not long
to wait. A hrududu, full of men, drove up and stopped nearby. The men got out and began surrounding the place where the body lay, with posts which had blue-and-white tape running between them. More men came, until there seemed to be men everywhere, talking together in loud voices.

The lendri, plainly very much afraid, turned and went back down the tunnel as fast as it could. The two rabbits followed it.

“We
must
keep up with it,” panted El-ahrairah, “wherever it goes.”

Scrambling and stumbling, they followed the lendri down a side tunnel where they had never been before. It seemed not to have been used for some time past. In places it was partly blocked by fallen earth, which the lendri flung aside or behind it with great strokes of its Paws. The rabbits were showered with earth and sometimes struck painfully by small stones, but still struggled on behind the terrified lendri, which was clearly intent upon nothing but getting away from the men.