CHAPTER FIVE: PUDDLEGLUM

JILL was asleep. Ever since the owls' parliament began she had been yawning terribly and now she had dropped off. She was not at all pleased at being waked again, and at finding herself lying on bare boards in a dusty belfry sort of place, completely dark, and almost completely full of owls. She was even less pleased when she heard that they had to set off for somewhere else—and not, apparently, for bed—on the Owl's back.

“Oh, come on, Pole, buck up,” said Scrubb's voice. “After all, it is an adventure.”

“I'm sick of adventures,” said Jill crossly.

She did, however, consent to climb on to Glimfeather's back, and was thoroughly waked up (for a while) by the unexpected coldness of the air when he flew out with her into the night. The moon had disappeared and there were no stars. Far behind her she could see a single lighted window well above the ground; doubtless, in one of the towers of Cair Paravel. It made her long to be back in that delightful bedroom, snug in bed, watching the firelight on the walls.

She put her hands under her cloak and wrapped it tightly round her. It was uncanny to hear two voices in the dark air a little distance away; Scrubb and his owl were talking to one another. “He doesn't sound tired,” thought Jill. She did not realize that he had been on great adventures in that world before and that the Narnian air was bringing back to him a strength he had won when he sailed the Eastern Seas with King Caspian.

Jill had to pinch herself to keep awake, for she knew that if she dozed on Glimfeather's back she would probably fall off. When at last the two owls ended their flight, she climbed stiffly off Glimfeather and found herself on flat ground. A chilly wind was blowing and they appeared to be in a place without trees. “Tu-whoo, tu-whoo!” Glimfeather was calling. “Wake up, Puddleglum. Wake up. It is on the Lion's business.”

For a long time there was no reply. Then, a long way off, a dim light appeared and began to come nearer. With it came a voice.

“Owls ahoy!” it said. “What is it? Is the King dead? Has an enemy landed in Narnia? Is it a flood? Or dragons?”

When the light reached them, it turned out to be that of a large lantern. She could see very little of the person who held it. He seemed to be all legs and arms. The owls were talking to him, explaining everything, but she was too tired to listen. She tried to wake herself up a bit when she realized that they were saying goodbye to her. But she could never afterwards remember much except that, sooner or later, she and Scrubb were stooping to enter a low doorway and then (oh, thank heavens) were lying down on something soft and warm, and a voice was saying:

“There you are. Best we can do. You'll lie cold and hard. Damp too, I shouldn't wonder. Won't sleep a wink, most likely; even if there isn't a thunderstorm or a flood or the wigwam doesn't fall down on top of us all, as I've known them do. Must make the best of it—” But she was fast asleep before the voice had ended.

When the children woke late next morning they found that they were lying, very dry and warm, on beds of straw in a dark place. A triangular opening let in the daylight.

“Where on earth are we?” asked Jill.

“In the wigwam of a Marsh-wiggle,” said Eustace.

“A what?”

“A Marsh-wiggle. Don't ask me what it is. I couldn't see it last night. I'm getting up. Let's go and look for it.”

“How beastly one feels after sleeping in one's clothes,” said Jill, sitting up.

“I was just thinking how nice it was not to have to dress,” said Eustace.

“Or wash either, I suppose,” said Jill scornfully. But Scrubb had already got up, yawned, shaken himself, and crawled out of the wigwam. Jill did the same.

What they found outside was quite unlike the bit of Narnia they had seen on the day before. They were on a great flat plain which was cut into countless little islands by countless channels of water. The islands were covered with coarse grass and bordered with reeds and rushes. Sometimes there were beds of rushes about an acre in extent. Clouds of birds were constantly alighting in them and rising from them again—duck, snipe, bitterns, herons. Many wigwams like that in which they had passed the night could be seen dotted about, but all at a good distance from one another; for Marsh-wiggles are people who like privacy.

Except for the fringe of the forest several miles to the south and west of them, there was not a tree in sight. Eastward the flat marsh stretched to low sandhills on the horizon, and you could tell by the salt tang in the wind which blew from that direction that the sea lay over there. To the North there were low pale-coloured hills, in places bastioned with rock. The rest was all flat marsh. It would have been a depressing place on a wet evening. Seen under a morning sun, with a fresh wind blowing, and the air filled with the crying of birds, there was something fine and fresh and clean about its loneliness. The children felt their spirits rise.

“Where has the thingummy got to, I wonder?” said Jill.

“The Marsh-wiggle,” said Scrubb, as if he were rather proud of knowing the word. “I expect—hullo, that must be him.” And then they both saw him, sitting with his back to them, fishing, about fifty yards away. He had been hard to see at first because he was nearly the same colour as the marsh and because he sat so still.

“I suppose we'd better go and speak to him,” said Jill. Scrubb nodded. They both felt a little nervous.

As they drew nearer, the figure turned its head and showed them a long thin face with rather sunken cheeks, a tightly shut mouth, a sharp nose, and no beard. He was wearing a high, pointed hat like a steeple, with an enormously wide flat brim. The hair, if it could be called hair, which hung over his large ears was greeny-grey, and each lock was flat rather than round, so that they were like tiny reeds. His expression was solemn, his complexion muddy, and you could see at once that he took a serious view of life.

“Good morning, Guests,” he said. “Though when I say good I don't mean it won't probably turn to rain or it might he snow, or fog, or thunder. You didn't get any sleep, I dare say.

“Yes we did, though,” said Jill. “We had a lovely night.”

“Ah,” said the Marsh-wiggle, shaking his head. “I see you're making the best of a bad job. That's right. You've been well brought up, you have. You've learned to put a good face on things.”

“Please, we don't know your name,” said Scrubb.

“Puddleglum's my name. But it doesn't matter if you forget it. I can always tell you again.”

The children sat down on each side of him. They now saw that he had very long legs and arms, so that although his body was not much bigger than a dwarf's, he would be taller than most men when he stood up. The fingers of his hands were webbed like a frog's, and so were his bare feet which dangled in the muddy water. He was dressed in earth-coloured clothes that hung loose about him.

“I'm trying to catch a few eels to make an eel stew for our dinner,” said Puddleglum. “Though I shouldn't wonder if I didn't get any. And you won't like them much if I do.”

“Why not?” asked Scrubb.

“Why, it's not in reason that you should like our sort of victuals, though I've no doubt you'll put a bold face on it. All the same, while I am a catching of them, if you two could try to light the fire-no harm trying-! The wood's behind the wigwam. It may be wet. You could light it inside the wigwam, and then we'd get all the smoke in our eyes. Or you could light it outside, and then the rain would come and put it out. Here's my tinder-box. You won't know how to use it, I expect.”

But Scrubb had learned that sort of thing on his last adventure. The children ran back together to the wigwam, found the wood (which was perfectly dry) and succeeded in lighting a fire with rather less than the usual difficulty. Then Scrubb sat and took care of it while Jill went and had some sort of wash—not a very nice one—in the nearest channel. After that she saw to the fire and he had a wash. Both felt a good deal fresher, but very hungry.

Presently the Marsh-wiggle joined them. In spite of his expectation of catching no eels, he had a dozen or so, which he had already skinned and cleaned. He put a big pot on, mended the fire, and lit his pipe. Marsh-wiggles smoke a very strange, heavy sort of tobacco (some people say they mix it with mud) and the children noticed the smoke from Puddleglum's pipe hardly rose in the air at all. It trickled out of the bowl and downwards and drifted along the ground like a mist. It was very black and set Scrubb coughing.

“Now,” said Puddleglum. “Those eels will take a mortal long time to cook, and either of you might faint with hunger before they're done. I knew a little girl—but I'd better not tell you that story. It might lower your spirits, and that's a thing I never do. So, to keep your minds off your hunger, we may as well talk about our plans.”

“Yes, do let's,” said Jill. “Can you help us to find Prince Rilian?”

The Marsh-wiggle sucked in his cheeks till they were hollower than you would have thought possible. “Well, I don't know that you'd call it help,” he said. “I don't know that anyone can exactly help. It stands to reason we're not likely to get very far on a journey to the North, not at this time of the year, with the winter coming on soon and all. And an early winter too, by the look of things. But you mustn't let that make you down-hearted. Very likely, what with enemies, and mountains, and rivers to cross, and losing our way, and next to nothing to eat, and sore feet, we'll hardly notice the weather. And if we don't get far enough to do any good, we may get far enough not to get back in a hurry.”

Both children noticed that he said “we”, not “you”, and both exclaimed at the same moment. “Are you coming with us?”

“Oh yes, I'm coming of course. Might as well, you see. I don't suppose we shall ever see the King back in Narnia, now that he's once set off for foreign parts; and he had a nasty cough when he left. Then there's Trumpkin. He's failing fast. And you'll find there'll have been a bad harvest after this terrible dry summer. And I shouldn't wonder if some enemy attacked us. Mark my words.”

“And how shall we start?” said Scrubb.

“Well,” said the Marsh-wiggle very slowly, “all the others who ever went looking for Prince Rilian started from that same fountain where the Lord Drinian saw the lady. They went north, mostly. And as none of them ever came back, we can't exactly say how they got on.”

“We've got to start by finding a ruined city of giants,” said Jill. “Aslan said so.”

“Got to start by finding it, have we?” answered Puddleglum. “Not allowed to start by looking for it, I suppose?”

“That's what I meant, of course,” said Jill. “And then, when we've found it—”

“Yes, when!” said Puddleglum very drily.

“Doesn't anyone know where it is?” asked Scrubb.

“I don't know about Anyone,” said Puddleglum. “And I won't say I haven't heard of that Ruined City. You wouldn't start from the fountain, though. You'd have to go across Ettinsmoor. That's where the Ruined City is, if it's anywhere. But I've been as far in that direction as most people and I never got to any ruins, so I won't deceive you.”

“Where's Ettinsmoor?” said Scrubb.

“Look over there northward,” said Puddleglum, pointing with his pipe. “See those hills and bits of cliff? That's the beginning of Ettinsmoor. But there's a river between it and us; the river Shribble. No bridges, of course.”

“I suppose we can ford it, though,” said Scrubb.

“Well, it has been forded,” admitted the Marsh-wiggle.

“Perhaps we shall meet people on Ettinsmoor who can tell us the way,” said Jill.

“You're right about meeting people,” said Puddleglum.

“What sort of people live there?” she asked.

“It's not for me to say they aren't all right in their own way,” answered Puddleglum. “If you like their way.”

“Yes, but what are they?” pressed Jill. “There are so many queer creatures in this country. I mean, are they animals, or birds, or dwarfs, or what?”

The Marsh-wiggle gave a long whistle. “Phew!” he said. “Don't you know? I thought the owls had told you. They're giants.”

Jill winced. She had never liked giants even in books, and she had once met one in a nightmare. Then she saw Scrubb's face, which had turned rather green, and thought to herself, “I bet he's in a worse funk than I am.” That made her feel braver.

“The King told me long ago,” said Scrubb—“that time when I was with him at sea—that he'd jolly well beaten those giants in war and made them pay him tribute.”

“That's true enough,” said Puddleglum. “They're at peace with us all right. As long as we stay on our own side of the Shribble, they won't do us any harm. Over on their side, on the Moor-Still, there's always a chance. If we don't get near any of them, and if none of them forget themselves, and if we're not seen, it's just possible we might get a long way.”

“Look here!” said Scrubb, suddenly losing his temper, as people so easily do when they have been frightened. “I don't believe the whole thing can be half as bad as you're making out; any more than the beds in the wigwam were hard or the wood was wet. I don't think Aslan would ever have sent us if there was so little chance as all that.”

He quite expected the Marsh-wiggle to give him an angry reply, but he only said, “That's the spirit, Scrubb. That's the way to talk. Put a good face on it. But we all need to be very careful about our tempers, seeing all the hard times we shall have to go through together. Won't do to quarrel, you know. At any rate, don't begin it too soon. I know these expeditions usually end that way: knifing one another, I shouldn't wonder, before all's done. But the longer we can keep off it—”

“Well, if you feel it's so hopeless,” interrupted Scrubb, “I think you'd better stay behind. Pole and I can go on alone, can't we, Pole?”

“Shut up and don't be an ass, Scrubb,” said Jill hastily, terrified lest the Marsh-wiggle should take him at his word.

“Don't you lose heart, Pole,” said Puddleglum. “I'm coming, sure and certain. I'm not going to lose an opportunity like this. It will do me good. They all say—I mean, the other wiggles all say—that I'm too flighty; don't take life seriously enough. If they've said it once, they've said it a thousand times. 'Puddleglum,' they've said, ‘you're altogether too full of bobance and bounce and high spirits. You've got to learn that life isn't all fricasseed frogs and eel pie. You want something to sober you down a bit. We're only saying it for your own good, Puddleglum.’ That's what they say. Now a job like this—a journey up north just as winter's beginning, looking for a Prince that probably isn't there, by way of a ruined city that no one has ever seen—will be just the thing. If that doesn't steady a chap, I don't know what will.” And he rubbed his big frog-like hands together as if he were talking of going to a party or a pantomime. “And now,” he added, “let's see how those eels are getting on.”

When the meal came it was delicious and the children had two large helpings each. At first the Marsh-wiggle wouldn't believe that they really liked it, and when they had eaten so much that he had to believe them, he fell back on saying that it would probably disagree with them horribly. “What's food for wiggles may be poison for humans, I shouldn't wonder,” he said. After the meal they had tea, in tins (as you've seen men having it who are working on the road), and Puddleglum had a good many sips out of a square black bottle. He offered the children some of it, but they thought it very nasty.

The rest of the day was spent in preparations for an early start tomorrow morning. Puddleglum, being far the biggest, said he would carry three blankets, with a large bit of bacon rolled up inside them. Jill was to carry the remains of the eels, some biscuit, and the tinder-box. Scrubb was to carry both his own cloak and Jill's when they didn't want to wear them. Scrubb (who had learned some shooting when he sailed to the East under Caspian) had Puddleglum's secondbest bow, and Puddleglum had his best one; though he said that what with winds, and damp bowstrings, and bad light, and cold fingers, it was a hundred to one against either of them hitting anything. He and Scrubb both had swords—Scrubb had brought the one which had been left out for him in his room at Cair Paravel—but Jill had to be content with her knife. There would have been a quarrel about this, but as soon as they started sparring the wiggle rubbed his hands and said, “Ah, there you are. I thought as much. That's what usually happens on adventures.” This made them both shut up.

All three went to bed early in the wigwam. This time the children really had a rather badnight. That was because Puddleglum, after saying, “You'd better try for some sleep, youtwo; not that I suppose any of us will close an eye tonight,” instantly went off into such aloud, continuous snore that, when Jill at last got to sleep, she dreamed all night about road-drills and waterfalls and being in express trains in tunnels.

第五章 普登格伦姆

吉尔睡着了。从猫头鹰会议一开始，她就哈欠连天，现在彻底进入了梦乡。她被再次吵醒时，一点儿都不开心　，而且她发现自己躺在一个满是尘埃、一团漆黑的钟楼里的光秃秃的地面上，周围几乎挤满了猫头鹰。当她听说还要骑在猫头鹰的背上，出发去别的地方——显然不是去睡觉——心里更加不开心了。

“噢，好啦，波尔，精神一点儿，”斯克罗布的声音说，“毕竟，这就是冒险啊。”

“我讨厌冒险了。”吉尔没好气地说。

不过，她还是答应爬到闪亮羽毛的背上，当猫头鹰驮着她飞入夜空，冷得出奇的空气令她彻底清醒了过来（只是清醒了一会儿）。月亮已经不见了，天空中也没有星星。她能看到，在她身后很远的地方，唯一一扇还亮着灯的窗户高出地面不少，无疑，那是凯尔帕拉维尔城堡的塔楼的一扇窗户。看到这灯光，她非常渴望能回到那个舒服的卧室里，缩在床上，望着壁炉里的炉火。她把手藏在斗篷下面，把斗篷紧紧拉着裹在身上。她听着黑暗的空中距离不太远的地方传来的两个声音，感觉非常怪诞：那是斯克罗布和他的猫头鹰在聊天。“他听起来一点儿都不累。”吉尔想。她没有想到他过去在这个世界中进行过伟大的冒险，纳尼亚的空气令他重新拥有了和凯斯宾国王一起向东方海洋航行时获得的力量。

吉尔不得不掐自己以保持清醒，她知道如果她在闪亮羽毛的背上打瞌睡的话，很有可能会摔下去。最后，两只猫头鹰结束了飞行，她四肢僵硬地从闪亮羽毛身上爬下来，站到一片平地上。一阵冷冽的风吹来，看起来，他们是在一片没有树的地方。“嘟——呜，嘟——呜！”闪亮羽毛叫道，“醒醒，普登格伦姆。醒醒，是狮子的事情。”

过了很长时间都没有回应。最后，在很远的地方，出现一点隐约的微光，离他们越来越近。随即传来一个声音。

“猫头鹰啊！”那声音说，“什么事？国王死了？有敌人踏足纳尼亚了？发洪水了吗？还是出现了龙？”

光线照到他们身边，他们这才知道原来那是一只大灯笼。吉尔几乎看不清那个举着灯笼的人。他的身体似乎只有腿和胳膊。两只猫头鹰和他说话，解释一切，但吉尔太累了，没有听他们说什么。当她意识到他们在跟她道别时，她努力让自己清醒一些。但是之后，她就记不清了，只记得，不知过了多久，她和斯克罗布弯腰钻进了一道矮矮的门，然后（噢，真是谢天谢地）躺在了一个又软又暖的东西上，一个声音说：“就在这里吧。我们已经尽了最大努力了。你们躺着会觉得又冷又硬，还很潮湿，我一点儿都不觉得奇怪。你们很有可能根本睡不着，即便这儿没有雷雨或洪水，或者这棚屋也不会塌下来砸在我们所有人身上，正如我知道的那样。必须要尽力去……”那声音还没说完，吉尔就睡得沉沉的了。

第二天早上，孩子们很晚才醒过来，他们发现自己躺在一个光线暗淡的角落里的两个又干燥又温暖的稻草床上。阳光从一个三角形的开口照射进来。

“我们到底在哪儿啊？”吉尔问。

“在一个沼泽怪的棚屋里。”尤斯塔斯说。

“一个什么？”

“一个沼泽怪，别问我是什么东西，我昨晚没看清。我要起来了，咱们去找找它。”

“一个人穿着衣服睡觉，醒来后的感觉真是糟透了啊！”吉尔说着坐了起来。

“我刚刚还在想起床后不用穿衣服有多好啊。”尤斯塔斯说。

“或者也不用洗漱，我猜。”吉尔轻蔑地说。但斯克罗布已经起来了，打着哈欠，抖擞了一下精神，便爬出小屋。吉尔也跟他一起出去了。

他们发现外面和他们昨天看到的纳尼亚截然不同。他们是在一片广袤的平原上，只是这里被难以计数的水道分隔成了难以计数的小岛。这些小岛都覆盖着不平整的野草，岛边长着芦苇和灯心草，时不时地会出现一片一英亩大小的灯心草地。云集在一起的鸟儿不断落在草中，然后又从草中飞起——其中有鹬、麻鸦和苍鹭。他们还看到，周围有很多小屋零零星星地分布着，就像他们昨晚待的那个那样，不过这些小屋彼此都相隔甚远；因为沼泽怪喜欢独居，喜欢不受干扰。除了南方和西方好几英里外的森林边缘，视野之内就一棵树也没有了。东方是平坦的沼泽，一直延伸到地平线上那低矮的沙丘，你能根据从那个方向吹来的风中的咸味判断出来，大海就在那个方向。北方是低矮的灰色山丘，那里偶尔有几处石头堡垒。其余地方都是平坦的沼泽地。若是在潮湿的夜晚，这个地方会令人感觉非常抑郁。但是在清晨的阳光下，清新的微风吹拂，空气中回荡着鸟鸣，沼泽的孤寂中显示出一种美好、新鲜而清新的感觉。孩子们的情绪高涨了起来。

“真好奇那个什么什么东西去哪里了。”吉尔说。

“沼泽怪。”斯克罗布说，他似乎因为自己知道这个名字而非常骄傲，“我很期待——嘿，那肯定就是他。”这时，他们两个都看到了他，离他们大约五十码远，正背对着他们坐着钓鱼。起初很难注意到他，因为他几乎和沼泽是一样的颜色，而且坐着一动不动。

“我觉得我们最好过去和他说话。”吉尔说。斯克罗布点点头。他们都感到了一丝紧张。

他们渐渐靠近，那个人转过了头，露出一张瘦长的脸，脸颊下陷，嘴巴紧闭，鼻子尖尖的，没有胡子。他头戴一顶仿佛尖塔似的又高又尖的帽子，但帽檐却格外的又宽又平。他的头发，如果那能被称作头发的话，是灰绿色的，垂下来盖住了大大的耳朵，每一绺头发都是扁平的，而不是圆的，看起来就像小小的芦苇一样。他的表情非常严肃，肤色是泥巴的颜色，你立刻就能看出来他对待生活的态度非常认真。

“早上好，客人们。”他说，“尽管我说好，但我的意思不是说天也许会下雨或下雪，或是下雾，或是打雷。我敢说，你们一直没睡着吧。”

“实际上，我们睡着了。”吉尔说，“昨天晚上我们睡得很好。”

“啊，”沼泽怪晃了晃脑袋，“我看得出来你们身处逆境也能尽力做到最好，这很好。你们的教养都很好，的确很好。你们都学会了笑对一切。”

“请问，我们还不知道你的名字呢。”斯克罗布说。

“我叫普登格伦姆。不过你们记不住也没有关系。我可以再告诉你们的。”

两个孩子一边一个坐在他的身旁。他们现在都看到了，他的腿和手臂都非常长，所以，尽管他的躯干并不比矮人的躯干大多少，但如果他站起来，还是会比大多数人高。他的手指就像青蛙的爪子一样，是有蹼的，他在泥水中晃荡着的赤着的脚也是有蹼的。他身上松垮垮地穿着泥土颜色的衣服。

“我要抓点儿鳗鱼，做个炖鳗鱼当作我们的午饭。”普登格伦姆说，“不过如果我一条也抓不到，也一点儿都不奇怪。如果我抓到了，你们也不会像我这样喜欢吃鳗鱼。”

“为什么不喜欢啊？”斯克罗布说。

“唉，尽管我毫不怀疑你们会装得对此毫不在乎的样子，可是你们没有理由喜欢我们这种饮食的。不过，我抓鱼的时候，希望你们两个能试着生火——试试总是没坏处的！木柴在小屋后面，可能是湿的。你们可以在小屋里面生火，然后我们的眼睛就都会被烟呛到。你们也可以在外面生火，然后就会下雨将火打灭。这是我的火绒盒，你们不知道怎么用吧，我猜。”

然而，斯克罗布在上次冒险时学过这种事情。孩子们一起跑回小屋，找到木柴（极其干燥），然后没有费多少事儿就成功地生起了一团火。接着，斯克罗布就坐下来看着火，吉尔则出去，在最近的水道里洗漱了一下——洗得不是特别舒服。然后她看着火，轮到斯克罗布去洗漱。他们两个都觉得清爽了很多，但也都饥肠辘辘。

没多久，沼泽怪回来了。尽管他以为自己抓不到鳗鱼，但实际上他抓了十几条，都已经剥皮清理干净了。他架起一口大锅，添了柴火，然后点燃了烟斗。沼泽怪抽的是一种味道很奇怪很浓烈的烟草（有人说里面混了泥），孩子们注意到普登格伦姆的烟斗中冒出来的烟根本就没有往上飘，而是从烟斗中一缕缕地飘出来，向下沉，贴着地面散开，仿佛迷雾一样。烟非常黑，引得斯克罗布阵阵咳嗽。

“好吧，”普登格伦姆说，“那些鳗鱼要花很长时间才能做好，你们两个在做好之前可能会饿昏。我认识一个小女孩——不过，我还是不要跟你们讲那个故事了。那会让你们沮丧的，这是我绝对不会做的事情。所以，不要想着饥饿，我们可以谈谈我们的计划。”

“是的，咱们谈谈吧。”吉尔说，“你能帮我们寻找瑞利安王子吗？”

沼泽怪使劲咂着烟斗，咂得脸颊都凹下去了，他的脸颊下陷，低到了你根本想象不到的程度。“好吧，我不知道你们称这为帮忙，”他说，“我不知道有谁正好能帮这个忙。因为一年中在这个时节，是冬天很快就要到来的时候，我们不大可能往北走太远。而且，从万物的情形看，这是一个早冬。但你们绝不能因此垂头丧气。相比于要面对的敌人、要翻越跋涉的山河、迷路、没有食物、腿脚酸痛等等，我们多半不大会留意天气。而且如果我们走得不够远，就成不了什么事，那么，如果我们走得足够远，也就没必要急匆匆回来了。”

两个孩子都注意到了他说的是“我们”，而不是“你们”，他们两个都异口同声地说：“你要和我们一起去吗？”

“噢，是啊，我当然去啦。也应该一起去，你们懂的。既然国王又再度起航去往异国，我认为我们再也看不到国王重返纳尼亚了，而且他离开的时候咳嗽得很厉害。然后还有杜鲁普金，他的身体也在迅速垮掉。你们会看到这个夏季大旱之后遇上歉收。如果有什么敌人来攻击我们，我一点儿都不觉得惊奇。记住我的话。”

“我们该怎么上路？”斯克罗布说。

“好吧，”沼泽怪缓缓地说，“其他去寻找瑞利安王子的人，都是从德里宁大人看到那个女人的那眼泉水边开始的。他们大多数人都是从那里向北，不过没有一个人回来，我们也说不好他们有过什么发现。”

“我们得先找到一个巨人的城市遗迹。”吉尔说，“阿斯兰是这么说的。”

“得先找到，是不是？”普登格伦姆回答，“不能只是随便找找，我猜是这样吧？”

“当然，我就是这个意思。”吉尔说，“然后，等我们找到了……”

“是的，等找到了！”普登格伦姆非常郑重地说。

“有什么人知道那座城市在哪里吗？”斯克罗布问。

“我不认识‘什么人’。”普登格伦姆说，“我不会说我没有听说过那座城市遗迹。不过，既然你们不从寻找泉水开始。那你们就必须穿过埃汀斯摩尔。如果真有这么一座城市，那么它一定就在那儿。不过我往那个方向走的距离和大多数人一样，也从来都没有见过任何遗迹，所以，我不能欺骗你们。”

“埃汀斯摩尔在哪儿？”斯克罗布说。

“从这儿向北看，”普登格伦姆用烟斗指着说，“看到那些山和那片悬崖了吗？那里就是埃汀斯摩尔的边缘。但是我们要到那里需要过一条河，施瑞堡河。河上没桥，当然没有啦。”

“不过，我觉得我们可以试试涉水过河。”斯克罗布说。

“嗯，之前有人试过。”沼泽怪承认说。

“也许，我们在埃汀斯摩尔可以遇到人，给我们指路。”吉尔说。

“遇到人，你算说对了。”普登格伦姆说。

“什么人住在那里？”吉尔问。

“我也不太适合说他们那样有什么不对。”普登格伦姆说，“如果你喜欢他们那种生活方式的话。”

“是的。不过他们是什么呢？”吉尔追问，“这个国家有很多很多奇怪的生物。我是说，他们是走兽，是鸟类，还是矮人，或者其他什么？”

沼泽怪吹了一声长长的口哨。“咦！”他说，“你们还不知道？我以为猫头鹰都告诉你们了。他们是巨人。”

吉尔心生怯意。书本里面出现的巨人，她从来都不喜欢，她还在噩梦中梦到过巨人。这时，她看到斯克罗布的脸都变成青的了，心中暗想道：“我敢打赌，他比我还害怕呢。”这让她觉得自己勇敢了一些。

“很久之前，国王跟我讲过，”斯克罗布说，“那是我和他在海上冒险的时候——他说他在战争中大大挫败了那些巨人，而且逼得他们向他朝贡。”

“那的确千真万确。”普登格伦姆说，“他们和我们和平共处。只要我们待在施瑞堡河的这边，他们就不会伤害我们。而到了他们那边，到了荒原上——总有个万一。如果我们不靠近他们，如果他们没人忘乎所以，如果别让他们看见我们，我们就有可能走上一大段路。”

“听着！”斯克罗布突然间发起了脾气，人们在感到恐惧时会很容易发脾气，“我不相信事情有你说的一半那么糟糕，就像你说小屋的床不舒服，木头是湿的一样没什么可怕。我觉得如果希望渺茫成那样，阿斯兰就不会派我们去了。”

他以为沼泽怪会怒气冲冲地回答他，但沼泽怪只是说：“就是要这种精神，斯克罗布。这就是说话的态度，笑对一切。但既然我们要一起经历很多艰难，那我们都需要非常注意控制我们的脾气。不该争吵，你们知道的。无论如何，不要太快开始争吵。我知道那些探险队通常都会那样结束：大业未成，却拔刀相向，我一点儿都不觉得奇怪。但是只要我们能控制的时间长点儿……”

“好吧，如果你觉得这事没有希望，”斯克罗布打断了他，“我觉得你最好还是留下来，波尔和我单独出发，行不行，波尔？”

“闭嘴，别像头蠢驴似的，斯克罗布。”吉尔赶忙说道，她很担心沼泽怪把他的话当真。

“别灰心，波尔，”普登格伦姆说，“我会去的，肯定会去，一定会去。我不会错过任何这样的机遇。这对我有好处。他们都说——我是说，其他的沼泽怪都说——我太轻浮了，对生活不够严肃。只要他们说起来，肯定就会说上一千次。‘普登格伦姆，’他们说，‘你总是夸夸其谈，激动亢奋，情绪高涨。你得懂得生活并不只是青蛙肉丁和鳗鱼馅饼。你需要一些东西，能让你自己清醒一下。我们都是为了你好才说这些话的，普登格伦姆。’他们就是这么说的。而这样的一个任务——在冬季要开始的时候往北方旅行，去寻找可能不在那里的王子，途经一座谁也没见过的城市遗迹——就是这样的事情。如果这不能让一个人坚定，我真不知道还有什么事能了。”他搓了搓两只青蛙爪子一样的大手，仿佛要去参加一场聚会，或是表演一幕哑剧。“好的，”他接着说，“咱们去看看那些鳗鱼怎么样了。”

饭菜端上来了，非常美味，两个孩子都吃了两大份。起初，沼泽怪不相信他们真的喜欢吃，不过他们吃了好多，就由不得他不信了。他转而说这些食物可能非常不适合他们吃。“沼泽怪的食物，对人类来说可能是毒药，我一点儿都不觉得奇怪。”他说。吃过饭后，他们又喝了茶，用的是锡罐（就像你看到那些在路上干活的人喝东西时用的那种），普登格伦姆从一个方形的黑色瓶子里抿了很多口。他给了孩子们一些，不过他们觉得味道很不好。

那天剩下来的时间，他们都用来为明天一早出发做准备。普登格伦姆是三个人里面最大的，他说自己会带上三条毯子，在里面裹上一大块培根。吉尔要拿着剩下的鳗鱼、一些饼干和火绒盒。斯克罗布要在他和吉尔不穿斗篷的时候负责拿两个人的斗篷。斯克罗布（在凯斯宾的带领下向东方航行时学过射箭）带上了普登格伦姆第二好的弓，而普登格伦姆则拿着自己最好的弓，尽管他说，因为刮风、弓弦潮湿、光线不好、手指寒冷，他们射到东西的概率顶多百分之一。他和斯克罗布都有长剑，斯克罗布的那把是从凯尔帕拉维尔城堡的房间里面拿来的，而吉尔不得不只用她的小刀了。他们本可能因此争吵起来，不过争吵一开始，沼泽怪就搓着手，说：“好啦，你们开始了，我早就想到了。这是冒险时经常有的事儿。”他们两个都因此闭了嘴。

三个人都很早就在小屋里面睡着了。这个晚上孩子们真的没睡好。主要是因为普登格伦姆，他说：“你们最好试着睡上一会儿，你们两个，尽管我觉得今天晚上我们谁都没有办法闭上眼。”刚一说完，他就鼾声大作，接连不断，吉尔最后终于入睡，她整夜都梦见轧路机、瀑布和穿过隧道的特快列车。