Original subtitles

♪ The Wind in the Willows

♪ Sang softly to me

♪ Follow my voice

♪ Wherever it leads

♪ From mountains, through valleys

♪ To deep rolling seas

♪ Born on the wings of the breeze ♪

The midsummer day had been fiercely hot since sunrise.

What everybody looked for at such a time was a cool, shady spot by the river,

but such places were hard to find and many were closely-kept secrets.

So somewhere in the undergrowth, the deer would be lying silently,

waiting for the cool of night time, but no one knew quite where.

The birds were mostly out of sight, quiet down among the reeds

or under their tree-fop canopy.

And the loudest sound was the hum and buzz and drone of insects

who were too busy to mind the heat.

In the wafer, too, beneath the shade of an overhanging willow,

there were cool, dark hollows and hidden places for pike to lurk.

But for animals who were not natural river folk,

especially those who lived underground,

this kind of sweltering day was the height of discomfort.

Mole tried to cool his inside with ginger beer and his outside with a wet flannel,

but neither made much difference.

The sun was beginning to set now, but it was still too hot to go indoors,

80 he lay by the riverbank and thought about Mole End

and how moist and shady it would be in his underground garden.

Rat and Offer had been fishing all afternoon and caught nothing.

Portly sometimes found it a little dull.

Don't go too far, Portly!

Well, I suppose I should be getting back soon.

- Mole will wonder what happened to me. - Yes. I promised not to be too late.

Portly?

Portly?

Mmm. Blessed coolness.

I suppose we should think about getting something to eat.

- How about some ginger beer first? - Dear old fellow, what a good idea.

Oh, that's odd. Here comes Otter.

Don't say I've accidentally taken his fishing tackle.

Rat... Mole...

- Is Portly here? - Portly?

I can't find him. I thought he might have wandered here.

I haven't seen him. I have been dozing.

If Portly had come here, he'd have woken me. He's so fond of ginger beer.

Yes. Yes, he is.

Oh, he may have wandered inland. I'll ask around.

I hope Portly's all right. His father thinks the world of him.

Oh, Ratty, I'm sure he is. He's always straying off, getting lost, then turning up.

No harm ever happens to him.

- Oh, what's that? - Quick, Mole! Hide!

Out of the way! Anywhere! Here!

- What was it, Rat? - I've only heard it once. An otter hunt.

You mean... they want to... to harm otters?

- Otter will be all right. He knows. - But Portly...!

I suppose we should go inside and eat.

- Yes. I'm not really hungry. - Nor am I, old fellow.

Not till I know little Portly is safe.

Look here, shall I just go along to Otter's place and see if...?

I can't find Portly anywhere!

My friends, we all know why we're here.

- To find young Portly. - Excellent little fellow, Portly.

So friendly and adventurous. Always happy to drop in for ginger beer.

Everybody about here knows and likes young Portly.

Just as they do his father. Excellent fellow, Otter. Very respectable.

Our best hope,

if the little fella is...

is still...

Our best hope is that if he has just wandered away and got lost,

some animal will come across him and bring him home.

At least no one around here would harm him.

Toad, you have a map?

Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

Ah! Here we are.

Um, just...

And, eh...

Oh...

Just a moment...

Oh. Ah. It's upside down.

Now, er, I... There.

Portly was last seen here.

If he escaped, if he was not...

he could be anywhere from here to here.

I suggest that the four of us cover this area, asking all the animals we meet

whether they've seen the child.

- If I take the boat up river... - I'll drive my car along the road...

No, Toad! You will walk.

- DOWN river. - I'd cover more ground in my motor car.

That may be, but you can't question many animals when you're in a ditch!

- Oh, I say! - Anything for Portly.

What? Oh, yes. Oh, yes. I still think...

That's settled, then.

Mole, you will cover the area round Mole End

and I myself will search the Wild Wood.

The Wild Wood? That'd take days.

- W-Would you like me to, um...? - Better not, Moley.

No, thank you, Mole.

It is a large area, but I must just do the best I can.

Hello, Mr Badger. Wot's this? Council of war?

- I say, what are you doing here? - The front door was open.

We, er, heard you was looking for young Portly.

- Well, what of it? - Shut up, Toady.

Nice little chap, that Portly. No side about him.

Often used to pop up in the woods. I've got a nipper myself.

Him and young Portly used to have a game together.

You'd never think he was... well, one of the nobs.

So if we can do anything to help, I just thought...

You think we'd accept help from weasels?!

Silence, Toad!

Besides, you done me a favour once and I said I'd pay you back.

If you, well... That is to say, if...

We shall be honoured to accept your assistance.

So from riverbank to the Wild Wood, the search for Portly continued

as darkness fell.

But when, at last, the searchers returned, it was night.

And Portly had not been found.

- Otter? - No sign of him.

He hasn't come home and... I've asked everyone I can think of.

Oh, dear old Otter.

Have a hot drink and a sandwich.

There are some sardine ones there.

I'm going back to that place where we were this afternoon, Rat.

It's where I taught him to swim.

He loves that spot. If...

If he comes back,

that's where he'll be.

- But, Otter, my dear chap... - I think I'll wait there tonight.

On the chance, you know. Just on the chance.

There is nothing more we can do tonight.

- You weasels have done nobly. - Thank you, Mr Badger.

We shall start again at first light.

You fellas had better get some sleep.

I might catch 40 winks myself.

Badger, we can't just go to bed while Portly...

If he is still alive... which I very much doubt.

- I say, Badger! - Badger, don't say that!

If he was frightened by the hunt and just ran away and got lost,

he'll be tired out by now and curled up to sleep.

We'll resume the search in the morning.

Rat, I simply can't tun in and go to sleep and do nothing.

- Even though there's nothing to be done. - Just what I was thinking myself.

- Why don't we get the boat out? - Ratty, could we?

We can search as well as we can. It'll be better than going to bed and doing nothing.

Oh, yes! So it will!

Not the sort of night for bed, anyway. And dawn is not so very far off.

Wait, Rat! Look there! That dark shape in the culvert.

No. Just a piece of driftwood.

There's a backwater there, Rat. Shall we try up there?

Portly?

Portly?

Portly!

Portly!

Po-ortly!

Portly...

I didn't know there was an island here.

No, we never come here.

I don't quite know why.

How still it is.

And yet the dawn is almost here. You'd think the birds would start to sing.

- Ssh! Did you hear something? - Only the wind.

No, it was something else.

There. Surely you can hear it now.

Mole listened intently.

And the music began to come to him, faintly on the breeze.

I can hear it now, Ratty.

Follow it.

We must follow it!

And then a voice, too. A voice that began to whisper on the wind.

'Lest the oar should dwell And turn your frolic to fret

"You shall look on my power At the helping hour

'But then you shall forget.

'Forget... forget... forget...

'Forget... forget...'

Ratty? I'm afraid.

No, not afraid.

Something else, but... not afraid.

Come on.

'Lest limbs be reddened and rent, I spring the trap that is set.

'As I loose the snare, you may glimpse me there.

'But then you shall forget...

'Forget... forget...'

- What does it mean? - I don't know.

'Helper and healer,

'I cheer small waifs in the woodland wet.

'Strays I find in it,

'wounds I bind in it.

"Bidding them then to forget.

'Forget... forget...

'Forget... forget... forget...'

- What was it? - I don't know. It just felt... meant for us.

I've heard that there's something or someone

who looks after animals in trouble.

Why, Mole...

There's Portly!

Just lying!

Just lying beneath that old statue.

Safe and sound, as if he were in his father's arms.

- Well, did you ever? - Portly...

Wake up, young fella, my lad.

Oh... Mr Rat!

Hello, Mr Mole.

- Where is he? - Who?

I got lost.

And there was a great noise and I was afraid.

And I ran away and...

And...

And... and then HE came.

Oh, you've been dreaming, old chap.

But...

- Where is he? - Come on. You want to see your father.

And you'd like a row in Mr Rat's boat.

Well, yes.

- Are we going now? - This very minute.

Otter!

Otter!

Dad! Dad!

Portly! Portly! Where have you been?

- Portly! - Dad!

Portly!

Portly!

Portly, where have you been?!

Portly!

- Was it a dream, Rat? - It was like a dream and yet... not quite.

I feel dreadfully tired.

No...

Not dreadfully.

Pleasantly tired, as though good things have happened and now it's time to sleep.

How odd, Mole.

I feel as you do.

Isn't it jolly to feel the sun again, soaking into one's bones?

And the wind, playing in the reeds?

It's like music.

Faraway music.

So they slept, for this was the last gift he could give them.

The gift of forgetfulness.

When they awoke, they would all be happy and light-hearted as before,

just as though they had never seen the piper at the gates of dawn.

And as though his voice had only been the wind in the willows.

♪ Spin me a dream

♪ Woven silver and gold

♪ From sunshine and shadows

♪ And days long ago

♪ Where people are memories

♪ And stories unfold

♪ Willows

♪ The tales you have told me

♪ Wind in the Willows

♪ You just seem to know

♪ Who you can tum to

♪ And which way to go

♪ To unwind your wondrous mind

♪ Wind in the Willows

♪ Take me there ♪