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 Posted: Thu Aug 31, 2023 5:25 am
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Posted: Fri Sep 01, 2023 5:51 pm
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Lunadriel A fire blazes and flickers, sending golden light dancing across the faces of those who sit close to its warmth. A few Soquili stand by, brought together by the glow of the night. This is a popular stop along a trade route, known for its safety from the things that go bump in the night. It isn’t long before a campfire story begins. This story is started by a tall stallion with cave crystals growing along his back. They give off sparks of light as the fire's glow touches their edges. Lumine put down his own axe he had been carrying. The axe hit the ground with a thud. He spoke with a sombre tone, drawing in the listeners around him. “Some of you folks might have heard ‘The Spirit in a Bottle’ story. I’m going to tell you the real version tonight, ‘The Hag in a Shack’. Not so long ago, a woodcutter Soquili roamed through a barren forest, followed by his son. Now it has been said that woodcutters are strong, burly creatures that wield sharp axes. Since they are big and strong, their children are normally the same! Strength is important if you want to fell a tree. Often, the sons in the family, take up the axe and follow their father's hoof.
This woodcutter's son, however, was small. Like a twig that easily bends in the wind. It did not sway him though! As he tottered behind his dad, ready to learn how to chop wood, he hummed to himself. He had to practically beg his father to take him out to learn. The thick oak-sized father was hesitant to teach the little sapling.
“Don’t dawdle,” grunted Bear, the woodcutter Soquili, to his son. Motioning for him to keep up.
“Yes father!” chirped Maple, the eager son. They passed some mighty-looking trees! Maple perked, knowing his father would only pick the most perfect tree for his first chopping lesson. He had dreamed of this day! He wanted to grow up to be strong, just like his dad.
Yumitoko II “Ahh yes, I know this story”, a new voice chimed in, it was a mare with ripples of various shades of red on her coat and a tufty leonine tail. She continued part of the story in a collaborative effort as was her favourite pastime at times like these. The young twiglet had been dreaming of this day ever since his father would tell the story about his first tree. He had learned his father’s story by heart but Bear insisted that his son should focus on his own story now. Maple would envision various trees trying to decide which ones would fit into the perfect moment. He even started to learn the types of trees in the area and wondered which his father would entrust him with.
Bear knew that the first tree was never the biggest tree but it was an exercise in safety and confidence building. Of course, when you’re younger your first tree always appears to be larger and sturdier than it is but a colt never realises it at the time, it’s hard work. “Now let me see here, I’m sure I spotted the perfect first tree for you around here, son”, rumbled Bear with furrowed brows looking for an appropriate tree he had spotted on an outing earlier in the week. He scanned the area for familiar branches until he laid his eyes on the tree he had proudly chosen for his son.
Bear approached the tree and laid his axe to rest, he patted its trunk firmly. ”This humble tree will be the beginning of your journey into the profession we have upheld for generations.”
Maple gawked at the tree, it stood small, pitiful and awkward as if it didn’t belong in the forest it had grown in. Life was a struggle for this tree, it was malnourished and struggling to grow in the shadow of the other trees around it. Maple felt disappointed in his father’s choice as it didn’t match up to what he had imagined and it didn’t even come close to his father’s description of his very own first tree.
Maple eyed the tree trying to find the appreciation of it that his father seemed to have, his eyes skimmed along every nook and cranny along the surface of the bark and yet he fell short in his search for the same appreciation. “This is the tree?” The young colt asked his father for confirmation hoping he was joking with him but to his disappointment, Bear gave him a single proud nod. “After this one can we fell a big one?”
Bear chuckled at the colt’s question,” maybe, son. Maybe.”
Bear showed Maple how to hold his axe and swing at the tree in a way that wouldn’t cause him to lose his teeth. It’s knowledge passed down between lumberjacks and woodsmen that most are not privy to. Maple tried to follow his father’s instructions and it seemed like the results would be promising but unfortunately, his grip slipped and he busted his lip. Bear tended to his son and while his lip became swollen, the boy did not cry as he usually might have. Maple’s spirit was crushed as he could see the frustration on his father’s face, he had picked the easiest tree he could find and yet his son was not able to complete the task.
“Maybe you’re not ready yet”, the calloused stallion sighed gruffly,” I’m going to have you practice that swing every day and when I think you are ready. You will try it again.”
The thought of having to try again overwhelmed him, every dream and point of excitement had been washed away by dread. “Yes, father.”
Lunadriel Lumine listened to the scarlet mare narrate the story. A well-known story amongst his herd, he couldn’t help but be impressed at her way of adding depth to the story. It’s obvious to him that while he might wield an axe and know axe stories, this fine lady knew how to wield words. He grinned and continued the story when she paused. Day by day, Maple practised his axe swinging. Bear would take time away from working to guide his swings. And every day when they had finished, Maple would ask “Am I ready now Papa?” with sweat gleaming on his coat, and a heavy breath from exhaustion.
Bear would look at his son's lip as it never seemed to truly heal. The muscles on his son never seemed to bulge and form. He grunted at Maple after his evaluation “Not today, but soon.” His little boy's heart may be ready, but his body is not. Meanwhile, Bear’s heart grew heavy. How would his son provide for himself, if he couldn’t chop wood for trade? Food was already getting meagre, with the time he afforded his son and the barren lands that told of a long winter to come. “I’ll have to work tomorrow all day, so no training tomorrow. We need food, and for that, we need wood for trade.”
Maple felt his spirit grow, in lieu of his muscles. The threat of not training was something that put pressure on him even more. He wanted to chop down that small tree so bad, he even dreamed of it! After days and days passed, the little colt felt the anticipation too much to contain. When his father was sleeping, he snuck away with nothing but the axe, and his unbridled determination to fell the tree in the woods.
Maple wandered all around, trying to find the tree his father had shown him. Suddenly, all the big trees he wanted to chop down, loomed over him ominously. He understood why his father had chosen the smaller tree for him. Wandering the night, he desperately searched for the tree, and started to get a little scared without his dad around.
A twig snapped, sending Maple deeper into the woods, with a yelp. He ran fast, darting around trees and under branches. Up ahead, a glow glinted through the trees. Maple ran towards it, thinking about the lantern near where his home was! He came through a clearing and stopped to catch his breath. Oddly, there in the center, was an old wood shack. Not his home at all. A voice could be heard mumbling from inside.
“Our visitor is here, right on time.” she said before she opened the door. “Oh you poor, poor thing. Look at you.” An old soquili with white hair pinned neatly back came out of the shack. A shawl around her neck. “All worn out and parched. Grannie Haggie will take care of you. Here, here.” she called to him as she grabbed a basket and carried it over. Inside, a steamy tart, with a bottle of water. “Now, now, don’t be scared. You’re safe now.” she said with a warm crackle in her voice, that oozed with tender care. Reaching into the basket, she popped the cork on the bottle with her teeth, then poured the cool water into a bowl. “Drink up! You look like you need your strength.” she gleamed at him with a smile that closed her eyes and made her round cheeks plump up.
Maple exhaled, relieved that an old lady had come out to help him. Laying down his father’s axe, he trotted over. Without a second thought, he slurped up the water. Looking at the tart, his eyes glowed. “May I?” he asked as he tucked in.
Haggie nodded at him. “Absolutely! I made it just for you.”
Maple thought that odd, but ever so nice that she made him a tart!
“Eat up, deary!” she continued to urge him on. “Don’t miss a crumb, or I’ll eat chu up!”
Maple thought this lady was ever so nice. He grinned at her around a mouth full of tart, then began prattling on as he chewed. “Wow, thanks! My dad doesn’t make me tarts, we can’t afford them. He doesn’t even let me chop down trees. Then we’d have more money to get food! You must be rich.” he said matter of factly, as he finished gobbling up the tart.
The old hag grinned with delight. “Oh lad, you are far too young to worry about money and riches. How can Grannie help?”
Maple spilled his whole story, about his woodcutter father, trying to follow his hoof-steps, and how they struggled to make ends meet. It all came out so fast.
Haggie put on a face of deep concern. “Slow down honey. Why doesn’t your father trust you to cut down a tree now? All those muscles you have! He just doesn’t understand you, but ol’ Grannie Haggie does. What if I had a way where you wouldn’t have to worry about your pop anymore, or get alllll the tarts your little heart desires.” she said with animated enthusiasm in her face and wiggles of her head.
“You….you could do that?” the foal looked at her, entranced by the thought.
“You bet your Soquili bottom I could!” she beamed at him with a bright smile.
Yumitoko II Luljeta waited patiently for the other storyteller to pause before continuing on. It is time for the end of this camp side story! Little Maple was mystified. He drew closer to Haggie.
Haggie had him exactly where she wanted him and so she laid her deal out for him while she had her chance. “I need just one wee little thing from you. A tiny thing, you won’t miss it much! You give me your daddies axe, and I’ll give you a magic silver axe in return! That sounds fair to me but perhaps that’s too much to ask of you”, she nodded at him and seemingly to herself, not really asking him what he truly thought just as if she had made up her own mind to not to give him the deal after all. She tutted and sighed briefly and with a half shrug she said,“well, you run along then! Your dad will be worried you’ve hurt yourself again with his axe if you don’t show up soon.”
Maple slumped his little shoulders in a deflated state. “You know about that?”
Haggie nodded sagely at him. “Oh sugar, every-soq knows all about that,” she said with a sickly sweetness that clung to the end of her words as she collected the basket and began to hobble back to her humble hut.
“Wait!”, exclaimed the young colt with a huge sense of urgency. Maple didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to know more about the magic axe! Haggie paused mid-step and swivelled around in an animated fashion to listen to his question. She had been counting her steps under her breath as she had walked away.
“Please ma’am, what about the silver axe? Is it sharper? Will it cut better?” He looked back at his dads axe, old and worn, not anything for the average person to rave about but certainly trusty and true. Haggie looked at the axe too, filled with the memories of the woodcutter and his son, and the emotions attached to it. Another relic for her collection…
Maple didn’t see Haggie and her fanatic look at his dads axe as he was consumed by the idea of the wonderful silver axe she had briefly mentioned just moments before. He felt like her change of mind had snatched away a great chance to impress his father and swiftly attempted to salvage the situation.
“A silver axe is something you’d be interested in? Let old Granny tell you more about it! It’s a wonderful treasure! I wouldn’t give it to just anyone”,she assured him of its worth with the final statement. “For you see, It’s filled with spirit magic that will turn all of the wood it chops into pure silver! The person who wields it wields much power!”
“Really?” Maple doubted, and cocked a head at her.
“I could never get the hang of it myself but remember that Granny Haggie would never, ever lie to you, my dear boy”, she paused to allow him to digest this new information and then resumed,”I can see you're a smart cookie and being the son of a woodcutter, I’m sure you could handle such an axe better than I. So let me show you its power.”
Heading into her hovel, she dug around, mumbling under her breath. Finally she procured what she wanted. “Ah ha!”, she exclaimed from her home. Moments later, she appeared at the entrance and clambered back outside with a silver, gleaming, glinting axe in her mouth.
“Woooowwww.” Maple looked at the axe, bewildered by the shiny metal. He had never seen such a beautiful artefact. He suddenly felt energised with excitement.
Haggie had him right where she wanted him, his curiosity, his spirit and his keenness was all hers in that moment. Walking over to the ground, she found a small twig and pushed it towards Maple with a hoof. Then after she noted him looking at the twig, she swiftly chopped it with the axe. Where the twig once was, two shafts of silver now lay, with the shape of the twig that was there before.
Maple inspected the silver twigs, he could barely believe his own eyes. “It really works!!”, he shouted, with a crack in his young voice.
Haggie set the axe down beside her carefully but with an energy of excitement that Maple had not seen before, it was as if she had almost regained her youth in her movements. She joined him in excitement. “Yes, yes! Look at that! That alone is worth so much money! At least a few tarts. Imagine what you could do with more silver! I’m old, and have everything I need, right here. You deserve it, you take the axe”, she said as if it were of no use to her anymore. She almost sounded genuine and he believed her.
You see, young Maple didn’t miss a beat. Without a second thought he was running over to his dad’s axe, he picked it up, and clumsily dropped it on the ground next to the silver axe. “You have yourself a deal lady!”, he exclaimed triumphantly.
“Now, there’s one thing you must know. Magic is a fickle thing. Be sure to care for the axe, and not bend or break it! I trust you. I know you’re very smart and you would never do that though, would you, dearie?” she grinned at him with a devilish smile, then winked. Her voice regained that sickly sweetness again, sticky like honey and clung to him like a fly to a trap. “Be sure to run straight home and show your papa. I think he will like it very much.” She seemed almost proud of herself, a perfect deal for a perfect day.
“Thank you, Granny! You’re the best!”,he said with joy as he picked up the axe, and darted back into the woods without looking back. He didn’t even remember to ask for the way home! The excitement was too much for him and so his legs took him onwards.
Return home? He did not. For along his path, the tree he had been looking for stood right in front of him. How had he missed that? How could he have not spotted it on his way before? He slowed his trot and raised his chin at the tree. Giving a chop to a branch, it fell to the ground with a small thud. He pranced around, happy that he had made silver! The silver from that branch was small though, like the twig Granny had demonstrated to him. He looked at the tree and decided it wouldn’t be enough for him. He wanted something bigger! This time, he would choose his own tree. Next to that tree, one of medium size stood, its branches swayed in a way that beckoned him to try his best. He nodded in confirmation at the tree, as if marking it as his target. Confidently walking over, utilising the power of his excitement, he began to chop at its bark. With each swing, the axe seemed to hiss, and fizzle. He failed to notice the dents that began to form on the head of the axe or the stress marks on the handle. As he continued to swing, harder, and harder, the bark rained to the ground like silver confetti. It was beautiful but Maple couldn’t appreciate it because the tree still stood as it had before. Maple put everything he had into the next swing, willing the tree to be felled by his might and the shiny new axe!
The silver axe began to bend at the neck, unable to handle anymore…
It was ruined.
A sound akin to lightning rips, rings out and ripples through the forest as the axe breaks. This was all followed by an eerie hiss. Maple had begun to scream, dropping the broken axe. His teeth began to ache and the feeling consumed his jaw and neck. Soon it spread around and behind his eyes. You see, where his mouth touched the handle, silver began to spread. He tried to wipe the cold touch away, as it spread over his face. He tried to turn toward home and run to his father, but it was too late. The silver spreads along his body until it takes over his whole being, freezing him with a look of pure panic on his face.
“I’m sorry papa… Your axe…” he thinks, as the lights go out.
The forest goes silent, except for a distant cackle that echoed in the wind.Those around the camp ponder the story, with the unexpected end. A tragic ending for the over-protective father and the all too eager son. There was talk about how the old lady was a witch or how the kid should have sold the axe. Someone talked about how they wanted to see the silver statue. Another claimed they had seen it, and they all laughed thinking they were gullible. Have you seen the silver colt in the woods? He’s out there still, trying to run home. ~Fin. |
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