Root, Branch and Leaf - a story for young children
part one
Once upon a time, it was believed that the deep places of the earth held both magic and mystery and that among the unscientific shadows dwelt all manner of faerie-folk, elves, spirits, animals and half forgotten figures from dreams.
It was during such a time that, in the little kingdom of Oritania two children were born and raised, laughing and playing out their years. A boy and girl; Chuffcuffchippinapapapalollagrumia (hereafter known as Fred) and his sister Califorbiplataparisianfrizianisianisntshewellidon'tknow (I think we better just call her Sue).
Together these two children lived in a small town house in the tumbling town of Tuttenham. The Tumbling Town (or Tumble Town) was so called because it so often fell down in a heap after rolling the length of the great mountain upon which it was somewhat foolishly founded; several times in its history the towns denizens had been rudely awoken by a sound akin to the hard grinding of teeth only to find themselves with their heads poking up from a mess of rubble. "Hey ho" they would sigh and the gathering together begin the arduous process of picking up al the bricks and bric-a-brac and marching back up the hill to put their town back.
Now it transpired that one summer - the sort of summer that sticks between the ebb and flow of days, the sort known only to children for whom it comes between the strict terms of school and serves to mark out one year from another; The children of our tale were perhaps more sensitive to this than most, for the previous September they had been ushered through the wooden gates crying “happy new year!” to a disconcerted mob of staff and pupils. - One summer the children went to stay with their Grandma.
I’m fairly sure that Grandma had a very long name - but luckily for us everyone just called her Grandma. Grandma was a quiet sort of woman but she was always busy, bustling about her cottage straightening things, tidying and tending. She had a garden and she tidied and tended that too.
The children would sometimes help but more often they would simply play on the grass and dance about or jump the small gate at the bottom of the garden and delve into the woods.
Ah yes, the woods. These sorts of stories often have children, often have Grandmas and even oftener have woods. Well then, there were woods. These woods were wide ranging and sprawled all the way from the bottom of the mountain, where Grandma lived. “I’m far too old to go tumbling back and forth down and up a mountain”, she said once. The woods were pleasant and light and home to animals and birds and such - but eventually they did become a proper forest, dark and tangled and forbidding. Forbidding? Yes; also, forbidden. The children were told not to play there, and in fact there were signs, real and legal and grand and signed by the Earl of Oritania himself; written in elaborate and fancy writing the signs said; ‘GO AWAY, love The Earl’.
Ah yes, the Earl. Now he was a strange sort of fellow, quite young for such an important position and very ambitious. Not a bad chap really but (as this story will demonstrate) sometimes even good people do very bad things, because they are very stupid or very silly or think too much of themselves. Alas, the Earl was no exception.
The Earl - whose name was Grand Earl Errkimunkitrunkidunkybiscuitinthetea of Oritania, the Third, more generally known as Err or simply, and from now on, called The Earl - had some very distinctive likes, dislikes, hopes and wishes. He liked peace and quiet, he liked metal and all things made of it, he liked the Forest and he liked power. He did NOT like the mountain and its noises, he did NOT like Tumble Town and the way it kept falling down and he did NOT like that most of the Tumbling people refused to live on the ground.
And he thought about that. He thought about that a lot.
“What I need,” he thought, “is power - so I can order the town to come down and stay down. And I need something they will want to come down for as well, something nice.”
To this end he built a forest of his own; A forest of metal, marvellous and clangy to behold. And when the wind rang through his metallic forest it did so with the sound of calm bells and relaxing whistles. It was a fantastic place, designed and built by the greatest architects.
And the people of Tumble Town HATED it. “Yuk,” they said.
The Earl was, understandably, saddened by this rejection.
He loved the metal forest very much and would wander up and down its iron avenues or mount his favourite horse (Bob) and gallop around between the silver trees and under the lead branches and nickel leaves.
At night the moon would glimmer in the sky and its reflection would flicker of the shining forest in a thousand splinters of light.
“Lovely!” said the Earl.
“Yuk,” said the people of Tumble Town.
“But look at the wonder of it,” the Earl would cry, “these magical lights!”
“Ah,” said the people of Tumble Town. “We already have some.”
Now this was true, although the Earl was much surprised. He summoned several old wise persons who scurried about to research or dove into the depths of their books and all of them came back (even the dusty ones) saying, “Yes, actually, magical lights? They have those.”
“But where?” asked the Earl.
“In the Forest,” said the wise and wrinkled ones, “the other forest - the real one.”
And so indeed they did. This was one of the reasons the folk of the mountain did not live in the woods. At night, the dark part of the forest, the deep part and the most mysterious, came alive with tiny lights, bright as stars, blue and white and gold and silver. Probably some other colours too.
Magical spirits, faery folk, no doubt about it.
“And best left alone,” or so the people said.
Thus the Earl came up with a second great plan, one that made the children’s Grandma sad and leads directly to the story I have been forgetting to tell you.
The story goes like this;
Once upon a time, two children, Fred and Sue, came to stay with the Grandma who lived near an old wood. They loved their grandma very much, for though she was getting on in years, and a bit deaf and a bit quiet in her ways, nonetheless she was always smiling, glad to see the children and happy watching them play in her garden.
She would even sing, breaking her usual silence, to belt a rousing song in a passionate and completely out of tune voice; Odds songs, songs about magical spirits, faery folk and such.
On this occasion however Grandma did not sing. She was not happy and she did not watch the children play.
Eventually, being both curious and concerned, the children asked “Grandma, what’s wrong? We have come here and played and danced and scabbed our very best knees and torn our best tearing clothes and dug holes and fallen in them and Fred’s hair is like a bird’s nest and Sue’s is like the frayed rope of an old ship and our best cheeks are muddy and grazed - but you are sad all the same. We must know why.”
“Oh! Oh!” Grandma replied (eventually), “Oh my beloved grandchildren! Yes, I know you have danced and played. I have seen your scabby knees and torn clothes and grazed cheeks and remarkably untidy hair. But yes, still I am sad. And I will tell you why...”
........................................
end of part one.
this story was made up for a children's birthday party i attended recently.
thanks to Yu for inspiration (as ever!)
and this story is for Nevers and Ana with thanks :)