Tales, Ch. 2
The Doctor slammed the book shut in a fit of rage. He stormed back into the forest, hardly caring if he got lost or anything else, for that matter. Rose had been taken from him once again, and it was the fact that she shouldn’t have been able to return to him in any form that made it so much harder this time. He threw the leather-bound book into a pile of dirt.
“What kind of cruel joke is this?” he bellowed into the enshrouding trees.
The water clung heavily to his clothing and dripped off as he shook in anger. In an irritated state, he shook off his coat, unhitched his suspenders, and stripped off his trousers before sitting squarely on the leaf-covered ground. Here he was, dejected, nearly naked, and completely alone. What else could be taken from him?
As if in response, a lithe dove swept down from the canopy, hooting her sad song on the wing. The Doctor glanced up and ignored the single tear sliding down his cheek as the little bird approached. She landed by his feet and stared at him expectantly.
“Hello,” the Doctor said seriously.
He grimaced at the bird until he saw a little key wrapped around her ankle.
“Oh,” he breathed. “Hello!”
The dove clucked softly as the Doctor reached out, and ever so gently, removed the key that was tied on with a satin ribbon. He held it up to his eyes and examined it.
“A skeleton key,” he whispered curiously. “Said to unlock any door.”
He glanced around and then back at the bird, who was cautiously picking her way through the underbrush.
“But I don’t see any doors around here. Do you?” he pondered aloud.
The dove fluttered her wings and took flight, only to descend a few hundred yards away in front of an overgrown oak. She hooted softly, and the Doctor decided that now wasn’t the time to question the logic of birds.
“Right,” he agreed as he stood to follow her, picking up the book as an afterthought.
His pink oxford shirttails brushed against his wet upper thighs as he followed the bird, leaving the rest of his clothing in the clearing to dry. The little bird blinked as he came near, and took off just as he arrived at the gnarled bark at the base. The Doctor was surprised, but focused his attention back on the tree itself, as he supposed he was meant to do. He inspected all sides of it before finally finding what he was inadvertently looking for: a small, moss covered keyhole.
“Clever,” he said more cheerfully as he brushed the bright green moss aside and inserted the little silver key.
It clicked pleasantly before it turned, and the whole side of the tree trunk set to moving, opening up to reveal a square, person-sized door. The Doctor could hardly contain his wonder-filled grin.
“Oh that’s wizard,” he cheered.
Behind the door was a short set of wooden steps that led down into a quaint, underground room furnished with a simple bed, and a modest table and chair. The Doctor skimmed his eyes over the earth walls until they landed on another wooden door, which opened to reveal a sparse wardrobe. He was so relieved to find warm, dry clothing that he could hardly complain about the flowing silk peasant shirt or loose-fitting trousers.
He dropped his leather-bound book on the table as he redressed, and then sat comfortably before it.
“So what secrets do you hold?” he queried aloud as he flipped back through the pages.
To his amazement, the initial story had grown since he last read it.
Beyond ‘Once upon a time,’ the book continued:
“…there was a handsome prince who became lost in the forest. He was frightened until a little bird appeared and offered its friendship. Because the prince was kind to it, the bird allowed him to untie the magical key it kept around its neck.
“Use it on the far western tree,” the little bird sang, “And find all you need to live.”
The Prince located the secret tree and descended below the surface of the earth, finding that the bird was right. Everything he needed was at hand, from clothes and shelter to food and drink.”
The book stopped there, and the Doctor furrowed his brow. It seemed the text was slightly inaccurate, as the dove hadn’t deigned to speak with him, nor was there anything to eat in the hideaway. He laid his book down and nearly jumped out of his chair, however, upon seeing that a small plate filled with bread had appeared before him.
“Whoah!” he cried out, keeping his hands out to his sides in case someone had snuck inside while he was distracted.
Instead, there came a little cooing sound, and he saw the dove was hopping down the steps.
“Just you, huh?” the Doctor asked. “How did you manage this, then? If it was you...”
The Doctor scratched his head and leaned his elbow heavily on the table.
“I’m talking to a bird,” he admonished himself.
To his surprise, the dove fluttered up on the table and cocked her head expectantly.
“What?” he asked sardonically as he picked up a hunk of bread and chewed on the edge.
The bird hopped off of the table and pecked at the floor incessantly, until the Doctor realized there might be something to it. He quickly joined the dove on the floor and traced a finger over the sides of the worn floorboard, until he found a slight indention along one end. He wriggled his finger into it and slowly brought the board up, revealing a hidden space under the floor.
He reached an arm down into the hole, and brought out a small velvet ring box, but when he opened it, nothing was inside. The Doctor slumped against the wall.
“That was a lot of build up for nothing,” he cajoled the bird.
The dove fluffed up her feathers and appeared for just a second, as if she were supremely ticked at him.
“Sorry!” the Doctor added quickly. “It’s been a long day! What’s this all about then? Are you looking for the ring that goes in here?”
The bird hopped up and down, indicating that was the matter.
The Doctor snapped the box shut and placed it thoughtfully under his chin.
“And how do I go about finding this ring of yours?” he continued.
But the bird made no further indications, and in fact, flew out the door instead.
“Hey!” the Doctor cried after her, but she was gone.
He turned instead to the book on the table, wondering if enough time had gone by to reveal the next step. Inside, the book had indeed continued its story:
“The little bird then asked the Prince for a favor in return, which he was happy to do.
“I need you to find an enchanted ring,” the bird sang. “It was stolen by an evil witch who lives on the other side of the forest. You must find it amongst all the others she keeps, and bring it back to me.”
“But how will I know which ring is yours?” the Prince asked.
“You must listen to your heart,” the little bird answered. “And above all, do not let her hear your voice. If you speak, you will lose yourself there forever. Good luck, my Prince.”
The Doctor stood and began to pace, unsure of how to proceed. Was he supposed to go traipsing through the forest until he randomly stumbled upon the witch’s lair? And once there, how was he supposed to deal with her? It didn’t make very much sense.
“I suppose fairy tales don’t always do as such,” he consoled himself.
Outside, twilight was beginning to descend, and it occurred to him that the forest could become a far less hospitable place at night. He found a leather satchel in the closet and threw the book and some extra bread inside before making for the door, and was careful to shut and lock it behind him. He then tied the skeleton key securely around his wrist and set off.
As the sun continued to sink along the horizon, the Doctor found a bubbling brook, and decided to follow it as far as it might go. Water always led to civilization, he reasoned, although he wasn’t sure if they held the same for wicked witches. At least its cheerful gurgling sounds kept him company as he walked, for it seemed his little bird friend had abandoned him.
He hadn’t gone very far, however, when the sound of distant voices became apparent. As he approached, he realized that the voices were arguing.
“If you weren’t such a knob we wouldn’t BE lost in the middle of the forest!” a woman shouted.
“Yeah!” an angry male responded. “Because it was MY idea to come out here! You know what? I quit! I don’t want to play with you any more!”
“Fine!” the woman bit back. “You’re no fun anyways! See if I care!”
The Doctor broke through the clearing just as the woman was turning around, and her bright red hair flashed in the sunlight. She stopped cold, and her eyebrows shot straight up as the Doctor appeared out of nowhere.
“Amy?” he cried joyfully and confusedly.
He peered behind her, just making out the figure of the man in the background.
“Rory!” the Doctor added. “What are you two doing here?”
“What’s he on about?” the woman demanded, looking back at her friend.
“Uh, that’s Gretel,” the man responded grumpily. “And I’m Hansel. So who in the bloody hell are you?”
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