Eledhwen
07-02-2003, 03:48 PM
There's a lighthearted discussion (somewhere!) in a thread called Hobbits Today, which has also spread to include Elves (are they still here?). It inspired me to write a short story, which I have posted below. Savernake is the remnant of an old forest just south of Marlborough, Wiltshire.
THE PEOPLE OF SAVERNAKE
Ian Cooper’s family had lived in the Marlborough and Pewsey area for centuries, until Ian’s father enlisted in the British Army and became a career soldier. Ian had been born in Aldershot and spent his childhood in such diverse places as Germany, Cyprus and Hong Kong. He too joined the army. He was in his late thirties when he met Alison, a British Ex-Pat in Hong Kong. They married within the year, and two years later Alison bore him a son, who they named Kevin.
When Kevin was sixteen years old, Ian decided he had had enough of the army. He had finally saved up enough to buy a decent sized home in Marlborough and managed to wangle a final posting to Wiltshire. He had spent little enough time in the county of his ancestors, but always regarded it as home.
So it was that Kevin spent his last two years at school in Marlborough; and though he had only ever known army married quarters and schools, Marlborough felt like home. His father was a good storyteller, and the Cooper family history was rich in local anecdotes. Each time Ian Cooper passed the site of some past family incident or event worth telling, he told the whole story in rich detail. Some stories went back even to the time when the family business was barrel making.
One day in summer, Kevin had the day off school and Ian was off work. “Let’s go to Savernake for a Barbecue” he said, and the tone in which he said it told Alison and Ian that the matter was decided. Kevin liked woods and forests, but since they had settled in Marlborough, his father had been too busy to take them or the weather had been against them. They packed the car with iceboxes, bottles, a recliner chair for Alison and rainwear (just in case), and set off up the hill, heading south.
“Keep a look out for the entrance” said Ian, “It’s been a long time since I came here. It’s on the left somewhere”. Kevin smiled to himself. On the right were houses and a few straggling trees. On the left was thick forest. Ian slowed down, and soon there was a trail of cars behind them. Kevin was embarrassed and looked hard for the entrance to the forest. Before long, a narrow gravel road cut into the forest with a green sign saying Forestry Commission.
“Left here Dad!” shouted Kevin, anxious to get out of the way of the trailing cars. With the briefest of warning, Ian braked and swerved to the left into the narrow entrance, to the sound of car horns and revving engines behind. Kevin winced. Within a few hundred yards they had found a suitable barbecue spot and Alison set about making the forest picnic table as sterile as possible before covering it with several protective layers of tablecloth. No point taking any chances.
While Ian got the barbecue under way, Kevin wandered off into the forest, followed by warnings to be back in time to eat. Soon the noise and chatter of the barbecue area had faded and Kevin could only hear the rustle of the carpet of dry beech leaves beneath his feet and the singing of the birds high in the forest canopy. Somewhere near he could hear a woodpecker. He threw himself down on his back under a large old beech tree so he could feast his eyes on the gently swaying leaves above, translucent in the sunshine. Beside the old tree, a younger beech tree was growing, its trunk no wider than a football. Its smooth gunmetal bark was tall and straight and its slender branches mingled with the strong, thick beams of the older tree. Kevin thought the little tree looked somehow very alive, more so even than the huge tree it stood next to.
He lay staring at the trees for a while, until he heard the sound of voices, two men, walking in the forest. Not wanting his privacy to be interrupted, he crept behind a holly bush and waited, wondering if they would see him. They sauntered nearer, pointing at trees as if discussing them, and walked past within a few paces without noticing Kevin. They appeared to be working. The older one had a clipboard and the other had a can of orange spray paint. The one with the clipboard pointed to a couple of trees and the younger man sprayed an orange mark on their trunks. Suddenly, the older man walked right up to the holly bush and stared over Kevin’s head towards the young tree he had been admiring. “That one’ll have to come down.” He said, “Too close to the big ‘un.” In response, the young man walked over and sprayed an orange mark on the young tree. They wandered on into the forest to continue their work.
Kevin crept out from his hiding place. He examined the orange blob of paint on the tree then felt it with his finger. Almost dry. He looked again up towards the treetop. It seemed to him that it was swaying somewhat more than the other trees. “I wonder if it knows?” muttered Kevin. As if in response, a shudder ran through the branches and Kevin was sure the tree knew its fate. Kevin ran and grabbed a bunch of leaves and straw. He rubbed frantically at the orange mark, but it did not even fade. “Turps!” he said, and ran back up the track towards the barbecue area.
As he emerged, Ian greeted him with “It isn’t ready yet; about twenty minutes.” Alison was immersed in a paperback book. “OK Dad,” answered Kevin. “I’m just going to get something out of the car.” He ran off before any awkward questions were asked. In the boot of the car was his dad’s toolbox. There was no turpentine, but there was a tin of stuff Kevin had seen his dad use to rub paint scrapes off the car. He grabbed it together with an old rag and ran back into the forest.
Back at the tree, Kevin poured some of the cloudy liquid onto the rag and rubbed at the orange mark. He got some of it onto the cloth, but was damaging the bark in the process. “Oh,” he cried in despair, “I’m doing more damage than good!” He sat down under the big old beech. Tears fell unbidden, and he cried until his tears ran out. It was only then that he noticed that someone else had come and sat alongside him. He peeped a tearful eye up at the newcomer, wondering what he wanted. It was a young man with long hair tied back in a ponytail, and wearing a beige woolly hat. He also had sunglasses on. He met Kevin’s gaze with a smile. “You seem to be upset.” He commented. “Are you lost?” The man had a pleasant voice; beautiful, Kevin would have called it, but he did not use such terms.
“No,” answered Kevin. He wondered if this man was also a forester. The man looked at Kevin’s tin and rag. “What have you got there?” he asked. “Nothing,” answered Kevin. The man picked up the rag and looked at the orange stain on it. “This is a foul smelling liquid. I think he did not like it much, though he knew you were trying to help.”
“Who’s he?” asked Kevin, hoping the stranger had misread the situation. “The beech, of course,” he answered. “You were trying to change his doom, were you not? Tell me, why should this one be saved and not the others?” Kevin went red. He stood up and shoved his hands deep into his pockets “I don’t know.” He answered. But his desire to share what he felt about the tree brought a sudden boldness to his voice. “There’s something special about it. The other trees didn’t seem to care one way or the other, but this one… well, it seemed to know; and, well, I don’t know, it seems to belong here and it shouldn’t be cut down.” The stranger stood and faced him, and Kevin noticed that he was tall. “Well said, Kevin,” he answered.
“How do you know my name?” asked Kevin. The stranger smiled. “I saw you watching the tree fellers, and I followed you. I could see you recognised the life in the tree. And now I will show you something.”
The stranger looked past Kevin into the forest. Kevin followed his gaze and two more tall figures appeared. The sun was behind them as they crossed a small grassy glade. Kevin could not make out their features, except that one had a woolly hat like the stranger’s. He did notice, as they got nearer, that they were walking silently across the carpet of dry beech leaves. The stranger spoke again; “I am Naldor. My companions are Aldir and Elenel.” As they approached, Kevin could see that Elenel was a woman. Her long blonde hair flowed loose over her shoulders. They were all dressed casually in greens and browns and wore small light shoes. Some sort of uniform, thought Kevin.
“You have funny names,” answered Kevin. Are you foreigners? The three laughed. Kevin liked their laughter; it seemed somehow musical and made him laugh too. Naldor was still wearing his sunglasses, but Kevin noticed that the other two’s eyes seemed to sparkle with their own light, especially when they laughed. “No, Kevin, answered Aldir. We are not foreigners. In fact, we might call you the foreigner here.”
“I don’t think so!” answered Kevin. “I was born abroad, but my family has lived in Marlborough for centuries.” He folded his arms defiantly. “As have I,” answered Naldor. I lived here when the forest covered all the downs and the plains, and even then it was not the largest.
continued....
THE PEOPLE OF SAVERNAKE
Ian Cooper’s family had lived in the Marlborough and Pewsey area for centuries, until Ian’s father enlisted in the British Army and became a career soldier. Ian had been born in Aldershot and spent his childhood in such diverse places as Germany, Cyprus and Hong Kong. He too joined the army. He was in his late thirties when he met Alison, a British Ex-Pat in Hong Kong. They married within the year, and two years later Alison bore him a son, who they named Kevin.
When Kevin was sixteen years old, Ian decided he had had enough of the army. He had finally saved up enough to buy a decent sized home in Marlborough and managed to wangle a final posting to Wiltshire. He had spent little enough time in the county of his ancestors, but always regarded it as home.
So it was that Kevin spent his last two years at school in Marlborough; and though he had only ever known army married quarters and schools, Marlborough felt like home. His father was a good storyteller, and the Cooper family history was rich in local anecdotes. Each time Ian Cooper passed the site of some past family incident or event worth telling, he told the whole story in rich detail. Some stories went back even to the time when the family business was barrel making.
One day in summer, Kevin had the day off school and Ian was off work. “Let’s go to Savernake for a Barbecue” he said, and the tone in which he said it told Alison and Ian that the matter was decided. Kevin liked woods and forests, but since they had settled in Marlborough, his father had been too busy to take them or the weather had been against them. They packed the car with iceboxes, bottles, a recliner chair for Alison and rainwear (just in case), and set off up the hill, heading south.
“Keep a look out for the entrance” said Ian, “It’s been a long time since I came here. It’s on the left somewhere”. Kevin smiled to himself. On the right were houses and a few straggling trees. On the left was thick forest. Ian slowed down, and soon there was a trail of cars behind them. Kevin was embarrassed and looked hard for the entrance to the forest. Before long, a narrow gravel road cut into the forest with a green sign saying Forestry Commission.
“Left here Dad!” shouted Kevin, anxious to get out of the way of the trailing cars. With the briefest of warning, Ian braked and swerved to the left into the narrow entrance, to the sound of car horns and revving engines behind. Kevin winced. Within a few hundred yards they had found a suitable barbecue spot and Alison set about making the forest picnic table as sterile as possible before covering it with several protective layers of tablecloth. No point taking any chances.
While Ian got the barbecue under way, Kevin wandered off into the forest, followed by warnings to be back in time to eat. Soon the noise and chatter of the barbecue area had faded and Kevin could only hear the rustle of the carpet of dry beech leaves beneath his feet and the singing of the birds high in the forest canopy. Somewhere near he could hear a woodpecker. He threw himself down on his back under a large old beech tree so he could feast his eyes on the gently swaying leaves above, translucent in the sunshine. Beside the old tree, a younger beech tree was growing, its trunk no wider than a football. Its smooth gunmetal bark was tall and straight and its slender branches mingled with the strong, thick beams of the older tree. Kevin thought the little tree looked somehow very alive, more so even than the huge tree it stood next to.
He lay staring at the trees for a while, until he heard the sound of voices, two men, walking in the forest. Not wanting his privacy to be interrupted, he crept behind a holly bush and waited, wondering if they would see him. They sauntered nearer, pointing at trees as if discussing them, and walked past within a few paces without noticing Kevin. They appeared to be working. The older one had a clipboard and the other had a can of orange spray paint. The one with the clipboard pointed to a couple of trees and the younger man sprayed an orange mark on their trunks. Suddenly, the older man walked right up to the holly bush and stared over Kevin’s head towards the young tree he had been admiring. “That one’ll have to come down.” He said, “Too close to the big ‘un.” In response, the young man walked over and sprayed an orange mark on the young tree. They wandered on into the forest to continue their work.
Kevin crept out from his hiding place. He examined the orange blob of paint on the tree then felt it with his finger. Almost dry. He looked again up towards the treetop. It seemed to him that it was swaying somewhat more than the other trees. “I wonder if it knows?” muttered Kevin. As if in response, a shudder ran through the branches and Kevin was sure the tree knew its fate. Kevin ran and grabbed a bunch of leaves and straw. He rubbed frantically at the orange mark, but it did not even fade. “Turps!” he said, and ran back up the track towards the barbecue area.
As he emerged, Ian greeted him with “It isn’t ready yet; about twenty minutes.” Alison was immersed in a paperback book. “OK Dad,” answered Kevin. “I’m just going to get something out of the car.” He ran off before any awkward questions were asked. In the boot of the car was his dad’s toolbox. There was no turpentine, but there was a tin of stuff Kevin had seen his dad use to rub paint scrapes off the car. He grabbed it together with an old rag and ran back into the forest.
Back at the tree, Kevin poured some of the cloudy liquid onto the rag and rubbed at the orange mark. He got some of it onto the cloth, but was damaging the bark in the process. “Oh,” he cried in despair, “I’m doing more damage than good!” He sat down under the big old beech. Tears fell unbidden, and he cried until his tears ran out. It was only then that he noticed that someone else had come and sat alongside him. He peeped a tearful eye up at the newcomer, wondering what he wanted. It was a young man with long hair tied back in a ponytail, and wearing a beige woolly hat. He also had sunglasses on. He met Kevin’s gaze with a smile. “You seem to be upset.” He commented. “Are you lost?” The man had a pleasant voice; beautiful, Kevin would have called it, but he did not use such terms.
“No,” answered Kevin. He wondered if this man was also a forester. The man looked at Kevin’s tin and rag. “What have you got there?” he asked. “Nothing,” answered Kevin. The man picked up the rag and looked at the orange stain on it. “This is a foul smelling liquid. I think he did not like it much, though he knew you were trying to help.”
“Who’s he?” asked Kevin, hoping the stranger had misread the situation. “The beech, of course,” he answered. “You were trying to change his doom, were you not? Tell me, why should this one be saved and not the others?” Kevin went red. He stood up and shoved his hands deep into his pockets “I don’t know.” He answered. But his desire to share what he felt about the tree brought a sudden boldness to his voice. “There’s something special about it. The other trees didn’t seem to care one way or the other, but this one… well, it seemed to know; and, well, I don’t know, it seems to belong here and it shouldn’t be cut down.” The stranger stood and faced him, and Kevin noticed that he was tall. “Well said, Kevin,” he answered.
“How do you know my name?” asked Kevin. The stranger smiled. “I saw you watching the tree fellers, and I followed you. I could see you recognised the life in the tree. And now I will show you something.”
The stranger looked past Kevin into the forest. Kevin followed his gaze and two more tall figures appeared. The sun was behind them as they crossed a small grassy glade. Kevin could not make out their features, except that one had a woolly hat like the stranger’s. He did notice, as they got nearer, that they were walking silently across the carpet of dry beech leaves. The stranger spoke again; “I am Naldor. My companions are Aldir and Elenel.” As they approached, Kevin could see that Elenel was a woman. Her long blonde hair flowed loose over her shoulders. They were all dressed casually in greens and browns and wore small light shoes. Some sort of uniform, thought Kevin.
“You have funny names,” answered Kevin. Are you foreigners? The three laughed. Kevin liked their laughter; it seemed somehow musical and made him laugh too. Naldor was still wearing his sunglasses, but Kevin noticed that the other two’s eyes seemed to sparkle with their own light, especially when they laughed. “No, Kevin, answered Aldir. We are not foreigners. In fact, we might call you the foreigner here.”
“I don’t think so!” answered Kevin. “I was born abroad, but my family has lived in Marlborough for centuries.” He folded his arms defiantly. “As have I,” answered Naldor. I lived here when the forest covered all the downs and the plains, and even then it was not the largest.
continued....