# My Scribblings



## Eledhwen (Jul 2, 2003)

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....


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## Eledhwen (Jul 2, 2003)

THE PEOPLE OF SAVERNAKE (...continued)

“That’s not possible,” protested Kevin. “That must be over a thousand years ago.” 

“And so it was,” answered Naldor. Elenel looked around sharply. “Someone approaches,” she said. “Come.” She took Kevin’s hand and the four of them ran through the trees out of sight of the path, and sat down again behind an ancient oak tree of huge girth. “I didn’t see anyone,” said Kevin.

“An old couple, walking a dog,” answered Elenel. “The dog would have come and given us too much attention. We must remain secret.”

“What sort of game are you playing?” asked Kevin. “You’re behaving like kids.”

“No, like Elves,” answered Naldor. “Not for two hundred years have we disclosed our existence here to one of the race of Men, but in you we see that it is safe to do so.” Kevin laughed, “You’re all mad. Besides, aren’t you a bit big? Elves are little people, aren’t they?”

Naldor and Aldir looked at each other, and took off their hats. Kevin was astonished to see that they had pointed ears. Naldor took off his sunglasses, and looked at Kevin through grey eyes that sparkled like stars. Kevin’s mouth fell open. He looked at Elenel, hoping maybe for some sign of normality, but she too smiled and pushed her hair back off her neat and strangely pretty pointed ears.

“Feel them,” she invited; “they are real.” And with that, she broke into a merry laughter again. Kevin laughed too. He raised his hand to feel Elenel’s ears, but thought better of it. “No, I insist!” she protested and, taking his hand, placed it gently on her ear. Kevin did not know what to think. He suddenly had a thousand questions, but as he thought of each of them, they seemed ridiculous to ask. “You’re taller than most people I know.” He said at last, “how come everyone thinks Elves are tiny.”

“That idea came from the place you call France, I think,” answered Naldor; “but it is quite useful. In the days of our youth, anyone who saw us would know us at once to be Elvenfolk. Yet now they all assume we are of the race of men, especially with the hats! Nobody but you knows there are Elves in the Savernake.” Naldor and Aldir put their hats back on their heads and laughed again.

“And now, Kevin, we will save that Beech you are so fond of.” Announced Naldor. The four stood up and returned to the condemned tree. The three Elves fell silent and stood around the tree. Naldor took a small phial of liquid and, pouring a few drops on his fingers, rubbed the orange paint on the tree. It faded to nothing, and the bruising Kevin caused trying to remove the mark also disappeared. Naldor placed two hands on the tree and whispered in a language Kevin did not understand, but in which every word sounded like it was in a beautiful song. The beech tree shuddered and the ground beneath it began to crack and break.

“It is done,” said Naldor softly. “He is awake, and will move out of harm’s way when the sun has gone down and the race of men have left the forest.”

“How can a tree move?” asked Kevin, now prepared to believe virtually anything.

“This is not just a tree, Kevin,” answered Elenel, “It is a Huorn, a tree shepherd. It is two years since he came to this great old tree, which was sickening from a destroying pest. If he had not come, it would be the old tree marked for destruction; but this place is close to the path, and the Huorns are wont to slip into sleep in such places so as to avoid discovery.” Aldir began to sing softly, and Kevin marvelled at the beauty of his singing voice. He stopped suddenly and touched the tree. It shuddered. Aldir continued the explanation, “It was the Huorn’s misfortune that he was seen by the foresters, and his good fortune that he was seen by you. Tears of grief for the trees from the young hearts of men are rare and are a mighty call to the Elves. Naldor has woken him, but it is because of you, Kevin, that this Huorn will live.”

Naldor smiled and held out his hand to Kevin, “And now we must be on our way. If we are seen too often, we might be mistaken for new agers and they will begin to look for our camp. They will not find it, but the hunt will rob us of some peace. Farewell Kevin, Elf friend!”

“Farewell; er..Goodbye!” answered Kevin clumsily. “Will I ever see you again?”
“You will,” answered Naldor, “for we have revealed our presence to you. Keep that knowledge secret, and you can always call us ‘friends’. We are not alone; there are others in this tiny scrap of forest and elsewhere too where you will now be welcomed. Namarie!”

Kevin watched as the three Elves disappeared into the woods with more speed and grace than a deer. He walked thoughtfully back up the track towards the barbecue area. As he approached, the smell of cooked meats made him realise that he was very hungry. He quickened his pace and saw Ian veiled in smoke.

“Where have you been?” Ian asked sharply, “I said twenty minutes!”

“Sorry Dad,” said Kevin, unable to think of any plausible explanation for his lateness. “Can we come here again sometime?” Ian put a plate of rather overdone food down on the picnic table. “We’ve had ours,” he said. “I’m glad you like it here. You know, about two hundred years ago, your great, great, great, great, great… now let me get this right… great, is that too many? Anyway, his name was Kevin too. He used to come to Savernake Forest every chance he got. Cracked, some people thought he was; he’d be up here come rain or shine, summer or winter. I think he would have lived up here if it weren’t for his family responsibilities. No-one had any idea why the place was so special to him.”

Kevin smiled. He could guess!

Alison put down her book. There were tears in her eyes. “That book always makes me cry at the end,” she said. “Hello Kevin; did you have a nice walk?" Kevin couldn't think of an answer, and was glad when Alison turned to Ian to ask; "Any more of those chicken drumsticks left, love?” Ian passed her a fresh plate of food; and Kevin looked across to see what book his mother had been reading. It was “Lord of the Rings” by JRR Tolkien. “Can I read your book after you, Mum?” he asked.


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## klugiglugus (Jul 13, 2003)

Thats really cool!


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## Eledhwen (Feb 18, 2005)

My Lot

This cannot be my lot,
A world of pain and strife;
The drones and clones I see around
As wheels turn and hammers pound
Until they put me in the ground
A spent, forgotten life.

No, there is somewhere else
Just barely out of sight
Where living green is all around
And nature's chorus is the sound
That fills the water, sky and ground
A world of power and light.

I wish with all my heart
That I could just break free.
A voice within says "Just let go!
Dive in! Don't just immerse a toe."
But fearful, my reply is "No! 
It isn't meant to be."


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## e.Blackstar (Mar 3, 2005)

Me like. Mucho.


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