Editing Fawn BW XXXII

The dappled light of the early summer sun broke through the bright-green young leaves of the maple and elder, surrounding the glade, and sparkled in reflection off the surface of the fast flowing brook which tumbled over and around lichen-covered rock.  Fawn’s eyes were drawn to the rock-strewn, grassy bank where an elf sat, singing gently whilst watching the bubbles swirl and dance in the brook. His music at first competed with and then complimented the sound of the water as it broke, eddied and whirled in its hectic course downstream. As if washing the land, the detritus from autumns past and the freshly deceased issue of the recent spring was carried swiftly away. His song was angelic – pure, innocent and carefree. He sang in a tongue long forgotten, only recognised by the ancient oak and the young rock freshly turned in the rapid water. His garments reflected his surroundings: rabbit fur, deer skin and flax linen. Ageless, his features betrayed naught but concentration in his effort to recall and form the words of his song. Cross legged he sat on the river bank, lyre across his leather clad legs, plucked by a silver plectrum held firmly in his right hand. The fingers of his left hand moved rapidly across the fret to capture each note, releasing it in staccato fashion echoing the rippling of the water. His eyes were pure azure, deep and rich; his hair was hues of gold.

She came from the maple, literally taking human form as she emerged from the tree.  Naked, she was stunning. So beautiful that the very life of a man would be put at risk should he even glimpse her wonderful form. She danced to his music, slowly turning and pacing in time to his strumming fingers. For his part he kept his eyes down, playing and singing; conscious she was near but not daring to look. He knew her to be a Wood Nymph – as rare as unicorn and more wondrous. He was clearly delighted that she felt able to appear in response to his song, which was louder and more confident now. She began to dance as he played. He had struck the right tune, indeed the right note – pertinent to that season, month and day. Himself mesmerised, Fawn felt drawn into the vision and to the elf’s mind.

What better place to keep it safe, the elf thought.  It came from nature and should go back to it. It was part of a different world, of that he was certain, but it had such power over this one - the dwarves knew that.  Yet, in its use it brought devastation.  The contradiction was stark: the shard’s ability to heal all the wounds inflicted on the Prime compared to the total destruction it brought down upon its user.  Occasionally, he knew, there had been those who understood what would happen to them but still chose to heal the world around them.  How courageous they had been. Here it was hidden and guarded by powers beyond explanation – nature itself!  Only those with sufficient understanding would know of this link between Planes and how to summon the ‘roots, trunk and limb’ of the Tree.   

Yes, it should stay here, near the Tree and this wonderful creature who would secure it without even knowing or caring what it was.  ‘It is certainly not safe with me,’ the elf’s thoughts broke into Fawn’s mind again, ‘not where I am to go’.  The music changed subtly, taking on something a little darker, the notes more bass and resonate.  ‘No, there is no easy path and I dare not leave you in that realm,’ the elf continued to think as his fingers slowed and the lyre’s now more discordant voice weaved its patterns.  He knew that the Glade existed between worlds, between Planes – neither Prime, nor Ethereal, nor otherworldly.  It existed everywhere and nowhere.  ‘Yes, the shard would be safe here,’ he reaffirmed.  Fawn saw the elf drop a small green stone into the pool to his left, barely altering the music to accommodate his movement. The Nymph stopped for a moment and looked at the concentric circles expanding across the deep, blue water.  She smiled and danced again, slowly returning to the forest as if she knew all along the purpose of their encounter.

The elf eventually stopped playing and stood, carefully hoisting his lyre across his back. He looked at the tall trees to his front and followed the Nymph into the forest, choosing his path carefully. Eventually, Fawn recognised the stand of trees and the ‘gate’ that led to the heart of Yggdrasil.  The elf spoke in his ancient tongue and the gate opened; he paused before going on, into what Fawn recalled was the entrance to the heart of the Tree and its own Portal, and said, “Autumn approaches and the cold, dark of winter follows on its heels; I wonder if you will see Spring again.  I will play for you from the other worlds and perhaps will venture this path again, but first I must to the depths descend.’ With that, the elf walked through the familiar passage and lit the braziers already arrange to align the portal with the ethereal.  

‘His desire must be assuaged, lest he returns and lays waste to the Prime…’ the elf’s thoughts broke into Fawn’s mind once again, ‘No, trinkets will no longer satisfy his desire; he must take his love and deny this place her attentions. Not upon his realm directly will I come, though this place has the power…” he seemed to be justifying his actions to himself as he worked. ‘That way is guarded and I would not be welcome; no, there is a longer way…but I have the song.’

Having stepped through the portal, the elf is suddenly in the deep blue. Un-phased, he lifted his lyre once more and sung in common.  With every word his speed of movement seemed to increase, yet his direction appeared constant.  


You bring the light clasped round you, and although

I knew you’d bring it, knew it as I waited,

Knew as you’d come that you’d come cloaked in light

I had forgotten what light meant, and so

This longed for moment, so anticipated,

I stand still, dazzled by my own delight.



I see you, and you see me, and we smile

And your smile says you are as pleased as me

With everything and nothing still to say

All that we’ve saved and thought through all this time

Boils down to affirmation now as we

Stand here enlightened in my realm of grey.



Cerberus wags his solitary tail,

And though the dust of Hell lies round our feet

Your flowers are already sprouting through.

“You came,” “I said I would,” “You didn’t fail,”

“And you’re still here,” “Of course. We said we’d meet.”

“Yes,” “Yes!” “You’re really here! “And so are you!”



We don’t say yet that you will have to go

And Hell return inevitably black

Your flowers fade when parted from your tread

Though this is something we both surely know,

As certain as you come, you must go back,

And I remain alone among the dead.



They say I snatched you from the world above

Bound you with pomegranates, cast a spell

Bribed you with architecture. It’s not so.

Friendship is complicated, life is, love,

Your work the growing world, my task is Hell

You come back always, always have to go.



But here and now, this moment, we can smile,

Speak and be heard, this moment we can share

And laugh, and help each other to be great,

And talk aloud together, all worthwhile,

Our work, our worlds, and all we really care,

Each word shines golden, each thought worth the wait.



And Hell’s poor souls whirl round us as they glide

Off up to Lethe to begin again,

On to new lives, new dawns beyond Hell’s night.

We walk among your flowers, side by side,

Such joys we share are worth a little pain.

You come back. And you always bring the light


As the last verse begun, the elf slowed and, as his fingers plucked and his voice struck the final note, he was briefly confronted with a shimmering silver curtain before passing through and beyond Fawn’s sight.