Commissioned by Mags, for the character Garrick Brightbloom. This was written in April 2021.
In the depths of the forest, far from any village or town, was a massive oak. She was one of many, standing tall and proud, branches lifting high in the sky to take in the nourishing light of day. She loved the feeling of the wind in her leaves, how she and her siblings saw the wide open skies above them. She loved the depth and breadth of her roots, how they connected her with the rest of the forest. She went far without ever moving, and this place had been her home for millenia. She, like her brethren, had given life, shelter, and home to many creatures in the woods. She remembered them fondly, the nests made in her branches, the birds, bees and other small creatures who had made their home there over the years.
She knew, also, that she was not like her family. Not quite. She grew stronger, taller, her foliage more vibrant, the earth around her more rich. In her domain everything grew better – and she was at its center. She knew she was visited more often than many, that those who passed in and out of her roots, crossing between this realm and the other, were not usual. She knew her brethren did not all know of themselves in the Feywilds for they, unlike her, did not house a portal in their roots. She could not imagine her life any other way, and had always held a soft spot for the creatures sent to protect it, and protect her.
She thought kindly of the guardian she had now. They had been together for some time, many seasons passing as he watched the portal to the Feywilds, from this side and her other. He was a good man, she thought. Patient. Kind. His name was Garrick Brightbloom, and he was a Wood Elf. Her favourite of his kind.
The wind whispered through her leaves, bringing news from across the woods and, with it, his voice. Garrick was often slow to speak. His thoughts were like her leaves in the wind, swept up in one direction, rising and falling, never set in a particular course. Today, he was fletching an arrow made from one of her discarded branches. The feathers had come from birds whose homes were made in her boughs.
“Oh Little Brother… We are nearly done with this now… but not with..” His voice trailed, a warm timber, ever uncertain. She listened with care, feeling the familiar patter of Little Brother, Garrick’s mouse, across the base of her trunk.
“Its been so long… hasn’t it.” The light brown mouse scurried over to his shoulder, nose twitching as Garrick paused in his work.
“Or… has it? I don’t…” the Wood Elf frowned, and leaned back into her trunk, “I don’t remember.”
Garrick set the arrow and feathers down on his lap. The mouse skittered down his arm, tiny claws gripping the baggy brown material tightly. Her guardian tilted his head back, green eyes looking out at the canopy, gaze drifting without seeing.
“How long… have we been here? Time… time in the Feywilds is… I don’t… know. A long time… I think.” He reached into the threadbare sack at his side, pulling out an old, worn plush. The rabbit had been filthy when he had first arrived, and only grown dirtier in his time beneath her branches. He turned it over in his hands, staring down at its one-eyed face.
“Who…” his thumb ran across the material, stroking its ear, “I almost remember… somewhere… a moment…” Next came the faded paper, the words all but lost to time. She knew what remained as well as he did, branches creaking high above his head as he read them aloud.
“‘Your Father,’ …. my… father.” Garrick looked from the note to the rabbit.
“Where… are you? I don’t remember, I’ve been gone…”
Time passed differently in the Feywilds, she knew. A moment here was not as it was there. A day might be a year, and a year might be a minute. Garrick’s vigil had seen him on both sides of the portal, and with each season that had passed, he remembered a little less of who he had been before. Of his family. Of his friends. She thought well of him. He was caring and well-meaning, bringing gifts for her and the creatures he shared her branches with. Her leaves shook in the wind, and then again, stronger. Three leaves drifted towards the ground.
Garrick looked up slowly as the first fell onto his lap, sliding down the paper’s faded letters. A slow smile spread over his face before he hunched forward, fingers running over the leaf.
“Look, Little Brother… a gift, … oh.” He saw the second leaf, lying near his boots, and then the third, leading away from the tree. He stared at them in silence for what was, to her, a short time. When he shifted again, it was to look back to the rabbit and note.
“I wonder… where they are… who… I want to find them.” A hand lifted to his head, pushing back a long length of matted red hair. She knew there were pieces of her bark, and leaves, yet tangled in it. The mouse remained curled on his knee, nearly the same colour as his pants, and cleaner by far.
“I will find him, Little Brother.. My… father. I think… it is time for us to go, soon. After dinner, or was it lunch…?” His fingers continued to run absently over the rabbit’s head.
“Yes… this is what we will do. An… adventure. You won’t mind, will… you?” He turned, patting her trunk with affection.
“So long… I’ve been here… you too, always here. Watching… Thank you.”
High above Garrick’s head, the wind whispered through her branches, and she was thankful for it. The gentle, swishing of the leaves was calming, a melody Garrick knew well. As he settled back against her trunk, pulling his faded green cloak up to his chin, she knew their time was coming to an end. Another would come, with their story to tell, and she would shelter them as best she could, as she always had. She would remember Garrick Brightbloom, his story part of her branches, stretching through across the forest in her roots. Their time together was at an end, but his next chapter was just about to begin.
The Cozy Cauldron 