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Harry smiled at his mum while she tucked him up. He had no intention of sleeping. After all, it wasn’t even really dark yet. He knew what to do.
“Mum, what’s a ‘wood nymph’?”
“Where did you hear that word, Harry?”
“Don’t know, somewhere ... what’s it mean, mum?”
“If I explain it to you, will you go to sleep?”
“Ok, mum...”
“Alright then. Well, let’s see… I suppose you could say it’s a tree fairy. It’s one of those beings... like elves? They live in the woods and play, and dance, and sing deep inside the woods, by ponds and little streams.”
“They are very happy then, aren’t they, mum? Do they know the elves? Are they friends?”
“I suppose so. Now go to sleep.”
“Oh, mum, tell me a story and I’ll sleep, cross my heart.” Harry closed his eyes tight to show his mum how very, very quickly he’ll sleep if only she tells him a story. She smiles, frowns for a moment and then she begins:
“Well, not so long ago, not so far from here ...”
“Near the Cotswolds, Mum?”
“... shush, don’t interrupt or I forget. Yes, I suppose somewhere near the Cotswolds. Well, somewhere near the Cotswolds there was a wonderful wood called Bosleywold, full of many different trees – trees that stay green in the winter and others that lose their leaves – and bushes, brambles, glades, rushing brooks, mosses ... in short it was the perfect wood and a happy home for many creatures. There were all the different birds: those that sing during the day and sleep at night and others, like owls, that sleep in the day and roam and hunt at night ... There were wild boar, foxes, bambis and rabbits, weasels, stouts, hedgehogs, mice, squirrels and ...”
“...dwarves? ...”
“... yes, and dwarves and imps and elves and wood nymphs. Once a month, when the moon was full and so bright that its light reached even through those tall, old trees, they all got together in the glade for a dance and a chat to exchange the latest news they’d heard from the world outside.
“The next full moon fell on the Sunday before Christmas...”
“Why did it fall, Mum?”
“… it’s just an expression, Harry, stop interrupting. Now, where was I? Oh yes: “The next full moon was on the Sunday before Christmas, and that’s why everyone put on their finest clothes and warmest mittens, hats, boots, brushed their hair and washed behind their ears...”
“... especially the rabbits - oh, sorry Mum...”
“... yes, especially the rabbits, Harry. Now, where was I – oh, yes – they all went to the glade and sat down to wait for the elves and the wood nymphs who usually started the meetings with a dance, with the dwarves beating the rhythm on some hollowed tree trunks and the imps making silvery tinkly noises with their silver bells.
“The elves and the wood nymphs were just getting ready, holding hands and putting out their right feet to start the dance, when Elmer, a big old rabbit, broke through the circle with one jump and sat down in the middle of the glen, shivering and looking scared.
“Everyone stopped and looked at Elmer. ‘What is it, Elmer? What’s happened?’ Still shivering, his long ears twitching in all directions, he finally got his breath back and began to speak. ‘You know that I go out to the edges of the fields sometimes to see whether there is something to nibble. Yeah, I know I shouldn’t... well, just now I was out by farmer Brown’s fence, where they don’t have a field any more but this big yard, when I heard a commotion. I nearly raced away, that’s how noisy it was. But something made me stay and listen. They couldn’t see me anyway, and, besides, they weren’t looking at anything except the yard.’ He paused. ‘Go on!’ said the others impatiently, just like a little boy I know who can’t wait until the story is told. ‘Well, there were huge things they call machines, there were those machines they call chain saws, there were others they call trucks and many, many humans. They all talked at the same time, one louder than the other – probably to be heard over the racket the machines made – so I couldn’t hear very well. But one by one the machines stopped and I heard one voice above all the others in that sudden silence, and it said: Alright guys, get some shuteye now. The gear’s all in place. Next week we get started on Bosleywold. Make sure nobody hears about this ‘cause if people get wind of what we are about to do, we’ll have all these tree huggers coming in here trying to stop the project. But it’s Big Bert’s project and we are all being paid well to do it and shut up. Big Bert wouldn’t take kindly to news being leaked, would he now? So, down with Bosleywold. Soon there’ll be lovely little houses, a couple of factories, and we’ll all have more money in our pockets. Good night for now, thank you for bringing the machinery. See you all next week Monday. And that’s when I left and ran, and ran, until I got here to tell you. What are we going to do?’
“Everyone was as in shock. There was complete silence. Even the wind had stopped and not one brown leaf rustled. A big cloud moved across the moon and everything was dark.”
Harry had slipped under the blanket, only his eyes showing.
“When the glade was bathed in light again, Wynde, the most beautiful of the wood nymphs, stood in the middle of the glade, her green hair covered by a silver crown of moon beams, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice was no longer gentle and soft, but strong and cutting: ‘Go home, my friends. You may be called upon to defend Bosleywold. But for now there is nothing any of us can do. I shall go and talk with Alfrún, the oldest of the living trees. She has seen many things, she is wise and still listens to the world even now. And I’ll do as she bids me.’
“While everyone else went home, Wynde, too, disappeared into the shadows of the tall trees of Bosleywold but she didn’t go home. After a long walk, she reached a tree in the middle of Bosleywold with a trunk so enormous that all the wood nymphs holding hands would have had difficulty encircling it.
“She walked up to the nobbly trunk and pressed both her hands and her forehead against it. She whispered, ‘Alfrún, hear me... Alfrún ... we need you. Alfrún, wake up. It’s Wynde. We need you!’ Suddenly a long branch touched Wynde’s hair, and when she looked up she saw a huge face unfolding from the bark and a deep voice murmured gently, ‘Wynde, my child, what brings you to seek Alfrún?’
“‘Oh, Alfrún, we are all doomed unless you can think of something we can do to save us all...’ and she told her what they had just heard from Elmer. There was silence. Wynde knew that trees take a long time to think things over. Trees don’t rush into adventures or advice. And somehow she was certain that Alfrún would come up with an answer, a plan ...
“Wynde had made herself comfortable in Alfrún’s big motherly roots and waited. When what seemed many days and nights had passed, a branch touched Wynde’s hair again and Alfrún said: ‘The only one who can save the wood is you, my dear.’
“‘How, Alfrún? Tell me how and I’ll do it!’
“‘You must leave Bosleywold and go to the human they call Big Bert. You must first look into his eyes and then melt into his heart. He is not a bad human, just an ignorant one. But your love for the wood can change his heart, and it can do so only from the inside. You can’t ever return to the woods, except within him.’
“That night Wynde wept many tears. Before sunrise she set out, and by the time the human day began she sat in Big Bert’s office, in the visitor’s chair. There she was, almost transparent, a green shimmer for human eyes, her whole being full of love for Bosleywold and all its inhabitants.
“Suddenly the door opened and Wynde understood why they call him Big Bert. He barely fitted into the door frame, and when he sat down, the chair creaked. He was about to pick up the phone when he saw something move on the other side of the desk. He blinked, then frowned and dropped the phone. Big Bert had never been ill in his entire life; his violent temper had probably sustained him until today. But all of a sudden he felt weak, for a moment there he couldn’t breathe, his head was hurting and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Then he felt an almost unbearable sweetness in his heart. He sat back and smiled and knew exactly what he had to do. With tears in his eyes he picked up the phone again and called down to his workmen: ‘Stop the work on Bosleywold. Now. No, I don't have to tell you why, just do it!’
“And from then on, his astonished workers would often see him walking towards Bosleywold and disappearing in it for many hours. They almost didn’t recognize their boss, except for the fact that he was still a very big man. Every time when he came back, he had a smile on his face and a good word for everyone.”
By this point in the story Harry was fast asleep and his mother tucked him in, turned off the light and gently closed the door behind her.