Robert would have sighed if he could have. As it stood, he wasn't in a position to do much of anything. After all, he was a tree.
Well, all things considered, being a tree wasn't so bad. He had never enjoyed being out of doors more his entire life! He felt every breath of wind through his leaves. The sunlight not only trickled charmingly through his boughs, but was absorbed into them. The sun was almost as delicious as the water seeping into his roots. Robert was lucky; he became a tree on the edge of a riverbank, where there was plenty of water to go around. It was sweet, heavenly, amazing.
All things considered, life as a tree was interesting. Picturesque, almost. If he could capture how serene he felt now in a painting, it would sell for millions as a masterpiece of art. There was just one problem with facing life as an unmoving tree.
He would never cross the bridge again.
Robert tried in vain to sob and moan. The bridge was everything. She was his livelihood, his life, his joy. The soft grain of the wood beneath his bare feet and hands... the way he could trail his toes in the water as he sat over her edge... it was heaven on Weyard. Nothing could make Robert – or anyone, for that matter – happier than crossing this bridge.
But now, no one ever would; Robert was the bridge keeper. If he couldn't lower the bridge to the opposite bank, no one could cross it! Oh, the humanity! Would no one ever again relish the joy of traveling to new regions over a raging river? Would no one see the bridge for what she really was? Would no one cross the bridge again?
No! There had to be a way! Robert would force himself back to being a human, that's what he would do! Anything was possible if you wished hard enough, were determined enough, and spent enough time crying about it! Well, it wasn't really possible to cry as a tree, but he was oozing sap. Was that close enough?
Robert strained his tree body. Change! Change! Change! Human! Human! Human!
His outermost branch tingled. Yes, yes, yes! He was changing! This was it! Now was the time! His first act would be to lower the bridge and cross her again and again! Come on now, change!
A bird sang its little song from his outermost branch. Tingle of change? No. Tingle of a bird landing on his branch? Yes.
If Robert could have drooped, he would have. Man, this tree thing was a downer. He couldn't even droop. He couldn't sigh, he couldn't sob, he couldn't wiggle his toes! He didn't even have toes!
Robert gazed out over the water towards the opposite bank. A lucky little group of human travelers, three guys, had arrived. Hello! I'm Robert the bridge keeper! Do you want the joy of crossing this bridge? Of course you do! Let me lower it for you! he would have said. But he had no tongue to speak with.
The smaller of the boys pointed at Robert sadly. The three conversed and went back the way they came.
That was the other thing about being a tree. It was incredibly lonely. No tongue equals no talking, which he had already observed. Even if he did have other people-trees around him, he wouldn't be able to talk with them. He would only be able to stare at them sadly, which was kind of strange, considering the fact that he didn't have eyes to see out of, either. How could he see?
Puzzlement ran through Robert's wooden body. This made no sense. He could see perfectly, perhaps even better than before. Did that mean that all trees could see as well, or if that sense was unique to him as a tree that was formerly human?
Wait, go back. Robert had a wooden body. That meant he was made of wood. The bridge was made of wood! Pleasure replaced puzzlement. He had something in common with the bridge! Wasn't that something? Maybe now, he could better tune in with the bridge and get even more joy out of each crossing. After all, each crossing is better than the last!
But would he ever cross it again? After all, he was a tree. Trees don't move. The metal chains that held the power of lowering the bridge would rust over with disuse (Robert shuddered at the word) and even if someone came to lower the bridge, they wouldn't be able to because it was rusted in place. The last person to cross was the last. No one would set foot on this glorious bridge again.
Robert tried to cry, or at least ooze more sap than before. He couldn't let that happen! He would cross the bridge again! Travelers, like those three guys, would cross the bridge, as well! He would make it happen! He concentrated so hard that he thought his leaves would explode off his branches. Come on, change! Change! Change! Human! Human! Human!