Chapter 105
The Faun
In early spring Roger approached the huge oak tree with pole saw in hand.
The tree was one of the largest oaks in the area and was quite the survivor.
In its past, lightning had struck off one of its major limbs and a fire had eaten its way into the massive trunk.
In spite of all this, several of the lower limbs had touched ground, taken root and new growth could be seen coming up, reaching for the sunlight.
Looking the gnarled oak over, Roger mused.
If the old oak had been more exposed, strong winds would have long since blown it over.
Because it had taken root in a hollow, it had been sheltered from the worst of nature's fury.
The hoary tree seemed to be well populated for being so battered by the passage of time.
The largest of the offshoots had its own young tree spirit living in it and she was sitting on a stout limb enjoying the spring day's sun.
Sadly, she had a blotch on her greyish skin.
Mistletoe had taken root somewhere on her tree.
Roger looked the young tree over until he spotted the pale waxy green of the parasitic growth.
Without making eye contact with the young tree spirit, Roger reached out with his pole saw and deftly cut away the pale green blight.
The young tree spirit winced and scratched at her skin where a pinkish spot appeared that corresponded with the mistletoe's former location.
Pointedly ignoring the childlike spirit's reactions, Roger circled the youthful offshoot, clipping here and sawing there until he had cut away all that he could see.
Gathering up the fallen growth, he lugged it up to where he could pile it into his little truck and haul it away.
Returning to his labors, Roger stood with pole saw in hand and admired his efforts.
The mistletoe was gone and the beautiful child living in the tree would quickly heal.
It was only then that he made eye contact with the young tree spirit and winked at her.
The child's reaction was comical, her eyes opened wide and her mouth made an 'O' just before she vanished among the leaves of her slender young oak tree in her embarrassment at having been seen by a mortal.
Smiling to himself, Roger looked at the massive old tree just beyond the young oak tree.
It had been marked by the Green woman as having a tree spirit living in it.
It had quite the mistletoe infestation and humming to himself, Roger began cutting away the pale green growth he could easily reach with his pole saw.
Again and again, his saw blade sliced away a clump of mistletoe, leaving behind a small pinkish scar as it fell to the ground.
He had worked his way halfway around the huge tree when he noticed how the burned away portion of the massive trunk, had formed a sheltered hollow where an animal could make its den.
Pausing in his labors, Roger set down his pole saw and looked inside the hollow formed by the remaining trunk of the old oak tree.
The floor of the hollow was lined with decades of fallen leaves and windblown dirt that had softened and smoothed the floor into a passably comfortable nest.
One part of the floor had a slight depression in it from having been slept on by a former occupant, or so it appeared.
Sasha, the giant wolf who had accompanied him, sniffed around a little while and after having satisfied herself that nothing dangerous was using the hollow; went out into the sun and curled up into a relaxed but alert sitting position.
No one, no thing was going to bother her Roger, not while she was on duty!
Ever since their encounter with the Horned god and his Dark lady during winter's deepest cold.
Roger and Freya had made sure that neither of them was ever alone in the woods even if they had iron with them, they were taking no chances.
Taking up his saw again, Roger resumed his slow, methodical trek around the periphery of the aged tree.
His saw reaching upwards of twenty feet, slipped through the leaves and branches to slice away the low hanging cancerous growth.
By late afternoon he had completed his circuit of the age and lightning and fire scarred oak tree.
Clumps of mistletoe lay all about this matriarch of trees, it was a good start.
Shouldering his pole saw once again, Roger called his pony sized wolf companion and the pair returned to the house.
He would come back in the morning with his truck and a couple of ladders to completely clear the aged tree of its parasite.
That evening Roger enjoyed a tankard of Jotun ale after Warren Johnson and Astrid had returned to their small cottage behind the Karloff Library.
Anita Larsen with Astrid's brother Axel had retired to her room and keyboard.
Her latest book was nearing completion and she was determined to finish it ahead of time.
Between her school work, her working at the Karloff Library and her writing; Anita Larsen was one busy fifteen year old girl.
Freya was hunched over at the dining room table, she along with Dena Greenwood the wood wife, were working together in translating one of her grandmother's books into modern English.
Their efforts would be checked by other philologists also working on the translation of Induna's books into modern English.
Roger meanwhile, had inadvertently become the world's leading authority on the wee folk of Albion.
In his daily interactions with them he had made many observations and taken notes on their appearance, habits and behavior.
His few attempts at photographing them had failed miserably, as anything resembling modern technology caused them to simply vanish hastily and sometimes an angry chittering of dismay could be heard as they popped out of sight.
To untrained ears it merely sounded like crickets chirruping merrily.
To Roger's ears, he marveled at their creativity in telling him off.
Forced to resort to drawing them, Roger had taken some art classes and life drawing sessions at the local community college.
His long disused skills had improved quickly and he could now draw passably accurate pictures of his tiny entourage of 'neighbors'.
They themselves found it amusing that he would spend time drawing pictures of them, especially tiny Maribel and her family.
As he nursed his ale, Roger was drawing his impression of the childlike tree spirit as he had first seen her.
His sketch depicted her sitting with her legs stretched along a branch, leaning against the trunk with her eyes closed as she enjoyed the sun's warmth on her bare skin.
This was just before he began cutting away the mistletoe infesting her young tree.
Hearing the flutter of insectlike wings, Roger felt a tiny presence settling onto his right shoulder.
It was little April, Maribel's young daughter coming to see what he was up to.
The tiny sprite child had been born in the big house Roger shared with Freya and so many others.
April had quickly wormed her way into everyone's hearts and was in Dena's words, "Pure spoiled."
To which Roger had muttered, "Kettle, meet pot!"
And Freya had quickly chimed in with, "Says th' man daein' aw th' spoilin'!"
April fluttered down to the desk top and stood looking his drawing over.
As always, Roger marveled at the tiny sprite child standing before him.
Standing only a few inches tall, April wore little clothing, just enough for modesty's sake was the norm for sprites who needed their wings to be free.
Made from spider's silk, her clothing was quite gauzy and scarcely concealed her tiny form.
Like a miniature patron of the arts, April strode about the desk eyeing Roger's drawing from different angles, her tiny face a study in concentration.
Stifling a chuckle at her antics, he said, "I saw her earlier today when I went to clear her tree of mistletoe. This is how she looked when I first saw her."
Smiling at April, Roger said, "I'll be going back up there tomorrow morning. Would you like to come with me?"
Her brilliant smile was her reply and he reached over and opened a small metal cannister on his desk.
Taking out a tiny morsel of chocolate, he gave it to the sprite child to her delight.
Chocolate, Roger had discovered, was like ambrosia to sprites, they loved it!
Taking the tiny morsel in hand, April's insectlike wings blurred and she rose from the desk, pausing a moment to plant a tiny kiss on his cheek before flying back to the cubby hole she lived in with her family.
Smiling to himself, Roger worked on his drawing a little while longer, then called it a night.
The next morning after dropping Freya and Anita off at school, then fetching more cream for Silky, he got ready to head up to the old tree.
With Sasha in tow and tiny April perched on his shoulder, Roger loaded his long extension ladder and pole saw into the small truck.
He beckoned to Sasha and she hopped into the bed of the truck, making herself at home.
For grins, Roger sometimes took her with him when he was out running errands, just to see the reactions of people realizing they were looking at a gigantic wolf and not, a pony.
April perched on his shoulder while he drove past the nearly completed barn where the big horse named Samson lived.
He then deftly maneuvered his small truck close to the massive, gnarly oak he'd worked on the day before.
Extending his ladder up into the tree, Roger climbed it and with his pole saw in hand, he began slicing away the pale green growth he couldn't reach before.
Below him, April was perched on Sasha as she nosed about investigating any scents she may have missed the day before.
Knowing the tiny sprite was with the gigantic wolf, Roger relaxed and hummed to himself as he methodically worked his way around the old tree.
It was after he had moved his ladder a second time that he became aware of a presence, he was being watched.
As neither Sasha nor April had reacted to this unseen presence, Roger paid it no mind as he continued sawing at a massive clump of the parasitic growth before him.
There was a loud "Snap!" and the massive clump fell to the ground.
To Roger's perception, it seemed as if the entire tree heaved a sigh of relief.
Continuing on, he cut away as much of the growth as he could reach from his vantage point, before he would have to climb down and move the ladder yet again.
Roger worked steadily, pausing occasionally to make certain of Sasha's whereabouts as whereever the giant wolf was, April was sure to be nearby.
Seeing the huge wolf sitting quietly in the sun with the tiny sprite snuggled in her deep fur, well away from falling objects.
Roger resumed his task at hand.
Moments later he saw the aged oak tree spirit sitting on a nearby limb silently watching him.
Her gnarled body bore the scars of her long lifetime.
Greenish blotches on her greyish skin corresponded with the mistletoe infestation in her tree.
He noted that a number of the greenish blotches had been replaced by the pinkish tint of healing wounds.
Her right side was deeply scarred, almost blackened; mute evidence of the fire that had eaten so deeply into her tree decades before.
Her left shoulder had a peculiar scar that resembled an impact injury and he realized it was where her tree had been struck by lightning.
Roger extended his saw and with a quick stroke, sliced away yet another clump of the pale green blight.
The aged tree spirit winced as another greenish blotch suddenly turned into the pinkish tint of healing.
He snipped away a few more clumps and dead branches until he had gotten everything within his reach.
Deliberately avoiding eye contact with the aged tree spirit, Roger clambered back down and prepared to move his ladder.
A slight noise behind him made him turn around in time to see Silky carrying a wicker picnic basket.
She had brought them lunch.
Silent as ever, Silky spread out a drop cloth and began laying out his luncheon.
When Sasha showed an interest in the food, Silky, without pausing, pulled out a large beef bone and tossed it with unerring accuracy.
Sasha deftly snatched the bone out of the air and after placing it upright between her forepaws, commenced noisily crunching the massive bone.
April rose from her furry perch on Sasha's back and fluttered about, eyeing the picnic spread out by Silky.
Silky smiled at her and set out a tiny bowl, in this bowl she placed several fat, juicy grubs collected fresh that morning from the garden.
April squeaked happily and settled delicately beside the bowl.
Sprites, Roger had observed, would eat insect larvae without hesitation in addition to the nectar they drank from the blossoms.
Roger was about to sit down to eat when Silky solemnly handed him a wet wipe and glanced meaningfully at his hands.
He chuckled softly and made a show of cleaning his hands with the moistened towelette.
Grinning, he held out his hands for her inspection and smiled while she looked them over and nodded her approval.
One did not eat with dirty hands, not while she was on duty!
While he ate his sandwiches, Silky sipped at a silvery flask filled with fresh, heavy cream, the kind she liked best.
April daintily noshed on her wriggling comestibles while Sasha noisily demolished her beef bone.
All was well.
The aged tree spirit gazed down at them, this eclectic little group.
A mortal human sitting with a house spirit, a silky, while a sprite child noshed on her larvae and a gigantic, pony sized wolf crunched on a bone.
This was something she had never seen before and she was the beneficiary of their presence.
While the places where the infestation had been cut away still stung a bit, she felt better than she had for a long time.
Her daughter was also quickly recovering from her own infection and the two smiled at each other.
Perhaps the recently arrived young faun would like their new found vigor.
Perhaps she would avoid the fate of the last faun that had lived in her hollowed out trunk.
The one who had disappeared when the dark god and his wild hunt came by one night, years ago.
Things were different now, a Jotun lass, one of the earth lords was living nearby.
The Green Woman was awake now and so were her self aware trees, the ones that had been brought there by men, unaware of what they were doing.
For a hundred winters they had slept with their roots in the ground, dreaming of their former lands and former lives.
The coming of the Jotun girl had changed everything.
The iron fences had come down, one by one, and wood elves came to live.
There were guardian wolves now and spriggans guarded the hills and valleys.
Humans with the sight to see were removing the green blight that had already killed some of her sisters and the earth lord's child was healing the land.
The queen had returned from under the hills and sprites now flitted about under the watchful eye of the old raven who lived in the towering pine tree nearby.
These things all ran through her mind as she watched the little group eating.
Having finished their meal, Silky gathered up the picnic items, folded up the drop cloth and placed it in her basket.
She smiled shyly at him and began walking back down the hill and home.
Roger smiled to himself as he watched the diminutive house spirit clad in pale shades of lavender silk, walking back home.
On her shoulder perched tiny April, the sprite child born in their house.
Watching him high up on a ladder wielding a pole saw, had likely bored her to tears and now she was headed home to take a nap, most likely.
Shrugging, he relocated the ladder and was soon high above the ground slicing away at the pale green blight within easy reach.
Roger worked another couple of hours, called it a day and returned the small truck, ladder and pole saw to their usual places.
He would finish up in the morning and haul away the cuttings.
Typically, the mistletoe went to the green waste dump and the dead branches, etc. Went to the woodpile for Salamander to nosh on.
Checking the time, Roger hopped into their new van, it being one of those tall cargo hauling types that could easily accommodate a growing giantess.
Driving to Lincoln High School, where Freya and Anita, now both fifteen years old went to school.
He parked with the rest of the waiting parental units and waited for the dismissal bell.
Freya now stood well over eight feet tall and many of her classmates from elementary and middle school had enjoyed seeing the reactions of other students and school officials, not familiar with the Giantess of Portland.
At the hour, the school bell rang and a few moments later a tidal surge of school kids poured out of the gateways.
Talking and jostling each other, they said their goodbyes to their school chums and rapidly dispersed among the parked cars waiting for them.
Roger smiled as he saw tiny Christina Aquino dressed in a cheerleader's outfit waving goodbye to the other girls dressed likewise, before she literally bounced over to her mom's gleaming black BMW SUV.
She paused briefly and waved at him before hopping inside the luxurious behemoth.
He smiled back and waved, Christina was a tiny force of nature standing all of four foot five inches tall and weighing about 65 pounds.
Naturally athletic, she made a perfect cheerleader as she was fearless, easily hoisted aloft and loved being tossed into the air.
Being adorably cute also helped among her many other charms.
Tamara Johnson and Dierdre Shannon emerged from the crowd, both now about six feet tall and on the junior girl's basketball team, they were wearing the school's team colors and strode along chatting happily.
Near the back of the crowd, he saw Freya looming over everyone.
She was at least two feet taller than most everyone, even the senior varsity boy's basketball players were dwarfed by her.
She waved at Roger and smiled, a good sign, thought Roger.
Ducking her head to exit the campus gates, Freya said her goodbyes to her friend Lorna Yamada and hopped into Roger's new van.
Having made herself at home in her seat, Roger paused a moment before turning the ignition key, "Is Anita coming?"
"Ah think sae," Replied Freya, "Ah saw 'er at lunch an' she didnae say she was stayin' late."
Letting go of the ignition key, Roger leaned back and sighed, they'd wait a few more minutes before calling her to see what the hangup was.
"How's 'at auld oak tree camin' alang?" Asked Freya out of the blue.
"I'm about halfway done. I've cut away a lot of the dead growth and mistletoe.
The tree spirit is starting to look better even if she now has a lot of pinkish skin to show for my efforts." He replied.
"A few months from now her skin will have lost the pinkish blotches from where I cut away the mistletoe."
"Ah"
"I think this is the last tree the Green Woman had marked.
Interesting thing about this tree, a fire had eaten into the trunk and formed a sort of hollow, almost like a den. It looked like something had lived in it at one time.
Nothing bad apparently, as neither Sasha or April reacted as if it were anything dangerous."
Freya was about to comment on his remarks when Anita came running up to their van.
As usual, she was clutching her book bag to her modest bosom, looking a little frazzled and slightly breathless.
Piling into the van, she gasped, "Sorry I'm late, my English Lit. Teacher wanted to talk to me about my grades."
Freya muttered, "Och aye, 'e's a tough 'un. A real stickler abit names an' dates an' sich."
Frowning, she muttered, "He's tauld me tae nae write me class notes in runes. Says 'e cannae read them an' doesnae ken if Ah'm writin' abit English Lit ur somethin' else."
"Says Ah tawk funny too." she finished with a sigh.
"Yep, that's him alright. Just 'cause his name is on the textbook, he thinks he can browbeat his students!" Piped up Anita.
"He even criticized modern literature and bad mouthed YA fiction like it's a waste of time, paper and ink!" Snarled Anita who then chuckled and said gleefully, "He talked about an up and coming author he liked and even held up one of her books.
I wanted to laugh because it was the one I wrote last year!"
Freya looked a bit puzzled and asked, "He doesnae ken yoo're a writer?"
"Nope and I have no intention of telling him. Only a few of my most trusted friends know I'm an author and I trust them not to blab.
"Maybe I'll tell him after I graduate...Maybe, if only to see the look on his face."
Having started up the van, Roger eased it into traffic and sped off towards home.
Once up to speed Roger glanced up at the rear view mirror at Anita and asked,"Do any of the book club members know about your writing?"
Anita smiled and replied,"They know I write but they don't know I'm an author. They just see as the author's name on my books.
"There's a lot of fangirls at school and I'll overhear them shipping my characters into relationships I'd never even considered and one or two of them have written up some really tacky fanfics describing these made up relationships.
"No way am I going to tell them I wrote the books they're gushing over, I don't need that kind of attention. Anastasia told me to protect my privacy as much as I can and seeing as how she'll come up here to escape from L.A. For a bit; I'll take her at her word!"
"Shipping?" Asked Roger.
"Hoo boy!" sighed Anita,"Shipping is kinda the same as pairing, as in characters getting paired off either by the author or by a fan's wishful thinking.
It gets pretty complicated sometimes and there's a whole lotta types of shipping or pairing, if you'd prefer."
Roger at this point, could only shrug and comment, "Sounds like it can get pretty crazy!"
Anita laughed and said, "You have no idea! One girl who claims to be my biggest fan, cheerfully declared she had written and posted a fanfic story based on one of my earlier books.
"She went into detail about the shipping she had done with a couple of my major characters and I was like, " Ewww...What are you doing to my book?" Thank goodness she has no idea I wrote that book, otherwise I'd have to leave school to get away from her!"
Roger smiled at the diminutive 15 year old and said,"Your' secret is safe with us, you know we'll protect you."
He grinned, "If not us, Axel certainly will and you know Silky won't let anyone in the house she doesn't like."
Anita smiled at the memory of Silky dealing with some Jehovah's Witnesses last year. They were given a chilly reception and the massive presence of Golden eyes lurking right behind her, added to their sudden desire to vacate the premises.
The next morning being a Saturday, Roger returned with his tall ladder, his pole saw, his truck, and his luncheon.
He spent some time piling the previous day's cuttings near his truck, mistletoe in one pile and dead branches in the other.
"Salamander will like these." He thought as he piled up the dead branches.
Finishing that little task he set up his tall ladder where he wanted it, took up his pole saw and began climbing.
Halfway up the ladder and out of the corner of his eye, Roger saw the aged tree spirit.
She was smiling at him from her perch and looked better already.
He smiled back at her, no sense in pretending he couldn't see her along with all the other 'neighbors' that lived in the area around the house once built for a giant.
Her cheeks dimpled at his smile and she watched as as his long, sharp, curve bladed saw reached way out and curved itself around a pale green clump of blight, then with a sudden jerk, sliced off the tumorous growth.
The tree spirit winced slightly at the cutting sensation and the sudden appearance of yet another pinkish blotch.
Muttering, "Sorry, but this has to be done."
Roger reached for the next clump and with a quick stroke, cut that off too.
Repeating this process over and over, he soon had to relocate his ladder and begin anew.
At lunchtime, he was joined by Freya, Dena and Sasha.
Dena as always, had ridden up on Sasha's deeply furred back.
While he was eating, Freya looked the hoary oak over with a critical eye.
She finally asked him, "Why huvnae ye asked th' wuid elves tae help ye? They coods get tae th' mistletoe ye cannae reach wi' yer polesaw."
Roger could only shrug and reply, "I hadn't thought of asking them, I figured they'd be busy keeping things going up at the library."
Dena suddenly piped up, "Ye cood've asked me tae help, ye daft dear man. Ah'll ask me grand children tae help if yoo'll get them th' saws they'll be needin'."
Feeling a little sheepish, Roger said lamely, "Well, I figured you'd be helping Silky..."
Dena at this point nearly exploded, "Noo yer jist makin' excuses! Ay coorse Ah'd help ye, ye silly cheil. Loch it ur nae, Ah dae loove ye an' wull stay wi' ye 'til th' end, an' then Ah'll mourn yer passin'. That' whit we wuid guidwives dae, we loove those we abide wi'!"
Swallowing his last bit of sandwich, Roger cleared his throat and said,"Okay, we'll do that. I'll get the tools and you'll strongarm your relatives. However! I will need your help in selecting the right size tools.
"That means the three of us are going shopping at the nursery, and you, my tiny pest of a companion, are going to have to behave yourself!"
Dena positively beamed at his remarks and only took one of the cookies he had packed in his lunch, instead of the two she would have taken ordinarily.
Deciding to stop early, Roger put away his tall ladder and pole saw while Freya and Dena examined the gnarly old tree.
When they rejoined him, Freya and Dena were quietly discussing something they had seen during their inspection of the old tree.
When he showed an interest in their discussion, Freya remarked, "'Tis naethin' really, jist somethin' we saw in th' auld tree's trunk."
"You mean that part that's all hollowed out and looks like something lived in it at one time?" He asked.
Freya smiled and replied, "Och aye, sae ye did notice it?"
"I couldn't help seeing it, it just had that sort of look to it, that and the part that looked slept in, like a deer or something holed up in there at one time."
" 'Tis nae deer!" piped up Dena suddenly.
"Not a deer? Why do you say that?"
" 'T'was a faun 'at abided thaur 'til she was caught by th' mirk god durin' a wildhunt years agone." Replied Dena with conviction.
"And you figured this, how?"
"Ah jist ken it war a faun...Ah am a wuid guidwife, Ah kin sense these sort ay things!"
Her tone left little room for doubt as to her sincerity.
"Did the tree spirit tell you this? You're a wood wife, can't you talk to the tree spirits or something?"
Dena just smiled at him in her own adorable way and Roger just rolled his eyes in return.
The tiny wood elf could be so exasperating, yet she, like all of her kind, was so lovable that it was very hard to ever get very upset with her.
It was her 'weapons grade cuteness', as Roger had described it one time.
They all piled into Roger's small truck.
Sasha's massive form curled up in the truck's bed while Freya, somehow squeezed her eight and a half foot tall, lanky form into the passenger seat.
Dena snuggled her two foot tall doll sized self in between Roger and Freya while he drove back down the hill past the small barn recently erected to house Samson, the enormous draft horse Freya had found somewhere to help her with her hobby farm turned commercial enterprise.
Leaving the ladder and tools in the truck, the four of them trooped into the big house they all shared.
Sasha promptly sought out her mate and lay down beside him before the cheery blaze in the front parlour's fireplace provided by the resident salamander.
Roger called out to the other two, "We'll be leaving here in about fifteen minutes, so put on your fit for society clothes, if you feel like it."
Thirteen minutes later, Freya and Dena were ready to his pleasant surprise and
somehow, their outfits matched almost perfectly.
Freya had on the almost universal Portland Grunge outfit. Snug fitting faded jeans, a sleeveless knit top covered by a long sleeved plaid shirt and in Freya's case, leather shoes.
Size 50 sneakers went for crazy prices and so, it was cheaper for her to get her shoes either from home or to have Native Earth make them for her.
Native Earth as always, were delighted to make shoes for the near legendary 'Giantess of Portland'.
Dena's outfit had obviously come from Danny Chen, maker of a fashion doll line called Smart dolls and yes, she had sneakers just her size.
Roger smiled at the two and commented, "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you two planned this."
Dena giggled and squeaked, "White'er dae ye mean?" before striking an adorable pose.
He merely rolled his eyes and said, "You've been watching waaay too much anime!"
Freya took up her roomy bag of holding and Dena climbed into it, leaving only her head and shoulders exposed.
By this arrangement Dena had gotten smuggled into quite a few venues without being noticed.
For example, the doll clothes she was wearing were a result from her foray into an anime convention and her encountering Danny Chen and his smart doll display.
Piling into the new van, they drove down to Pomarius nursery, near their home.
The place had been there a long time and their staff was quite knowledgeable.
They had come to know Freya quite well over the years with her various endeavours pertaining to her greatly enlarged yard.