The
Forest Kings
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Two
kings of the forest
stalked beside each other; glaring each other
eye to eye where their woodland kingdoms met. Trees bent aside for them
as they passed and the animals went silent afraid to even breath,
sensing their anger.
“Nothing you can say or do will ever allow me to forgive
you,” Waldkon growled with an ancient voice that crackling
like
dry leaves.
“Nothing is to be served by war,” the other forest
king
informed Waldkon his voice echoing through the woods like a cascading
of whispers.
“Something must be done however,” Waldkon growled.
“For the nymph you have stolen as your lover was a dear
daughter
to me.”
“She is dear to me as well,” the other replied as
they
stalked each other silently again. “Perhaps,” the
younger
said after an hour had passed, “I could give you something in
return?” |
“You have taken the sun and the night from me,”
Waldkon
scowled. “Taken the spring and the autumn. What can replace
that?”
“I can offer you a daughter of my own perhaps?”
“I do not need another daughter or another lover,”
Waldkon
scowled.
“Half the squirrels of my forest, perhaps?” the
other
probed.
“I do not wish for more food,” Waldkon shook his
head.
“For lambs and men abound in my lands and they already eat
plenty
of my plants.”
“Half my wolves than?” the other compromised.
“To eat
the lambs and men that hurt your plants.”
“If
you win at
tallfwrdd than you shall give me half your wolves
and all will be well between us,” Waldkon allowed.
“Should
you lose, however, you’ll return my daughter to me.”
The other nodded his agreement reluctantly, yet glad to have a chance
to avoid a war between them.
So they laid out the board for the game and Waldkon chose to play the
rebels while the other chose to play the king and princes.
They pondered each move as carefully as a tree ponders the nature of
the earth. The sun set and neither had an advantage. The sun rose and
the other king was winning. The sun set again and the Waldkon was
winning. Three days passed such with each taking his turn in the lead
until at last Waldkon realized loosing might be winning so the the
other finally won the game. As agreed half his wolves entered
Waldkon’s forests which surrounded the villages of Lochshire
and
Whispershire. As darkness fell over the land the people shuddered as
they heard the sound of thousands of new wolves calling to their mother
the moon. |
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A
Forest King Spreads
Illness
At the edge of the forest where the sea of green meets fields of golden
wheat a young tree screamed as an axe bit deep into her side. The
sounds of her pleading echoed through the forest and although no human
could hear them the Forest King did. Waldkon rushed through the woods
like a storm to save his granddaughter whose cries had become soft sobs
as she went mad from the pain the iron axe caused her. There was
nothing Waldkon could to to save her by then. She crumbled and fell
with a sigh, in so much pain she was glad that the end had come at
last.
Waldkon scowled at the young boy who’d killed his
granddaughter
as he hefted his axe again to cut down another tree. Waldkon saw the
future than, the farms spreading out from that moment into the future
until they would at last cover everything. Like a plague they would
press ever onward into the forest killing his descendants, his animals
and his friends.
Not if I strike first, Waldkon growled as he sucked the bacteria out of
the roots of the ground and blew them unseen into the boys open mouth.
A few moments later the boy gave a sharp cough.
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