The Enchanted Forest: A Fantasy Folk Tale
- iyrunner9
- 13 minutes ago
- 18 min read
The Enchanted Forest
Not so far away, within a forest awaits an enchanted place. It is a place only wanderers, fortune-seekers, and foolish children seek to go. It is now a cursed place and full of wonders. Of those, whose lives the forest has claimed, their treasure and tales lie — waiting to be discovered.
Eighty-six years ago when I was but a wee lass, I left my mother's gardens, hopped my father's walls, and disappeared into my great-great-grandparents' forest. Unlike any other time, I delved into the wooded maze. That was until I saw the bird. . .
The red-browed grouse seemed to call out to me. I loved its song. I whistled back. The bird twitched its head as if getting a better look at this featherless creature. Then it sang back, almost as if echoing the very song I had sung. Smiling, I produced a wedge of bread from my sack. Crumbling it into grainy sand, I scattered it over the moss-ridden earth.
Cocking its head, the little animal obliged, soaring down to feast on the treat. Once its fill was had, the bird ruffled its feathers and flew deeper into the misty green forest. It landed on a branch and did a wobbly-kneed hop before trilling and flying just a tad further in. It looked back at me with its black-orbed eyes, as if to say: Follow me, lass.
Forgetting my things, including my acquired stash of acorns and pinecones, I chased after. I screeched with delight as it led me through an obstacle course of fallen trees, babbling brooks, and perilous slopes. I only paused when we reached an old palisade. It was so old that it was more of a thing of the forest. Moss and lichen carpeted its every inch, nook, and cranny. Ants and other wandering insects crawled across its stonework and white-belled flowers drooped from the web of vines that clung to it.
I almost stopped as the grouse came to land atop the ancient rock wall. Just below its spindly feet was the sculpted face of a man, whose wild beard seemed to connect to his untamed hair. An unruly mane to fit an unsightly face. The carvings poked out of a mouth rowed in sharp teeth and his beady eyes sent a shiver down my spine. The bird whistled, snaring my attention, and all my concerns.
The chase was back on!
Using the carving tongue, I clambered over the palisade and remembered my father's warning to never cross the wall in the forest. Screwing my face into a frown, I lost the thought as the bird flew between a pillar of trees and down behind a tangle of sword ferns.
“Wait for me!” I squeaked, sprinting after the little devil.
Hurtling through the trees, pushing the ferns apart, I yelped as the ground seemed to give way beneath me. In my fun, I hadn’t noticed the knotted roots — nor the ridge. Tripping, I tumbled head over heels down a steep but short earthen slope.
Tumbling to a stop, I cried for some time — even after I realized I hadn’t been hurt. I didn’t stop until I realized just how quiet the forest had become.
“Bird?” I sniffled. Looking around, I saw a peculiar stone pillar. It jutted out of the ground like the little toe of a sleeping giant. Inspecting it, I saw the grooved indents of the old father tongue. There weren’t many who remembered it, but my mother had insisted I learn from her; “We belong to this forest and so we must remember all of the old ways,” she would say.
Here lies the fingerprints of El-Shaddai
“El-Shaddai?” I frowned. I thought I’d heard that somewhere before. Shrugging, I beamed at the sight of the grouse. “I see you,” I said. “Where are we? Is this your home?”
The grouse cooed and hopped ahead, noiseless on the pillows of green. Overhead, lazy clouds stretched over the sun and shadows filled the bowled vale. I gasped as the invisible was made visible. One hop from the little black bird floated a flame-not-flame. It moved slowly as if ruffled by a dreary breeze. Shimmering and transparent, the strange thing disappeared as the sun returned and chased away the shade.
Whistling, the bird looked back one last time and hopped once more. It disappeared. There was no flash of light, no magical shimmer, it simply vanished. Clapping a hand to my mouth, I didn’t know whether to smile or to run. Instead, I walked around it. Several times more the clouds came and went, and each time shadows fell upon it, the flame-not-flame reappeared.
I seemed to recall a story about a bridge to other worlds. Something my mother once said. But I couldn’t remember if she had said to leave it alone or not. I fixated only on the “bridge” part.
Where does it go? is what I thought.
“Magic!” is what I said, before touching the little miracle.
In an instant, I was pulled from one place to another. My body warmed with the same sensation as the moments before a summer rain. My chest felt laden with stones and everything tingled. Everything spun and I was facedown in the very same vale.
Except that this was different.
The plants were in perfect autumn and the sky dipped in the gold like the hours before night. Instead of damp soil, the sweet call of forget-me-nots filled my nostrils. And strangest of all was the jolt of a fine dressed fellow.
“Excuse me— Oh dear! A human! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. You do not belong here. Quit staring, now what do you have to say for yourself?”
My mouth only fell further at the sight of the well dressed tortoise, walking erect on wooden stilts.
“Don’t you know anything about the fey?”
I shook my head.
Mister Tortoise harumphed, grumbling something about how dull humans are. Producing a shiny pair of monocles, he peered down at me with enlarged eyes. Once more he gasped, his entire demeanor and tone changing. “You’re only a child! This is not good at all! You don’t understand how hard it is to travel back along The Ways.”
I shook my head.
“And why would you? No, we must go to the court of the Dawn King. He is the closest lord with access to The Ways.”
Helping me to my feet, Mister Tortoise found that I was quite reticent about traveling with someone I had only just met — a problem remedied with one of his pocket mince pies. After my grumbling belly — which only began gripping at the sight of the delicious treat — had been sated, we began our journey to meet the Dawn King.
“How old are you?” Mister Tortoise asked.
I shyly showed him seven fingers.
He tilted his head in confusion. “Bother? I’m not certain I understand.”
I repeated myself but this time, saying, “Seven years.”
The concept of years didn’t seem to make sense to the tortoise. Instead, he motioned to the sky and all our surroundings. “Perhaps time is different here. We fey live a long time. You see time is tied to the surroundings. I am an Autumn Tortoise. So long as I stay in the forest of Autumn, time does not change and I grow no older. Physically, you see. But alas, I’ve traveled many places and many seasons, so I’m indeed quite middle-aged now.”
“How old are you?” I asked, now so enraptured I had forgotten my prior reservations.
“I was four-hundred and twenty-five,” Mister Tortoise sighed. “But now I must be a bit older.” As he spoke, he motioned overhead. A stark line ran through the sky — on one side was twilight and on the other the final moments of sunset. Shadows divided the land below. Stepping over the line, I watched as a wispy beard grew inches off his chin.
He motioned for me to follow, “No getting younger here.”
We traveled for quite some time. I came to learn that he was the eldest of four others. I asked questions that made him laugh, like, “Does it make you jealous no one pays attention to you with all the other cuter Mister Tortoises?
“Bah! They’re still in the two hundreds. That’s plenty warty to be considered ugly!”
As much as I learned about him, he learned about my world, commenting that although it must be nice to have a purpose-built in a world where time never stops, he very much enjoyed his home — “Thank you very much.”
We stopped to rest, to eat, and to break bread with the other fey wanderers. I was surprised by the varieties and sizes in which they came. There were pixies, dryads, gnomes, and things for which I haven’t words. But all the while as we progressed through the hours of day and seasons of the year, I grew older. We had many adventures along the way, including being chased by a group of leering satyrs, and the rescue of my love.
The air was chill with the frost of winter's first approach. The sky was the color of the hours just past midnight and had been for the last twenty to thirty camps. We first heard Seamus’s plea on the back of the wind. Chasing after it, we found an elf, he was hunched over a lake with an orb of light casting a cheery glow over the sable waters. Arm outstretched, he seemed to be wrestling with something in the waters. As I drew closer, I realized it was a monstrous shelled beast.
“Fool, elf,” Mister Tortoise snapped, grabbing a hold of the pale man's legs and pulling.
“No! No!” the elf cried, “I need the pearl! We have to get its mouth open.”
“There is no changing a clam’s mind when its mouth is shut!”
But the elf ignored the Tortoise, now kicking to be free of the fey creature and using his other hand — a dagger tight between his fingers — to chip away at the beast’s armor.
“Do something!” both fey men shouted at me.
Thinking fast, I gripped a fistful of sand from the bank and shoved it in the cracks of the clam’s mouth — almost losing several fingers in the process.
The clam tried to smother a cough but fell into a wide-mawed fit of hacking. With his arm now free, the elf reached for the giant pearl within the beast's pink flesh. He cried in triumph, only to have it short-lived as Mister Tortoise yanked him back. The clam’s razored jaws slammed shut and it slid back into the waters. Bubbles and ripples traced its retreat into the deep.
“Why did you do that!” the elf roared, turning on the tortoise.
“He saved your arm!” I shouted back, coming to stand between the pair. “In case you didn’t notice, you almost lost it.”
Now that so much time had passed, I only stood inches shorter than the rangy elf. I couldn’t help but notice the way his frown accentuated the cut of his jaw, or the rogue lock of blonde hair that fell over his eyes, or the spiced scent of cinnamon and musk rising off him.
The elf looked down, an expression passing over his face as if noticing the scarlet-caked limb for the first time in his life. He started to turn, grumbling about needing to find his bait so that he could go after the dull creature again.
“You need to get that arm treated,” I said, placing my hands on my hips. “Our camp isn’t far from here. Come back and dine with us, while I clean that wound up.”
He looked back to the waters. A long desperate look in his stormcloud eyes.
“Lost cause,” Mister Tortoise sighed, stomping away on his stilts.
“It’s a lake,” I said, “the beast isn’t going anywhere.”
Exhaling, he nodded, following after me. “I suppose you’re right. My name is Seamus. Thanks, for saving me. . .”
Returning to camp, I ignored Mister Tortoise and attended to our newfound friend. We soon discovered that we had much in common. We loved the crisp morning air, tart teas, and songs that I thought only the people of my village knew. We talked for a long time, so long that Mister Tortoise, who was usually the last to bed, settled in.
After a while, when only coals glowed, I asked, “Why do you want that pearl?”
Seamus sighed. “Believe it or not, I am a retainer for the Dawn King—”
He mistook my gasp for the recognition of the lofty. His smile was faint and he waved a hand. “It’s nothing special. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. One day a thief came and stole one of his treasures. I was on duty when it was stolen and so the blame fell on me. He ordered me to find him a new pearl and not to return until I did or found something better. I’m afraid to say it, but my master is a greedy fey and desires a little piece of everything.”
“He sounds like a child,” I said. “Why not just leave?”
Seamus laughed dryly. “Because I am one of his treasures.”
“So. . .”
His smile evaporated as he saw that I was quite serious. “You mean it. What are you? A human, or something.”
“You couldn’t tell?” I asked, braiding my hair which had grown several feet in my journey through time.
Seamus’s eyes widened as several thoughts seemed to blur through his mind. Closing his mouth, he nodded. “You just seem so natural is all.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Although, that’s all Mister Tortoise’s doing. He taught me everything—"
“Can you two go to bed!” roared the old turtle from his bed. Seamus and I both snickered, lowering our voices to clandestine murmurs.
“The Dawn King always wanted an elf and traded for me. In the fey, promises, and property are as bound as night and day. I couldn’t betray his explicit wishes if I wanted.”
“Well,” I shrugged, “has he ever met a human?”
Seamus’s brow furrowed. “Not that I am aware of—”
“Wonderful! You have found something more interesting than a pearl. A human. I need to meet him and you’re going to get me an audience. Mister Tortoise tells me it's a finicky affair getting to meet a fey king without a connection.”
“You want to go to the Dawn King?” Seamus almost sounded aghast.
“He’s the only one with access to The Ways,” I said. Touching his shoulder, I paused at his handsome scent and he blushed. “I want to go home and see my Mother and Father. I know they must miss me. Will you help me, Seamus?”
The elf’s countenance grew stern and then fell into relaxed repose. “I am at your service, madam.”
And that is how much of our relationship was in the beginning — a conversation by the embers, on the trail, or under a slow-changing sky. We became fast friends and as time passed Seamus yearned for more, one day proposing to me by the embankment of a grey and blue river. By then my hair had begun to turn to fine silver and my wisdom was a match for any elf’s.
Folding my arms I pushed the ring and binding cloth away, saying: “You must ask my father and mother.” And that was that. He told me the Dawn King was not far and I didn’t tell him my fears that I would never see my family alive, ever again. Grabbing his silken-soft hands, I journeyed through the last hours of the night and the final brambles of early summer.
My breath became caught in my chest at the sight of the Dawn King’s palace — or lack thereof. Under a dawn-flecked sky and the mid-summer’s gentle, morning heat, lay a meadow clothed in flowers of yellow and pink. A single brick road wound up to a drawbridge and over that stood a wooden gate built for a giant. A pair of gargantuan chess pieces stood guard, a pawn just ahead of the door and a rook a little behind, but beyond that lay nothing but endless pastures.
“Don’t lift your chin at the lowest warrior,” Seamus said, mistaking my look of confusion. “The pawn on the sixth row with the king and the rook behind is a powerful position.”
“Leave her alone, you fool elf,” Mister Tortoise grunted, helping me onto his back as my legs no longer worked like they used to. Getting up to hang off his worn shell took much doing on account of his stilts but I appreciated the view it gave.
“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked warmly.
“I do miss my world,” I said, feeling quite tired.
“Then take us to your lord, elf.”
Seamus inhaled a mix of emotion brewing just behind his youthful face. At last, he nodded, leading us to the door. With a hand pressed upon the grain, he paused, saying, “Remember, the Dawn King has never had a human before. Since you still have parents, he cannot gain rights to you without their permission, but he will ask for something only you can give.”
Mister Tortoise craned his long neck, peering at me with the same doleful concern as Seamus.
“I am prepared,” I whispered, my eyes caught on a brass inlay of a wild-maned man whose tongue poked out as if to make mirth of me.
“So we go,” Seamus said, “leave the particulars to me.”
Into the palace, we went, a memory rekindled from a time when I was but a girl, chasing a grouse through an enchanted forest and over a stone wall set with the Dawn King’s image. To my surprise, the doorway was but a portal to a warm palace with a veil of stars for its roof.
All sorts of fey lazed within the Dawn Court, all of them eventually sniffing around to see what all this talk about the human in their midst was. Mister Tortoise kept them away, snapping a chunk of flesh out of the rump of a curious white hare. But soon it came time for me to speak with the Dawn King.
Words were unnecessary for Mister Tortoise and my parting. A simple squeeze of the hand said all we knew and didn’t know how to save. At Seamus’s behest, I clung to his arm, as pawns, knights, and bishops flanked us. We left the first court and passed through several more. Some were clothed in drapes of red, others adorned in gold, and some boasted marble polished so it reflected our image. Along each hall, however, were windows that showed every time and season through which we had passed.
“It’s stunning,” I said.
“It’s no wonder the fey lords are all burdened with hubris.” He licked his lips, eyes wide and hard and flinty as stone.
“You miss all of this,” I said.
“Of course, I do. I would give up almost anything to have it back.” Seamus and the others stopped just before a yawning doorway, draped in a cloth that almost seemed to shimmer with a life of its own. We had arrived. Brushing his lips against the back of my hand, Seamus announced our arrival and motioned for me to go ahead — echoing his warning from before.
Crossing through the veil, I smiled as I discovered the drapery was no cloth but a bundle of clouds. As I stepped into the Dawn King's inner court, I was surprised to find that it was dark save for a few spotlights that illuminated several plinths with crystal balls balanced atop. Each one swirled with a different color.
“Come closer, human,” rumbled a primordial voice. A beam of light descended from the darkness above, illuminating the Dawn King upon his throne.
He was clothed in the same fabric of clouds that hung before his inner court. In every way, he was the incarnate likeness of the carving from the crumbling wall. Except, his skin was the color of dull ruby, his eyes the yellow of a cat's, and that wild mane much like the ceiling of his palace — a tapestry of shimmering stars.
Remembering myself, I stepped forth and bowed as much as my back allowed. “I have come to ask for your help in my efforts to return home.”
“You seek the Ankoriale,” the Dawn King mused, tugging at his beard. “Of this request, I can grant, but I will first require a trade.”
“I can only give what I have rights to.”
“Indeed… Seamus tells me that you belong to your parents still.”
I nodded, declining to tell him that I didn’t know if they were even alive still.
The Dawn King seemed unsurprised. Pointing to an empty plinth, he said, “I have many things but not enough. There is never enough. Of all things, I still do not have any scrap from a human. What can you offer me that is worthy of access to my Ankoriale?”
“I have my hair, though it was once golden and is now as silver as the rising moon—”
“I’ve plenty of hair! What else?”
“I have many stories I can share—”
“No! You wish to leave, not stay as my court bard.” The Dawn King shook his head, sending the stars within and in the ceiling above swaying. “The Ankoriale is a gift beyond physical measure. I need something immeasurable… immaterial… if not yourself I thirst for something that captures the essence of your human existence.”
Pressing the back of my thumb to my lips I thought long and hard. “Joy?”
“I already have it!”
I thought harder. What did I have that the fey did not. Catching my reflection in one of the Dawn King’s treasures, I smiled. Yes, that will work.
“What of time?”
“What about it,” the Dawn King grumbled. “I have more than I know what to do with.”
“My point exactly,” I bowed. “In my world time never stops. It runs on and on.”
“Why would I want that? To grow old without my say.” He almost sneered, looking me up and down. I was undeterred.
“For all of its shortcomings, it forces my kind to make meaning of their lives. You can’t be fulfilled, sitting on your throne, solving problems with no end in sight. With human time, you would have to make something of yourself. Everyone would…"
The Dawn King’s eyes glimmered. I had him in my snare. “Yes,” he murmured, before clapping his hands. “A fine trade that will be. It is agreed. Passage for time. Tell me human, how do I get this from you?”
“I cannot give it to you while we are here. Come with me and I shall retrieve it for you to take back with you.”
The Dawn King agreed handily. Calling on Seamus, and after a tearful goodbye from Mister Tortoise, the three of us traveled further into the holds of his seemingly never-ending palace until we came onto a sight I could never forget. The flame-not-flame curled before us.
Welcoming.
Placing a hand on our shoulders, the Dawn King led us into the Ankoriale.
I blinked.
Once more I was but a little girl standing in that forbidden place. Nothing had changed, save for the appearance of my two companions and my mature mind.
“Go with her, Seamus,” The Dawn King ordered. “I shall wait here, lest the human has a trick. Return with her time and you shall have your place of honor once again.”
Nodding, Seamus followed me through the wood and back towards my home. The little farm was as I remembered. The chickens came to heel, pestering at my feet as they always did. Smoke and sumptuous scents billowed from the chimney, a promise of a delicious meal from my mother.
“This way!” I said, beckoning Seamus into the herb garden. Grabbing the basket, I showed him which green shoots to pluck. He did so without question and only awe.
“Your world is all wrong. The clouds move. I can feel the march of the seasons it’s—
“Beautiful,” I said, lifting the now full basket, and ruffling the herbaceous scents within.
Heading back towards the forest, I told him that he should stay.
“I would not know what to do with myself. I should stay where I belong—”
I squeezed his hand. How we must have looked, like a father and his child. “For me?”
“For you,” Seamus said, after a moment’s silence.
Together we tramped back to the Dawn King, this time with me leading him by the arm through a land unfamiliar to the fey. We found the Dawn King tapping his feet and muttering to himself. A sharp-toothed smile stretched across his face, from one ear to the other. He plucked the basket I offered from my petite hands.
Pleasure turned to dissatisfaction and then to a brooding scowl. Sniffing the herb, he threw it to the ground, crushing it with his heel. “What trickery is this?”
“None,” I said, “it is thyme. A fair spicing herb.”
“I asked for time!”
“Thus, I have brought,” I said, crossing my arms, forgetting that I was but a little girl once more. “It is not my fault, you never specified which one you wanted in the deal.”
The Dawn King stamped his foot, howling, “You cretin! You understood me.”
“A deal’s a deal,” I shrugged with a smug look.
“You have tricked me and so I shall take something from you!” Snarling the Dawn King leapt towards me, tongue outstretched, vipers rising out from his hair. Only then did I remember that I was but a child. Yelping, I had my hands half-raised over my face when Seamus collided with the Dawn King. They tumbled in a great wrestling match towards the Ankoriale.
“Throw the basket after us!” Seamus screeched. “Then the deal will be finished!”
I called his name but the elf only smiled as the magic portal pulled them in, his final words left to haunt me for my second lifetime: “I love you. Never forget me.”
Then they were gone.
Weeping, I pushed up onto my knees, too shocked at what had happened. I almost forgot to throw the basket back in, but that red-streaked grouse flapped over, snapping up a sprig of thyme and tossing it into the Ankoriale. It trilled.
Wiping my tears, I did as Seamus bade and threw the basket within. Just like that it disappeared. Gone like my love and a whole other life.
The grouse flicked its head, flying off only when I shooed it with a poorly aimed rock. This is all your fault, I thought, trudging back home and back to a life that no didn't feel like my own.
So my life went on and to this day I have never stopped thinking about Seamus and the world of the fey, hoping that one day he shall find his way back to me.
“I suppose, in a way, the Dawn King did manage to get a hold of my time.”
I look down at my grandson, my story retold. His young cherubic face beams up at me at the close of my tale. He is not so old as to think my story is the prattling of an old woman, nor young enough to go looking for the Ankoriale and the Court of Dawn.
“But what did the king get? I thought he wanted something he couldn’t hold.”
“Yes, and he got it. Every time he smells the thyme he shall have the memory of what was almost his.” I ruffle his hair and the wind tussles mine as we both look at the enchanted forest. On the edge of the cool breeze come subtle hints of lemon and churned earth. Thyme.
I smile. My grandson asks why. Without breaking my gaze, I say, “Nothing.”
However, I believe that it is Seamus’s way of telling me that he hasn’t forgotten me and he too still loves me.
The End
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