If the Spirit of Trungen Ain't Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy

Oakaford, the captain of the stumper guard, frantically searched throughout the village of Jorton for Lady Nimmo. He was uncharacteristically nervous for a magical tree stump. Several times, he knocked over a cart or bucket, muttering his apologies, and absent-mindedly continued without helping clean up, which was unthinkable for a stumper—they love to clean.

"My goodness. My goodness," Oakaford uttered under his breath. "Have you seen Lady Nimmo?" He asked a young man sitting outside his cottage, who nodded no.

"Not good. No, not good at all." Oakaford said as he went cottage to cottage inquiring about Lady Nimmo's whereabouts. He finally spotted Jor, Lady Nimmo's father. "Sir Jor! Sir Jor!"

Jor looked up to see the most agitated stumper he'd ever seen—and he'd seen a lot of stumpers. "Oakaford, what's the matter?"

"Nothing good, sir. It just can't be good." Even though Oakaford doesn't breathe like most creatures—being made from a tree—he appears to be out of breath.

Jor put his rake down and tried to comfort the troubled trunk. "Calm down. Take a few breaths – well, you know what I mean – and start from the beginning."

"I've received the most dreadful message," Oakaford looked down. "From the Spirit of Trungen. She demands an audience with Lady Nimmo."

"What does she want with Nimmo?"

"Who knows! That's the point! It can't be good!"

"Slow down," Jor put his hand on Oakaford's back. "Let's have a seat."

"I can't sit."

"Then let me have a seat." They ambled to Jor's cottage. He sat, pulled out his pipe without lighting it, and bit down on the stem. After some reflection, he asked. "Did she give you the message? Or did she send a messenger?"

"I'm a Trungen tree. When she isn't too far away, we are connected in spirit. I've heard her sing before, but she spoke directly to me today."

"Interesting," Jor said, taking his pipe from his mouth and placing it back in. As far as Jor could see, there could only be one reason: the wildfire. When the Spirit of Trungen invited Jor and his family to live in her forest, she gave permission to use her trees for building as long as they planted an equal amount. So, she could not be upset about the rebuilding. It had to be about the wildfire.

"Oakaford, did she sound angry or happy?"

"If you ever heard her, you'd know she always sounds pleasant. But I detected anger. She was definitely upset."

"It's got to have something to do about the wildfire. Don't you think?"

Oakaford squinted his wooden face in thought, "It might be. That makes sense."

"Let's go. She's practicing with her bow, or at least she was a half hour ago."

They made their way to the edge of the village where the archery practice field sat. When they arrived, Lady Nimmo and the retired guard lined up and fired at stationary targets.

"Bullseye again!" Lady Nimmo shouted as she fist-bumped Flimlet.

"Are you kidding? Three in a row?" a retired guard said with a smile.

"Pay up," Flimlet held out his hand.

"I've never been more proud of losing a bet," He paid five coins. "Lady Nimmo, you should have been part of the King's Guard."

Everyone stopped jibbing when they noticed Jor and Oakaford's serious faces as they approached.

"Nimmo," Jor said. "There is an urgent matter we must speak to you about." The retired guardsmen and Flimlet, hearing the severity of Jor's voice, excused themselves. "I believe the Spirit of Trungen is upset. She insists on speaking with you."

"Why? You don't think it's about the fire?" Lady Nimmo asked.

"It's what I think, but we don't know."

"Can you accompany me?"

Oakaford said, "That's not a good idea, my Lady. She insists on only you and me, no one else."

"Only you, Oakaford?" Lady Nimmo glanced at her father with concern. She couldn't help but think back to another meeting she recently had. Apparently, she is a magnet for unwanted invitations. "Well, then, I guess we should be off."

Jor appeared apprehensive.

"It will be alright, Dad. We have nothing to fear."

"I know, but I feel like the old guard and I should escort you. It feels wrong to let you go alone."

"We'll be fine. The Spirit of Trungen is our friend."

They took only a flask of water and marched deeper into the forest, relying on Oakaford to lead as the Spirit of Trungen relayed directions through their magical connection. The Spirit of Trungen did not dwell in a castle or city but moved from place to place, checking on each tree in her forest. She rarely stayed in one place for long. Currently, she sat atop Rock Falls about an hour west of Jorton.

"We are almost there, I can hear the falls," Oakaford said.

"Has she given you any hint of what she wants to say?" Lady Nimmo asked.

"I hear only directions, my Lady, nothing more."

Lady Nimmo's heart beat faster as they approached the falls. She wondered if the Spirit of Trungen had a nefarious reason for this remote rendezvous. Although she trusted the Spirit of Trungen in her heart, the "Lord Balister debacle" had given her cause to be more cautious.

Oakaford stepped from the forest floor into a shallow creek at the base of Rock Falls, a small waterfall consisting of several granite boulders. He looked up and saw the Spirit of Trungen sitting on the highest boulder of the falls, like it was a throne.

"Thank you, Oakaford, for bringing the Lady of the Woods to me," the Spirit of Trungen sang these words more than said them. "Please stand before me, Lady of the Woods, where I can see you."

Lady Nimmo was reluctant to walk out with Oakaford and remained on the creek's edge. But on the Spirit's command, she waded out to the center. The creek was warm, only ankle deep, and had a gentle current. She beheld the Spirit of Trungen like a queen on her throne. The Spirit looked down on her. A muted brightness illuminated the falls and creek, not so bright that one was blinded but bright enough to realize there was a spirit nearby. She wore a cloak of deep green light, her face, hands, and feet a bright yellow. She was unlike any being in Wanowyn; she was neither solid nor transparent, walked on two legs, flew (or floated), and spoke in a singsong way. 

Lady Nimmo curtsied, "Oh, Spirit of Trungen, I'm at your service."

The falls made little noise as the water rolled from one boulder to another, finishing with a short drop into the creek. But it was the only sound to be heard for a few horrible minutes. The Spirit of Trungen appeared to be in a trance as she stared over Lady Nimmo's head. Her attention eventually returned to Lady Nimmo.

"Yes, Lady of the Woods, thank you for coming. I've been conversing with my trees. They tell me no one followed you. Thank you for honoring my request to come alone."

"But of course. I haven't forgotten the kindness you've shown my family and me, inviting us to live here. Your mere suggestion is my command."

"And yet you repay my kindness with fire?" The Spirit's eyes, if eyes they are, burned brighter. "Fire! My most hated enemy! The great devourer!! Destroyer! Consumer of all! Do you deny it?"

The quickness of the Spirit's wrath startled Lady Nimmo. The accusation reverberated over the sound of the falls and through the forest. Oakaford dared not move. He was torn by his desire to protect Lady Nimmo and his connection to the Spirit of Trungen. His confusion escalated to such a point that he was paralyzed from doing anything.

"No, my Lady. I do not deny it," Lady Nimmo bowed in shame, unable to look into those fiery eyes.

"I invited you to live here because I believed you understood. That we both saw trees as our responsibility to protect, to work with, but never waste. And yet the wildfire was caused by your people who abandoned their campfires," the Spirit bowed her head. "Almost two hundred trees wasted." She pulled herself up to her feet with the look of a judge. "You have betrayed my belief in you. I no longer see you as the Lady of the Woods."

Lady Nimmo felt that she was on trial and her sentence was about to be pronounced. No one knew who left those campfires unattended, even though she questioned every citizen in Jorton. Each one swore they were innocent, and she believed them. No one would have camped that far from the village.

"I take full responsibility for my people's actions."

"You take responsibility?" The Spirit of Trungen stood in deep thought for quite some time, swaying like a tree rocked by a gentle breeze. She finally stopped, "You are correct to take responsibility. You are the leader. So, I have decided you and your family, along with those who have joined you, are to vacate Trungen Forest before the next full moon," she glided down to the foot of the falls. "It is clear to me now that it was a mistake for me to trust you with the trees of Trungen."

Tears filled Lady Nimmo's eyes, "We must leave our homes?"

"I'm afraid so," the Spirit of Trungen softened. "It is my responsibility to protect my forest."

The Spirit of Trungen dismissed them. Lady Nimmo never remembered how they returned to Jorton. She followed Oakaford as he tried to console her: "Shade is highly overrated. I never really liked trees that much, anyway. Won't it be so much fun to start over?" 

That night, the village gathered, and she told them of the judgment.

"But this is our home!"

"How could she do this?"

"What if we refuse?"

"Didn't you tell her we don't know who left the fires unattended, that it's not our fault?"

Most people agreed it would be wrong to fight the order. So, they voted to pack and search for another place to build. No one thought of breaking up the village. They all united in complete unison as one. This heartened Lady Nimmo, but the feeling of loss could not be entirely wiped away. Neither could the sense that it was somehow her fault. If only I was more clear about putting out fires. I could have put stumpers in charge of monitoring. Or the dwarfs. Or anybody. I should have done something.

A somber mood overtook the village as preparations were made to relocate their forest homes. Wagons were being loaded with household belongings. Jor and his guard buddies were endeavoring to deconstruct the cottages while the dwarfs made sure the casks of mead were securely loaded. Although everyone worked hard, they worked without heart.

In the middle of this maudlin work appeared the most colorful wagon most have ever seen. It was an enclosed wagon painted in brilliant greens and yellows, pulled by exotic horses with black and white stripes and driven by a large, jolly man wearing a wide-brim straw hat, singing at the top of his lungs. He stopped before Jor and his buddies, who paused while loading a log.

"I swear by Xer-Bane, this is the saddest village I've ever seen. Did someone die?" Lor climbed down from his tiny market on wheels.

Lady Nimmo ran over and could hardly believe her eyes.

"Lor! I can't believe… It's been years!" She ran to him and hugged him. They both chattered like squirrels with questions and answers. After a while, they became aware of others staring at them.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Lady Nimmo straightened. "Lor, this is my father, Jor. Father, this is the man I told you about when I was at the College of Magic in Selwyn."

Jor held out his hand, "Lor."

Lor took Jor's hand and shook it, "Jor."

The two men sized each other up and concluded that each was all right. So, Jor caught Lor up on recent events.

"Tell me again. Exactly when did the fire happen?" Lor asked. He rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand, a habit he had when he was deep in thought. "I was doing business in Grotton when I overheard some wanderers who camped in Trungen Forest. They bragged how brave they were and could have bested the Spirit of Trungen had she tried kicking them out. That was just a few days after the forest fire. About the right amount of time for them to arrive in Grotton."

"Do you believe it was them who left the campfires burning?" Lady Nimmo asked.

It might be a coincidence, but I don't know many people who camp in Trungen besides you crazy people."

"We must find them. If it were them, then we're not at fault."

"True, but wanderers wander. They could be anywhere."

Lady Nimmo called for a town meeting, and they voted to track down the wanderers.

Now, this story is only concerned about the investigation into the abandoned campfires and not about the lively adventures had by the dwarfs, stumpers, and even the old guardsmen, who were forced to prove their swordsmanship one night in a rowdy pub before finding their suspects. Once found, they confessed their guilt and profusely apologized after realizing they almost murdered an entire village. Their apologetic attitudes were most likely aided by the villagers standing before them with looks that could kill.

After everyone returned to Jorton, a few days before the full moon, Lady Nimmo and Oakaford met with the Spirit of Trungen once more at Rock Falls.

"Before you request that I relent and allow you to remain in Trungen, let me tell you about a meeting I had with the Spirit of the Sea," the Spirit of Trungen politely paused.

"By all means, Spirit of Trungen, please tell." Lady Nimmo bowed.

"I have little experience with humans since I mostly chase them out of my forest. However, the Sea Spirit, Rajar, is very knowledgeable about them. He heard of my eviction of your village and came to give me advice." The Spirit of Trungen came down from the top of the falls and stood face-to-face with Lady Nimmo. "I've learned that you didn't betray me, but at worst, just made a mistake. Rajar informed me that you humans do that a lot," the Spirit smiled. "I made a rash decision based on a perceived betrayal and ask for your forgiveness."

"You are the Spirit of Trungen and need not apologize for your actions. But since you did, I most heartedly forgive you. I only ask that you do the same and forgive me."

The Spirit of Trungen bowed, "All is forgiven. I see you as the Lady of the Woods again."

Lady Nimmo bowed with a smile she could not conceal.

The Spirit of Trungen walked back with Oakaford and Lady Nimmo to personally ask the villagers to remain in Trungen Forest and ask their forgiveness for making them deconstruct most of their structures. Most were starstruck by the bright and beautiful Spirit and would have agreed to any request. They all agreed to stay and rebuild again. 

A hasty feast was prepared in honor of the Spirit of Trungen's first visit. Jor orchestrated the cooking fires to remain out of sight, and Flimlet went about dousing campfires. The feast went into the night, and everyone had a wonderful time despite no firelight.

Jor and Lady Nimmo left the party and walked to the edge of the village.

"I'm proud of you, Nimmo, very proud," Jor said as he put his arm around her.

"Thanks, Dad."

"No, I'm not just saying that as your father. I'm saying it as one of your people. You are a great leader, and I'm proud to follow you." They walked in silence. "That is, until I put on my dad-hat, then I'm boss again."

"Always, Dad." She hugged him.