Guinevere and the Magical Forest

Once upon a time there was a girl called Guinevere. Others had spoken of magical forests and Guinevere had listened. She had been to many places, been in many a forest, some, very very beautiful. But she had never been to a magical one before. The thing about magical forests was that they were magical, mighty and usually forbidden. People who had been near them spoke of 'listening trees' and strange warm winds that had swept over them and melted away sadnesses. People who had been in them spoke of 'healing leaves' and branches that swayed in ways that were quite extraordinary.

Magical forests had not always been forests. The legend goes that magical forests start out as a clump of trees that are created magical and are destined to become a mighty forest. However, they need a degree of cultivating, nurturing and tending to to become just that. It takes time, patience and love to grow a clump of magical trees into a mighty, magical forest; because magical trees are prone to sprout parasitic plants in their efforts to touch the sky.

A clump of magical trees doesn't really look that different from any other clump of trees. Magical forests can also be mistaken, at face value, for ordinary forests - many forests being beautiful and all of that. But when you are near a magical tree or magical forest, you feel the magic.

It must be said that not everyone knows how to cultivate, nurture and tend to magical trees. Not everyone knows how to grow a magical forest. In fact, there are many who cut down magical trees, break branches off of them, steal their leaves - all in their desire to possess the magic themselves. Of course, magic doesn't work that way. But, if you're lucky enough to find a clump of magical trees, and you're clever enough and patient enough and hard working enough to cultivate, nurture and tend to them - you will have yourself a magical forest one day...and that is how they become forbidden - well, forbidden to those that haven't cultivated, nurtured and tended to them, that is.

In a glen not terribly far from where Guinevere lived, a clump of magical trees stood. When there were but 19 of them, they were discovered. The discoverer cultivated, nurtured and tended to these magical trees until a mighty, magical forest was borne. Of course, this mighty, magical forest was forbidden.

The forest grew and grew and soon, the tops of the tallest trees became visible from the village where Guinevere lived. People from the village started to take long walks to see this forest, and word quickly spread that it was beautiful and magical, yet it was forbidden. But, being a magical forest, you see, you only needed to be NEAR it, to feel the magic, and even the raging river that bordered the magical forest did not inhibit it's wonderous powers.

On hearing about the magical forest, Guinevere took a day out of cultivating her own fields, and headed for the tallest trees that were visible from the village where she lived. She sat on the bank of the raging river that bordered the magical forest and whispered a secret on the wind.

On her first visit to the magical forest, Guinevere encountered 'listening trees'. She was in awe of them.

Over the days and weeks that followed, Guinevere found herself drawn to the magical forest. It must have been it's beauty and the 'listening trees' that kept her returning - for it was indeed a thing of beauty and she harboured some very bitter secrets.

One day, on whispering to the 'listening trees', she felt a strange warm wind sweep over her and her sadnesses began to fade. That night, Guinevere couldn't sleep. She knew that the magical forest was forbidden, and yet she yearned to enter it. When she finally did drift off, she dreamt about its 'healing leaves' and branches that swayed in ways that were extraordinary, and she awoke with a burning determination.

Over the next few days, Guinevere forged a plan to cross the raging river. It wouldn't be easy because the rapids were many and the flow, a torrent - but she was determined. After much planning and a nerve-racking crusade, she succeeded. Standing amongst the trees and foliage of the magical forest, Guinevere felt the wonder of 'healing leaves' and branches that swayed in ways that were quite extraordinary. She danced amidst the tree trunks with joy and glee and invigoration. She felt wonderful.

A few days after Guinevere had entered the magical forest, those who cultivated, nurtured and tended to it noticed that some of the young saplings had been crushed, some of the hanging vines, broken; and some of the 'healing leaves', torn. More parasitic plants had sprouted than usual and this concerned them deeply. Yet the forest remained beautiful and quiet.

Guinevere had to return. Again, it took planning and a treacherous crossing - but she succeeded. Again, she danced in the tranquility of the magical forest, wandering deeper and deeper into the trees. She brought with her flowers and planted them in the rich, loamy soil of the magical forest. But, not being native to the magical forest, they didn't lasted terribly long - despite the fertility of the soil, the warmth of the sun and the shelter of the magical trees.

Again, those who cultivated, nurtured and tended to it - had their reasons for concern.

Guinevere returned again and again. She even spent an entire night in the forest - under a pale, silvery moon. With each visit, she noticed that a few more trees had died and that she had, in her frivolity, snapped some of the precious vines along the route where she had danced - but she assumed that the forest would recover from these things.

The forest did in a sense recover. In the place of fallen trees and broken vines, large, thorn bushes began to grow.

Guinevere kept on visiting the forest. For every one time she managed to enter the magical forest, there were a thousand times that she had to be content to simply stand on the opposite bank and just be near to it. But oh, how she loved to be there. She not only shared her secrets with the 'listening trees', she also told them stories and spoke of everyday things - some funny, some sad and some...well, just very everyday.

But, sometimes, when it rained, or when those who cultivated, nurtured and tended to it were visible from Guinevere's side of the river, she became angry because she felt that the 'listening trees' couldn't hear her or that it was too risky for her to speak in case those that cultivated, nurtured and tended to them heard her too. You see, instead of peacefully accepting that these very things were the life-blood of the magical forest - Guinevere grew stormy, difficult and even threatened to never return.

But the forest was always there when she snapped out of it - still as beautiful and peaceful as ever - but with it's own noises and sounds of course.

But, sadly, the magical forest was suffering from Guinevere's tenacity - from her damaging visits. Trees were dying and parasitic plants were sprouting up all over the place. Those who cultivated, nurtured and tended to it were angry and wanted answers from the 'listening trees'. But, of course, the forest remained beautiful and quiet. After all - there were no 'speaking trees', although the forest had its own sounds and noises, of course.

And still the thorn bushes grew and grew.

On entering the magical forest, one warm winter's day, Guinevere noticed the thorn bushes and tried her best to fight her way through them. After all, they had grown up in the very paths that she loved to dance along. Yet, they sliced her legs and tore at her skin. The thorns were poisonous and as she stumbled out of the forest, devastated and weeping - she thought she heard the magical trees sigh gently.

As Guinevere lay in her home, tending to the welts that had flared up from the poisonous thorns, she had a revelation. She suddenly saw things so very clearly and so very well. You see, the magical trees hadn't grown in HER back garden. The magical forest had never sought HER out - SHE had sought it out. The magical forest never needed or wanted anything from HER. SHE had needed and wanted something from it. The magical forest already had those who cultivated, nurtured and tended to it. It also had many admirers who visited it and who were content to enjoy it from the far bank of the river, never trying to cross the river. But, SHE wasn't one of those...either of those. She was Guinevere - the intruder, the destructive, the wrong.

She knew that the magical forest would not stop her from visiting it again. She could even cross the river and maybe wander amongst the trees and foliage in the places where the thorn trees hadn't grown. And it would still share its magic with her. But how could she? Wasn't she the one who had caused the thorn trees to grow where they grew in the first place? Wasn't she the one who had made more parasitic plants sprout up everywhere? Wasn't she part of the reason why those who cultivated, nurtured and tended to the magical forest were angry with it and seeking answers from it?

Oh, how she would miss the magical forest with its 'listening trees' and strange warm winds that had swept over her and melted away her sadnesses - with its 'healing leaves' and branches that swayed in ways that were quite extraordinary.

As she sat in the dark, pondering these things, she noticed a sliver of green peeking out from underneath her jacket. She quickly moved her jacket and felt a wave of thrill as she discovered that the sliver of green was in fact a small branch from a magical tree! She beamed with happiness and relief that she would still have some magic in her life.

*Isn't it a pity that she didn't know that magic doesn't work that way?*