Helga- Out of Hedgelands

by Rick Johnson

  “Then you’re a fool in full flower!” the Monopole replied. “And a rude, disgusting clod to boot!”

  “Not I,” the Wolf replied with a smile. “I’m a farmer, but I have nothing to do with flowers. I raise clover and honeybees—trying to bring these hills back to life. And, if you’d look, I’m rebuilding this house you complain at so wildly. Land and house are abandoned and free—which doesn’t look foolish to me.”

  “I still call you an empty-brained slug!” the Monopole snarled, picking up his pack to leave.

  “Well,” the Wolf replied, “since you aren’t Colonel Snart, let’s go back to where I came in and try again. I don’t want us to part with bad feelings. That’s not the way my Memm taught me to be towards strangers.”

  “Bah! Just let me out of here!” the Monopole said. “I’ve got a long way to go and the best thing you could do is just to let me get going on my way.”

  “Be my guest,” the Wolf replied, “I’m certainly not holdin’ you up. But, my Memm would want me to offer you a kindly suggestion—a bit of apology for mistakin’ you for someone else.”

  “Bah! So what’s the grand wisdom you want to give me?”

  “Just that you’ll save yourself a cold overnight in the mountains if you take the shortcut through Haz’ben Gulch—that’s the trail following that creek just up ahead there. Take the trail left, follow the creek, and your journey through the mountains will be done faster than you expected.”

  Without saying more, Colonel Snart threw his satchel over his shoulder, climbed back out of the ruined house, and walked off down the road.

  The young Wolf watched as the Colonel walked down the road. Seeing that the Monopole took his suggestion and turned down the path at Haz’ben Gulch, a broad smile spread across his face. Returning to his work, he muttered happily to himself.

  “Right sorry, Memm, if I was not completely honest with that fellow. You taught me right, and I did make a kindly suggestion to a ‘lost traveler,’ as you’d want. I really was truthful that taking the shortcut down the Gulch would shorten his journey and avoid a cold night in the mountains. Now, yes, that is because I knew he’d be nabbed by the bounty hunter—but, nevertheless, I was truthful in the strict sense of things. Why, I wasn’t required to tell him that the Wild-Vile Cat and the Skull Buzzards were here looking for him a while ago—or that I sent them down there to set up camp along the creek. They was already figurin’ he might be comin’ up this way—and, well, it is a nice place to camp. And, bless you, Memm, I also just figured that you really would want me to introduce that fellow to the bounty hunter. Seems like something you’d have wanted. Now, I think I’d better get on with my work, Memm, before I start imagining the tracker beasts jumping the Colonel and then him later up there breaking rock at Tilk Duraow. That would be too much fun on a day when there’s work to be done!”

  Epilogue

  As the Sweet Ice bowls emptied on the evening of Helga’s return to the Rounds, not a single Roundie was absent. Sharing the Sweet Ice together expressed the soul of the Roundie community, and on this special night that spirit was especially strong.

  A gentle evening breeze rustled through the cottonwood leaves as the Roundies settled down in happy, full-bellied contentment to listen to Holy Speak storytellers, as was traditional on occasions of great import. The Gather Round itself seemed too constraining for such a joyous occasion, and the storytelling occurred in the cottonwood grove just beyond the Commons. As the Roundies gathered, Ayatama Cornnello played her little accordion and began to sing while Rostom, her brother, played his fiddle. The happy music seemed to send sparkling ripples across the Deep Springs River, echoing off the hills; then falling into silence when Bernice Saysoso, the most elder Holy Speak storyteller at the Rounds, stood up and raised her hand.

  “Dear friends,” she began, “as the last sunlight gleams from the far side of the hills, leaving us for another day, we gather to honor our own spark of light that has returned to us. Helga, who left the Rounds some years ago as an apprentice carpenter, has returned—this time with her parents—and tonight we celebrate her presence once more among us.

  “Some might say that the story Helga has to tell is too fantastic to be true. Let us rely on our own ancient wisdom and draw what assurance we seek from it. The spirit of The All within each of us can discern a truthful account of things we did not previously know how to hear. This is the teaching of the Holy Speak and the belief of the ancient generations...What if our dear Helga has found something new? What if? This is the story we have for you tonight.”

  Amidst the deepening shadows, cedar oil lamps were lit and cast a soft yellow light across the expectant crowd. Many questions lay hidden within Helga’s mind and heart as she prepared to speak. Where to begin? How to tell a story that had so many beginnings?

  As the children to gather around her, Helga picked up Alvo Merrybuck, a wee Prairie Dog babe. “Mampy-Helg!” Alvo wailed loudly, “Start at the beginning! Tell about how you came to the Roundies! Start there!”

  Giving the little Prairie Dog a ruffle on the head, Helga smiled, “Not this time, Alvo, that will have to be another day...But you’ll like what I’ve got to tell tonight, anyway. Do you like explosions? And Grizzly Bear trackers going after bandits?” Helga winked at Toshty and Annie who were seated together at the front of the crowd.

  “Ooooo! Yes!” Alvo squealed. “Tell about that!” Helga held the little babe close. “Well, you little scamp, if you would just quiet down a bit so a body could talk...Why, I’ll get started!”

  Turning to the assembled Roundies, and casting a fond look toward Helbara, Breister, Christer, and BorMane, Helga began her tale. Stooping to pick up some sand, she let the grains sift back to the ground in a falling stream of particles catching firelight. “Stories are like that sparkling rain of sand,” she began. “There are many stories and I don’t know them all. Tonight I only have time to tell you a few—like the few grains of sand that remain behind, clinging to me.”

  End of Volume I

  To Be Continued.

  From The Author

  As an author, I’m drawn to eccentric, unexpected characters: those who surprise because they hear a distant galaxy, see a different music, create their own fragrance rather than get hooked on a soundtrack; the child who has her own ideas about how the emperor is dressed; the lunatics and rebels who tell stories on the boundaries. I seek to write unusual stories that take readers to worlds they never imagined—a whole new ride.

  One of the attractions of writing fantasy is that it forces us to experiment with “beyond the box” thinking. Imagination is often the only tool we have in breaking through the barriers or chains that limit our possibilities. Running on imagination, our minds and hearts are no longer bound by such “obvious” constraints as common sense, the speed of light, or prejudices of mind.

  A natural relative of fantasy is the sense of humor, and need to play, that are part of human nature. Like fantasy, humor is a matter of skewing how we look, and re-look, at things we normally take for granted. In my writing, I use fantasy and humorous absurdity to poke holes in the expectations cultures create to keep things in their place.

  Fantasy, including the idea that cows might think, talk, and are proper heroines—perhaps encourages us to wonder about other creatures, people, and dimensions of thought that “common sense” keeps us from hearing and seeing. Possibly, we may even discover that there are cows within ourselves waiting to speak and be heroic. Our capacity to hear things that are, in our “common sense” world, unheard and unheard of, is one of the degrees of freedom we can preserve for ourselves and offer to others. And, for children—kids of all ages—these degrees of freedom are precious and worth nurturing. That is why I write.

  1 A full account of Helga’s return to O’Fallon’s Bluff is provided in Volume Two of the Wood Cow Chronicles.

  2 The traditional fare of unemployed sailors.

  3 Prevailing favorable winds.

  4 Narrows End Bay te
rm for a ferocious storm.

  5 A sea-beast known for exploits of great bravery.