Jason was about to pick up his pen, he turned in his seat and said, “I thought you would never ask, John.”
He moved his chair round and faced him and then started. “I lived on a dairy farm with my father and mother just ten miles west of Huntingdon in Cambridgeshire. My mother was a schoolteacher before she married my dad, Iain Longfellow, and after I arrived she devoted six hours of her working day teaching me everything she knew.”
“Farming, that’s rather strenuous work.”
“One gets used to it, John. Our work day started at five in the morning and ended around eight at night. Our farm has sixteen cows and dozens of chickens and geese, and a pen full of pigs, not to mention the sheep and the alpacas that roam the fields.”
“I’ve heard that dairy farming is mucky work, all those different animal droppings, must be quite a stink, having that muck all over you.”
“As I said, one gets used to it. And another thing, John, when working with animals, it’s important to stay clean, especially one’s hands. We would wash before and after lambing, calving, milking, and even when feeding the pigs.”
“Did you have any sheepdogs, to round up the sheep?”
He leaned back and stretched, gazing up at the ceiling. “We have just the one; her name is Jessie. After I finished my work and studies, Jessie and I would go for a run across the fields. We’d run over the hills and down the dales, jump across streams and chase after rabbits or squirrels, never catching them, but then again, never meaning to.”
“I’ve seen you run on the sports field, you do rather well, I suppose that comes from running after your dog.”
He wanted to tell him he was faster than Jessie, that he could run faster than a racing greyhound, or a horse and rider even, and that he’d even passed his dad as he pedalled furiously along the road on his racing bike against a headwind. He wanted to show everyone how fast he was, but he kept in mind what his dad had told him, and kept his running to a reasonable speed.
“Yes, she is quite fast for her age; she’s as old as me. One late afternoon, we saw a male fox, prowling on the edge of the woods. We watched as it eyed the chickens and geese, and when it ran off, we gave chase.
We cornered it at the base of Crow Hill which is about a mile from the farm. It stared at us, its chest heaving and I approached it. I’m not afraid of wild animals, but I sensed the fox was afraid, so I spoke to it. I told him he had nothing to fear and knelt down before him with my hand extended.”
“Did it bite you?” asked John, half-smiling.
“No, the poor animal just looked at me; and that look of fear distorting its features gradually vanished. Then it crawled on all fours towards me with its ears flattened. I still held out my hand as it came nearer. Then it rose up and licked my fingers. I scratched the back of its neck and the fox actually smiled.”
“The fox smiled?”
Jason shrugged. “Well, it looked like a smile. Anyway I rose up and it came nearer. I stroked its fur for a while and it rubbed its body along my calf.”
“What happened then?”
Jason paused, then told him, smiling, “I remember now, my stomach rumbled and I felt the pangs of hunger. I looked at Jessie, who had been watching patiently and we ran off the way we came, and left the fox to its own devices.”
“Did you ever see it again, around the farm?”
Jason nodded and continued. “As we came closer to the farm, I slowed down, after seeing Jessie wasn’t running next to me. I glanced behind and saw the fox running alongside Jessie, both of them with their tongues lolling out, apparently enjoying one another’s company. So I ceased running and spoke out loud as they too came to a halt and sat down before me. I said to the fox “I’m sorry, Mister Fox, but you may not come any farther, for you’ll only upset the sheep and frighten the chickens; maybe some other time, when we get to know one another better.” The fox appeared to understand because he turned around and walked away with flattened ears and drooping tail. Jessie watched its retreating form for a short while, and then looked up at me with her ears laid back and her front paws tramping the ground gently. So I told her, “No, Jessie, you can’t go with him, he’s wild and you aren’t, he may be friendly to you, but he might have a mate who will think you wish to take him from her, so you stay here on the farm and protect the property.’
She was disappointed at my decision, but there was no telling what could have happened if the fox had a mate.”
“You talk to animals! Do they really understand what you say?”
“I don’t think so, but they can tell by the tone of my voice that I’m serious, and Jessie is an obedient dog.”
“I don’t think I would have liked to live on a farm, I much prefer the city, the crowds, the lights and the sound of traffic.”
“Each to his own, John,” he said and turned back to his notes. He glanced around at him as he continued reading. He wondered why John’s skin appeared much thinner these days; he could see the veins on his hands quite clearly. Perhaps he was sickening for something for his pace had slowed as well. Jason never had a problem beating him “with difficulty” at squash, but nowadays he had to make even more “mistakes” in his returns, “probably anaemia,” he decided, and made a mental note to remind John to make an appointment to see the doctor who paid the college a visit every Friday.
Jennifer gazed out the carriage window and watched the sun go down. She wondered how much he had changed. She remembered his unruly hair; she’d wanted to run her fingers through it. She recalled his hands, with their long fingers and yearned to feel those fingers on her skin. She’d fall asleep each night, picturing the two of them kissing. She thought about his face, his warm brown eyes and his serious expression as he had apologised that day. She had known instantly that he was the one, but then she found out he wasn’t an elf, but a werewolf, and wondered why fate had been so unkind to them, as the bond between them was now unbreakable. She recalled her mother’s words, “…it was the prophecies doing, but beware of your proximity.”
She wondered if the prophecy would allow for a kiss from his lips. She could feel them on hers now, his strong arms holding her. She’d dreamed of them swimming together, a dream that pursued her nightly, and she wondered what his body would look like after all-.
The compartment door slid back. “This is your stop, Miss.”
She saw the ticket collector at the doorway. “Thank you,” she replied and reached up to the luggage rack for her rucksack. She slipped her arms through the straps and left the compartment. She felt the train slow down. A tingle ran through her body and she said to herself, “At last.”
A late night call.
He always slept with the window open, regardless of the weather, as he craved the sound of nature in favour of complete silence. His senses stirred and he woke up with a start. He sensed her presence on the night air and the phrase, “She’s here,” flew through his mind. He breathed through his nose slowly. He caught her scent as it drifted into the room and he heard her footfalls as light as they were, as she raced across the snow-covered college forecourt.
His heart beat out a tattoo at the thought of seeing her again. It was so long ago, too long ago. He left his bed, dressed in his pyjamas and moved to the window in time to hear her shin up the drainpipe.
As her face appeared, he saw the beauty that maturity had bestowed upon her. Her eyes widened as she showed surprise, then her features changed, she smiled and his heart beat faster, as she said. “I should have known. You probably heard me get off the train.”
He smiled to himself as he heard the whistle blow, over fifty miles away. He had wondered when she would eventually find out. “Then you have heard the news, from your mother maybe?”
She nodded and said as her features gave way to sadness, “Yes, every single dreadful detail,” then she brightened up, “So, hello again, Jason, it’s been a long time.”
“Hello, Jennifer, over five years.”
“Five years and three months.”
“In there if you please.”
“Come into my parlour.”
Before he could offer her his hand she slid over the windowsill smiling wryly and answered, “Said the spider to the fly,” then slipped out of her rucksack and dropped it on the sofa.
“You’ve grown and your hair is slightly darker.”
“You’ve grown too, a boy no longer,” she said, with her right eyebrow raised:
He closed the window and raised his hands palm-upwards and said, “I’m afraid I can’t offer you anything to eat or drink at the moment.”
She pulled out a plastic bottle from a rucksack pocket. “That’s okay, I brought supplies.”
He watched her unscrew the top and raise the bottle to her lips. She had haunted him in his dreams where he had dared to try and kiss her and had failed. Such soft and tender lips. He wondered if he should try it in the flesh, just one tiny kiss, nobody would know and he was sure she would comply, “Maybe if I-” he broke off and said, “I’m trying to guess why you are here, you are aware of what could happen.”
She drank thirstily, exposing her long, slender neck. She finished gulping, lowered the bottle and replaced the stopper. He knew sadness when she spoke, even if it was behind her smile, “Yes I am, fully aware.”
He sat down on his bed and she chose his armchair, “So tell me.”
“Where are your three companions, your friends?”
He felt at a disadvantage. She means Yvette and the other two, how would she know, can she read my mind?
His mouth fell open as her voice sounded inside his head, “Of course I can, I can hear every single thought. Have you forgotten, we are one, forever, and yes, I would love to feel your lips on mine, one day, but not now.”
He sat there dazed. He expected her to grin in triumph, as if having put one over on him, a sort of revenge for leaving her behind, but her visage displayed a wisdom that assured him of the contrary. He took a deep breath and tried to digest this new sensation, this feeling of oneness with her. He found it best to accept it and have done with it, so he asked her, “Can you please explain why you are here?” He added, “I suggest you start at the beginning.”
She told him of the past events, and he of his. His heart skipped a beat as she told him of her and her parent’s near-death experience, and she told him of Helga.
He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her how much he had missed her, but he remembered the words Lucas had shouted at him, “You cannot marry an Elf.”
He asked, “Exactly what are goblins, and trolls, I thought they were characters from fairy tales, like dwarves and pixies? Lucas did mention them, but I didn’t press him.”
“They are real enough, Jason. Goblins are masters of deception, they plan their deceit to protect their presence and they can take on the human form and live amongst humans. Their life-span does not extend far beyond thirty years, after which they are old and weak. The problem is, they breed like flies, they have large litters and they now believe they can use the rune stone to extend their lives, a ridiculous thought, and when they realize that, they will destroy it, and you and I and your foster parents, will cease to exist.”
His heart beat faster at the thought. My parents, Iain and Helen Longfellow, and my Jennifer, they must not perish.” He asked, “And what is my part in this, what am I to do, tell me, I will not let you down?”
“You, me and your friends must raise an army, an army of werewolves and retrieve the rune stone.”
He glanced out of the open window; the snow fell once more, blocking out the night-time scenery. “How do you propose we do that in these conditions?”
“Despite this weather, we must journey to the Welsh mountains and find your people. We will tell them what has happened. If the goblins destroy the rune stone then all is lost, not only you and I will perish but the werewolves will die out too and the elves, for they cannot survive without the existence of the stone. The werewolves will want their children to survive, to have the gift of long life, which is hereditary, so they will help us.” She paused, then added, “And the prophecy says that ‘a man, but not a man, must lead them’.”
She looked at him meaningfully and his brow wrinkled. “Meaning me, a werewolf?” He asked.
“Yes, you and I, for the elf and werewolf prophecies say so.”
Darkness came and the room spun around him, he fell back onto the bed. He heard a man’s voice speaking in a foreign language, he realized it was French, and then he understood. The voice had said, “In a time of need, you, my son, will lead our people to victory.”
His head cleared and he saw Jennifer standing over him. Without thinking he asked her in French, “Was that you?”
Her brow knotted and her face paled and she answered in kind, “No, I heard it too.”
His features matched hers and he asked, “But who was that inside my head, I thought only you could do that?”
“It could have been your real father calling you.”
“You know my father?”
“No, I don’t, I heard a male voice say, ‘My son’ that’s all.”
He sat up and asked, “You said, ‘my three companions’, how did you know about them?”
“I’ll explain later, so, who are they?”
They both turned to a knock on the door.
He called out. “Come in.”
Yvette entered, followed by a nervous Ingrid. Yvette closed the door behind her and whispered, “We heard voices.”
He stood up and said, “Jennifer, these are two of my companions, Yvette and Ingrid.”
For some reason they didn’t shake hands, they just stood there. Yvette stared at Jennifer and she stared back, Ingrid asked, “Can somebody tell me what we are doing here?”
Jennifer said, “We five must go on a journey.”
Ingrid asked her, “We five, a journey, where to and why?”
“A thief broke into our home and stole a valuable antique. An old rune stone, it is worthless to the thief, a woman, but it means a lot to my family. I fear she will want a ransom, a ransom we cannot pay and I fear she will destroy it out of spite. I know where she hides out; it’s somewhere in the Welsh mountains. I really need Jason’s help to find her, so will you come with us, it will be an adventure?”
Yvette said, “Of course we will.”
Jennifer looked past them at the open doorway. “Where is the other one, there should be three of you?”
Yvette said, “I’ll go and get him,” and surprised them both by grabbing Ingrid by the arm, and left the room with her.
The door closed and Jason asked, “Can’t we tell them the truth?”
“What! You can’t be serious.”
He looked away, his face burning. “Sorry, I thought…”
She cut him off, and said softly, “Do you know if you can trust them?” She added as she stared at him, “For I’m not sure if I do.”
He looked at her. “I’ve known them as school friends for five years, we study together, we take part in sport together and we support one another in our studies. They rely on me and they are dependable, even though they are an odd trio.”
She walked about some and then said, “One of them did seem a little strange, I sense something about her. She seems to be hiding something.” She glanced in his direction, “What do you think?”
He smiled, remembering his uncertainty. “You mean the dark one, don’t you, she’s alright, she’s French and it’s the smell, she reads by candlelight, burnt wax. She is quite a good swimmer too, they both are in fact, it’s a pity the river is still frozen.”
She moved towards the open window, it was snowing once again. “Which reminds me, our journey. Helga told me we must find a lake, a reservoir, a path will lead us from it to the goblin’s lair. It is in this region that we should also find your people.”
He watched her as
her breath left her mouth in gentle wisps in the cold room. She had been absent from his life for five long years. He not forgotten what Lucas had said, that they would meet again when they were older, but Lucas had not taken such an event into account.
Now she stood before him in all her beauty, despite being dressed in her winter clothing, sturdy hiking boots, an anorak, breeches and thick stockings. Her head was free and her long hair was plaited and coiled up around the back of her head. It was the gold and ginger hair that had hung about her like a veil, that night at the ford. He knew she could hear him in her mind, but he didn’t care, he would bare his soul to her if she wished. He thought of her sitting on the jetty, of her standing up, her hair hanging down behind her, this time older. He was afraid to ask her if she was betrothed to someone and said in his mind, “Do you have any idea how much I love you, is it as much as you love me?”
Silvermoon. A Tale of a Young Werewolf. A YA Novel. 12-18 Page 7