Cornwall Guide - Cornish Writers - Daniel Aston

daniel aston cornwall writers

This story was featured at this years Golowan Festival in Penzance under the theme of Celtic Connections.

Story recorded at The Acorn Theatre in Penzance For 2008 Golowan Festival - Tongue Pie
Read by Michael Sagar Fenton

The Forest by Daniel Aston

The day slowly faded to night, the sun gently drifting below the horizon to slumber, creating a blitz of orange and yellow rays of light across the forest top. Clouds whistled gently by, propelled by a wisp of light winter breeze. Birds flew to their nests to shelter against the forthcoming midnight frost. All was silent to the unknowing, but deep beneath the treetops, through the leaves, branches and the constant song of the woodland (that everlasting drone of grasshoppers click-clicking and lone bird cheep-cheeping) was a strong and fearless warrior.

He was a Celt, holy warrior of the moorlands and guardian of the forest. He had travelled long and hard, through thick and thin, and now he was here. In the depths of his great arms lay a small child wrapped in a white blanket, fast asleep. It was this child that caused him to be here, for this was no ordinary child but that descended from a great leader, lord of many and a fighter that had fallen victim in battle. The child was only a baby, too young to even begin to realize what was going on or of his sheer importance.

They had come to a particular spot in the vast woodland; this was to be the rendezvous that had been planned for so long. The Celt stood tall and was somewhat nervous. He scanned the area with his hawk-like green eyes, he grew anxious and impatient. Suddenly he spotted a rustling in amongst the shrubs and bushes ahead on his right, and slowly it revealed a small elderly woman dressed in a black cloak. She walked towards the warrior and child until they stood face to face. She raised her arms, removed her hood and revealed her weathered face.

When their glances met and they recognized one another, he relaxed and smiled. Suddenly there was another rustle out leaped a faun. It smiled and galloped gaily towards them before it joined the woman by her side. The Celt stared it in the eyes and frowned.

“What is he doing here?” he said, not leaving the faun’s gaze.
“He is a high spirit of this forest, it’s alright, he can be trusted.” reassured the woman.
“Wise Woman, here I give you the child.” the warrior outstretched his arms and showed the Wise Woman the child.

“This is him.” she whispered “He is the one, he shall be protected here.”
“And so he will be, but tell me, Wise Woman, what is this faun’s purpose?” the warrior looked upon the faun carefully.

“He is a spirit of this forest, a guardian upon these lands, here is here as a witness, along with all the others.” and with that countless pairs of eyes appeared from all around; in the treetops and amongst the shrubs, it appeared everyone had come to see the child.

“W-who are…what are they?” exclaimed the man as he looked around him and discovered that this meeting was in fact not as secret as it made out to be.
“They are the spirits of this forest; they will protect this child until the time is right.” said the woman.

“Please, give me the child, he will be safe here.” smiled the faun.
There was a moment of tension as the warrior scanned his surroundings and eyed the two figures before him, he drew his sword with his right hand and held the child tightly in his left. “I’ve travelled too far to release him to you now, you should have known!” he stepped hastily backwards, separating himself from them and looking for an escape route.

“No, brave one, you should have known.” sighed the faun who leaped into the air towards them. He sailed through the air, suddenly his sharp teeth on show and arms held wide and fingers spread out like a prancing tiger. His eyes were enough to scare and warrior no matter how brave; they glowed like a wild demon. The Celt readied himself for the attack, sweat poured from his body as the faun fell towards his face.

Everything slowed down as his primal instincts took over. His eyes fixed on the target, sharp like a hawk waiting for the right moment for the attack. The beast screamed like a rabid monster as it readied itself for impact. Then the moment arrived. For the warrior, this was all too easy; the enemy had played itself right into his hands. He bent his knees and when the moment arose, thrust his blade through the faun’s body. Powered my determination and the force of its fall, the spirit slid down the sword and rested lifelessly, its face touching its killer’s; eyes locked to the end.

All of a sudden the faun was gone, along with the wise woman and all the mysterious eyes. They vanished without a trace as though they were never there. The warrior was confused, he fell to his knees. He looked at his blade to find that there was no trace of blood or anything like that. Everything became blurred; he became dizzy and began to slip in and out of consciousness.

It was then he realised that he hadn’t eaten for days and the slightest drop of water had been spared for the child. He had travelled a long way, and this was as far as he could go. With one final breath he collapsed onto the earth beneath him where in time he would merge into as nature claimed him.

The child awoke and stretched his eyes. He slowly crawled from the white blanket and touched the earth for the first time. The grass beneath him stained his tender skin green, he noticed this, but it did not bother him. Instead he ventured onward into the wilderness that would become his new home.

Cornwall Guide - Cornish Writers - Daniel Aston

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