A Grandpa's Notebook Part 8

'Standing next to a branch across the trail I reach out to climb across the tangle. The Princess and you are close behind.

'As I touch the branch, it draws back and away from my hand.

'What is this? A tree branch that pulls back and away when it is touched? Impossible! I reach for it again. It pulls away. The Princess, you and I stare at it, astonished.

'An enchanted tree,' the Princess says. 'We must talk to it, and trust it to understand.'

'OK.' I shrug and step back.

'The Princess turns to the tree. 'Tree,' she says softly, 'I am the Princess.'

'A rustling sound comes from the tree, and the sounds form into words.

'I am Omar the Oak,' the rustling words come slowly. 'What are you doing in the enchanted, tangled forest? It is forbidden to ordinary humans.'

'We are strangers in this enchanted, tangled forest,' says the Princess. 'My friends, here beside me, have just rescued me from the Trolls who live in the caves, and now we are trying to get through to our s.h.i.+p in the cove. My mother and father are waiting for me at home. They love me and I love them, and we miss each other very much. Please let us pa.s.s?'

'The fallen tree is very still; not a branch stirs, not a twig twitches, not a leaf flutters. Is the tree thinking?

'After a long while, slowly, very slowly, a leaf moves, a twig bends, and a branch curves toward us. The branch stops near the Princess's hand. She reaches out and gently touches it.

'More leaves move and soon thousands are fluttering. The branches untangle and a way opens for us. Branches curve around to form a ladder and we climb up and over the branches that are too thick to bend. The branches on the other side bend and open to let us to pa.s.s. We reach the ground near the trail.

'We turn back to Omar the Oak. The tree's leaves flutter, its twigs twitch, and its branches wave slowly. We wave.

'Thank you, Omar,' says the Princess. 'Thank you for helping us across. We will never forget your kindness.'

'The rustling of the leaves becomes louder, and form words. 'Good-bye, good-bye,' says Omar the Oak. 'I wish you well. Be warned. You must prove that you deserve to leave this enchanted, tangled forest. Be warned! You must deserve!'

'How must I show that I deserve to leave this enchanted forest?' The Princess asks Omar the Oak. 'To whom must I prove it? What must I do to 'deserve'?'

'The rustling gets louder, and we hear again, 'You must deserve to make your way out of this enchanted, tangled forest. Be ready.' The rustling is very loud. 'Be ready,' the words repeat and fade away.

''What do you mean, Omar?' the Princess repeats her question, 'what has 'deserve' to do with our leaving the forest?'

'But the tree is silent. The leaves stop rustling, the twigs stop twitching, and the branches no longer wave. Omar, the enchanted oak, will say no more.

'We turn away from the friendly, but mysterious tree and move on along the narrow, twisty trail.

'The trail gets narrower still, and the leaves in the trees pack so close we hardly see our way. We trip over roots curling out from the squishy ground, and our clothes are snagged by the sharp thorns of slimy vines hanging from trees. The deep silence of the enchanted, tangled forest is all about us.

'Ahead, the trail takes a steep drop into a hollow with huge gray rocks on each side. The rocks are s.h.i.+ny with wet, green moss. We slip and slide about as we try to make our way down and across to where the trail curves up again to drier ground.

'But wait. We cannot make our way through this rocky hollow. The trail is blocked. Yes, blocked, and I mean really blocked. There, in front of us, completely across the narrow, twisty trail with its huge wet, slimy rocks on each side, stretches a huge, glittering, lacy-braided, closely woven spider's web.

'That isn't all. In the center of the huge web, waiting for us, is the Spider. Oh, the size of that spider! Enormous! Its legs are long and bent, and covered with jagged spikes at the ends of which are curved, red pincers. The spider's eyes, big as dinner plates, glare at us.

''We must fight that spider,' I say, 'or we won't get through.'

''No,' the Princess says. 'This is an enchanted forest, and the creatures that live in it are also enchanted. Let me try.'

'The Princess walks close to the web. She's so close that the spider can reach out and grab her with its curved, sharply pointed pincers. If the spider grabs her, it will not be a pleasant hug at all for our Princess.

'The spider doesn't move. The huge eyes glare at her.

'I am the Princess....' she starts to say.

'I am Cyril the Spider,' the spider interrupts and its voice is like a saw cutting through wood. 'What are you doing in the enchanted, tangled forest. Ordinary humans are not allowed here.'

'The Princess speaks; her tone is polite.

'Pointing to you and me, she says, 'these are my friends who came from far away to rescue me from the Trolls who live in the boulder caves. We must make our way through this enchanted, tangled forest to our s.h.i.+p in the cove. From there we will sail across the stormy seas to my home where my mother and father are waiting for me. They love me and I love them, and we miss each other. I want very much to go home. Please let us pa.s.s?'

'Cyril the Spider stares at the Princess, then at you and me. Cyril is thinking.

'Very well,' Cyril says, his buzz softening. 'I will let you pa.s.s.'

'The huge spider stretches one of its long legs to the bottom of the web and draws it up. The web's strands pull apart until there is just enough room for us to pa.s.s in single file. The Princess goes first, you and I follow. As I pa.s.s through the web, it closes behind me.

'The Princess turns back to the spider.

'Thank you, Cyril,' she says. 'You're very kind to let us through your web. I will never forget your kindness.'

'Good-bye, good-bye.' Cyril's buzz has softened to a hum. 'I wish you well.'

'Cyril's voice changes to a rasp. 'Be warned,' the Spider says, 'soon you must prove that you deserve to leave this enchanted, tangled forest. You must deserve!'

''There it is again,' the Princess says, her voice now exasperated. 'I'm warned again about deserving to leave this enchanted, tangled forest, and that I must be ready. What does that mean, Cyril?'

'But Cyril doesn't answer. He is watching the trail again. We're now behind his web and Cyril will say no more.

'We turn away from Cyril and move on along the twisty trail. It leaves the narrow s.p.a.ce between the high rocks. Once again we are in the deep shade of closely packed leaves, fighting our way through drippy, th.o.r.n.y vines and thick underbrush.

'We walk for hours. Ahead, we see a steep hill. The trail zig zags up the hill, and disappears into a dark tunnel.

'We stop. We must follow the trail through the dark tunnel if we want to reach the cove where our gallant s.h.i.+p waits.'

The Little Old Man stops. He looks round at the waiting faces. 'Would you like to hear what happens when the Princess and her friends enter the tunnel?'

'Yes, yes,' we all shout.

'Very well. It's time for another stretch so let's all rise and move about a bit. When you're ready, take your place and I'll finish the story.'

Still the Same Story: What a Finis.h.!.+

Suzanne and Roger raced toward where I waited under the date palm.

'How far did you run?' I asked.

'Dunes,' gasped Roger, leaning against the trunk of the banana palm.

'...and back,' added Suzanne, running in place as she spoke.

'Ready for the last part of the story?' Roger's gasping slowed to regular breathing.

'Whenever you are,' I answered.

Suzanne stopped running in place and flopped down onto the sand next to her brother.

'Your turn,' Suzanne pointed at Roger as she leaned against the tree. 'I'll rest and listen.' *** 'OK, everyone,' the Little Old Man calls out. 'Jump up and down a few more times and then gather round and take your places. The sun is starting its downward journey into evening. We'll finish in time so you can hike back to your campsites and have your dinners.

He sits slowly, and places his cane beside him. He looks around.

We're all in our places and quiet, waiting for him to go on with the story. *** 'We left the Princess, you and me in the enchanted, tangled forest. We've pa.s.sed through the web of Cyril the Spider and are now back on the narrow, twisty trail. Up ahead is the steep hill. Near the top of the hill the narrow, twisty trail disappears into a tunnel.

'We climb the slope to the tunnel's entrance. We look in, but can't see beyond a few feet. It's really dark in there.

''We have no choice,' the Princess says. 'We must pa.s.s through the tunnel to the other side so that we can get to our s.h.i.+p.'

'We search the ground under the trees for fallen branches. There are many to choose from. We make clubs and torches. I light the tips of the torches with my trusty fire-matches.

'Into the tunnel we go. It's wet and cold and damp. Under our feet the mud is squishy. As we round a bend the light from the tunnel's opening behind us disappears. It's dark ahead of us and dark behind us. We step carefully, our torches lighting the way.

'We walk for more than an hour. The end of the tunnel is still not in sight. Our torches are getting short. We didn't expect the tunnel would be this long, and we're wondering if we'll ever make it to the other end.

'Up ahead is a dim glow. We walk faster. Maybe it's the end of the tunnel.

'The light gets brighter. It's coming from around the next bend. We're especially careful now, and as we come to the bend we lean over to peer around and beyond.

'A piercing shriek cuts the air behind us.

''We gotcha!' a voice roars.

'We whirl around, staring into the darkness, ready to fight. We see nothing at first. After a moment, we make out tiny gleams, in pairs and close together. Eyes-many eyes-staring at us.

''Oh no, you haven't got us,' I shout. The Princess, you and I stand close. 'Come on,' I whisper, 'let's make a run for it.'

'We turn and dash around the bend. We stop in surprise.

'The tunnel ahead of us opens into an enormous cavern. Lighted torches along the walls cast shadows in all directions. The center of the cavern is taken up by a huge black box, and next to it, staring at us are-now, be ready for this. Are you ready? Elves! Elves, I say! Yes, Elves!

''Oh, no,' cries the Princess, 'we escaped from Trolls, and now we're among the Elves. Not again!'

'We whirl back to the narrow tunnel. We must escape. From the tunnel rush more Elves. They're the ones who sneaked up on us and shrieked 'We gotcha.' My goodness, they sure gotcha'd us. We're surrounded!

'Standing back to back, we raise our clubs, ready to protect ourselves against attack. I must say, though, Elves are not at all like Trolls. These Elves don't look fierce, as Trolls do, nor do they look like they would really want to fight with us, or with anyone.

'Out of the crowd near the black box steps an old, old Elf. Stooped over, he leans on a cane. Slowly, he comes closer, peering at the Princess through tiny eyegla.s.ses perched on the tip of his nose. He points his cane at her.

'Who are you?' he wheezes.

'I am the Princess,' replies the Princess and points to you and me. 'These are my friends,' she says, 'who have come to take me back to the King and the Queen who are my father and mother who love me very much and whom I love very much. We miss each other and I want to return home so I can be with them. The narrow, twisty trail to the cove where our gallant s.h.i.+p is waiting led us into this tunnel. We have no choice but to follow it. Please let us pa.s.s.'

'The ancient Elf has not taken his eyes from the Princess.

'Do you bake?' he wheezes.

'Do I bake?' cries the Princess. 'What do you mean by that? Are you going to bake me?'

'The Princess, you and I raise our clubs. No one is going to bake our Princess. No siree, not if we can stop it.

'There is a long silence. The ancient, stooped Elf stares at each of us. We stare back at him. The crowd of Elves closes around us.

'The old, old Elf smiles.

'I don't mean, do YOU bake, but only do you bake? No, that doesn't sound right, does it? Can you bake? Can you bake bread and rolls? There, that's better.'

'Huh,' I say.

'Huh,' you say.

'The Princess looks puzzled. 'What do you mean? Can I bake bread and rolls? Why do you ask?'

'Everything changes. Instead of being ready to fight for our lives, we're talking about baking bread and rolls. I mean: baking stuff! Now really! How about that, all you boys and girls sitting here round and about? How about that, all you Moms and Dads and Grandparents sitting alongside your children?

'Well, we are really astonished, and although we're relieved, we're still very suspicious. We keep our clubs ready.

'The Princess looks at me. I look at her. She looks at you. You look at her. You and I look at each other.

'The Princess's face breaks into a gentle smile as she says to us, 'I think these Elves will not hurt us. I'll speak with this little old man and try get his help.'

'We lower our clubs, but hold on to them, just in case we do need to defend ourselves.

''Yes, I can bake bread and rolls,' the Princess says, turning back to the little old man.

'Whispering sounds chase each other among the Elves crowding close.

'She says she can bake bread.'

'Do you think she really can?'

'Well, she says she can.'

'and rolls?'

'Yes, and rolls.'

'She can, really?'