3| The Guardian of the Groove

As Eryndor rode through the lush, green, dense woods, lost in thought and bound for another adventure, he felt a pang of sadness and gloominess after leaving Cap Town. Yet, on the other hand, he was quietly satisfied on his accomplishment knowing he had inspired the townspeople to think differently and take action to save their natural environment. Amidst his introspection, his horse nudged him to linger awhile beneath the canopy of shady Banyan and other trees.

Suddenly, Eryndor's reverie was interrupted by a soft whisper nearby. 'Living for fifty years under this expansive blue sky, I often recall what my grandfather once told me: "You're not just a tree," he had beamed at me, just before he was felled ten years ago.

The whispering was so clear as the voice stirred a sense of nostalgia and wisdom in Eryndor, interrupting his preoccupation. He tried to focus his mind to discern the speaker's identity, but found himself unable to grasp a meaningful conclusion about the conversation. The voice seemed to emanate from the surroundings themselves, leaving Eryndor with more questions than answers.

"They are coming again. What can we do now?" my twin mutters, shivering in the moist breeze, but mostly out of fear. Though he is budding day by day, his unbidden fear is never gone. Every midnight talks, and every dawn awakes with him."

"You'll live this year too," our elder brother assures him with broken heart.

EryndorMaxwell  gazed and gazed and to be amazed. He beheld his ears to grasped the context of their consolatory conversation. Elderwood, a wise and gnarled oak, stretched her branch and whispered. "Fear not, Eryndor has come to rescue you. He is a very brave heart, Shurely he will help us."

"His name shocked Eryndor 'How has the tree come to know my name?' As he was still regaining his consciousness, Eryndor blurted out: 'Who's there?"

Youngling's young greenish leaves trembled, releasing a faint and smothe rustle, as Elderwood's gentle voice enveloped her. 'Eryndor will save me, won't he?' she whispered, her delicate petals unfolding like tiny hands clasped in prayers. A tender shoot of hope sprouted within her, its tender tip reaching for the warmth of promise. Her roots deepened, clinging to the earth, as if unwilling to let go. "May I live long!"

With growing age, you gain wisdom, our father once told us. And our elder brother has the wisdom of five years more than we have had. Now we agree to his claims since father was cut down.

"The roadside Elderwood have sighted protests against deforestation and we are the A****n," the elder brother boasts off, swaying his shiniest and lush green leaves under the blazing sun. "We'll be fine!" "But they felled our forefather last year," the twin added, still quivering. His leaves were vibrating in the glittering rays of sun. Eryonder sat pondering under the groove of the trees and gathered them in his mind. All of them were deploring deadly against the brutality of the contractor who had been working on deforestation.

"Look! The toucan has come to rest on your strongest branch!" The elder brother diverted Eryndor's  attention. 

"Hello!" The white-throated toucan settles on my twin. He scratches his long beak against his trunk, making my twin giggle. Eryonder looked surprized. He asked in his high pictch voice.

"What do you want from me? How could I help you?" Elderwood replied anxsciously, "Look at these toucans, magical birds on the Earth.  The grove of trees of ours is a home. "Yes, that's why I am."

"A habitat for these delicate birds who are hunted for their beauty." 

"Yes, I have observed that." Eryndor agreed.

Elderwood continued appreciating toucans, "They sleep and rest on our branches, bring straw and feathers and make nests. In those carefully woven nests, and they lay eggs. We are the ones to hear the first mellow chirping of their newborn babies."

"I love the spring!" The toucan sings. "Look at those charismatic colours of flowers that match me in their appeal!" 

Eryndor lay listeing to their palpable grievances , paying heed to listen more and more.

"A shade. The colorful flowers growing on the soil around me under my shade are alive because of me. I filter the bright sunny rays with my leaves to a proper amount for them to blossom and they spread their sensational fragrance around the whole forest. Everyone likes to touch and sit beside me. I provide them the velvety texture to soother their day's fatigued body." 

Elderwood's passionate speech made Eryndor grieved and he looked more considerare.

Elderwood's passionate words seem to have a profound impact on Eryndor's reflections, evoking feelings of grief and consideration. Perhaps Eryndor is reflecting on the importance of preserving and appreciating the natural world, or maybe he's realizing the value of Elderwood's existence and the interconnectedness of all living beings on the this natural enviornment.

"I saw your father being chipped into a paper," the toucan told nonchalantly and earned a whimper from my twin. 

Elderwood added, "A paper for a book. Our thick trunks cut into logs then shredded to thin chips and turned into blank sheets. The blood of our fellow trees inked on those sheets in a pattern I never understood. It is the human language they write on us, piercing us with the sharp tips of their pens like a saw wasn't enough. “What a pity!”

Eryonder tried to underscore the Elderwood's emotional connection to its fellow trees and the natural world. He continued listening grasped the Elderwood's perspective, and perhaps reevaluating his own relationship with nature.  

"That's better than toilet paper. Your grandfather had a terrible fate!" The toucan laughs and shits on the soil below.

A toilet paper. Thinner than a sheet of paper for a book and an instrument to wipe the bums of our tormentors, or to blow their booger-filled nose into or to clean mucus and phlegm or any unwanted material. Will that be my end?

As Eryndor stood beneath the thick canopy, a playful squirrel showered him with nut shells, their dry rustle punctuating the air. Sunlight filtering through the thick leaves above cast dappled shadows on the woods floor. The gentle rustle of ferns and wildflowers swayed in the cool breeze made the whole surrending a paradise on earth.

The trance of melodic chirping and cooing of birds echoed through the trees, a chorus of joy and abandon, making the scene even more loving and peaceful. A soft leaf fluttered down, twirling lazily to the ground, as the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers wafted through the air, entrancing Eryndor in the woods' serene symphony.

Nearby, a brook babbled softly, its gentle gurgling harmonizing with the forest's vibrant tapestry of sound and motion. But the whole scene was suddenly disturbed by the hum of machines approaching the cozy spot where Eryndor was lost in the world of birds and animals.

A party of chainsaws, harvesters, feller bunchers, log splitters, brush cutters, tree shears, and loggers' axes, accompanied by skidders, happened upon the scene, intent on clear-cutting the home of the birds and animals. Their purpose was to destroy the natural scenery, including forests, trees, and wildlife habitats, for agricultural and urbanization purposes. Eryndor's panic arose, and he stood up to stop this destruction. But how could he do that?

"Suddenly an idea flashed in his mind, and Eryndor started speaking to the trees, giving them instructions. "Are you listening?" he enquired to ensure they understood.

"Yes, we are listening," the trees replied.

"Right, when they reach here, you will fell your branches on them, showing that you are struggleing to survive." Eryndor advised.

you are struggling to survive"

they will understand that you are willing to sacrifice your branches to survive"

"What's the purpose of that?" the trees asked.

"I am sure that will understand that your willing to sacrifice your braches to survive . Let the loggers take these branches to use for their purposes," Eryndor exclaimed confidently.

"Will they understand the message we want to convey to them?" the trees spoke with a broken spirit.

"Yes, they will not cut your trunks, so that you may produce more branches and shoots next year," Eryndor spoke emphatically.

Eryndor's plan was set in motion as the loggers just stopped beneath the grove of long, dense trees. Elderwood led the way, its branch falling with a gentle creak. Then, a sharp crack split the air as another tree snapped its branch. Another followed, and a tree down the slope leaned over, settling heavily onto the ground. It sacrificed itself the whole. The loggers were mesmerized, struggling to save their lives as some were badly injured, but alive.

Eryndor, hiding behind the bushes, watched the melodramatic action unfold, hoping to convey the message. And it worked! The loggers got the message, changing their minds and deciding to postpone the project until next year. They wanted to let the trees grow further, and with that, they left the place.

Eryndor's joy knew no bounds, relieved that his plan had succeeded in saving the trees. The final moments came as Eryndor wanted to leave the srene place, but the groove of the trees didn't want to miss him. They offered him stay there under the cool and shadowy trees for ever. They promised to provide him food, dry wood,  shelter, and what else he wanted.  

Eryndor's heart filled with gloom lamenting over modern man's true wisdom. His mind fillled with many unresolved queries: "Why doesn’t he gain wisdom as he grows, instead, he loses it. The more he is growing old, the more he is losing his positivity of mind. What else he needs to survive on this planet? Trees provide them with the oxygen necessary for his breathing and survival. They remove the toxin elements from the air so he doesn't die soon. Yet, it is human who is after his own life.