JOURNEY TO THE MIDNIGHT SUN
James Sheldon
LOVE CONQUERS ALL
Book 1 of 3
Chapter 3
Indian Summer though it be, the nights were cold and frigid morning air made steam clouds of Laureal’s every breath. Her grandmother had protested when she left the longhouse just fifteen minutes earlier with only a cloak. Laureal had assured Emma that she’d be fine in expectation of fast rising temperatures. Emma had sent Laureal into the wood to tap a favorite maple tree. The Matriarch knew that warm autumn days and cold nights meant the sap inside the tree would be flowing. Not as sugary as in the springtime but flowing nonetheless and should be taken advantage of. If the sap did not contain too much niter, Laureal was to tap several more favored trees. These were old growth maples of the 31st century, against which maples of the 21st century might appear somewhat wispy.
To fabricate a maple tap, Laureal began by trimming a small piece off of an elderberry branch. She used a small stone knife her father had made for her. Sharper than a steel razor, the knife’s replaceable flint blade sat in a handle of polished elk horn. Its hand-tooled leather case depicted a swan in flight. Using the knife, Laureal next stripped bark from a tiny oak branch to make a ramrod the size of a Japanese hairpin. She then used the ramrod to push the cold but pliable center out of the elderberry branch. She carved the ends of the elderberry to bevel the tap. In her strong desire to complete her tasks, she did not take time to warm her hands. As a result, her bare fingers, having been exposed too long in icy air, became so cold she could scarcely use them.
“Oh gosh,” sheathing her knife and pulling her hands to her chest, rubbing them together, blowing into them, hunching her shoulders and feeling cold all over. Meanwhile down at her feet, Chewy had set to growling the way dogs do before getting worked up, low growls, very nearly be inaudible. Then came the unmistakable sound of crushing twigs, leaves, and small branches. Something of tremendous size was coming through the wood and Laureal knew exactly what it was.
“Crush, crush, crush.” Each step getting louder, “Crush, crush, crush!”
Forgetting her hands, Laureal turned around, her eyes at once fearful and enthralled. The giant, alone without its rider, stood directly before her. Three times the size of a bull moose, clouds of steam flowed from Ellie’s nostrils like a dragon, her fantastic blue eye locked on Laureal’s own.
Chewy leapt forward, barking and growling. Down came the massive head with ears pinned back. A glaring eye, dark as night, and a mighty snort drove the canine back. Then, having issued fair warning, Ellie showed not a trifle of concern more over Chewy. Instead, she turned to focus on Laureal with every atom of her being. The giant displayed not one hint of aggression but rather, begging and imploring, forced the girl back with a friendly nudge from a nose only slightly smaller than a medieval battering ram. At that point Chewy, still growling and barking, mustered his courage and went for the giant's front leg only to be warned away with a stomp that seemed to shake the very earth. Laureal meanwhile, trying to step back, stumbled on a tree root but managed to keep her balance. She backed up further yet and the giant matched her step for step, nudging all the way to her torso with some overly friendly interest that was wholly mysterious.
“Oh, ah, no.” Laureal was nearly to turn and run when Summerfield came stepping fast though the wood, “ELLIE!”
Ellie snapped to attention.
“Are you injured, miss?” (with utmost concern).
Laureal, having backed off a few steps more and only mildly in shock, shook her head.
“Please accept my apology if my horse has caused you any trouble. I assure you she meant you no harm.”
Laureal made no reply but stood gazing at John with great uncertainty.
Also uncertain, John gazed back. Then, taking in the scene before him, he saw the basket hanging from Laureal’s arm and there was Ellie, a picture of hope with ears perked. John’s lips turned up at the corners, “Miss,” returning his eyes to hers, “it would appear my horse has picked up the scent of something in your basket.”
At once Laureal animated as if to say, “Oh! I should have known!”
But of course Laureal couldn’t have known that horses like sugary things, although it made for a good guess. She and her mother had made the basket for collecting maple sap. Made of birch bark, the basket didn’t have anything in it at that moment other than a few tools and smaller leakproof catch baskets used for collecting maple sap and for temporary storing of maple syrup and butter after processing. All were well used and permeated with a sweet scent that had attracted the giant like a bear to a honeycomb. In fact, some horses like sweets so much there exists at least one 21st century account of a horse getting its head stuck in a beehive, having semi-climbed a tree to get at the honey, whereupon it had to be cut free with a chainsaw. Fortunately, both animal and bees came away without serious injury. And the tree, albeit damaged, survived to repair itself.
John turned a stern eye on the barking dog, “Sit and be quiet!” Chewy obeyed immediately, having already accepted Summerfield as the new alpha male.
John turned back to Laureal, “Miss, with your permission, I would like to explain something.”
Her caution turning to curiosity, Laureal gave a nod and John continued, “You see, Ellie here is a sweet girl but she does not recognize you as having a place above her in the pecking order. She sees you as below her. And we, that would be you and I, we would do well to show her at once that you are to be respected.”
Reaching into his coat pocket, John fished out a piece of licorice root, “In place of your basket, we can use this.” And casting a stern glance at Ellie, he closed his fist around the licorice, “We will hold it back from her until she respects and obeys your command.”
Returning his eyes to Laureal, John’s smile spoke to his comfort around horses, “Don’t worry. This will be easy as pie.”
In the silence that followed, the lovers stood but eight feet apart on a well-worn path amid giant tree roots and ferns browned by the cold snap. The maples, some being near four-hundred years in age, spread their limbs out in great umbrella-like lattices.
Holding the licorice out, John took several steps in Ellie’s and Laureal’s direction, “All you need do is hide this in one hand and with your other hand push against her chest and say ‘back’ like you mean it. Push there,” pointing, “not there [on her old wound]. If she doesn’t take a step back at once, push harder and say ‘back’ like you intend to swat her if she does not obey. She’ll step back. Then you can give her her reward. And when you do, hold it in your hand like this.” John held his palm flat to show how. “After this, if ever she gets in your way, you’ll know what to do. Just push on her chest and say, ‘Back.’”
Moving a step closer, John extended his hand to offer Laureal the licorice. Only then did he notice how she shivered. At once the smile ran away from his face and he silently chided himself for being obtuse. He stuffed the licorice back in his pocket.
“It’s still very cold this morning, miss.”
Laureal nodded, her lips pursed tight.
“Sometimes the chill finds its way into us before we even know it has.”
“Indeed, sir, this morning I fear that it has done exactly that,” mustering a little smile.
John extended his hand, “If you would trust me…Ellie and I have a cure for that.”
Laureal searched John’s eyes. Not one atom of malice could she detect. Not one atom of deceit. Her thoughts went to days past. A dozen times she had questioned her sanity for spying on him. She had never seen a man so handsome. She had never seen a man like him. Now he stood directly before her, his hand outstretched. A tall bright-eyed horseman from far away in the west, come by happenstance of circumstance most tragic and terrible.
John lifted his eyebrows and pursed a smile as if to ask, “Well, are you going to trust me or not?”
Slowly, Laureal drew one hand from her cloak and placed it in John’s. No more had she done so than he extended his other hand, that she might accept it also.
Slowly, John drew Laureal towards Ellie.
It’s okay, she won’t harm you,” and with two steps more they stood directly at Ellie’s side, hand in hand, holding one another’s gaze while some unseen force took hold and forced them to keep hold of one another in a completely unnecessary moment. Eye to eye in an exchange that overthrew anything and everything that shouted of wrong, no matter how loud, it fell in the span of a few seconds. And fleeting though it be, it would always be remembered as the moment their time on earth together began, be it long or short.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” John explained, “We’re going to take your cloak off, but don’t worry! I promise you that in less than a minute, you’ll be warmer than any coat could make you. You’ll see. First, we got to get you up on Ellie. So I’m going to make a step with my hands,” and he demonstrated as he spoke, “and you’re going to put your foot in it so I can boost you up on her. You can put your hand on my shoulder to steady yourself as I boost you up, and as you go up, swing your right leg over her. Then, when you’re atop her…well, I will show you.”
Taking Laureal’s basket, John noted its contents as he set it out of harm’s way. Moving quick and easy, he took Laureal’s cloak and hung it carefully on a limb. He then got into position beside Ellie and made a step with his hands, “Okay, put one hand on my shoulder, and your foot in there.”
Laureal did as John ordered.
“This will be easy as climbing a tree. Are you ready?”
If ever there was a prize for looking uncertain but nodding ‘yes’ anyway, Laureal would have won it. She nodded, John boosted strong but smooth and up she went swinging her leg over Ellie’s back.
The next thing Laureal knew, there she sat atop the giant!
High above the forest floor, Laureal made for a picture of unexpected joy and John delighted in seeing it. He also knew she was losing body heat, although she may not know it in her present state of exhilaration.
“Lean forward,” looking up and motioning from the ground with his hands, “all the way onto your stomach. That’s it. Ellie’s so broad, you can scarcely fall off but if you like, you can hold onto her mane…it won’t hurt her.”
Removing his wolverine long coat, Summerfield gave Ellie a reassuring look, “Just think of this as your buffalo cloak,” and he swung it up to cover Laureal like a blanket. He then watched and waited, and, within moments…
“Oh my gosh,” said Laureal, “she’s so warm!”
“She’s a big ol stove,” John laughed.
Laureal closed her eyes and sighed in relief, “Ah—.”
“You won’t be able to take it for long,” Summerfield declared laughingly. Then with a happy but serious air, “You’ll want to sit up after a bit. Otherwise, you’ll start sweating, and then, when you come down, you’ll be twice as cold as before.”
Suddenly worried, Laureal asked, “But sir, what about you? Are you not cold without your coat?”
“Not with all this,” gesturing to his under-layers, pushing his chest out. “Heck, I don’t even know why I bothered to put that coat on this morning.”
Laureal could not help but smile, lying though she suspected he be.
“If I may ask, miss, what brings you into the wood this morning? Have you come to tap a maple, this time of year?”
“I came to tap that tree,” nodding to the maple. “Grandma said it would flow.”
“This big one?” John asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you mind if I do the honors?”
“No,” smiling through pursed lips.
John picked up Laureal’s basket, took out her drill, and admired its design. A hardwood speed wrench, it had a flint-stone cutting bore affixed to its end by way of sinew thread and glue made from the sap of evergreens.
Laureal sat up comfortably cloaked in John’s long coat. She watched as he stepped to the maple with drill in hand.
“Here?” he asked, pointing to the trunk with an inquisitive look.
“A little higher.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure,” playfully.
“Yes,” laughing.
Summerfield placed the drill to the tree and, feeling her eyes on his every move, he told himself, “Whatever you do, John, don’t mess this up. This has to be perfect in front of her.”
As John drilled, Laureal looked on as would a lady watch her champion.
Having completed his first test, John read the affirmation in Laureal’s gaze and so powerfully beautiful were her emerald eyes, he had to look away, down into her basket where he found a tap, the one she had made only minutes before.
“Did you make this?” he asked, returning his eyes to her with wonder.
“Yes.”
“This is a good tap,” in complete earnest.
Seeing his candor, Laureal took it to heart, for such abilities were measures of value in her world.
Drawing a large steel knife from his belt, John intended to final-size the tap so that it would fit the hole exactly when, suddenly pausing, he looked up at Laureal, “I’m sure your [stone] knife would work perfectly well,” referring to one of the tools in her basket, “and I would like to try it someday, but I don’t want to push my luck this morning.”
Laureal beamed even as she reserved comment. John’s unspoken meaning was not lost on her. He valued their fledgling success and wished to preserve it.
Using the butt of his knife, John tapped the tap into the maple tree. Next he hung one of the catch baskets on the tap so that the sap might drip into it.
“Grandma said it would start flowing this afternoon,” said Laureal, herself having never tapped a tree so late in the season.
Setting Laureal’s large basket at the base of the maple, John took her drill in one hand and her knife in the other. “These are finely made tools!”
My grandfather made the drill,” forgetting the disaster of her life if only for the moment. “My mother and I made the baskets,” forgetting her sorrow. “And for my birthday two summers ago, my father made the knife, and my big brother made its sheath,” smiling happily.
Alas, John lifted his eyes from the tools and Laureal realized at once, her every word had been a stone placed upon his chest.
Like cold rain, the tragedy of it all came down and washed away Laureal’s happiness, leaving her lost again, having lost so much. Wishing to run and hide, she slid out of John’s coat and down Ellie’s side to land on her feet but, unlike her usual self, she fell to the ground.
“Are you hurt?” asked John, stepping forward quickly.
“My mother and grandmother will be worried.” Donning her cloak, Laureal took her tools from John’s hands.
John opened his mouth to speak but he could find no words.
Laureal turned and ran away.
Heartsick, he watched as she vanished in the wood.
That night, Laureal lay sleepless in bed. Unable to get comfortable, she rolled from one side to the other, her stomach, her back, nothing seemed to work. At one point, rolling yet to her side again, she saw her little brother also lay awake. From in his bed, he looked at her from under his covers. The fire in the hearth yet had a flicker, just enough to show his face. He was saying something to her without sound, and reading his lips, she saw him say, “I hate your guts!”
Laureal rolled to her other side. She missed her father terribly. She missed her big brother, grandfather, and cousin terribly. She had cried so many tears. She felt desperately fortunate to still have her mother, grandmother, cousin, and little brother too. She thought about John Summerfield and what had happened, not that day but on the day of the disaster. A storm had swept in from nowhere and left her standing in a wreckage she had once called home. She could scarcely wonder what the future held.
She remembered listening to her grandmother when she was a little girl. There at the hearth, sitting in firelight, Emma had told the children the Kasskatchen Spirit Story. Every Kasskatchen knew the story. Deep within every soul there roamed two packs of wolves. One pack was good, the other evil. The good wolves ran in green glades filled with sunlight and flowers. The bad wolves lurked in shadows that hung like twilight along the edge of the wood. Seven good wolves and seven bad wolves within the contours of the human soul, locked in a territorial war. The good wolves were of the realm of light and were ever faithful to the Lord of Truth. The bad wolves were of the realm of darkness and were manipulated by the Master of Deception. Every Kasskatchen child knew the ghost wolves by name, for they were the virtues and vices of humanity, and whichever ones the girl fed with her thoughts, feelings, and actions were the ones that would grow strong and decide the battle that raged within.
Laureal remembered how when Grandma told the story in the firelight, she seemed to grow bigger and bigger in the child’s eyes until she was the size of a bear! Back then, the story had elevated her awareness to such a degree, she didn’t want to feed those evil old wolves so much as a scrap! Now half her world had been blown away, and the other half teetered on the edge of a precipice. And she could not for the life of her know if it was some kind of terrible confusion that gripped her, or a deeper truth that drew her. For the thing she feared the most, was to wake on the morrow only to find that John Summerfield had moved on.
