The Firefolk and the Fearsome Guardian
(Barneveld)
Once upon a time, in the land of Circle , there was a Tribe of Fire Folk who went up the hillside to turn their lead into purest gold. From the stroke of midnight thru to the silvery dawn, the Tribe worked their Alchemy together tirelessly.
On the way to the hillside, there was a bridge over a gurgling brook which the Tribe had to cross; and under the bridge lived a Fearsome Guardian, with a deep growling voice and a huge hulking black shape that shifted and slunk through the darkness.
Now, after several days of alchemical work, it came to pass one starry night that one of the Tribe’s Cauldrons became engulfed in flames. While none feared for the contents of this pot, which contained only that which the Tribe had cast off, much fear and concern was felt for the larger Vessel within which the Great Work was done.
The bell rang out, and the Tribe valiantly ventured forth to secure their Sacred Space and the Land which contained it.
The first of the Fire Folk came to the bridge.
“Stamp, stamp, stamp!” went the bridge.
“Who’s that stamping on my bridge?” the Fearsome Guardian growled.
“It is I, Coyote Firefolk! I must cross the bridge for I know how to pump the Indian to put out the flaming pot.” answered he.
“Ok, off with you then.” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
The second and third of the Tribe came to the bridge.
“Boomity, boom, boom!” went the bridge.
“Who’s that booming on my bridge?” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
“It is we, Barry and Laurie Firefolk! We must cross the bridge to save the noise makers on the other side, for they are dear to us.” answered they.
“Well, must take care of that. Off you go.” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
The fourth of the Tribe came to the bridge.
“Clickity, clack, clickity, clack!” went the bridge.
“Who’s that clacking on my bridge?” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
“It is I, Crystal Firefolk! I must cross the bridge to make sure that the sacred symbols strewn upon the peat are safe.” answered she.
“Oh, alrighty then.” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
The fifth came to the bridge.
“Dingity dong, dingity dong!” went the bridge.
“Who’s that dinging on my bridge?” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
“It is I, Fireman Dan Firefolk! I must cross the bridge to give orders to the other Firefolk, for they are much confused and deep in chaos.” answered he.
“Aye,aye Sir! and off you go!” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
The next of the Tribe came to the bridge.
“Trip, trap, trip, trap!” went the bridge.
“Who’s that tripping on my bridge?” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
“It is I, Peggy Firefolk! I must cross the bridge, so that I can climb over the gate, so I can run through the darkness to the end of the road, so I can meet the Fire Department, so I can lead them to the Flaming Cauldron!” answered she, out of breath and shifting from one leg to the other.
“But, why you, Peggy Firefolk? Why must you take this dangerous assignment, and not another of your Tribe?” queried the Fearsome Guardian.
“For behold,” answered brave Peggy, “I can pee standing up!”
“Go then, and with all the blessings of Gods and Guardians alike!” growled the Fearsome Guardian.
And it came to pass that the Cauldron melted into a bubbling mass, the flames were quenched, and the Land was saved.
The End…………….
