Beware the Woodcutter

I am an old man and a magician.
Once upon a full moon, I traveled the forest
road in an old coach. I bounced. I tried to
conjure a smooth ride, but each time I shot
from my seat, my thoughts scrambled.
The coach stopped at a plain, stone tower,
a gift from the queen for my years of service.
Springs creaked; I stepped to the ground.
The driver loosened a tangle of ropes and
unloaded my my trunks and saplings.
I snapped my fingers before extracting a
gold coin from the air. I pressed the coin in the
driver's palm.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"What I think, sir, is beware the
woodcutter. Enchanted trees draw him like
nothing else."
"He should beware of me," I said.
#
In the tower, I sneezed.
"Dust, make yourself useful," I said. The
dust spun into a cone, whirled out the door,
and glittered in the moonlight.
I climbed around and around to the
tower's top. I dropped into bed and dreamed I
sat on its post, watching my real self sleep.
#
I sat up, rubbed my eyes. I could think
clearly, calmly. My magic would work. I'd forget
about being old. I wouldn't look in the mirror or
at my hands. Fooling a wise man like myself
seemed impossible, but I could do it.
Breakfast! I wished for pancakes. They
grew on a plate, as many as I could eat, syrup
dripping down the stack.
Work! I planted trees in a spiral from the
tower. I sprinkled them with magic powder
from my pouch.
Night! I yawned but couldn't sleep.
My robe swept the stairs, then the forest
floor.
I held a crystal over the ground. Wide
footprints. The woodcutter.
#
The trees reached different different
levels of the tower, every other window
overlooking another, farther crown of leaves.
I inspected a glass of magic powder,
my latest batch. Stars twinkled in the
compound.
I was at my best, but who would know?
#
The woodcutter came to call.
My trees trembled.
"Would you like some tea?" I asked.
"Actually," he said, "I came to look at
your trees. Enchanted, aren't they? I can sell
their wood for an unbelievable price. You'd get
half."
"I want to be nice," I said, "but your
thinking sickens me. Leave or I'll cast a spell."
The woodcutter bowed clumsily and,
walking backwards, watched my eyes.
#
The tower shook. I spilled powder on
my robe, a stain of stars curving in and out of
the folds of my robe, an accident that would
have delighted me at a less serious time.
I leaned out the window.
My biggest tree pulled its roots.
"Everyone else gets shade," it said. "I
hate standing in the sun all day. I'm going to
the forest where other trees can shade me."
"Remember there's a price on your
wood," I said. "You're free to go, but you may
be chopped down."
My wisdom meant nothing.
"Umph," said the tree, pulling the last
of itslef out of the ground.
Tilting right and left, it bumped the
others.
#
I kept my wits as best I could.
Then I pulled my hair and scampered
up and down the stairs like a monkey.
"Damn being calm," I said. "Damn
thinking clearly."
I smacked the tower walls. Again.
Again.
My hands throbbed. I rubbed them
with salve.
#
Any other magician would have been
rpoud of a tree so human, but any other
magician would have made it stay.
I put my chair at the window and sat.
So far, today, I'd looked out the window a
thousand times. I might as well have camped
there.
Thump. The wayward tree dropped
in its hole. "SAVE ME," it pleaded.
I jumped out of the tower and landed
on a root.
"Ouch," the tree said.
The woodcutter marched out of the
forest carrying an ax in one hand and a
mirror in the other.
"Don't cast a spell on me with your
evil eye," he said. "My mirror will shoot it back
to you."
"My evil eye," I said. "If you feel that
way, I'll turn the matter over to my trees. "
"No," said the woodcutter. "Unfair.
Foul. Cheat. It should be just you and me."
The trees leaned over the
woodcutter. A branch whacked his elbows,
knocking the mirror and ax to the dirt. The
shade darkened, and the woodcutter dropped
to his knees, covered his head, and trembled
like an enchanted tree that he was about to
strike. He understood more than I'd realized.
"Enough," I said.
My trees stood at attention.
I threw the axe which turned into a
bat which weaved between the trunks.
Then I told the woodcutter, "Rise,"
put my arm around his shoulders, and led him
into the tower.
"There, there," I said, feeding him
spoonful after spoonful of hot soup.
"Thank you," he said in a voice as
polite as mine.
#
The wayward tree apologized for
going into the forest. "I enjoy having the the
sun in my crown," it said. "I don't know what
got into me."
The woodcutter and I became
friends. We don't always agree, but we respect
each other.
We play chess. Though he often
crows over his victories, I resist the temptation
to change him into a rooster.
In my journal I wrote, "Beware the
woodcutter? Ha! I'm in my own kingdom."
#########