The Legend of the Land of Spring A New World Fantasy Talk Sleepdown Written by S.
D.
Hudson Performed by Stephanie Poppins Hearken now,
Weary traveller,
And set thyself down upon the mossy bank.
The ancient oaks of the land of spring Have stood since before the spring-folk came.
They hold within their gnarled hearts A tale most wondrous.
Let the fire burn low and the night draw close,
For this is the hour when the old stories breathe again.
Deep in the forest of the land of spring,
Where the river bends silver through the shadow of the hills,
And the iron stone bleeds red into the earth like old memories,
There dwells a magic older than the great battle,
Older than the first conquest,
Older even than the first weary travellers Who cut their roads through the green wood And marvelled at what watched them from between the trees.
Settle thyself now and let the weight of the waking world Slip away from these as the pale spring light slips away At the end of each day.
Take a deep breath in through your nose,
And as you let it out in a long sigh,
Know that the land of spring has been waiting for thee.
Breathe in the cold night air And smell the wet bracken and the wood smoke And count down with me As we depart from the world of toil and trouble.
Five See the canopy close overhead And the stars appear in fragments between the boughs Like scattered embers.
Four Listen to the voice of the spring As it murmurs over its ancient stones Speaking in an old tongue That only we can understand.
Three Feel the warmth begin at the crown of thy head And flow downwards through thee Like mulled cider on a midwinter's eve.
Two Somewhere in the darkness between the oaks See the flame-coloured shape approaching thee.
It is kind,
It is safe and warm And it is waiting to lead thee onwards Deep into the land of spring.
One You are now across the threshold.
The land of spring has received you.
Rest thyself And listen.
Part the first Of the Fox and the Path They say in the land of spring No honest soul hath ever truly been lost For there is a fox who walks the old paths His coat the colour of dying embers His tail a torch against the violet dark Of the spring night.
He appeared first at the time of the great battle Where the new old folk ran to safety And battled it out with the folk of the far lands To make a home for themselves.
The fox moves now as he moved then Stepping soft upon the leaf mould His dark eyes as bright as polished jet stones He knows every hollow oak and standing stone Even the fairy ring pressed into the grass By the little folk who dance when the mist rolls off the river.
He is leading us now along the old track Past the ancient earthworks where the briars grew thick And the foxglove stands tall as a knight's lance.
Thy boots find the solid ground of the land of spring And thou will feel is something rare The permanence of a place that hath endured time.
The trees around thee have been felled And regrown a dozen times Yet the forest remains This land transcends time.
The fox darts between the spring trees His mischief making thee quicken thy step to follow him.
For a moment you feel weightless You watch as the glow worms shine along the bank of the dark stream And the fox takes notice of you With a quiet pleasure of one Who knows every neighbour in the village he is leading you to.
Here in the darkness Fairy fire flickers among the silver birches And the spring trees at the forest's edge.
In the distance you can hear instruments playing They welcome the fox inwards And you follow him.
Part the Second The Three Keepers of the Spring Forest In the heart of the forest where no forester's charter has ever mapped the land And no surveyor hath dared to go There stands a cottage.
It has built a forest stone A deep red local sandstone Its long beams hewn from the spring trees that fell in the last storm.
At the edge of its garden is a plot of herbs It's silver with sage and heavy with lavender And the scent of it wraps around thee Like a warm embrace.
You follow the fox up to the gate Where stand three people.
These are known in the forest as the Sisters of the Seven Shore Their lineage stretches back through the centuries They are strange looking anthropomorphic folk With cloaks the colour of the deep forest Emerald green and dark red on the cuffs and the collar With the deep blue of the Y running along the lining.
Worked in thread of hammered copper Is the stitching that runs from neck to clove.
The youngest person steps forward first In her hand she offers a small robe of deep green velvet The fox takes it and drapes it over your shoulders With a tenderness that maketh the night itself fall quiet.
He stands a little taller now,
A little prouder And his plumed tail sweeps from left to right with great dignity.
This is a kind creature,
A kindred spirit.
The next person turns to thee Her eyes holding the same warmth that she has always carried.
She draws from her arm a cloak of nip-like blue She places it over the shoulders of the fox.
His eyes light up and thou knowest this for what it really is The gift of belonging.
You are both welcome here.
With a kindly faced gesture The three people beckon you and the fox inward Nodging open the heavy door and sweeping inside On a wave of golden warmth.
They wish to tell you a story Part the third The story told in firelight The cottage is open to the forest tonight With lattice windows open wide to the fresh spring air And the fireflies drifting in and out on iridescent leaves And iridescent wings You watch as they settle in the rafters to listen The third person beckons you,
Sid And a dozen beeswax candles burn With a flame the colour of the fox's coat You gaze around at the stone walls And woven hangings and paintings centuries old Thou has not seen anything similar before Each picture tells a story There is a charcoal sketch Of a wide misladen bog on the far shore The brushstrokes hold shifting greys and silver reeds bending in a salt wind The next picture depicts a woodland scene With spring greens and golden sunlight yellows Each brushstroke holds the crushed hues and vivid colours Created from the plants growing around and about in the land of spring The three persons sit down and you look at them closely One wears a long skirt of flax And beneath this her two cloves are furry and very delicate Draped around her furry ears is a blue scarf The colour of a thousand spring skies Next to her sits a short stout person Jolly with a huge smile and two strong front teeth And the person now pouring the strong spring brew Has long plants and white fluffy fur Around a pink smiling face You accept a warm wooden cup And listen to the tale of the legend of the land of spring And its three sisters Part the fourth Long ago,
In a time that I greet grandmother's grandmother would have called The three sisters were not yet of the land of spring at all They were known those days as the sisters of the bog They dwelt at the edge of a great marsh on the western shore Where the land of spring and the land of summer joined The land of spring,
Summer,
Autumn and winter Now are at odds with each other in the new world And these three sisters were the daughters and granddaughters of healers They used their powers to protect themselves against the other far land folk From house to house and village to village like a quiet tide They tended the sick and the sorrowful in the hours before dawn All their knowledge was in their hands They had an instinct for healing through their fingers against a fevered brow For reading the colour and breadth and quality of a person's stillness Their empathy was as valued as their wisdom But when at last the three sisters decided to remain in the land of spring The folks they had healed turned their faces away These three sisters possessed powers they could not control And aligning themselves with such a land meant many of the far land folk rejected them On one cold spring morning when the frost was broken and the earth smelled of green beginnings The first and oldest sister walked out into the thick fog that lifted from the marshland To forage among the mosses She heard a soft sound in the long grass And found in the depression of the damp earth a little baby fox She picked him up,
Caressed him and folded him into her long cloak This young being needed to be healed Returning home she introduced her new find to her two sisters And the following days they fed the small fox They stayed up through the night to look after him And they watched him grow in strength until one day the fox was old enough to understand These three sisters had powerful gifts of healing The months turned into years in the land of spring And the fox grew stronger still His coat took on a deep copper luster and his eyes grew bright With a fine intelligence of a creature that knew what it was like to be abandoned and to survive nevertheless Month by month,
Year by year,
The sisters' gifts grew with him Then,
One night,
When the flower moon hung enormous and low over the bog,
Something changed The fox,
Who now spent most nights at the three sisters' heels,
Looked back at them with a single purposeful gaze Then he slipped into the silver night and was gone The fox was to become a radiant guardian moving through the great and ancient land of spring Spreading the message of the three sisters and their healing powers Part the Fifth The Crossing Just before midnight,
Weeks later,
The three sisters stood at the edge of the trees looking out over the dark mist that had fallen The fox was returning,
His tail like a copper torch in the darkness They had sensed he was coming back And so he was to return frequently Having spread the words of their gifts,
He would come to share his energy with them The energy he had received upon his extensive far land travels Through the lands of summer,
Autumn and winter The fox explained to them he must make a trade For the life the sisters had rescued,
His life He would now devote to spreading the word of their good work and keeping them safe in return He would watch over their little world in the land of spring And although once so small a creature,
In need of rescue At the hands of the three sisters he had become a powerful force of energy Something that could then save them and protect them from life's toils and troubles That once small creature was now the most powerful he could possibly be And it was his job to protect those who had once protected him And as you sit and listen to the stories and marvel at the wonder of the land of spring It is time for sleep Thou art safe here The sisters are tending the fire now The forest is quiet The fox watches over you And he wishes that your dreaming be sleep Your waking be gentle And the three healers keep you safe until dawn
