Fester and the Yule Visitors
A Yule Fable, by Lael Whitehead
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Once upon a time, long ago and far away, a troll
named Fester lived in a hut in the midst of a deep, dark, wintry
forest. In fact, spring never seemed quite to come to the grove
where he lived. The wind howled and blew all year round and the
sun never quite warmed the earth enough for the gnarled trees
to blossom or the wild rose bushes to flower. Fester didn’t
mind the dark and the cold, for his heart was tight and shrivelled
as a dried mushroom. He was not an old troll, but his face was
pinched and bitter as if the weight of many years lay upon it.
In fact, his expression was so sour that the little woodland birds
flew away squawking at the sight of him.
One afternoon, when a new fall of snow lay covering
the ground and the wind clawed with icy fingers at the roof of
the little hut, a visitor arrived.
Knock, knock, came the stranger’s knuckles
on Fester’s front door.
“GO AWAY!” growled the troll from within
the hut. “I don’t receive visitors, I don’t
want news, and I don’t offer any hospitality to vagrants
and loiterers. You have nothing to say that I could wish to hear.”
Knock, knock came the heavy knuckles once more.
The troll came to the door and opened it just a
tiny bit.
“Are you deaf, you fool?! I said GO AWAY!”
The stranger made no answer. Furious, the troll
opened the door just a little bit wider. Before him stood the
most amazing creature he had ever beheld. A great tall man, broad-shouldered
and barrel-chested, with antlers growing right out of his forehead,
stood smiling serenely at him.
“You are to come to the Great Gathering, my
friend,” said the Stag Man in a hearty, booming voice. “It
is time to banish Winter! We can not bring back the springtime’s
warmth without your help.”
The troll snorted in anger. ‘Bring back spring!
Why should I care two pinecones about spring! Let it stay dark
and cold, for all I care!”
And with that he slammed the door shut.
Fester was quite pleased with himself for standing
up to the Stag Man. His pinched face puckered into a grim smile
of delight at his own rudeness. But his enjoyment was short lived.
For hardly ten minutes had passed before another knock came at
the door.
“I said, GO AWAY! I am not to be interrupted!
I am not open for business! ” shrieked Fester from behind
the closed door.
Knock, knock. The sound was softer this time, as
if the hand that knocked were smaller and more slender.
Fester was curious despite himself. He opened the
door a crack.
Before him stood a beautiful woman, with green-gold hair, apple-red
cheeks and eyes the colour of wet moss. She wore a cloak of woven
cedar bark, and a crown of holly berries.
“I am come to bring you to the Gathering,
my friend,” she said, her voice like the singing of wind
through a canopy of leaves. “No one must be left behind.
For it will take all our voices combined to summon back the sun.”
The troll stammered and sputtered, confused by the
woman‘s intense gaze. At last he shook himself and shouted,
“I’m not coming! You’ll have to do all your
singing without me! I hate crowds! I hate parties! I hate celebrations
of every sort and description!
Now leave me ALONE!”
Once more he slammed the door. This time he was
less pleased with himself. The woman had been very beautiful,
like something from a half-forgotten dream. He felt lonely and
miserable and more bitter than ever. The thought of all the forest
dwellers gathering together to sing and make merry churned in
his stomach like indigestion.
“I’ll make some stinging nettle tea,
and perhaps have a snack of pickled frog skin,” said Fester
to himself. “That will make me feel better.”
But he hadn’t had time to put the kettle on
to boil before another knock came at the door. This time it was
so faint he barely heard it. But hear it he did.
“Drat! Confound it! Thistles and choke-cherries!
Am I never to have a moment’s peace?!” The troll put
his hands to his ears and stamped his foot.
Knock, knock. Knock, knock. Though faint, there
was something urgent and imperative about the sound. Even with
his ears plugged, Fester could not ignore it.
With a roar of rage he stormed to the door and flung
it open wide. He stared open-mouthed. For standing on his threshold
was a tiny child, a mere infant, though it stood steadily on two
feet and gazed up at him with solemn eyes. It was wrapped in a
shining white mantle, and its face seemed to glow with an inner
light.
“Please. You must come. We are all waiting
for you.” The child’s voice was like the shimmer of
sunlight on water just at dawn. It held out a tiny hand and Fester
felt himself unable to resist. He clasped his rough fingers around
the small ones, marvelling at their warmth and softness. His mind
was full of mist. Nothing made sense. But he followed the child.
They trudged along the snowy forest path that led from his hut
up towards the knoll that rose above the nearby trees. A great
company of folk were gathered on the knoll. Animal-folk and human-folk.
Tree-folk and Earth-folk. A bonfire was blazing and sparks flew
up into the twilight air.
“You have come at last! We are all here, no
one missing. Now, at last, the sun will return and bring its warmth
back to the land,” said a delighted voice. “We shall
soon have spring once more.“ It was the Stag Man. He clapped
Fester heartily on the back.
“Praise be!” said the Holly-woman as
she embraced the troll.
The shimmering child stood smiling and did not let
go of his hand.
They waited together in silence as darkness closed
in. Then the singing began. Fester had never heard such singing.
Such harmony. Such beauty. The bitter knot in his stomach dissolved.
His pinched face softened. He joined the singing, his voice gravely
and weak at first, but stronger and bolder with each note. Soon
he was singing and singing as if his whole life depended on it.
After awhile, when the music turned jolly and boisterous, the
troll kicked up his heels and danced.
The celebration lasted for many hours. When dawn began to streak
the sky next morning, Fester was only just getting into bed. He
squinted at the glimmering light beyond his one tiny window, yawned,
then pulled the covers up over his chin.
“The sun has indeed returned,” he sighed
happily, closing his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll plant a garden
this spring.”
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