13 June 2012
You know, there's a legend about an old grove in the woods; they call it the Secret Grove. Not because it's a secret, because everyone in the kingdom knows of its existence. It's really called the Secret Grove because of the secrets it holds within its rich emerald leaves, hoisted up by old, sentient and withered trees, whose branches ache and moan as the wind soars by them every day. They say that a long time ago, the trees were young and frivolous, providing shade to a pair of elves who'd sit under the green canopy.
Apparently, there was a boy and a girl, who would each bring a little woven picnic basket with them. The boy would precariously approach the clearing and set down his bright turquoise tartan rug, decorated with the patterns of his clan. The girl would also place down her rug, which was a crimson coloured tartan rug, decorated in the colours of her clan. They'd cross over, as if forming a bond between each fabric's fibres, thereby covering the grass.
The girl would always pull out a crystal jar of golden honey, pull out a silver spoon and dip it into the jar, and upon its ascent, it dripped with the sweet golden labours of he honeybee, to be consumed, followed by a smile and a giggle.
The boy, however, would always pull out some freshly baked bread, still warm from the magical ovens. It was brown and crisp, with a warm and fluffy heart that would satisfy the tastes of both of the elves. Of course, honey sandwiches weren't exactly the most sophisticated elven delicacy, but they were the most unique.
The elves would see each other often, so the trees said. They'd come everyday for over two years, often rushing off in opposite directions, taking with them their belongings in a hurry.
One day, however, it was all about to change, and the significance of these childrens' lives would dramatically increase. The girl and the boy would appear as normal, and they'd lay out their rugs and take out their items, as normal. But just as the girl was to eat a spoonful of honey, the raucous roar of a battle horn sounded. A stampeding sound of armoured boots destroyed the serenity of the woods, sending shockwaves and causing the grass to tremble with fear.
Banners covered with various colours, turquoise and crimson, charged at one another from both sides, accompanied by the sound of men screaming with pain and terror, all concocted together to create the perfect phial of war.
A thick cloud of horror hung over the trees for hours, and after it had finally gone, what a sight it had left in its wake: hundreds of bodies littered the once green grass, which was spattered with vermillion paint. But where were the children? Their rugs were there, as well as the smashed honey jar and ruined wicker basket, but them? They were gone.
To this day, the rugs are actually still in that grove. They've faded now, of course, but the atmosphere is the same. But why did the battle take place there? Who was fighting and more importantly, where are the children now? And so our adventure really begins...
Adam Bruce
The Secret Grove • Opuss № I