The Forest Beyond the Woodlands
A Fairy Tale
9781465621306
311 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
DAVID was the son of an honest wood-cutter. He lived with his father in a little cottage on the border of the woodlands. Away, away as far as the eye could see stretched great tree-covered hills and mountains. This vast area was called, by the people of the country, the Dark Forest. Some feared the mysteries of this unknown and unexplored region, for there were many stories and superstitions concerning giants, gnomes, and elves who dwelt within its shaded wilderness. But David, ever since he could remember, had always had a friendly feeling for the rough, hard bark of a pine or oak tree; and the fringed softness of the paper birch had been a delight to him ever since the day he first noticed its ragged beauty—a late summer afternoon on which, as he returned to his father’s cottage, the setting sun touched the whiteness of the tree-trunk beneath the cool green of its shining leaves. “Some day I shall go far into the Forest,” he would say to himself. “Who knows what treasures I may find?” David grew fast and was strong, for his life in the woodlands was one to make any boy well and happy. He learned his father’s trade, and in a short time, although he was not nearly full grown, he could wield an axe as well as many a grown man; in fact, he could put some men to shame, for his skill was far greater than that of the average boy of his age. One day, while walking along a narrow path used by the wood-cutters, he met an old, old woman. Her dress was brown and made of a coarse homespun. A large basket strapped to her back was filled with pieces of firewood which she had been gathering. When she saw David she called to him. And as he approached her he noticed how beautiful she was; for, although her clothes were ragged, that mattered little—her face seemed more kind and beautiful than any he had ever seen. Her hair—one lock had fallen from beneath the brown cap that she wore—was white as driven snow. Her eyes were the soft colour of oak leaves in winter, and so filled with gentleness that David could only stand and look at her. “Can you tell me,” she asked in a voice that sounded like a breath of wind stirring through the pine needles, “can you tell me where I can find a bit of water? I have been all day in the woods and have found no spring or brook; and I am thirsty, so thirsty! for a drink of pure, cool mountain water.” “Yes!” cried David. “There is a beautiful spring not far from here. I will get some of the water for you. Rest here in the shade till I return: it will take me but a few moments.” As he spoke he lifted her basket, that she might the more easily slip her arms through the leathern straps that served to hold it in place upon her back. She swung her clumsy burden to the ground and thanked him; and as soon as he saw her comfortably seated on a bed of moss beneath a sheltering tree, he hastened on his way towards the spring.
