Legend of the Woods

Episode 9, Garr and the Goat

Thank you, Christine Graves and Ravyne Hawke, for the Writing Prompts that inspired this story. Promptly Written is a wonderful publication.

Garr and the other Gremorians are the woods. They are connected in a symbiotic existence as old as time. The Guardians of the Woods live because the woods live. The woods live because the guardians live. The Gremorians are dependent upon the beauty of the natural environment. Millions of plants and animals living together as one in a dance of life that is as fascinating as the heavens and as captivating as the oceans waves upon the shore. When the woods thrive, the Gremorians thrive. They are hardy, lively, inquisitive, helpful, and caring. When the environment of the woods is being harmed, the Gremorians become grumpy, mean, and destructive. The storm caused a lot of harm to the woods. However, storms are natural and part of the great ebb and flow. So, Garr was not grumpy because of the storm. He was grumpy because someone had trespassed, someone had dared to enter the Mystic Realms without paying for safe passage. Garr raged inside, he could feel it in his roots, and now Willie was in trouble; the ground heaved, trees leaned, and the woods about him bent, moaned, groaned, and growled. He moved quickly toward Willie’s cries. He moved in a straight line. The dense vegetation merging with Garr becoming one, communicating, giving, and taking life in a tangled growth as he passed through. Then, It would spring back to its original place among the surrounding vegetation as if he had never passed that way. But for the trail of tiny purple flowers the odd passing was not apparent. Normally, Garr stood out even in the thickest of the woods. His tall frame flashed purple amongst the vibrant greens, not this day, the purple flowers were closed up and folded in on themselves in their place, long pointy thorns grew.

“Trespassers, wind, rain, lightning, Frilariums, and that little know it all, Brevlodar!” Garr spoke to no one in particular as he moved toward Willie’s bleating. His voice boomed and echoed. “Call me a weed; I am as majestic as the Great Oak and as smart as any Frilarium ever was. Weed. Well, I ought tah.”

Garr emerged onto a path strewn with the debris left in the storm’s wake. On the trail before him a group of Moochers huddled together chitter chatting the way Moochers do. The thin dark wispy figures stood, turned in shock, and started to run. “Moochers!” roared Garr. “Harm my friends will you? Not today you won’t.”

The Moochers were running as fast as their spindly frames could move all in different directions in a save yourself mad dash to anywhere else fashion. In an instant, almost simultaneously as the Moochers fled, vines like bars sprung up from the ground around each. Then, the vines twisted into a tight weave of rope, folded over at the top sealing the Moocher in. Finally, with a deafening rattle and rumble retracted into the ground leaving no sign of the Moocher or the twist of vines.

Ahead of Garr on the trail Abby, Clarisa, and Willie stood holding each other wondering what was happening. Willie bleated and began running in the direction of the sound. Garr hearing Willie also ran.

“Willie, I’m comming.”

“Bahhh.”

“Willie, wait.” Abby said, running after Willie.

“Abs, wait, don’t go, stay here with me.”

Clarisa started running to catch her little sister.

When around the bend in the woods before them the massive twist of jungle growth, Garr appeared. He bent and snatched Willie up in his massive hands and then with a scowl, growl, and roar, scared Clarisa and Abby so badly they held each other, curled up into a tight ball and wept.

“Bahh, Mahh, Bahh,” Willie proclaimed.

“What? Wait? Oh, your ok. Bless the dirt around my roots.”

“Bahh.”

Garr looked at the site before him. Then back at Willie. “Oh Willie.” He hugged the goat again. The Gremorian sighed in relief. As he relaxed and his anger wained, a groan, cracking, and popping echoed throughout the woods as heavily twisted vines released the guardian’s tension. Fields of clover bloomed white, and the birds began to sing. His thoughts floated about in days when he was young. Willie by his side they relaxed in the shade of the great gardens in the middle of nowhere. Before, there was a need for a constant vigil. Before, he and Willie had grown old.

“Garr?” Clarisa said. Looking up, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Garr!” Abby ran toward the towering mass of vines.

“Bahhh,” Willie bleated.

“Girls,” The giant said. Realizing that Abby was looking for a hug, he quickly caused the large deadly thorns all about his frame to retract. Just in time, a bed of great purple flowers bloomed and engulfed the diminutive child near what might be considered his ankle. If one were forced to label the anatomy of a Gremorian. Willie lept the way goats do from vine to vine to ground and nuzzled the girl. Vines the size of the little girl’s arm sprouted and embraced the three. The woods all about relaxed; a slight cool breeze blew through as the vegetation all around sighed and the sun beamed through. Garr smiled.

“Oh Garr, I am so happy to see you; how did you find us?” Clarisa asked.

“I heard Willie. Willie is my closest and oldest friend. We were together in the old country before the war. Before Willie became one with the mist. I was a lad about the size of you then.”

“That would have been wonderful to see,” Abby released the hug and sniffed the flowers.

“Garr, can you help us get back on the correct path? The storm must have picked up the tent and flung us across to this trail. I can’t seem to find a route from here to the Garden of the Gnomes.”

“Hummmm, let’s see,” Garr stretched out vines in all directions, as they lengthened, they wrapped around a tree here and ran along the ground and through vegetation over there. Then, off to the path’s edge, some of the vines burrowed deep into the ground. He grew very tall, towering above the jungle canopy. He peered this way, then that way, then zip; he retracted all the Viny tentacles and snapped back to himself.

“This is the path that leads to the Gate of Gort. There is only one entrance to it and one ending. It is a twisted path indeed.”

“So, we have to go all the way back to the camp? Clarisa asked.

“Yea, I love the camp; they have such good food. Oh, maybe I can ride Mr. Peal’s horse again.” Willie agreed with Abby, saying so with a bahhh and jumping around.

“Abs, we are not going back if we don’t have to.” Clarisa looked to Garr. “Well, is there another way to get across to the trail we need?”

“Yes, yes, of course, the twisted paths come close to one another near the village of Paloes; I can help you cross there.”

“Oh, thank you, Garr, thank you,” Abby said.

“Maa,” willie said.

“Ha ha ha ha,” Garr laughed, “of course, my pal, of course.” He said, petting the goat.

They began to walk the twisted path following Garr. Soon, they came to a small village comprised of a town square surrounded by an open-air market and a sprawl of homes. The village inhabitants were Caddo, clad in traditional garb, others in Levis and button-up western-style shirts. Others wore business suits. Several vehicles were parked along the side of the roads. Sprinkled among the Caddo were ghostly green apparitions of men, women, and creatures of the mist. The twisted path to the Gate of Gort continued. The trail to Paloes diverged from it and led into the small town. A long winding road on the opposite side of the village led away from the town. As they entered, many of the inhabitants were cleaning up from the storm; they eyed them, others followed, and some ran off.

“Wow. Look at this wonderful place in the middle of the woods. Can we stop? I am so hungry,” Abby said.

“Sure, sure, let’s find a place,” Garr said. As they walked around the open market, Garr shrunk in size so as not to bump into or knock over anything.

Finding an open outdoor restaurant, the girls sat. Garr did his best to be at the table next to them.

“Hello, Ms. Larimae; these are the daughters of Poddarius the Seventh, Clarisa, and Abby. They are hungry and would like a bit to eat.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Ms. Larimae,” Clarisa and Abby said.

Ms. Larimae smiled at the girls and cocked her head. “It is a pleasure for me as well. You are alone, Garr; where are your brothers?”

“The cowboy and his horse were swept into the river during the storm they went to help them.”

“Oh no, are they ok?” Abby asked.

“Well, little Ms. I am here with you, I can’t be sure, but we Gremorians seldom fail at the things we set out to do.”

“Can’t you ask the birds to find out or something?”

“Abby, settle down, I am sure Mr. Peal is fine, and we can’t do anything to change what has happened, so there is no use getting all worked up about it,” Clarisa said.

Soon a crowd of onlookers was gathered around the trio. Clarisa and Abby ate some excellent homemade Caddo dishes and said hello to the folks that Garr introduced. They explained their situation to a couple of men dressed in police uniforms. Sheriff Fred and Deputy Jepil. “We will help, Let us gather some others and get you some supplies for your journey. We will be right back.”

“Why can’t we just take a car to the road?” Clarisa asked.

“Oh well, that road comes out on the opposite side of the farm than the Homestead, and it doesn’t connect to a road that can get you to the Homestead for a hundred or so miles. The twisted paths are the most direct route.” The Sheriff told her.

“Wow, we traveled far then,” Abby said.

“Very far indeed,” The Gremorian was looking to the sky. “If you girls are finished, we should get a move on; it is well past mid-day.

When Sheriff Fred returned, two other Caddo men were with him. “Girls, this is Jarred and Timonthy; they will help Garr get you to the garden of the Gnomes. Soon Vesil will join you; he has passed into the mystic realm like Mr. Peal.”

“Wow,” Clarisa was looking at Timothy and Jarred. The two young Caddo men were lighter in complexion than Vreylil but still very dark, and these two young men were very healthy. Their muscular arms stood out as they were wearing short-sleeved shirts. They were also armed with Machetes, and one had a pistol.

Garr led the group away from the town. A green Misty figure met them at the edge of town. It was Vesil, an older Caddo man. He smiled at the girls but said very little. The group traveled the rest of that day first through the rough overgrown woods between the twisted Paths. The Caddo men were very helpful. Timothy carried Abby on his shoulders, and at the silent waters of the shallow lake, Garr wrestled with the lake monster giving the group time to cross. Eventually, as night gathered about them, they emerged onto a path. Clarisa checked the map, and they were all pleased to see that they were on the path that led the girls back to the Garden of the Gnomes. They built a camp, made a fire, ate dinner, and slept.

Garr, Timothy, Jarred, and Vesil stood watch just outside the campfire.

“The Tides of darkness are swelling; the Day of Crane is upon us. You, or we, must stay with the Daughters of Poddarius until they reach the safety of the Homestead. The Moochers are searching for them.” Timothy said to Garr.

“You’ve seen them?” Garr asked.

“Yes. There were three following us. But the lake monster took care of them for us.” Vesil said.

“Mmmm, I hate Moochers,” Garr said. “I will accompany the girls to the garden. Thank you for your help, lads.”

That morning they broke camp, and after breakfast, Garr, Willie, and the girls headed down the path toward the Garden of the Gnomes. Jarred, Timothy, and Vesil headed off into the woods. After a while, Garr said, “Keep on the path; I will be along soon; I am going back to check on the lads.”

Jarred, Timothy, and Vesil were playing a game of cat and mouse with the Moochers. The tall spindly, dark, clad figures threw bladed weapons made from the leaves of the Clacaca tree. Jarred had a Moocher in his sights when vines sprung up around it, enveloped it, and drug it into the ground. Instantly in ten other spots around the three men, it happened again.

“Garr, woot woot,” The three cheered and ran off in the direction of the village. The other black figures who were hiding still decided to follow the Gremorian.

To Be Continued

Episode 10, Poddarius Frilarium and Mort, Lord of the Mystic Realms. can be found here.

You can find Episode 8, Wind and Rain, here.

© 2022, T. Mark Mangum

I am T.Mark Mangum. From an early age, I was hooked, addicted to the imagined, unfathomable worlds of Star Wars, Star Trek, Conan, the Lord of the Rings, and many others. I love writing fiction tales. I love writing in multiple genres. However, my favorites are Sci-fi and Fantasy fiction. I am a father of six; we have two cats and two dogs. Tabletop gaming is a passion.

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