There was once a plum tree. It was not very old, but it couldn’t remember it’s age. A while ago, when it was still small, the plum tree’s owner had left very suddenly. One day she was there and the other she was not. The plum tree had thought that it had been abandoned, (which may not have been the case), and had stopped believing in things like love. Like friendship.
The strange thing about this plum tree was that though it was in its prime, it did not have any signs of life on it. Not only was it devoid of fruit but also the birds and animals avoided it. Unlike other trees, it did not know the feeling of joy when a tiny chick hatches in a nest on its branches and tweets for the first time. It did not want to feel that feeling either. It was a very lonesome and grumpy tree, really. Birds had never made nests in its boughs, nor had any creature ever even touched it. It did not have any leaves. It was a wrinkly mass of twisted bark and gnarled branches and mild annoyance with life in general (the mild annoyance was almost always present). It was not depressed or sad anymore. It was more like… rebellious.
One thing that no one knew about the plum tree was that it really liked riddles. But no one ever asked it riddles or puzzles, and so it never got the chance to say that it liked riddles. If it just randomly said what it liked, it would think, then everyone would think that it was quite the pretentious old tree (which everyone already thought but never said out loud for fear of being snapped at).
Then one day, out of nowhere, a fox came and sat down in front of the tree. It stared up at its branches and the way the trunk was shaped. It kept on staring at the tree. The tree saw this, but it did not like being stared at, and so eventually, it said quite nastily, “What is it? You have a problem if my branches are like that?” The fox was not startled at all by the tree’s sudden outburst. It had been trying to find a shape in the curling and entwining branches of the tree but it had found none. So it replied (quite cleverly, I think), “Your branches bother me not. I simply happened to notice that they are in the shape of a cloud.” (Of course, clouds are shapeless, everyone knows that. But when someone says the word ‘cloud’, a very definite picture of one forms in your mind, doesn’t it?)
The tree did not know what to make of this. Was it a compliment or a criticism? It’s irritation increased. It could not counter that answer properly, so it decided to simply question the fox outright. “Why are you here?”, it grunted, “What is it that you want from me?” The fox said nothing. It stood up unobtrusively, and left.
On its way back home, the fox pondered over many questions. It thought to itself that no one could hate praises, but then why was the tree being so unresponsive? This behaviour did not enrage it. Everyone can be like this, It is simply a decision whether they want to. It thought that it would try something better the next day.
The tree did not sleep well that night. It had never seen the fox in its area before. How did it suddenly pop up? And why did the fox say that it’s branches were in the shape of a cloud? And why did the tree feel so… strange? This feeling was not something it had ever felt. (The tree does not remember, but when it was small and it’s owner would caress its leaves one by one, it would feel this feeling).
The next day, early in the morning when the tree was still asleep, the fox walked to where it sat the day before. It had been awake all night last night and learnt the Ballad of Aeriad and Ilomen (one of the Chronicles of the nameless world). It began reciting it, regardless of the tree’s slumber.
As the tree woke up, it could hear a voice singing. It had heard this tune before. It was still sleepy and did not know who was singing, and so without a second thought, it creaked and hummed along. The voice carried on and slowly, as it reached the end of the song, the tree began to recognise the words-
“So she awaits still for the wind, to make the small bells chime,
Awaits still for the moment, that will rid her of this crime,
And that is the tale of the dragon, with its lover lost in time,
Engraved in legend and carved in myth, preserved in song and rhyme.”
The name of this song was on the tip of the tree’s tongue. The voice had stopped. The tree was awake by now, and it looked around to see who had been singing. It saw the fox. That one fox.
It became very crossed. Why was that confounded fox still here? It glanced at the fox. It was looking at the tree. It tilted its furry head quizzically and asked, “Do you not like poetry, tree? I just now recited one of the Chronicles. The Ballad of Aeriad and Ilomen, it is called. Do you not know it? Are you bothered by poetry?” The tree noticed that the fox had lost some of the calm that it had had the day before. The tree smugly replied, “No, I don’t,” without any explanation as to why or since when. The fox did not want to linger any longer and so with a brief adieu, it walked off.
The tree wondered if there was something wrong with the fox. If there was, the tree thought, then it should let the fox be. And these days, the tree felt a little better when the fox came. Not that it liked the fox's company or something. It just had something to do with the air at that time.
The fox felt annoyed. Two attempts and it still had not figured out what the tree liked. It was frustrated. It never took so long to get something right, why was this tree so… difficult? It had to do something about this.
The next day, the tree waited for the fox to come. Around evening, the fox appeared. It did not talk in the beginning. It silently filled water in a nearby hole and kept some torches on the neighbouring trees. When it was twilight, it faced the tree's expectant eyes and recited, "Act One, Scene One- The Baby Star and the Sea." It started chanting bits and pieces of dialogues it remembered from that play along with hand gestures. It moved around from place to place and went to the pool of water and acted as if it was the sea. The tree was humored.
The fox, exhausted, asked, "From your amusement I reason that you like plays."
The tree, entertained but not satisfied and vying for a chance to irritate the fox responded, "I do like plays but no, they don't really humor me. They are not my favourite thing." The fox yelled at no one in particular.
It threw up its paws in frustration and shouted, “Then what do you like? You do not like praise, poetry or play. What is it that snares your attention?” A bird chittered sleepily in a nearby tree.
The tree was glad that someone asked about its interests, but it would not give in so easily. It said that it would trade an answer for an answer. It asked the fox where the fox’s home was, because it certainly was not from where the tree was. The fox quite brusquely said that it was from the Whispering Woods. The tree said with a small smile that it really liked riddles.
“Aha!”, the fox uttered triumphantly, “So that is what it is. I see. We will meet tomorrow, surely.”
Without another word or even a simple farewell, the fox left. The tree was happy. It was quite excited for the next day. It dreamt good dreams.
The fox slept well too, with a very big smile on its face. It would ask the tree riddles the next day.
The next morning, the tree woke up early, all fresh and happy. It admitted to itself that it was eager for the fox’s arrival. The fox had woken up very early that morning and thought up riddles whose answers the tree would probably not like. But it had to teach those morals to the tree.
It trotted up to the tree and began to recite its first riddle, without even a simple good morning.
‘It can take long
Or be stolen with a glance,
If it is not true
It will be gone at first chance.’
Tell me, tree, whether you can answer this first riddle of mine.” The tree was left in a dilemma. It had never heard this riddle before. It was quite confused and did not have an answer, but it was not yet bogged down by its failure because it loved challenges.
“I don't know. Tell me the answer. I’ll answer your next riddle.” The fox scratched its small head and replied, “Well… about that. You see, tree, I will be asking you only one riddle a day and no more. You must wait until the morrow for the next riddle.” The tree groaned. “I really can’t do anything to change your mind, can I? Well fine. Just tell me the answer then.” The fox grinned. “You really do desire to know the answer that much. Inquisitiveness got the better of you. Haven’t you heard, tree? Curiosity killed the cat.”
“But satisfaction brought it back,” the tree countered. The fox smiled. “Love,” it said, softly, and left. The tree was left in confusion. It muttered to itself all day, annoyed about how the fox had not told it the answer. The tree was wondering about this at night too, and suddenly it realised. Love. It was the answer. Pah! Love? That does not exist. If it did, the tree wouldn’t have been abandoned.
The next day, the fox came again. The tree was enjoying this. The fox asked another riddle-
“That which stays through thick and thin,
Which none can live without.
Build by mind and also body,
That which never will harbour doubt.
Have you any idea of what it is, tree?”
Again, the plum tree was at a loss. It went through all the riddles it knew in its mind but none were even remotely like this one. Then finally, after quite a while of debating with itself, it very hesitantly asked, “Is ‘love’ the answer this time too?” The fox tilted its head, thinking.
“It is something which makes love bloom.”
The tree made a face at the fox, and asked grudgingly, “Care to tell me the answer or are we going to sit like this all day?” A grin broke out on the fox’s face. “Certainly, tree. The answer here is friendship.” The tree became grumpy. The fox laughed. They spent the day like this.
Over the days, the fox would come up with riddles for the tree, and the tree would usually be able to answer them. It had gotten the hang of it now. There were rare riddles, like the one whose answer was love, and there were popular riddles, like- ‘Nightly they come without being fetched, fall they asleep in the day. Tell they that which none know yet, the truth which no mortal may say.’ The answer if this very famous riddle is ‘stars’ because they shine at night and decide fates.
Then one day, when the fox was about to leave for home, the tree asked it if it wanted to be friends with the tree. The fox smiles a lot, and so without a qualm, it smiled again. “Certainly. Why else, dear tree, would I have come all this way to ask you a riddle a day if I did not want to befriend you?”
The tree practically glowed with delight. Something changed inside it that day, but it did not know what it was that changed. The tree didn’t bother much about it. It’s days became better and heat turned to snow. In the winters, the fox stayed with the tree, seeking shelter beneath its branches.
Once, shortly after the break of spring, the fox, while looking at the tree, yelped. It pointed at something on the tree’s branches. It was a leaf. The tree smiled a lot that day. The animals and birds around it began to develop a liking for its frank, sassy manner. A little time later, multiple small plums appeared on the tree’s boughs. But this was a long, long, long time ago.
The tree is still there, but now there are more changes than just the leaves and plums.
You can click on the other stories or poems to read them. To go to the main page, please clcik 'Home'. To go to my blog, please click 'Blog'.
Stories
The Plum Tree and the FoxPoems
As I entered the pink room..Other Links
Home Page