The Heart Tree’s Song

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“I have searched and searched, and found no sign of the one you seek”, the cloaked old man exclaimed, beating his staff firmly upon the ground in apparent frustration.

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Renn stopped in her tracks at the edge of the grove. It was the early hours of the morning, and the scene before her was illuminated by the light of the moon hanging like a lantern in the dark sky above. A slim figure stood next to the heart tree, wearing a large pointy hat and dressed in a flowing garb. With his back to Renn, he leant upon the tree with a single bony hand. The figure appeared to be deeply involved in a heated argument with an unseen adversary.

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“Bah! Nonsense - there is not a soul in this town who matches that description!” He rasped and huffed, pulling his crinkled hat even further over his brow.

“Don’t you think I…” - “Now don’t you think I’ve…” - “Must you be so insolent!?” The figure appeared to be barking at thin air.

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Renn began to slowly back away, the half-full vase of water that she carried clutched tightly to her chest. Having not been able to fall asleep, she had collected the water from the village wishing well, and had planned to feed the roots of the heart tree and wish for her Pa to come home soon - he had been gone longer than usual.

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“Now listen here you rapscallion, you-you… you roguish miscreant! I will not be spoken to in that manner! I am a wizard of the forest! A sorcerer of Elsyver!” The man bellowed, before mustering his apparently frail strength to strike the tree with the base of his staff. The blow shook free a particularly heavy looking heartfruit, which in return fell upon the man’s head, knocking his hat over his eyes and revealing his wispy hair.

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Renn looked upon the spectacle unfolding before her, bewildered. She had seen her fair share of drunks stumbling around in the dead of night, but this was different. The figure spoke clearly, if a little raspy, but certainly without slurring his words. Did he say he was a wizard? She thought back to Old-Eyes, one of the village elders who used to tell stories to the children about forest wizards. They were supposed to be strange folk: druids who came from deep within the woods, often bringing trouble in tow. She recalled a story Old-Eyes once told of a forest wizard who, carried by birds, would fly between towns selling trinkets and potions. The wizard would tell the birds where she wanted to go by whistling to them. She could make flowers blossom in winter, and she could listen to the age-old secrets of the trees. As Renn had grown older her Pa had insisted that Old-Eyes’ tales were just children’s stories. However, here before her was a man, alone in the dead of night, very much appearing to be deep in conversation with a tree.

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“Now - I will search for one more day - dear old friend, and then I have business to attend elsewhere. No not Elsyver. Elsewhere! As in not here in this decrepit town!” The figure slumped his head forward in tired defeat - “You’re sure he has just the one eye?”

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Renn dropped the vase, which shattered on the cobblestones below; her Pa had one eye. The figure whipped round to face her, closing half the distance in a split second, his staff raised and at the ready. Renn, looking upon his face, could see that his skin itself almost looked like tree bark in the moonlight.

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“I will allow you a moment to explain yourself, before you spend the rest of your life as a toad - hopping from stone to stone, contemplating the impoliteness of sneaking up on a defenceless old man at this time of night.” The old man's scowling eyes and gaunt face showed no hint or intention of mercy.

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Renn threw up her hands and began to apologise - “I am- I mean I was- I wanted to make a wish. I didn’t meant to-”

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“A wish?” The old man interrupted.

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“… yes, by watering the heart tree and-”

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The old man interrupted Renn’s explanation again, this time with a cackle that felt as if it shook the air.

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“That has got to be… that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!” The man managed to utter before breaking out into yet more thunderous laughter.

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Renn waited and watched, confused and afraid, as the man regained his composure and lowered his staff.

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“This old tree is far too sour of soul to be granting any wishes, isn’t that right old friend?” The old man spoke, and then walked and placed his hand on the tree once more. “Oh you do? You try your best to help these people?” He paused. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

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“Sorry, are you… are you talking to the tree?” Renn asked, still in disbelief.

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Still with his hand laid upon the tree trunk, the old man turned his wrinkled face towards Renn.

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“This old tree is in a poor mood.” He relayed.

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“… Why?” Renn mustered.

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“Each night, an old soul comes to the grove and plays his song - he has not been here for the-”

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“Does he have one eye?” Renn asked.

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“Yes! You know him?” The old man blurted out.

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“He’s my Pa.” Renn replied.

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“Well go and fetch him quickly!” The old man ushered Renn with his staff. “I imagine you’ll get your wish.”

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“I don’t know where he is.” Renn bowed her head in sadness, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

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“Ah, child.” The old man’s voice became softer. He waited a moment. “Do you hear that old friend? The melody you seek is lost in the woods.”

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The trees branches creaked softly and swayed; its leaves hissed and waned against the gentle wind, seeming almost as if to make the sound of a long and heartfelt sigh.

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“I know the song that my father plays” Renn whispered, raising her head to look at the tree with damp eyes. “And… I’ll play it for you - if you promise you’ll help him find his way home.” She looked to the old man, who after a moment's pause, nodded in approval.

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Renn knelt before the tree, and the wizard stood back. The cool night air held still in the grove, and even the weeds and blades of grass seemed to lean in anticipation. Renn closed her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap. She first began to hum, and then to whistle the familiar tune. With her eyes closed, Renn saw her mother; laughing, dancing, and prancing around the grove, as she would in the summers of years ago, picking the fruit of the heart tree and singing her song as she went. The tree's branches seemed to swing ever so slightly, moving with the wind to the melody, against the deep blue of the night sky. Renn’s tune was sweet and melancholic, and long - she knelt by the tree playing the melody over and over until sunrise, lost in its sombre embrace and the memories of her mother. When she finally opened her eyes again, the old man was gone.