Copyright reserved. No part(s) of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system, or translated into any language in any form by any means without the written permission of the author, unless for personal, non-profit making use. *******************************************************************************   The Legend of Aleena of the Lantern.   Chapter One   Once upon a Mythical Time, shrouded in mist by the Ancient Past, there was a green and fertile land called Tyndaal. Sheltered between two snow-capped mountain ranges its people, free from the rule of kings or lords, had led a quiet and peaceful life for as long as anyone could remember. On the outskirts of the little town of Aethelwal, dominated by the sharp peaks and crags, was the mysterious and uninviting Forest of Domgaar and within the forest lived many Spirits. The wise elders of the town, passing on the legends of the forest, warned that these Spirits were a mixture of Good and Evil, forever battling with each other for dominance. For many years the townsfolk, fearing for their lives, had not dared to venture into its dark foreboding depths with its gnarled distorted trees, dank boggy pools of rotted clinging slime and vicious flesh-eating animals. Occasionally, woodcutters working on the edge of the forest had reported strange happenings; tools had gone missing; freshly cut wood had suddenly burst into flames. Others had been pleasantly surprised when piles of delicious berries, nuts and mushrooms had seemed to appear, out of nowhere, by their feet. In a little wooden hut, not far from the forest, lived Aleena and her parents. She was a hard-working bright happy girl, an only child, and she was deeply loved by them. During the day she spent her time helping her father collect wood for charcoal and tending to her flock of geese and small herd of goats. One day, as the sun was slowly setting behind the mountains, Aleena rounded up her goats and geese to put them in their covered pens, safe from the perils of the night. A thin veil of mist was beginning to cover the fields as the mystic powers of the moving sun transformed the day to night. Among the platoons of upright bearskin-helmeted thistles that guarded the borders of the fields, crafty spiders, nature's aerial fishermen, had strung their gossamer nets. Shoal's of golden dewdrops were being trapped, forming intricate woven patterns of inedible delight, but Aleena's eyes were focused on a bright dancing ball of light on the edge of the forest. It seemed to be gracefully gliding in and out of the trees, as if someone was carrying a lantern but a lantern far more powerful than she had ever seen before. Curious, or mesmerised, she changed direction and investigated. The nearer she came to the light, the more her thoughts were concentrated on it until, without realising it, she was deep inside the forest. The fearsome Forest of Domgaar, where no sane person would dare to venture alone! A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the tall trees and seductively whispered in her ear.   "A...lee...na.   A...lee...na.   A...lee...na." Lured by the call and hypnotised by the gentle swaying of the persuasive light, she faithfully followed along a narrow muddy path trodden flat by the nightly marauding of fearsome hunters. Deeper and deeper into the realm of unknown dangers she wandered, unaware that the sun had set and, that now, the only illumination was from the mysteriously compelling light. On and on she plodded. Each dangerous footstep becoming heavier as her slender legs lost their strength. Then, with a faint sigh of exhaustion, she slowly collapsed against the trunk of a tall broad oak tree, slid to the ground and fell into a deep sleep. The intense ball of light that had enticed Aleena stopped, floated back to where she lay and exploded into a cloud of tiny fireflies. From out of the cloud appeared the hazy motherly figure of the Queen of Good Spirits. The Queen feared for the safety of the defenceless sleeping girl and cast a magic spell. In a twinkle Aleena was transformed into a firefly. Not an ordinary firefly but one a thousand or more times brighter than anyone had ever seen before. The other fireflies quickly swarmed around her and together they flew up into the breeze, seeking refuge in the safe embrace of the moon-less night. ****** On the outskirts of the small isolated town of Aethelwal, near the narrow wooden bridge that spanned the tranquil River Tamael, dwelt Agilward the blacksmith and his two sons Brighem and Kenelm. Brighem, the elder son, was a tall muscular happy-go-lucky youth built in his father's image. A carefree smile permanently beamed from his rustic face. Each day many lilting melodies lingered briefly on his lips and many local maidens danced even more briefly in his heart. Kenelm was different. He had never met the girl of his dreams and his gentle unobtrusive manner belied the intense passions and deep-thinking at his command. Clad in loose supple leathers, his slim figure, topped with long flaxen hair and a soft smile, gave few clues to the strength that his wiry body was quickly developing as he neared his eighteenth birthday. As the early morning sun busily dried out the overnight dew, Agilward sweated at his forge until a stranger arrived in a wobbling horse-drawn cart. "Good day to you blacksmith," called out the scruffy stranger. "A wheel on my cart has been damaged in my travels. Can you repair it for me?" Agilward inspected the wheel and agreed to mend it. "You're not from these parts," he ventured. "What is your business here?" "I'm a lantern maker," replied the stranger. "A good one ... probably the best. Nay, certainly the best! I come from a country far to the East of here called Raenvor. Have you heard of it?" Agilward admitted that he had not. "King Gartrun of Castle Sterntor rules there, or at least he thinks he does!" added the lantern maker. Agilward made no comment, just politely nodded and began to work on the damage. It was a hot day, hot work and he needed a cool refreshing drink more than idle chatter. For the rest of the day, Agilward forged and fitted until the cart was almost as good as new and he could relax. The stranger joined him at the cart. "Good, very good!" he said as examined the blacksmith's work. "This should last me longer than I'll ever need. I have regularly visited your forest in the past to catch fireflies," he continued, eager to prolong the conversation and perhaps make a sale. "I catch special fireflies ... for my lanterns." He produced a copper lantern from the cart. "Here," he said, "look at this for fine craftsmanship. They last a lifetime and stay clean. Not like your dirty smelly oil lamps, eh! These never have to be filled ... and they don't have a wick to trim." Agilward took the lantern and studied it closely. "How do you light it?" he asked. "You don't have to light it," replied the lantern maker. "It lights itself ... glows in the dark ... filled with magic fireflies ... lasts for ever." Always the hopeful pedlar, he carried on to explain how, as the light faded, the fireflies trapped within the lantern gave out a clear bright light. The blacksmith listened, a little chary but interested. He had never seen or heard of such incredible lanterns before and asked if he could show one of them to his sons. "Of course you can," was the reply. "Give me that one and you can show them my very special one. The pride of my collection ... truly a Queen of Lanterns!" The lantern maker delved inside the cart and proudly lifted out a delicately patterned multi-jewelled lantern less than half the size of the previous one. "This is the finest lantern I have ever made," he said, the smile on his face almost as bright as the polished silver body of the lantern. "I finished it nearly two years ago and ever since then I've been waiting to capture a special firefly. One that would have sufficient light to match the beauty of my work. Last night, in the Forest of Domgaar, I caught that firefly and now I have a lantern fit for a king and worth a fortune to me." He paused and smiled with pride. "Take it to your hut. Close the shutters and marvel at how it not only lights up the room but how its dancing light shines through the coloured jewels on the top. It is a wondrous sight that you will not have seen before and will certainly never see again." Agilward called to his sons, then carefully carried the lantern into the hut and closed the shutters. As he held the lantern above his head in the darkened room, a magnificent dazzling light display seemed to explode from the lantern. As if from a miniature lighthouse, brilliant shafts of white light from the side panels filled the room, while on the ceiling of the drab masculine hut, blue, red, green and yellow butterflies appeared to be gracefully floating in a twilight sky. The blacksmith and his sons were dumbfounded. Kenelm finally broke the silence. "Father, please buy me this lantern for my birthday. I have never wanted anything in my life as much as I want this beautiful object. I will cherish it for ever!" Agilward looked at his son. He could not fully realise how much Kenelm was overcome by the delicate charm of the lamp. To him beauty was a well-forged tool or a strong plough; delicate items were for the womenfolk. "Kenelm," he said, "I would do anything within my power to please you on your birthday, but are you sure you really want this lantern? It's very small and very flimsy, I could buy you a large strong one. One that that wont get bent or broken when it's knocked over." Even as he spoke he could see that Kenelm's heart was set on this lantern and only this lantern and without waiting for a reply, he added. "All right, I will see what I can do, ... but I'm not sure that this one is for sale at a price that I can afford." They went outside to see the lantern maker. "Well what do you think of my fine lantern?" he asked. "Is it not the most magnificent that you have ever seen?" "Yes, I agree ... a fine lantern, a very fine lantern," replied Agilward, "but far too small for the likes of me. My son would like to own it though. I'll accept it in exchange for the work that I've done on your cart ... and you can share our evening meal ... and sleep in the barn tonight ... at no extra cost." "NO THANK YOU!" snapped the lantern maker. "This lantern is destined to be owned by at least a prince. It will hang in the private chambers of a great castle, not a peasant's shack! Now let me pay for the repairs and I'll be on my way." ***** Click to continue