The Woodcarver and His Tree Stump
Once upon a time there lived a husband and wife who made their home in a cottage in a clearing in the forest. The husband, whose name was Wyn, earned his living carving wood into objects of all sorts, useful and beautiful. The wife, whose name was Lorna, brought in money as well by growing vegetables and herbs and flowers in the gardens around their humble home.
In the front yard of their cottage was a large tree stump, a little less than a foot tall, a little more than three feet across. The stump had always been there, and what had happened to the tree it once supported, no one knew. It had many rings on its surface which showed how the forest had abided the years, through rains and snows, floods and droughts. It had gnarled roots that sank deep into the earth, with knuckled knots that poked up through the ground here and there. Nothing but spiky grass and a few toadstools would grow around the stump, though Lorna had tried many times to add another vegetable patch or flower bed near it, to no avail.
One Monday morning, as Lorna was about to leave for town to sell some squash and peppers at market, she turned to her husband and said, “Wyn, it is time we were rid of the stump in the front yard. I want you to dig it up today. By the time I return from town I want it to be gone, and perhaps this weekend I will dig the rows for a new garden there.”
“Very well, my love,” Wyn agreed, and Lorna left for town.
When Lorna came home late that afternoon, Wyn was sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch of the cottage. He was carving the headpiece of a chair for the constable to sit in at the courthouse. And the tree stump was still in the middle of the front yard. Lorna walked past the stump and walked up to Wyn and said, “Why is the stump still here? Did you forget that I asked you to dig it up?”
“No, my love, I did not forget,” Wyn answered. “But then I also remembered that the stump might have its uses.”
“It’s no use to us,” Lorna insisted.
“No,” Wyn conceded, “But it may be useful to a great brown bear.”
“How would a bear use a stump?” Lorna asked.
Wyn thought for a moment. “As a stepstool?”
Lorna sighed. “Wyn, tomorrow I am going back to town to sell some of my flowers. When I am in town tomorrow I want you to dig up the stump, and by the time I return I want it to be gone.”
“Very well,” Wyn agreed.
The next morning, Lorna left for town with a basket of fresh-cut mums and sunflowers, and when she returned in the late afternoon, Wyn was sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch of the cottage. He was carving a new wooden leg for the butcher, who had worn out the old wooden leg he had used for many years. And the tree stump was still in the middle of the front yard. Lorna walked past the stump and walked up to Wyn and said, “Why is that stump still here? And please do not say that you left it for the bears.”
“No, my love, not for the bears,” Wyn explained, “but I also remembered that the stump might be useful to a gnome.”
“How would a gnome use a stump?” Lorna asked.
Wyn thought for a moment. “As a chair?”
Lorna sighed, more heavily than the day before. “Wyn, tomorrow I am going back to town to sell some of my herbs. When I am in town tomorrow I want you to dig up the stump, and by the time I return I want it to be gone.”
“Very well,” Wyn agreed.
The next morning, Lorna left for town with a basket full of tiny satchels, some full of dried lavender and others full of fresh parsley, still others with basil or rosemary, and when she returned in the late afternoon, Wyn was sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch of the cottage. He was carving a mask for the local theatre troupe. And the tree stump was still in the middle of the front yard. Lorna walked past the stump and walked up to Wyn and said, “Why is that stump still here? And please do not say that you left it for the gnomes.”
“No, my love, not for the gnomes,” Wyn explained, “but I also remembered that the stump might be useful to a woodsprite.”
“How would a woodsprite use a stump?” Lorna asked.
Wyn thought for a moment. “As a table?”
Lorna sighed, even more heavily than the day before. “Wyn, tomorrow I am going back to town to sell some of my pies. When I am in town tomorrow I want you to dig up the stump, and by the time I return I want it to be gone.”
“Very well,” Wyn agreed. And Lorna spent part of the evening gathering fruit from the trees in a small orchard behind their house, and part of the evening baking them into pies.
The next morning, Lorna left for town with a basket full of delicious pies, and when she returned in the late afternoon, Wyn was sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch of the cottage. He was carving a pipe for himself. And the tree stump was still in the middle of the front yard. Lorna walked past the stump and walked up to Wyn and said, “Why is that stump still here? And please do not say that you left it for the woodsprites.”
“No, my love, not for the woodsprites,” Wyn explained, “but I also remembered that the stump might be useful to a beetle.”
“How would a beetle use a stump?” Lorna asked.
Wyn thought for a moment. “As a house?”
Lorna sighed, and rolled her eyes, and shook her head at her husband. “Wyn, tomorrow I am not going back to town. I am staying right here to watch you dig up the stump. I only want it to be gone.”
“Very well,” Wyn agreed.
So when Friday morning arrived, Wyn and Lorna walked out to the front yard together. But standing before their house was a hunchbacked old witch. Her long matted hair was the color of old cobwebs, her mottled skin was dried and wrinkled as a rotten crabapple, and her dress was patches and tatters the dull shades of dead leaves. She scowled at the husband and wife and rasped, “I am tired of living in a cold damp cave full of spiders and mice. I want to live in a nice cottage with vegetable gardens and flowerbeds, so I am taking yours. Begone, and be quick about it, or I will make you regret it.”
Lorna knew not what to say to the witch, but Wyn crossed his arms over his chest. “You cannot take our home,” he denied her.
“Very well!” the witch shrieked. “Then by all my power, I summon the great brown bear! He will maul you both bloody, and I will have your house then!” She raised her cadaverous hands and for a moment they burned with bright yellow fire. Soon a crashing sound echoed through the woods, and a great brown bear lumbered into the front yard. “Bear!” the witch raged. “Kill the man and his wife!”
The bear looked at Wyn and Lorna, then looked at the witch, then sat on his shaggy backside. “This man did me a kindness,” the bear growled. “I was hunting through this yard four nights ago when I lost the scent I had been following among the musk of the ground. I stood on my hind legs, but still could not regain the scent. Finally I climbed on the tree stump he keeps in his yard and stretched my nose high in the air, where the wafting scent was waiting for me to follow. Because of him I had a stepstool when I needed it, and so I will not hurt him.”
The witch snarled, “So be it! Then by all my power, I summon the gnomes! They will blight your crops and turn them to poison, and you shall flee or you shall starve, and I will have your house then!” Again she raised her hands and for a moment they burned with dark red fire. Soon a small man with a long white beard emerged from the woods. “Gnome!” the witch cackled. “Spoil every growing thing the man and his wife have tended!”
The gnome looked at Wyn and Lorna, then looked at the witch, then scratched his beard. “This man did me a kindness,” the gnome drawled. “I passed through this yard three nights ago, as I had been tending all the wild green things that grow in the forest. I was weary, and longing for a place to sit, so I rested for a while on the tree stump he keeps in his yard. Because of him I had a chair when I needed it, and so I will do him and his gardens no harm.”
The witch howled, “So be it! Then by all my power, I summon the woodsprites! They will beguile you and lead you away with their mesmerizing lights, and you will disappear into the darkest depths of the forest never to return, and I will have your house then!” Yet again she raised her hands and for a moment they burned with pale green fire. Soon a trio of tiny women with fluttering wings flew out of the woods. “Woodsprites!” the witch yelped. “Entrance the man and his wife to abandon this house!”
The woodsprites looked at Wyn and Lorna, then looked at the witch, all the while hovering in mid-air. “This man did us a kindness,” one of the woodsprites chirped. “My sisters and I were winging through this yard two nights ago, gathering the sparkle of dewdrops and the shine of moonbeams and the glow of fireflies. We needed to tally our collection, so we stood around the tree stump he keeps in his yard and spread our harvest on its surface. Because of him we had a table when we needed it, and so we will not cause him pain.”
The witch gnashed her rotten teeth, “So be it! Then by all my power, I summon the beetles! They will burrow into the timbers of your house and bring it crashing down, for if I cannot have it, then no one shall! And then they will burrow into your flesh and strip you to the bones, and I will bring your bare skulls back to my cave as cups!” Once again she raised her hands and for a moment they burned with terrible black fire. Soon a line of tiny beetles, each one as dark and glossy as a drop of oil, trundled through the yard. The leader of the line climbed a long blade of grass in front of the witch. “Beetles!” the witch cackled. “Destroy this house and devour the man and his wife!”
The beetle looked at Wyn and Lorna, then looked at the witch, then waggled his antennae. “This man did me the greatest kindness,” the beetle clicked. “Last night my mate and I were chased into this yard by a ravenous bluejay, but we were able to escape the beak by hiding within the tree stump he keeps in his yard. And deep within that sheltering haven, my mate has laid her eggs and will raise our young. Because of him I had a house when I needed it, and so I will be forever grateful. I will not let anyone threaten him.”
“Nor will I,” the gnome added.
“Nor will we,” the woodsprites chimed.
“Nor will I,” the great brown bear rumbled.
All at once the witch was surrounded by the creatures of the forest. The woodsprites dazzled the witch’s eyes with magenta beams of summer sunsets and blue shards of winter constellations, and the gnome commanded grasping vines of thorns and brambles to scratch at her arms. The beetles swarmed her legs and bit her skin raw, and the great brown bear swiped at her back with his mighty claws. The witch ran screaming back to her cave full of spiders and mice, and was never seen again.
Wyn turned to Lorna and said, “I am sorry that I did not dig up the stump, but if you want …” And Lorna kissed him to stop him from saying another word. From that day on the tree stump remained in the cottage’s front yard, bearing these words which Wyn carved into it: For Any and All To Use Whenever Needed.
THE END
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