The blazing light in Heath’s eyes slowly died, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I’ll do it,” he said brusquely, not giving him a chance to object. Gaspi grudgingly held his peace, and let the druid get on with making the fire.
Once Heath had got the fire going, he sat back in his chair, took out a clay pipe, and began to smoke. He clearly didn’t want to talk anymore, so Gaspi found a comfortable spot on the grass where he could lean back against the tree root, and settled in to wait.
Once the fire was giving off an even heat, Heath brought over a construction made of thin, blackened metal rods and placed it over the flames. He brought out two pans and rested one of them on the blackened metal rack.
Pretty soon, the meat was sizzling in the pan, giving off a heavenly smell that made Gaspi’s mouth water. Heath turned it occasionally, checking that the rabbit flesh was cooking evenly, and at a given moment he put the other pan on the rack besides the first. He poured in a small quantity of the clear oil, and began frying the onions and carrots, adding small pinches of both the salt and the pepper as he did so. The crushed garlic cloves went in last, releasing a smell that was almost as wonderful as the roasting meat, and then the lightly cooked vegetables went into the other pan with the meat. Heath took a flask of wine from a cupboard, took out the stopper and poured a small amount into the pan. He adding some flour, stirred the mixture with a spoon, and covered the pan.
Gaspi was fascinated by the whole procedure. He loved food, but he’d never had much of an interest in the cooking part of it until now, when he was forced to watch. In some weird way it reminded him of how botany made him feel. Heath was so precise and deliberate in what he was doing, dipping his finger in the sauce to taste it at every stage. He was careful to make sure the meat was covered with the sauce, and twice, after dipping his finger in and tasting it, he picked and added some more herbs.
He rinsed out the other pan in the stream, brought it back half full of water and placed it over the fire. Once the water was boiling, he added a pinch of salt, cut the potatoes in two and dropped them into the water.
Finally he sat down again, eyeing the pans with a contented, proprietary eye for an unguarded moment, but then he glanced at Gaspi and his face closed over again. It had only been momentary, but Gaspi was sure that in that moment he’d caught a glimpse of a man capable of great happiness, someone at peace with himself. He tried to reconcile that with the gruff, angry stranger that had barked at him earlier, and found himself fascinated by this complex man. It made him all the more determined to show him that he could be trusted.
Less than fifteen minutes later Heath was up again, fetching large wooden platters from a cupboard, and in moments Gaspi was given a steaming pile of fragrant meat, fluffy potatoes and a richly coloured sauce, swimming with large chunks of onion and carrot. He lifted his knife and fork to tuck in when he became aware of Heath staring at him in the way a sparrow might consider an insect.
“We give thanks first,” he said sternly.
“Oh right,” Gaspi said, flushing with embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Heath to follow church customs. He was about to close his eyes when Heath extended his arms, lifting his palms to the skies. His eyes were wide open.
“We give thanks to these creatures for giving their flesh for our sustenance,” he enunciated in ringing tones
. “And we offer ourselves to the Great Spirit in service of all living things.” Heath spoke the benediction with conviction, and when he had finished looked at Gaspi expectantly.
Gaspi didn’t know what to say. “Amen?” he said uncertainly.
Heath snorted, somewhere between disgust and amusement. “Eat!” he said. Gaspi didn’t need telling twice. The food smelled delicious, and a few bites of it told him it tasted even better. He said so to Heath, but the taciturn druid only nodded, and remained silent while they consumed the rest of the meal. After they’d finished, he washed the pots in the stream, put some more logs on the fire, and then sat in his chair as the daylight faded. He seemed to be so committed to maintaining silence that Gaspi started to wonder if the druid would ever speak to him again! Not long after the stars had come out, Heath went to bed, and with nothing else to do, Gaspi did the same. As soon as he lay down on the surprisingly comfortable bed of rushes, he realised just how tired he was, and it wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep.
When he woke the next morning, Gaspi was befuddled by sleep and didn’t know where he was at first. It didn’t help that sunlight practically blinded him as he tried to open his eyes. He shifted on his bed, feeling his fingers tangle in long, fluffy strands of something. Peering blearily at the rushes in his hand, it all came flooding back to him. He was in Heath’s home in the forest! Sitting upright, he looked around, blinking at the blazing sunlight shining directly into the house from the east. There would clearly be no sleeping in at Heath’s strange, inside/outside house!
He stood up, yawning and stretching as he did so. He stumbled out into the garden, intending to wash in the stream, but as he stepped outside he saw a sight that stopped him in his tracks. Heath was sitting cross legged in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by jewel-bright spirits of blue and green, swooping around him joyously.
The moment they saw Gaspi, the colourful spirits fled in the blink of an eye, disappearing into all manner of secretive places. Heath sighed and opened his eyes.
“Sorry,” Gaspi said, wincing. It wasn’t his fault the spirits hid from him, but he didn’t want to start the day by ruining Heath’s morning.
Surprisingly, the druid didn’t seem angry. “They’ll get used to you,” he said with a shrug.
“Do I wash in the stream?” he asked, relieved that he hadn’t angered his host once again.
“Never wash in water that’s going to run through your house,” Heath responded. “There’s a small pool out that way,” he added, jutting a thumb in the direction of the stream’s exit from the clearing, “and if you go on a bit further you’ll find a pit for relieving yourself.”
He bundled up the clothes he was going to wear that day, along with what classed as a towel in Heath’s house, and followed the stream into the trees until he found the pool. He went a bit further and took advantage of the pit Heath had mentioned before backtracking to the small pool, which was smooth-sided and deep enough for him to fully submerge himself. He shed his night clothes and slid into the water, letting the cool stream wash over him. The water entered the pool by means of a small waterfall, and exited by an outlet on the other side, filling the natural bowl with bubbling spring-water. Gaspi moved under the waterfall, letting it fall over his head and shoulders, refreshing him with its gentle drumming.
Fully awake now, he moved out from under the waterfall, looking contentedly around at the forest. Birds were flitting around in the tree tops above him and squirrels raced each other across the ground. A badger ambled out from the undergrowth, snuffling at piles of leaves. Sighing happily, Gaspi let himself linger in the pool for a short while. He would have stayed there for much longer, but he didn’t know what the day held and he suspected Heath wouldn’t be pleased if he spent too long lazing away in the water. He climbed out and dried off, the cool of the morning causing his skin to pebble. Pulling his clothes on, he walked back to the clearing, where the druid was waiting with breakfast.
It was a simple meal of berries, fruit and oats cooked in hot water with a bit of added salt, and it wasn’t long before the bowls were empty. Gaspi made sure he offered to wash them in the stream, and when he brought back the clean bowls, Heath indicated he should sit down. Gaspi did as he was told, waiting for the druid to speak.
“I’m sorry for being angry with you last night,” Heath started slowly. Gaspi, surprised by the apology, drew in a breath to protest, but the druid held up a hand to stall him. “Let me speak,” he said.
Gaspi released his breath.
“I am not used to being around people,” Heath continued. “I’m not comfortable with company,” he clarified. “I find most people to be rude and untrustworthy.” He left a long silence, looking around at the forest. “The trees don’t answer back. The animals don’t betray you. The spirits can be mischievous, but they only want to serve the land.”
Gaspi didn’t know what to say. Had Heath finished? He opened his mouth to speak but the druid started talking again. “Even so, it is not right of me to be angry with you. You are not to be held responsible for the faults of others. And so, unless you prove yourself untrustworthy, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Gaspi said. “But honestly, while I’m here, I’ll do whatever you say.” He didn’t know what else he could say. The druid’s trust seemed to be like a flighty bird; the slightest noise might frighten it away.
“Do you accept my apology?” Heath asked.
“There’s really no need to…”
“Do you accept my apology?” Heath repeated with sudden intensity. “Of course I do,” Gaspi answered.
“Thank you,” Heath said with transparent relief. “Now if you’ll listen a bit longer, I’ll explain why you can’t use magic.”
“Sure,” Gaspi said. Now they were getting somewhere. Heath screwed up his forehead as he pondered where to start.
“The magic you practice is powerful, but it is also forceful,” he began. “You tell the air to do this, or the heat to do that, and it does it, yes?”
“That’s about right,” Gaspi answered.
“This is not the druid’s way,” Heath said. “I’m not saying that all magicians are wrong in their practice of forceful magic, but it is simply not how druidry works. If you had used your powers here last night, the spirits would find it much harder to trust you. The trust must come first.” The druid stopped to drink some water. His voice was cracking, and Gaspi suspected this was the most he’d spoken in a long time.
“How does druidry work then?” Gaspi asked.
“Druidry is a co-operation with other beings,” Heath answered. “The spirits love the land and so do I, and so we combine forces to serve it. I don’t make them do anything and they don’t make me do anything.”
“Does that mean you don’t have any magical power of your own?” Gaspi asked.
Heath looked into the distance, deep in thought. “I have magical power,” he said finally, “but I choose not to use it.”
Gaspi stared at his host in confusion. Druids were magicians who didn’t use magic?
Heath was looking back at him intensely. “You need to understand this, or I can’t teach you anything,” he said, holding Gaspi with his gaze. “There is a natural order to things. Before you can eat there is killing, and preparing, and then cooking. Using magic to do the first stages is…unnatural. But much worse than that, you lose the joy that comes from doing things slowly and properly. Druids don’t use forceful magic because it breaks the natural order. It rushes it, or even goes against it. We serve the land by natural means, and by harnessing the power of elemental spirits, which are a fundamental part of nature. If you are patient, you will find great joy in your time here. Do you understand?”
Gaspi looked around at Heath’s house. Everything about it spoke of a natural order. The sheer amount of space given to growing and cultivating things was in itself a lesson in the simple, druidic life. If this is what it took to learn how to commune with elementals, he was more than happy to do what Heath asked. He only had a single reservation, and wanted to be honest about it.
“I understand, and I promise not to use magic while I’m here, but I can’t promise to become a druid,” he said candidly. “When I leave, I’ll have to go back to my normal life, and that means being a Nature Mage. There are things happening out there that need to be fought with what you call forceful magic, and I have a place in that battle.”
Heath smiled. “Honesty is a good thing. I won’t ask that you become a druid, but you must follow our ways while you are here. I think we have an understanding.”
Gaspi smiled. “So do I,” he said, feeling the mood lighten considerably.
…
Over the next week Gaspi grew to appreciate the magnitude of Heath’s workload. The druid spent his days walking systematically through the forest, searching for trees and creatures that needed his help. As his work couldn’t be done without the intervention of the elementals, Gaspi got to see something of the shy spirits while he was helping him with his work. They refused to come anywhere near him initially, so Heath made him withdraw into the trees whenever they were needed to perform a healing. If they found a damaged tree, he would bind any exposed flesh with a compress of herbs, and then call for a particular spirit. The gleaming, fey creature would come out from hiding and add its blessing to the compress, before disappearing into the shadows.
If a tree was diseased, Heath would mutter an incantation and sprinkle water that the elementals had blessed around its base. Sometimes a tree was so ravaged by disease that a spirit would actually slip inside the trunk and make its home there. Heath explained that it would stay there until the tree completed its recovery. Even from a distance, Gaspi loved watching the elementals, and found great joy in their swooping effortless flight.
Each day, Heath and his glimmering companions would cleanse a portion of the forest, tending to trees, plants and creatures, only to move on the next day to another part of the greenwood. It soon became clear to Gaspi that the whole thing was planned out as a giant rotation, and he wondered how long it would take to get back to the beginning and start again.