A Whisper in the Wind - part 11

Sherman yawned and stretched his arms upwards and outwards into the bright azure-blue sky of Gnomeville. He felt his stomata popping open as the warmth of the rising sun stroked their dew-laden dark green flesh. He smiled. His morning routine made him feel good. Slowly inhaling the cool mountain air, his scaled shoots danced in the breeze. Aah he thought. Just enough to stave off the creeping heat of the day. And with that, he once again breathed life into the world.

He was under no illusions. He was merely a conduit, performing his role. The real giver of mornings and Creator of life was the one to whom they all bowed their heads at the end of each day. But working together in unity on Earth was important and necessary to sustain the flow. He would simply continue to do his part for as long as he could.

He turned his attention to the sprawling fibrous network which creaked and groaned underfoot, straining to distinguish the various conversations being transmitted beneath the surface. He had been sensing the rumblings of discontent for months. The once clear and disparate voices, were now a spiraling cacophony of sound, rippling together in a web of growing frustration, bordering on insurrection. The upside? At least the underground neural network remained intact, alive and... well... maybe not so well! The roots of their organisation may not run deep, but they were more interconnected with each other and their environment than almost any other living thing, and they kept the lines of communication open. He would simply hold on to that.

His thoughts turned to his dear friend, Grant. Despite a few healthy differences, the two remained very close; Generals, cohorts, and giants among men. And today, he needed Grant's counsel, for the whispers of Mother Earth were seemingly falling on deaf ears.

"A call to order... Order, I say!" Mabel's foliage shook violently, leaving a thin film of yellow dust on the ground, remnants from the past winter. As Chair, she was used to navigating tough terrain, but she had not seen the council in such disarray before. Angry voices, effervescent, stirred and rose against each other. "The Council must come to order, now!" She demanded. Defiant tones muted, the underground network slipped into silence.

All around morels cast nervous glances and the mycelium network cowered in unison under the darkening shadow of the giant trees.

Mabel turned to Sherman. "General, would you like to open the session and give us an update on our candidates?"

Sherman nodded, taking a slow deep breath. He stretched his trunk a little, standing an inch or two taller, before speaking.

"We are all aware that the gnomes have been struggling to connect for some time. They are no longer in sync with the rest of the forest. They seek constantly to project and pursue their own rationales and desires, upsetting the established equilibrium. Their sporadic attempts to interfere in the natural order of things are destroying the intricate balance of the system and the cracks have been visible for a while."

"I agree," added Grant wistfully. His branches seemed to hang lower as he spoke. "The youth no longer have respect for the old ways. Nights out amount to nothing more than drunken debauchery. And the older gnomes seem helpless to do anything about it. Sadly without gnowledge and insight, they lack a real understanding. They have an untold number of deaths in the Underground, yet still think we are the only ones dying... They allow themselves to be ruled by superstition and conspiracy. They constantly attempt to intervene in the circle of life, punishing any and all perceived contraventions of the law. Sadly, they appear to have lost touch with their hearts along the way."

Sherman nodded in agreement, pleased to have the support and input from his old friend. "They don't appreciate that in our old age, trees consist mostly of dead wood anyway, and in time we will all die on this Earth, so that, as a whole, we might live on. It's the natural order of things. Some things just are, and there is nobody to blame."

He paused, before continuing.

"We've had our eyes on Nerffin, Gnome-One, and Emma as possible beacons of light in Gnomeville. All three have been awakened. All three have received the gift of gnowledge. And now we also have Fred and Gwen to consider."

The fibre lit up momentarily with the contemptuous murmuring of the trees.

"Silence...!" Mabel ejected a load of deadwood, which crashed to the forest floor with a resounding thud - the rising vibrations cut through the air, enough to harness everyone's undivided attention. Secretly, she was pleased that the trees were at least engaged.

Sherman continued. "I thought that Nerffin would be a good bet. He seems sensitive to the plight of the trees. He now also has the benefit of gnowledge but seems overwhelmed by it..."

Grant sighed before interjecting. "Sadly, he seems more addicted to the intellectual blue high, than to the pursuit of anything useful with what he has learned. I also hear that he uses the purple flakes from our cones, mixes them with water, and then creates body art. I'm certain that he uses it as a means to make sense of the gnowledge he had gained. It's just a pity that nobody else can understand his artwork!"

Sherman nodded wearily in agreement. "And what do we think of Emma and Fred?"

"May I interject on this one?" Mabel had been rooting for the power couple for years and she felt that Emma's recent success with the butterfly potion had been a huge step forward, despite Emma not appreciating it at the time. "Emma seems to be using her time in the Circle of Death well. If Fred, Nerffin, and Gwen can make it to the Megaloroom with the potion, things may actually have a chance of changing around here."

"I agree," said Grant. "I think we finally have a candidate who can bring about real change."

"I hear you both," Sherman spluttered, adding a few branches of his own to the gathering pile at their base. Some days he noticed that his cough was a little worse than before. He wondered occasionally how long he might still have before he too would succumb to the same fate as others who had stood before him. He looked at the gaping hole in his side and winced. He really did have a lot of dead wood inside. Time was of the essence! "Right... let's move on to Gnome-One! He's an interesting fellow, dare I say! He seems to have achieved some understanding with gnowledge - He's been to the new groves. He has clarity. He understands the natural order... and for the gnomes... he knows that a better way exists."

A voice mumbled from the back benches. "But he's struggling at the final hurdle. He needs to put his thoughts into action!" Sherman couldn't make out who had spoken but met the frustration head-on. "I believe he already has!" he exclaimed, "With his daughter... It's just a matter of time."

Gnome One paced up and down the tunnels, pausing only to step over a few bodies; dead gnomes that had not been there on his way out. It was getting worse. The pace was quickening. Something needed to be done. With blue-stained fingertips, he rubbed his crinkled forehead, muttering under his breath. He had just returned from the surface where he had made another visit to the secret grove and his thoughts were unraveling.

Everything is so clear! Why can the others not see it? Creating division on Earth is not a divine construct. It has to end. Gnomes make mistakes... just like every other living thing. They are just gnomes after all... and are subject to gnome-error - by default! But they are destroying themselves. They are disconnected from the flow of nature. They can no longer hear the voices calling to them in the wind. They can no longer understand the language of the trees - why don't they understand that these majestic beings bring life-giving oxygen to the world? So detached, so selfish, constantly putting their own needs before those of the whole. If they continue in this way, very soon Gnomeville will disappear into the mire of mythology!

Then his thoughts turned to Gwen and he smiled. Emma may have set the course to recovery and redemption in motion, but his hopes were firmly pinned on his little Princess... She had already shown an affinity for the trees and been able to connect and converse with them, and him, underground. Unlike Emma, her enlightenment allowed her to move freely from one state to the next, not trapped in the consciousness of another. He had high hopes for his daughter and was grateful that he had been persuaded all those moons ago by Gnomer to part with her, and allow the storks to position her where she could do her best work for them all.

Trolls, he chuckled to himself, hardly! He gazed fondly at the back of his hands and the avocado skin that presented itself to him... From the moment he had been awakened by the blue goo, he had understood why he had such an affinity with the trees, such a desire to heal the damage being caused by the gnomes; why he had such insights when the others did not. You see, it's easy to understand a tree when you finally realise that you are one of them.