One evening, as the sun sank low, there was the usual excited chatter of night birds as they circled the crown of the witch’s yew tree. In the shadow of dusk, the tree was ablaze with scarlet red berries clustered in its brilliant green foliage. Abruptly, the fat little birds’ happy chirping ended when a very different bird approached and flew among them. The raven had traveled a great distance and his tired wings quivered just a little as he readied his body for landing on top of the yew tree. Weak, but determined, he fluttered down to the tree’s sturdy root and, through an opening, spotted the albino witch grinding alkaloid seeds.
As Manti sat at her wooden table immersed in her work, she noticed that the cheerful chirping had ceased. Alarmed, her first thought was that a troll might have wandered near her home, but the geese were not honking. While struggling to stand up and investigate, she was interrupted by a tapping sound just above her head. Looking up, she saw a raven pecking on the tree’s tangled roots. Rearranging her two pairs of glasses, she recognized the raven as Laelia’s friend. Manti held out a gnarled finger and the large bird swooped down onto it. She noticed his worn and faded feathers as he dropped a shiny object into her calloused palm. Manti knew this earring of lavender stones belonged to Laelia. She remembered Laelia’s gentle mother and the earrings she gave her daughter. Lingering for a long moment, the old raven’s black eyes flashed gold as he, in his own way, said his farewell and flew off.
The witch pondered long and hard about the meaning of the raven’s visit and Laelia’s earring. If Laelia had merely lost the earring, the raven would simply have added it to his secret stash of treasures.
Was the little troll a victim of one of the evil spirits that dwelled in the bog? After much thought, she was still deeply perplexed. The bog witch wondered if her friend, the messenger of the wind, might be able to explain what happened; she witnessed the sinister dealings as well as the virtuous acts on planet Ode.
Manti gathered dry white jasmine and burned the flower as incense. The perfumed aroma drifted up her rock chimney and fluttered daringly through the twilight of the day. A watchful breeze picked up the fragrant scent and carried it off into the evening sky.
For some time, Manti sat quietly, deep in thought. She did not stir until she noticed the night birds again had stopped their song and her gaggle of watch-geese no longer hissed in their usual disagreements. All was silent except for the yew tree’s branches swaying to the hushed circling of a breeze. In spite of the coolness of the evening, the light wind blew warm through the tangled roots atop her home.
At first tranquil, the wind began to swell and soon whipped into gusts. The leaves of Manti’s yew tree rustled and shuddered with each surge. The sky colored black. The now powerful wind let loose toneless moans that darkened to a heart-rending scream. Manti’s ancient yew tree rattled with the wind’s shrill cry. Intertwined with female shrieks, deep masculine roars escaped from the wind’s voice. She looked around for her little pet fisher. He had hidden himself inside one of her deep clay pots.
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As the force of the wind strengthened, it suddenly plummeted down and hovered, as if a mighty stallion, in front of Manti’s massive tree-root. The green mist, riding this great beast, slipped off the wind’s back and entered the tree’s claw-like opening. Whiffs of jasmine drifting under the albino witch’s long nose instantly brought back memories of Laelia’s mother. The wind was there as a friend, but the old witch still felt a twinge of fear. She held on to the edge of her pine table and stood as straight as she possibly could.
Manti watched as the green mist took on the living form of the banshee draped in a long green cloak. Usually stoic and seldom bothered by unsettling events, Manti was frightened by her friend’s regal appearance, but humbled and grateful that she followed the sweet incense. With shaking hands, she attempted to place her glasses on her nose in their proper order. Manti regained her composure and stared into the banshee’s eyes, sympathetic but ablaze with green sparks.
Manti handed Laelia’s lavender earring to the banshee. The messenger of the wind spoke in a tranquil manner, telling the witch of Laelia’s capture after Zote’s successful ambush with the crimson orchid. She also said the loathsome troll hid Laelia somewhere in the depths of the bog. Manti felt a cry surge up into her throat. She longed to embrace Laelia, holding and rocking her to absorb the little troll’s fear.
The banshee, like a parent, witnessed and felt the pain of the trolls on planet Ode. Sadly, she handed back the earring. Ignoring her friend’s obvious distress, the banshee reminded Manti that she held only the power of speech. Odin and Laelia, in order to be trolls with courage and integrity, had to make their own decisions and bravely carry on.
Unable to stay in one spot for long, the waiting wind was now impatient. Swirls of leaves blew across the bog and carried a deep, throaty whisper. The whisper floated into the tree’s opening, oscillating into a commanding force beckoning the banshee. Then, as if once again a mighty stallion, it hovered low before the banshee as she climbed onto his back and rode off.
Manti felt faint as she anxiously watched the strong wind carry the banshee, now in the form of a green mist, into the blackness of night. Limping over to her potions, she gathered powdered foxglove. Mixing the dry leaves with the fen’s tannic water and just a speck of goose spittle, she drank it and felt her strength return.
She remembered how Odin’s father once helped save her mystical bog from destruction by the oil trolls. Manti would do all she possibly could to help the young mountain troll. Manti’s deformed limbs gave her little chance of finding Odin. Her only hope was that somehow Odin would find her.
Manti carefully held the earring in her old hands as if it were Laelia’s beating heart. She placed the earring in her opossum skin pocket and hurried to her fireplace. Instead of the smokeless fisher-scat soaked in plant oil, she put into the fire freshly cut spruce and moist peat moss, knowing this combination would create thick smoke and alert Odin. He was somewhere in the black water bog, maybe near her. Now the wise witch could only wait.