Living with a Myth

Last time, I left you with a comment about my experience with the Dreamstone. Afterwards I wondered if that was wise. Darcy Fielding is supposed to be... well, not exactly cynical, but a practical businessman running a newspaper based on facts, not known for his spiritual side. And I say I've seen the Dreamstone. What would my fellow villagers think? 

That thought didn't last long. For a moment I'd inexplicably forgotten that Mellowdene villagers don't read this blog. Jackson's unfettered writing relies upon this. My reputation is safe!

So. How to explain?

Well - to begin with, I was born in Mellowdene and I was introduced to the whole Snow Queen mythology in school. You have to appreciate how it becomes second nature for children to follow the family tradition, forming a strong connection to a story that, on the face of it, is a magical fairy tale.

Maybe it's that magical element that appeals to children. And all the while it reinforces Sylvanian values - a love of nature, caring for each other. Why wouldn't children lap this up? Their parents see the benefits, irrespective of whether or not they themselves were Mellowdene born.

It was perfectly normal that the young Darcy should enjoy the story and the related traditions. But I've always been a bit different. As I grew older my curiosity kicked in. You see I'm not one to take things on faith alone. I'm a mouse that thrives on explanations. Maybe part of that is due to my family running a newspaper for generations. I suppose reasons don't matter. On the face of it I accepted the mythology but a tiny part of me held back. Until I was older.

My curiosity in this matter was awakened when my own children became of school age. Not by them, oddly enough. I started to wonder why some newcomers to Mellowdene became more than supportive parents. Some became true believers.

It couldn't simply be the enjoyment of the Melting and Beastie Hunt events. What was the trigger? And then I started to question the tradition itself. How did it start?

As a reporter, these questions niggled me so I decided to investigate. Casually I asked a few villagers who seemed affected.

"It's a comforting story." This was a common remark. As was, "It's nice to know where we came from. This explains things."

It didn't really satisfy my curiosity. Only when two or three villagers smiled knowingly and suggested I speak to Kelvin Waters did I feel I'd made progress.

o 0 O 0 o

From the Mellowdene Examiner archives: Jackson and Cecile Butterglove's wedding

The Reverend Kelvin Waters is our spiritual leader within Mellowdene. He presides over weddings and other such occasions and is,  significantly, knowledgeable in many faiths and belief systems. Yes - the Snow Queen myth may dominate in Mellowdene, but Sylvanians have settled in our village with different beliefs. That is one of Kelvin's strengths. He is always able to incorporate new ideas into an integrated way of thinking. He is the embodiment of Sylvanian thinking. Whilst he doesn't have a wife and children of his own, if you had a conversation with him for any significant time, he feels like a member of your family.

Once those villagers had recommended I speak with Kelvin, it seemed obvious. If anyone was qualified to delve into deeper meanings of spirituality, Kelvin Waters was the one most likely to satisfy my curiosity. 

When I called to see him, he regarded me pleasantly.

"Oh hello Darcy!" he smiled toothily, "What brings you to my door?"

As I didn't want to waste time unnecessarily, I came to the point. "I have questions about the Snow Queen."

"Ah. It's usually those not native born that come to see me in this respect, but your appearance is not totally unexpected. If anything, I'm surprised you didn't come to see me sooner."

"Why?" I frowned. "Am I so predictable?"

He laughed quietly. "Have you truly forgotten how long I've known you? How old were you when you came to play with Wade?"

It was true. Kelvin used to look after his little brother whilst his parents were busy at work. He was always there. Wade and I would be in the den we'd made at the edge of their garden but Kelvin was nearby in the shade of their cabin, reading or relaxing. He'd referee our friendly wrestling matches, making sure we didn't get over excited. I was momentarily distracted with the memories.

"So, what do you want to know?"

Back in the present, I summarised. "When did it start? Why only in Mellowdene? Why do some newcomers commit so strongly?"

"Whew. Not much, then."

"Are there answers?"

He fixed me with a suspicious stare. "This isn't something for an article in the Examiner, is it? It's not something to be trivialised."

"Kelvin. I do have ethics."

He waved a dismissive paw. "Of course you do. I'm sorry. Very well. Come with me."

 o 0 O 0 o

 Kelvin took me to a small room via a door to the side of the altar, and in one corner there was a sealed display case. Within, there was an ancient book.

"I keep it here because it is protected from dust, sunlight and handling by the curious. It is our earliest history of Mellowdene. The handwritten journals of our first settlers."

"Shouldn't it be in the Hansel Museum?"

"Possibly, but it is incredibly fragile. It was coming apart before one of my predecessors decided it was no longer safe to touch. I'd be wary of moving it."

"Then how can we read it?"

Kelvin smiled. "The contents were copied exactly into a new book. Every few years, that copy is copied again. The chapel will always preserve the information in this way. I maintain the tradition."

I nodded, then had a thought. "How does this differ from the Early History of Mellowdene book in the library? I thought that documented the settlement."

 "You're right," said Kelvin with an air of approval, and before continuing he indicated that I should be seated. "In fact, all the information in that marvellous book is based on this journal."

"And yet I don't recall any discussion of the Snow Queen in that book."

"No. There won't be. It was thought that..." - there was a hint of a curled lip - "... only factual information should be recorded. Spiritual experiences being subjective, apparently."

"And you disagree?"

"Originally, but now only partly. I've come to realise that some information should be reserved for those who seek it."

"Like me."

"Like you."

I relaxed and rewarded Kelvin with one of my best smiles. "So. What can you tell me? Do you need to refer to your copy of the book?"

Kelvin shook his head. "Not for your question. I'm completely familiar with that part." He shifted his weight and at first I thought he was going to deliver a sermon - but he was merely planning his words.

"It goes back to the time of the original settlers," he began.

"A group of them decided to divert some of the run-off from Sweetwater Lake to help irrigate the valley. You may recall there was a presentation as part of Mellowdene Day last year, but that only dealt with the technicalities. This is a story of those rabbits who did a lot of the work."

Tobias Brighteyes, Josiah Butterglove, William Dappledawn, Roderick Babblebrook, Francis Babblebrook

"They were digging and using pickaxes to dislodge some rocks to create a channel. It was hard work. Lengthy work."

"They were a few weeks into the task when they shifted a large boulder and found something beneath. An unusual fragment of rock."

I raised a brow. Surely he wasn't going to say... But I remained silent and allowed him to continue.

"One of the workers was going to attack it with his pickaxe but he was interrupted by one particular rabbit. This rabbit was in charge of the work gang. 'Hold, brother Brighteyes,' he said, 'that's an unusual rock. See how it catches the light. Maybe we could use it as the foundation stone when we start to build the village.'"

Kelvin touched the side of his head. "You see? Thinking ahead. This rabbit was none other than Roderick Babblebrook. I see your recognition of the name. Yes. He would become our first mayor in later years. He suggested that the workers try and remove the rock in one piece. As it wasn't immense, he thought two or three should be able to drag it free. They proceeded on that basis and when they came to move it they were surprised to find it wasn't as heavy as its size suggested.

"So they put it to one side and carried on with their work. Later, at the end of the afternoon when they were finishing the day's toil, Roderick sat down by the rock to eat his sandwiches.

 "He lay his paw on the shining facets and remarked, 'you would have liked this, my love.' Reportedly, he was thinking of his late wife when he said this. It was then that something happened. He had a vision. He learned of the Snow Queen. For the rock was, as you've probably guessed, the Dreamstone."

o 0 O 0 o

I had put my earlier inkling down to having an overactive imagination. Hearing an unambiguous declaration about the settlers finding the Dreamstone... well, it threw me. My face must have given me away for Kelvin looked amused. He carried on with the story.

"Of course, the name came later. Roderick wasn't sure how to react to his vision. He thought he was overtired and said nothing until he spoke to his sister. 

"A few weeks later she heard someone else had had a similar experience, and thereafter the news spread about this magic stone that gave rabbits a common dream."

I found my voice.

"But what exactly did they see?"

Kelvin reached out and patted my arm. "You know the story of the Snow Queen. Their experiences are the source of that story."

"It's hard to bel... Wait a minute. What happened to the Dreamstone?"

"Ah. The key question. Well, the settlers knew something so special needed to be kept safe. Once the construction of Mellowdene began they took the decision to build a dedicated chamber for its storage."

 
"Where?"

"Underneath the chapel."

"Here? The Dreamstone is here?" To his credit, Kelvin didn't react to my squeaky voice.

"We don't publicise it. Experiencing the Dreamstone is now limited to those who seek the knowledge."

"Like those newcomers?"

"Yes. Like them." He scrutinised my face. "I expect you want to see it."

"May I?"

"Of course. You're a seeker."

 

o 0 O 0 o

Stone steps led down to the chamber. I hadn't known such a room existed and I doubt many did. It wasn't a large room. A desk and chair, a bookshelf. And by a single settee there was a shallow platform surmounted by a glinting rock.The Dreamstone.

"Take a seat, Darcy," said Kelvin, indicating the settee.

I complied, looking at the Dreamstone. It did look special, somehow. And then I decided that I should find out if it could give me a vision.

"May I touch it?"

"That's why the settee is there. For seekers. Go ahead."

I reached out my paw, resting it on the cool, uneven surface.

Nothing happened.

"You will need to think of someone you love," said Kelvin, "Bridget, your children, for example."

"Oh."

I thought of Una on her first day of school; a cutie staring at me with wide eyes. With a warm heart I reached out for the Dreamstone.

Then everything went white.

 

o 0 O 0 o

I hadn't expected anything like that. Later, I reflected on the day.

I could at last understand how those newcomers to the village became such avid adherents to the Snow Queen mythology. The Dreamstone experience was so intense it made it personal. Witnessing the events that led to the creation of Sylvania.

Or did I?

As I said before, I'm not one to take things on faith alone. I don't dispute that the Dreamstone is an extraordinary item. It did trigger a waking dream where I saw the Snow Queen. But consider this.

I already knew the story, and Kelvin had reminded me shortly before he revealed the Dreamstone. Is it possible that this unusual rock affected my thoughts and imagination, amplifying what was already there?

Afterwards, logic persuaded me that this was a more likely scenario. Straight thinking Darcy, that's me. I'd always remember the Dreamstone effect but I didn't think it should affect my way of thinking. Extraordinary things don't really happen.

At least that's what I thought until Jackson told us about the speed tunnels beneath Sylvania. I'm no longer sure.

I think you should form your own opinion. After all, I deal with facts.

o 0 O 0 o

Oh, whilst I remember, Jackson is back in Mellowdene; I saw Cecile with Brendan and Beverley at the village store and we passed the time of day. From what she said, he's looking forward to getting back to work. I hope that includes some writing for me.

o 0 O 0 o

Beastie Hunts and Dreamstone

It occurred to me that, whilst Jackson has written of two significant occasions in the Mellowdene calendar (the Melting and Mellowdene Day), there are others of which you will be unaware. One in particular comes to mind, mainly because it's currently underway. I speak of the Beastie Hunt. Oh, and it's Darcy speaking, in case you didn't realise!

Well, first of all I should assure you that we're not hunting beasties. We don't do that. No. It's the beasties doing the hunting. And we have to calm them down. A dangerous business.

No, I'm teasing. The so-called beasties are roles acted out by a number of our children. Not just children, I should add. Sometimes a few parents will accompany them. And there are a few adults who participate to enjoy the experience themselves. Regular readers won't be surprised that two particular Waters' brothers are amongst these...

First, some background.

Long-term readers may recall that the Melting is a spring festival where we celebrate growth and a joy of nature. It is also connected to a legend learned by all our children - that of the Snow Queen. Seeing the need of animals throughout the world yearning for their own sanctuary she sacrificed herself, melting to create Sylvania from a lifeless rock. The act brought those creatures to our land, transforming them into our ancestors. A supernatural tale for sure, but it is ingrained into many Mellowdenians. 

It is no coincidence the Beastie Hunt is separated from the Melting by six months. The recognition that there are still creatures seeking such sanctuary led to a related event - darker in tone - signifying further beasts hunting for a means to reach us. The belief that there is still some active part of the Snow Queen within the land gives believers an explanation why other critters reach our shores, that the so-called Ring of Sylvania is the last part of their transformation into Sylvanians. This led to the theory that her heart exists somewhere, providing guidance and making dreams come true. The Dreamstone.

But such paw-wringing, sadness and ineffective worrying is not the Sylvanian way. The event has long since evolved into a jollier occasion. Now children dress up - supposedly as beasts - and visit houses in search of the Dreamstone. Of course they won't find it. They are kindly given nourishment and encouraged to continue their hunt elsewhere... until they reach their objective - their own home.

You may wonder why I've chosen to highlight this occasion. Well, as I mentioned at the outset, it's happening now. I've had two callers of note within the last few hours.

o 0 O 0 o

I've been following Jackson's revelations about the family member who supplemented their household roughly a year ago. As Orton Butterglove had only just arrived in the village, he didn't take part in the Beastie Hunt back then. This year, with his closest friend and cousin Brendan away with his parents, I again thought Orton wouldn't bother participating. I was wrong. A knock on my door, and I was made aware of my misunderstanding. But not immediately.

"Gurr gurr. I'm a wild beastie glartnunk and I'm looking for the Dreamstone. Gurr gurr."

I stared at the odd costume - it wasn't any beast I recognised - and by counting the legs I noticed that it concealed two individuals. Nevertheless, before satisfying my curiosity I played my part in the tradition.

"Oh wild beastie, do not eat me when I tell you there is no Dreamstone here! I have tastier treats to help you in your search."

"Gurr gurr. I accept your offer. It is a long search. Gurr gurr."

I handed over two small bags of marshmallows. "There you are, wild beastie. Good luck." I dropped out of character. "Who's in there? That's a splendid costume."

A small head appeared from the middle of the costume. Young Sherman Clearwater. "It's me, Mr Fielding - Sherman. My mum sewed the outfit for us."

"It's certainly unusual. What did you say it was?"

That was when Orton revealed himself. "Hi Mr Fielding, and thanks for the sweets. We are supposed to be a glartnunk lizard. They have some on the Isle of Rut. My dadda once kept one briefly for studying and I helped feed it."

Sherman piped up. "Orton drew a picture so my mum could make a pattern to sew."

"Right." I didn't know whether or not there were glartnunks out there in the larger world, but I didn't believe it worth mentioning. "Well, both of you take care..." - I resumed my character - "...when you seek the Dreamstone."

Two heads disappeared, and with a wave of a costumed paw, the children departed, chanting "Gurr. Gurr gurr. Dreamstone. Gurr."

 

o 0 O 0 o

The other callers were dressed as enormous ducks. Apparently. They were adults, and despite the scruffy costumes and bills worn on their faces I recognised Wally and Willie Waters immediately. 

"Quack," said Wally.

"Quack quack," said Willie. 

"Right," I said. "Ducks, I take it."

"Quack," said Wally, "That's right. Wild beastie ducks. Looking for the Dreamstone. Quack."

I sighed then went through the motions. "Oh wild beastie ducks, do not eat me when I tell you there is no Dreamstone here. I have tastier treats to help you in your search."

"Great," said Willie, "I mean, quack quack. We accept your offer. It is a long search. And we have wild beastie ducklings to tend. Quack."

I peered around the Waters brothers and saw seven small figures waddle forward in makeshift duck costumes - their nephews and nieces. They waved and quacked in unison.

My wife joined me at my side.

"Bridget?" I said, "We have a few wild beastie ducks."

"Quack," said one of the wild beastie ducklings. I think it was Crispin. I'd already identified Leo Waters because he was gleefully jumping up and down.

Bridget handed me some extra sweetie bags. "I saw them from the window and thought you'd need restocking. "

"Thanks." I distributed them to all nine beasties. They thanked me. Young Ripley Waters sidled up to me and whispered, "I hope you don't mind there's so many of us. Uncle Wally thought it would be funny to see people's reactions."

I smiled. "No, dear. It was a good joke." I then addressed all nine. "Take care when you seek the Dreamstone." 

They left, all affecting an exaggerated waddle in their walk, quacks punctuating their movement.

 o 0 O 0 o

There were a handful of other callers, but I should stress that it wasn't every child in the village. By convention the beasties are allocated a limited number of houses upon which to call, so that sweet, candy and fruit sources are evenly distributed. When Daniel and Helen came home with the bags of goodies they'd collected, they dutifully packed them away. We'd have some more fruit to eat over the coming days...

Of course, none of the children really expect to find the Dreamstone. Most believe it is a myth, that it is purely a reason that allows them to gather foodie treats. In turn we maintain the tradition that allows them to believe this.

Some Mellowdenians think differently. Those that have seen and experienced the Dreamstone. 

Like me.

 

o 0 O 0 o

I think I'll leave it there. I've outlined the tradition of the Beastie Hunt. As for the Dreamstone... that's another story.

o 0 O 0 o