There had been many legends surrounding the Illusical Forest, which sat at the foot of the Alpine Mountain. Some said that the trees grew in different forms, different species and varieties, each one unique and each completely defying the natural laws of their location. Some said that woodland spirits protected all those who passed through, but the most fascinating legend was the one surrounding The Tallest Tree. People would journey far and wide to visit the forest, wondering which legends were true, with a hope of catching a glance at the legendary tree.
Little did they realise that all of them were true, but not separate, and each began with the same story, centuries ago.
Trefaes were woodland elves, carpeted with sprouting plants and flowers, who dwelled within the trees of the Illusical Forest, and their job was to grow and protect the greenery. They had done this since the dawn of time itself and as each century passed, a new generation of Trefaes would learn and take over the responsibility.
It was during the beginnings of one century when a new generation completed their education, which was taught by an elder named Oakon, that they ventured out into the forest to find their own growing patch. Each patch had to be carefully selected to allow the roots to spread and interact with the neighbouring trees, and the younglins, in their typical group fashion, decided that their patches should all be together.
Oakon, in his wise tones, had instructed them to grow the best trees in all the forest and the newly graduated younglins were keen to make an impression, to show that they deserved to be the Trefaes of this century. One younglin in particular was imbued with ambition and had studied very hard indeed on how to grow the best trees. His name was Sequoia and he wandered through the forest, keeping close to his friends. The trees around them, planted by the ancestors and earlier generations, towered above the younglins, their branches firm and their trunks thick, with roots stretching further than they could see. As he watched his friends find their patches, he was overcome with a strange sensation, a realisation; they were tiny in this infinite world, just small specks on a flake of dust. How could they possibly produce the best trees when they were constantly overshadowed by the elders around them? He needed to stretch out far above them, reaching out to the very clouds themselves and as the idea struck, he smiled and went to choose his patch.
The growing began with each youngling taking a small root from their own bodies and placing it in the soil in the centre of their patch. Sequoia reached beneath his leaf-made jacket and pulled a small root which grew from his body, snapping it clean off. ‘You will be the tallest tree in the whole forest,’ he told it firmly. Cupping it in his hands, he breathed over it, releasing red glittering sparks in cloud particles, which swirled around the root. The particles attached themselves to every part of the tiny plant until it was covered enough for him to bury in the soil.
The Trefaes needed to water and nurture the new seedlings that appeared. Each day they had to attend to their patch, breathing thoughts and images onto the plant to shape how it would grow and what it would grow into. It was their choice as to what species of tree would grow, how quickly it would grow and where its roots would spread.
Sequoia had given much deliberation to his tree and even considered the Redwood, a species after which he had been named. But the root structure of such a tree was vast and it would take a lot of work in creation. He wasn’t certain that his small patch would accommodate a tree with a large trunk. The other species were too small, however and would easily be overtaken by those around. Therefore, he realised, that only one solution remained; he would need to grow a tree as tall as a Redwood but with a far smaller trunk and root structure. After all, there were no rules to say you couldn’t invent a new species of tree, the world was effectively your oyster.
Overtime the younglins’ trees grew taller, their roots spread through the soil and the elders were impressed with their work. Oakon was a little concerned, however by Sequoia’s creation. Although it looked like a tree, it had the basic tree-shape, leaves for photosynthesis and a good height to it, it seemed a bit on the thin side. He approached it with caution, gazing up at the strange spectacle and then stared at the boy. ‘What… what species is this?’
‘It’s a Redwood,’ replied the lad.
‘That’s like no Redwood I’ve ever seen. The trunk’s too small for a start!’
‘It’s a new variety, it’s called Sequoia Tenvis. It will be the tallest tree in the forest.’
‘Yes, that I have no doubt,’ stated Oakon. ‘But that won’t necessarily make it the best, and I asked for the best trees.’
‘But it will tower above the canopy and will be seen for miles around! How can you say that’s not the best?’
‘How can it be seen with a honking great mountain in the way?’ Oakon was beginning to turn red faced. ‘Trees need solid trunks, they need strength! I feel like I’m going to knock this thing down by breathing on it! I’m sorry to be so blunt with you Sequoia, but you are in education no longer, this is the real world and whilst I am happy that you have taken a creative approach to your work, I fear that you have understood very little of the theory. This tree will not be the best and it will certainly not make you a worthy Trefae.’
Oakon turned around and walked away, leaving poor Sequoia to ponder what he had said.
‘He’s wrong,’ he huffed. ‘This tree will be the best, he’ll see. I won’t change it or knock it down, I’ll prove him wrong.’
Time passed and as it did, the Trefaes’ trees grew full sized and each one appeared different. There was a Chinese Ginkgo, a Willow, a Maple, an Angel Oak, a Rainbow Eucalyptus and even a Dragon Blood. The younglins had certainly kept their own personalities within these trees yet despite how odd the collection may have appeared, they did fit together very well. Even Sequoia’s strange mongrel had kept going and was beginning to overtake the others.
Oakon was very proud of his students and freed them from their nurturing duties now that the trees had reached adulthood. They rejoiced in their newly found freedom and took some time away to pursue leisurely activities. Well, all except Sequoia.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Wisteria. She was a purple-haired younglin from his group and he thought that her tree had been quite spectacular.
‘I’m not done growing mine yet,’ he replied. His hands held the trunk, and he breathed his ambition onto its bark.
‘What do you mean you’ve not done growing yours? It’s already towering above the rest of the group.’
‘It hasn’t finished growing,’ explained Sequoia. ‘This will be the tallest tree in the forest.’
‘Wow, that is quite an ambition,’ mused Wisteria. ‘But it is already very grand, I really don’t think it needs to be the tallest. Come along, rest awhile. We’re celebrating tonight and I would like you to be there with me.’
‘I’m sorry, I cannot,’ said Sequoia. ‘Thank you for the invitation but I must attend my tree. When it has reached its absolute furthest point, then I will join you in your celebrating. Perhaps we could even make it just us two?’ He said this last part with a vague hint of hope in his voice.
‘Yes, perhaps,’ she replied with a coy smile.
His heart leapt and as she walked away, he did ponder the idea of leaving the tree for the moment. But he knew that any distractions would hinder the tree’s progress and so he opted to attend it still.
More days passed and soon the year entered the heatwave period, which eventually gave way to blustery storms. Thunder crashed through the air and the wind grew stronger. It was fierce and sent the Trefaes into hiding on the night it reached its peak. The trees shook and were pulled this way and that, yet their roots held firm underground, giving them the strength to withstand the onslaught.
The Sequoia Tenvis, however swayed unsteadily back and forth, being pulled in every direction by the indecisive wind. It lurched over the surrounding trees like a giant trying to keep its balance. A strong bluster rushed over the canopy, converging on the tall tree, who’s roots were already being uplifted, and with one final blow, the Sequoia Tenvis toppled over. Being so close to the younglins’ creations, it fell down upon them, its elongated form collapsing and crushing them.
When morning came and the wind had calmed to a simple billow, the Trefaes ventured outside to inspect any damage. They were horrified with the sight that greeted them. Sequoia’s creation lay dead on a pile of broken trees, stretching out far across the forest floor.
The younglins cried when they realised that their trees had been the first victims of the storm and Sequoia was devastated. Not only was his creation destroyed, but it had taken out his friends’ trees in the process. He touched the brittle tree sadly and took note of the feeble roots he had made.
‘This is all your fault!’ his friends cried, angrily. ‘Your tree was the only one blown over!’
He listened to their taunting, angry voices and heard their tears.
‘Why didn’t you stop?’ Wisteria asked wearily. ‘You had the tallest tree in the forest, you held the title. You should have stopped when we did. Now all our hard work, our beautiful trees are… gone.’ She burst into tears and ran away, leaving Sequoia with a bitter taste in his mouth.
Oakon approached the lad with a furious demeanour about him. He cast his eyes over the destruction that the tree had caused and sighed heavily. ‘What have you done? Your greed has overshadowed common sense-’
‘I didn’t know the storm would be that-’ Sequoia began.
‘I told you time and time again,’ the elder interrupted him. ‘The trees must be strong! But you let your ambition take over and didn’t think of the consequences! You may have created the tallest tree in the forest but it was by far the worst and I cannot abide by such failure in my teachings. You are hereby banished to live in the Alpine Mountain. I hope that’s tall enough for you!’
Oakon turned on his heel and stormed away, leaving poor Sequoia feeling completely isolated. He broke down and cried over the trunk of his fallen creation.
Being banished was humiliating enough but being banished to the mountains was even worse! He wasn’t a mountain creature and was certain that the cold would kill him. Nonetheless, he had to carry out his sentence and prepared to leave. Just before he left the forest, however, whilst he still retained the guilt of what he had done, he set about the arduous task of removing the fallen tree from the others. The tree, whilst thin was still very heavy, burdened with its length and Sequoia found that he had to cut it into small chunks in order to remove it. The job took him a long time but when he was finished, he was happy to see that the trees underneath had still remained firmly planted in the ground. Although appearing rather frazzled, they looked like they could still grow, so the lad held each trunk in a nurturing manner and imbued them with hope and strength. Their restoration began and as soon as it did, he left the forest.
The mountain was steep and Sequoia found it a challenge to clamber over the variously sized boulders. He retained the image of the disappointment in his friends’ eyes and that alone spurred him on upwards.
When he finally reached the summit, he stood and gazed across at the wondrous sight that stretched out further than what his eyes could see. There were more forests and valleys and glorious fields of green. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad up here after all?
He gazed at his own surroundings and the severe lack of plant life that grew on the summit. Taking a root from his body, he placed it on the mountaintop and focused his strength on it, breathing the very soul of the forest into the rocky ground. There was little chance it would grow up here but he had to try. He stayed in the same position for hours, constantly breathing life and strength into the root.
‘It will not grow alone,’ came a voice.
Sequoia looked up suddenly and was surprised to see a familiar face. ‘Wisteria? What are you doing here?’
‘We saw the trees and we know what you did, Sequoia. You saved them and restored them back to their former glory. Thank you.’
‘It was the least I could do. I ruined everything.’
‘Not everything.’ She took a root from her body and placed it beside his, making them entwine with each other.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Helping you.’ There was an imploring gaze in his eyes, which asked why. ‘You are still our friend.’
He gave her an odd stare. ’Why do you keep saying ‘we’ and ‘our’?’
The answer to this question came when his friends began appearing over the edge of the mountain. One by one they reached the top and joined his side, taking their own roots and adding them to the joined pair. Sequoia felt honoured as the roots strengthened and started to bury their way into the rocky ground. With the combined, glittering breath of all the younglins, the roots soon grew a sapling, which sprouted up through the rocks.
Sequoia beamed brightly at his friends. ‘It’s worked! It’s taken! Thank you, I couldn’t have done it without any of you.’
Wisteria hugged him tightly. ‘Please return to the forest with us.’
Sequoia released her from the hug and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. ‘I can’t, I’m sorry but I’ve got to finish this. The sampling will need looking after.’
‘Then I shall visit you often,’ said Wisteria. ‘To make sure the tree is flourishing and that you haven’t gone mad from loneliness.’
‘I would like that,’ said Sequoia.
She kissed him on the cheek before the younglins made their way back down the mountain, and Sequoia turned his attention back to the little sapling that poked its way over the rocks. He could tell that it had already taken the best qualities from his friends; strength, bright, colourful leaves, adventurous roots, and realised that it would likely be smaller than a Redwood. That was fine though, it would be strong and ultimately, the best.
Centuries later, when no more did generation after generation venture into the forest to grow their own trees, tourists soon flocked to the area. Humans had such little understanding of nature that they never saw the Trefaes hiding in the underbrush. They had heard stories though and sought out the legends, such as the tree that grew in the oddest of places. They knew it had been there for centuries, standing atop the mountain, overlooking the forest, and they knew it must have got there through some divine miracle, but they didn’t know the full extent of the story. They weren’t aware of Sequoia or what he had gone through, but the Trefaes knew, and they delighted in retelling it to the younglins of each new century. The humans just knew that the tree was the main reason for why so many people came and was also why the forest had to be left alone and unspoiled by modern civilisation. It became known to the humans and Trefaes alike as the best tree in all the land and perched high up on the mountain top, it was also, ironically, the tallest.
