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| St. Penalyn's Well - A Fairytale |
  | Throughout the Celtic world there are many holy wells.
Many strange stories surround the mystical properties of their bubbling, clear water.
Nobody in the whole world has ever been deep inside a holy well except for one child. Her name is Rebecca Mitchell. If that is also your name please be careful. It is very easy to confuse your adventures with those of the Rebecca Mitchell I know.
The well that found her was called St.Penalyn's Well. It was built in the centre of a copse of trees. St.Penalyn lived in the fourteenth century and loved to plant flowers but could never find a garden big enough until the day she helped a kinsman of the Plantagenet king Edward 3rd by tending to the wounds of his dying companion.
He gave her twenty hectares of land which is the right way to say thank-you.
When Rebecca found it Thorn, with her terrier dog it was overgrown.
Foxgloves,
bluebells,
wood anemones
dandelions grew along with
baby cowslips,
thin birch trees,
rare orchids and
primroses.
Where seeds had blow in hare bells stood beside hazel.
Butterflies flew in abundance and where it was marshy from the water dragonflies laid their eggs trying to avoid the frogs and toads!
"Writing," said Rebecca to Thorn as she found the inscr i ptions. All well's have inscr i ptions. They are like birth certificates.
"St.Penalyn of Tremar‚" she read, "I wonder who she was."
Then Rebecca did a very silly thing. She started to clear the grass from the rest of the inscr i ption and as she did so flump! the ground gave way under her weight. Thorn looked around wondering where she was. He sniffed the air, his black nose twitching and he whined a little. Then he sat down and waited.
Rebecca was dazed when she opened her eyes. She felt around with her hands in the dark and touched the dry, uneven rock. She moved her legs which were cramped and as she did so raised her head and hit the low rock-hard ceiling. The pain made her grit her teeth. She remembered the walk she had been on. She remembered slithering down. She remembered where she might be. She started to cry.
"Tears will never do the job."
"Ahh," she screamed in shock at hearing a voice. "Where are you?"
"On a rock near by."
"How did you find me so quickly?"
"I get to know everyone who slithers down here although I must admit you are the first human. Mostly I get rabbits."
"Rabbits? Who...are you?"
"Opickle at your service Rebecca."
"You know who I am?"
"It would never do not to know who you are."
"I don't understand...aren't you here to get me out?"
"I most certainly am."
"But shouldn't you have a torch or something so we could see each other? Or some plasters to stop the bleeding?"
"What bleeding."
"I must be bleeding. I ache all over."
"Well you're not bleeding badly enough although there are a few scratches here and there. I have no plasters and I never have cause to use a torch. I can see in the dark."
"Who are you?"
"I just told you."
"Then," and as she spoke Rebecca tried to stop her heart pounding, "What are you?"
"I'm the elf of the well. Every well has one or two of my people just to keep things flowing." He laughed at his joke.
"An elf? But...but..."
"You thought we didn't exist any more didn't you?"
"I thought you never existed."
"Well pretend you're imagining me and get up otherwise you won't exist anymore."
"Why not?"
"You're in a hollow deep down under the well. The water course periodically comes back this way after long rain and we've got about an hour to get you to a safer place."
"I'll be alright walking if I could lean on a shoulder."
"You'll have to manage on your own. I'm an elf not a dwarf. I barely come up to your middle finger in size."
Rebecca started to move and the aches in her legs and back got worse. She found she couldn't stand up straight and dragged herself along. Every time a stone fell she wondered if Thorn had come down at last to keep her company. Then she worried in case he was lost and she had to stop herself crying. Opickle Dinn sang softly to himself about St.Penalyn and her wonderful garden and somehow it made Rebecca feel better. She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline into her blood as the low walls gave way and she could sit up and move more easily. The passage had turned into a narrow, round and very solid funnel shaped opening. Goodness only knew how high it was.
"This is the harder bit. You have to climb up to get out."
"How far."
"Quite a way."
She flattened her back against one part of the wall and put her leg against the other side. She wiped her face with her T-shirt hoping she would manage the climb. She would never have attempted it if she could have seen anything.
"How will you get up?"
"I can fly."
"Couldn't you give me wings?"
"There was a time," said ‚ Opickle Dinn sadly, "when I could, but it's been forbidden for thousands of years. It's your own fault. People aren't friendly and elves and others have always been told to keep away. I almost left you down there but when you opened your eyes you seemed harmless enough."
"I would never hurt you," she moaned.
"I wish there were more people like you."
There being nothing for it she pressed her hands against the wall. She raised her left leg and set it hard against the opposite side and sat wedged there wondering how best to make her next move. Wobbling she took a step up with her right leg. It was only a few centimetres but it felt far more. She took another and wiggled her back upwards to keep up with her feet. Her hands slipped on the stone and after three small steps her muscles gave out and she fell back landing on her backside which shook up her whole body and made her stomach want to throw up.
"Oww," she moaned, "I can't do it."
"You must. This channel will flood. You'll be drowned."
"I need help."
"You must do it alone."
"I can't"
"Penalyn said the very same thing to me more than once. When the stones got too large for a woman to move in the field. When the winter was a bit too cold or when her garden suffered frost damage and months of work vanished without a trace. She wanted to give up too. But she dug deep down in herself and went on. She tugged harder at the stones, cut into the soil once more, collected seeds and learnt to always have many flowers in different places so she never lost them all in one go. You can do the same can you not? You can think about other things? About Thorn? About home? You can dig deep into yourself and find the strength you need."
"Maybe," she answered slowly.
"You must Rebecca. If Penalyn had given up there would never have been a garden in the fourteenth century and where would England be without its gardens? Where will your family and friends be without you?"
For some reason the aches in her body stopped below the knees as Opickle spoke.
She set herself against the wall and started to push herself up.
One foot, then her back, then the next foot.
Her shoulder blades were pressed hard into the rock as she concentrated on each step.
She hit a rhythm and Opickle Dinn kept quiet hearing her concentrate so hard her breathing almost stopped.
Suddenly after what seemed an age she popped out at the top and hoisting herself out on her elbows flopped onto the ground and started to cough.
All the pain of her exertions came out in one go and she lay on her back as if she would never move a muscle again sweating yet still cold.
"Well now you've saved yourself from drowning at least."
"What do you mean? Haven't we got to the top yet?"
"No. You slipped a long way."
Rebecca felt utterly desolate and miserable and her legs and arms and stomach began to ache horribly. The noise was like a groan. At first she thought it was her stomach because she was hungry but it came from far away.
"The water is rising a bit higher than usual. Come."
"I can't. I'm whacked."
"You can and you will."
"No. They'll find me here. They'll be looking."
"Where are you?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you know everyone who has ever been lost has known where they are. Only the searchers have not known where they were. I do know and I know they will not find you here. Come."
"Couldn't you go and get them?"
"And if I did do you think they'd come? I know people. They'd forget all about you and try to capture me and put me in a cage again."
"No they wouldn't."
"Yes they would. Put me in a cage and try to make people pay to see me. Try to pick off my wings and see if I can eat a sloe-berry whole."
"Did they do that to you?"
"Did they just! It was 1348. The Great Mortality hit Penalyn's village. Dead everywhere. Earlier plagues had killed most of the pigs and cattle and now the people were dying. Some even ate their own children they craved meat so much and blamed their deaths on the plague. I saw so much with Penalyn who was the only human I have ever trusted. When she told me to go, to escape in case elves too could die I left her. Fool that I was. Never was I so safe out of a hole than with Penalyn. Within hours I was caught by robbers and brigands. I tell you when they eventually died of the plague I didn't care a bit. I had a hard year living in a cage, being laughed at, being called a miracle 'cure' and no one ever believed me when I told them it was a lie. Then the brigands would whip me with a piece of flax to tell me to shut up. I still have the scars on my back and legs. It was three years before I could fly again. When I got back I was thankful to see Penalyn still alive. Never again though! I have not left my well since she died of old age."
Rebecca got up.
"If you can endure so much and be so small so can I" she told him. She was forced to bend double and go on all fours. Her finger nails were all broken and her fingers numb. Her knees swollen but she was getting used to the dark and always she seemed to hear Opickle Dinn breathing quietly nearby and that gave her strength.
"Were you born here?"
"Not far away. The eldest of six. Elves believed in large families in those days."
"You must have lived a long time."
"A thousand years is about average in my clan. How about you?"
"I never really thought about it before."
"Penalyn lived to be eighty-three. Quite an age for a woman in the fourteenth century. I think her garden kept her alive. All the exercise digging and planting."
"You speak of her all the time."
"I still miss her."
"Hang on," she stopped and taking off her laced shoes and emptying the small, rough stones that were cutting into her feet.
"That's good."
"What is?" she asked putting them back on.
"You felt the stones in your shoes. That means the cold has not yet set in." "What will it do if it does?"
"Kill you." She shivered at his words, "What won't kill me down here."
"Me." Rebecca was silent for a moment.
"My hands are cold."
"I noticed. I can do something about that."
She started as she suddenly felt a warm breath on her hands like a lick from a big dog and her fingers tingled and then they ached because she could feel her broken fingernails. She touched her dirty and bruised cheek with her hands. They were warm.
"Thank you."
"You sound just like Penalyn."
"I'm glad. She sounds a lovely woman."
"She was. I don't hold with this saint business of course. She'd have laughed at all that but the people who knew her loved her well enough even if I kept away from them. Even the Lord who gave her the land loved her. I thought they'd end up together but he was killed in France."
"I'm sorry."
"I wouldn't be. He could have lived here and been married to Penalyn and had a pleasant enough life. Instead he thought he had to prove something to other men and went off to kill Frenchmen. Stupid if you ask me."
"How do you know if you never leave your well."
"I can watch a great deal from this place. Besides I heard Penalyn crying. That was enough. If it made her cry it was a bad thing to do."
Rebecca hauled herself up again, crawling over rubble and rocks. The dark, close atmosphere began to get to her. She didn't talk and Opickle Dinn knew she was getting tired and sad. He knew he had to cheer her up and he started to sing softly. The feeling of loneliness left her. She wanted to run again and feel the fresh air in her lungs. She wanted to throw out her arms and dance, to feel the grass beneath her feet and wiggle her toes. She wanted to be anywhere but where she was. The pathway steepened once more. The ceiling dipped down. Rebecca was on all fours. Occasionally the ceiling narrowed so much she had to wriggle through hard, moist openings making her feel almost like a worm. Her clothes were saturated with water and torn.
"Is the water coming?"
"Not yet. You've managed to avoid it but the tunnel you climbed out of is now full."
Rebecca shivered to the roots of her hair.
"But don't think about it. The important thing is you are not there. You got out. Soon you will feel lichens growing and you will know you are almost at the exit."
"How long have I been down here?"
"About three hours."
"Strange. When I came out today I was quite sad. I wanted to get away from my brother. Now I would quite like to see him."
"It is always the way. Now you have been here and talked with me you will never be the same again. Penalyn wasn't. She changed a great deal from the young girl I first met."
"Opickle...I may call you that may I?"
"Yes."
"Well...if I get home it will be because of your help and...I wouldn't want you to think everyone was wicked and bad like those men who imprisoned you."
"I don't. I just can't tell who the good people are who wouldn't whip elves."
"I wouldn't. And I...wouldn't really want to be without you now. We've sort of shared an experience if you know what I mean."
"I think so. After all I could have left you in the hollow. It was only that you reminded me of Penalyn that made me stay. Now, I'm glad I did for your own sake."
"Then we are friends."
"We are friends."
"I feel that was worth almost dying for."
"I could wish there were easier ways to meet with elves but I doubt there are."
The path rose and there in front of her she saw a chink of light. The final crevice when it arrived was as tall as her but thin and the hole behind it was still covered with a thick slab of slate like the one upon which the inscr i ption was written.
"Will I see you again?"
"Do you think you could help restore Penalyn's garden?"
"It would depend on the farmer who owns the land but I could ask him I suppose."
"Well it would be an excuse to visit here and then I could see you from time-to-time."
"That would be lovely."
She stopped, turned and said quietly,
"May I see you now?" Opickle sniffed slightly.
She could not see that he smiled.
He walked to the crevice and stood in the chink of light.
There, no bigger than her middle finger and a little rounder stood an elf.
His wings were tight back and sheathed,
his face ringed with a smile that showed off his perfect white teeth.
His piercing black eyes like that of a Robin looked into hers.
She blew him a kiss as she slid through the opening and heard
voices above her. She called out and then,
inexplicably before they hauled her out onto the stretcher,
she fainted and didn't wake up again until she found herself
in a hospital bed with her mother sitting beside
her and a nurse tucking her up to keep her warm.
For a second she opened her mouth to ask Opickle
a question and then she stopped herself.
The image of him standing in the light was still in her mind.
He would have to remain her own secret which she shared
with a woman who lived six hundred years ago!
| | Posted: 5.1.2008 at 08:34 | Read 181 times | 2 comments | Leave Comment |
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| Daniel | | 
"The world is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel:Horace Walpole" |
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