Of Fairytales and Happy Endings

Epilogue.

(once again, please read chapters 54 and 55 if you haven't yet. I'm putting three parts up in one day and don't want any confusion)

Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed. ~ G.K. Chesterton.

Epilogue.

The wind rustled through the branches of the great oak tree and the branches creaked and groaned in the happy gale. He was an old oak tree, so old that his bark looked almost black. One glances could tell you he stood here for at least three hundred years. So many sorrows he had to bear, so many tragedies he had to witness.

But those days are over for the old oak. Now in his life there was only full of the joy and pleasure of children, who climbed and laughed and sang in his branches. Of course the oak loved all the bundles of joy that come to visit him, but he could not help having a favorite.

She was small and delicate, only having turned five a few weeks ago. Her had gentle blue eyes, and golden colored hair that fell down in wavy curls. Her looks were almost as identical as her father, but her voice and the tone she inherited from her mother. The girl was cross, never upset. She had kind words for everyone. For the birds and the butterflies, for the other children she meets, for the grown ups. And her smile! Her smile was like the spring sun after a long, bitter winter.

Elinor Errol didn't not come to see the old oak as often as he would like her too, but that fine summer day he was glad, for she cam to spend all of it with him, along with her mother and father and little brother.

The little girl's godfather and godmother were there too. The old oak saw them quite a bit, for they lived nearby and would often bring their three children to play among his branches. The eldest son had more often than not broken off some of the branches to use in his games, but the oak never minds.

The little sister was just as rough as her brother, but her bright eyes always had the oak forgiving her. They were the beautiful deep green eyes of her father, who doted on her hand and foot. He gave her the name Anwen, which means 'very beautiful'. Being a small girl, she was still clumsy on her feet and so often the oak had to watch as the little girl tripped and fell. Every time this happened her father wanted to stoop down and pick her up, but the wise voice of his wife never failed to stop him.

"You won't always be there to hold her hand and pick her up, Elwyn," she would say. "She's got to learn to walk and fall and rise on her own."

And of course the Earl would give in, reluctantly.

The third child iwas s so small the oak only caught small glimpses of her, but he often heard her laugh and gurgle. It was a sweet sound and the oak loved it very much. He loved each one of those children seperatly, and now to have them all together in the shades of his branches and leaves, speaking of pleasant and wonderful things, it could not get much better for the wise, old tree, and he listened attentively.

"I cannot express my joy that we are to have you as neighbours the entire summer," Beatrices confesed to Catrin. "You've been spending far too much time in London. Elinor and Richard need the clean country air, not that foul stuff of the city."

"But Charles has duties in London," Catrin replied. "And he doesn't like the idea of us living apart from him. A family ought to live together. The Duke spends much of his time with us as well. He decided to take a trip to Europe again this summer, with his dear wife. Can you really believe that man went and married Mrs. Fairfax?"

"It's been five years since he did it, Cadi, of course I believe it. And if you don't then something is terribly wrong with you. But I will admit it took some getting used to though. I still call her Mrs. Fairfax out of habit, even though she is now Duchess of Denster. But let me return to my desire to see more of you. How long is Charles going to hang around Parliament? Maybe he could retire from it?"