“Sheep don’t have heroes,” said Barden.
The children perked up. This wasn’t the normal start to a story. Barden slowly rubbed the purple dragon tattoo on his neck. The campfire flickered and crackled, cooking the foil wrapped potatoes.
“The beliefs of sheep are much the same as those of pigs and geese. Humans are evil!”
There were small gasps, and Barden slowly looked round his young audience. Some of the children looked away, nervous, others held his gaze.
“Are you evil?”
They all shook their heads.
“That’s correct. Men and women are not evil. Not at your age anyway. But some become evil, and the animals know this. Do you know how they know this?”
A shake of small heads.
“Anyone want to make a guess?”
“Does someone tell them?” asked Cyballine, her hand half-raised.
“Well done Cyballine! Someone tells them. The elves tell them. For elves can speak with all of the animals not just some of them, like humans. Yes, Thoszc”
“Elves don’t exist. And we can’t speak to the animals.”
“Who told you that?”
“My Dad. He’s a vet. He says no one can speak with animals.”
Barden looked at the nine year old. The focus of attention from the rest of the group for his bold challenge, backed with the highest authority - a parent. Ignoring the elves comment, Barden asked, “Thoszc, is your Dad a good vet? Does he make lots of animals better?”
“He is the best vet in all the valley. He heals all the animals.”
Barden looked at the boy, and smiled, nodding. “Good, it is good for a man to look after animals. It shows them humans are not evil. Thoszc, have you been to the doctor?”
“Yes. I had chickenpox. The doctor gave Mama a cream to put on it.”
“Did the doctor speak to you when he looked at your spots?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, he had to talk to you to find out what was wrong, to know how to help you. It is the same with your Father. He is a great vet because he talks with his patients, to know what he must do to make them better.”
Thoszc furrowed his brow. “But why would he tell me we can’t speak to the animals?”
“Ah! Do you want to be a vet, like your Dad?”
The young boy nodded his head vigorously.
“Well, that is why. Every profession has secrets only the most skilled are allowed to know. So you must pretend I never told you this, or you may never be allowed to be a vet. But you do know, and you can start listening to the animals, hear what they are telling you. Then you will be a wonderful vet, maybe even better than your own father. A vet famed in all the land!”
Barden poked the fire. Cyballine asked, “Why do the elves tell lies about us?”
He looked up, “A good question Cyballine. The truth is nobody knows. But humans and elves have secretly been at war for hundreds of years. It was already difficult to get from Mars to Earth, and since Russia and America put the Earth Defence Grid around the planet, it is almost impossible”
“I didn’t know elves are from Mars.”
“Elves aren’t real, silly. It’s just a story.”
“Elves are real. Aren’t they, Barden?”
“Of course elves are real. They travel in the wind. Tornadoes and cyclones are how they land on earth. It allows them to get down without being seen.”
“But why do they want to come to Earth?” asked Thoszc.
“They don’t really want to. But they need to. Have you all seen pictures of Mars?” Barden looked round at the nodding heads. “So you know it is like a desert on the surface. Elves live underground, but their food is running out. Things don’t grow properly anymore, and they need to come to Earth to survive.”
Around the fire the children sat for a moment, dwelling on what he’d said.
“Can we see elves, or are they invisible?”
The youthful desire for knowledge over-rode any fear of the unknown. Barden loved that. Too often people forget to learn as the grow older. Then when they meet the unknown they retreat into ignorance and are overwhelmed by baseless fears. Not a child. A child reaches forward and learns, and incorporates the new thing into its life.
“Yes, you can see elves. Mostly, they look human. The only difference is the neck. Because Mars has such a thin atmosphere, very little air, it is difficult to breath. So, while elves have noses like humans, they also have gills on their neck, a bit like a fish. It helps them take in all the air they need.”
“I’ve never seen anyone like that!”
“Of course not! They have to disguise it. Some always wear roll-neck sweaters, others are never seen without scarves—“
A little girl squealed loudly, and clamped her hands to her face.
“What is it Corralie?”
She slipped her hands down below her lips, her eyes shone with tears in the firelight. “My mommy always wears a scarf. She says without her herpes scarf, she feels undressed.”
Barden bit his lip sharply. It was a moment before he could speak without laughing. “That'll be an Hermés scarf. Tell me, have you ever seen your mommy at the swimming pool?”
“She takes us every week in the summer.”
“Does she swim with you?”
Relief swept Corralie’s face, she dropped her hands to her chest.
“Yes, she does. And she doesn’t have gills! I’d have seen them when she’s in her swimsuit.”
Barden smiled warmly at her. A final reassurance that she need not fear her own parents.
“Now, would you all like to know what to do if you think you have met one of the elves?”
Seven young heads nodded. Even the most skeptical engaged by the idea of meeting elves from Mars.
“Be polite and kind. Let them see that humans are friendly, and willing to share. Then, maybe, they won’t feel the need to come and steal.”
“But what if they attack me. I won’t let them, I’ll take one of my Dad’s knives and stab them in the gills.”
Barden shook his head, “A brave idea Seamus. But they are much faster and stronger than you. If they attack it will be like the wind. Can you stab the wind?” He waited for shakes of the head, “Of course not. But the wind often goes away when the sun is bright and strong. If you are friendly and warm, like the sun, then they may become friends. And of course, all the animals will like you.”
He clapped his hands and bounced to his feet, “The potatoes are nearly ready, so lets cut the tomatoes into halves, and slice the loaves of bread, and grate the cheese, and get the plates. Later, we’ll get the banjos out and sing songs while we melt marshmallows on the fire.”
The children bustled round. Barden watched them, gently rubbing his neck. Some skillful surgery had closed his gills, leaving nearly invisible scars. The tattoo cleverly disguised the remaining marks.
He missed the purples and pinks of the sky on Mars. Earth’s blue was so cold and austere. But living on the surface, instead of just visiting it occasionally, that made it worthwhile. His people deserved this planet.
Teaching the humans to be accepting, tolerant, of invasion would be the work of many human generations. They were already a weak species. Gradually they would become docile sheep. A ready herd to be harvested as required.
An original story and photograph by Stuart C Turnbull.