Editor's note: Allie penned this story for the Weaver Middle School Fairy Tale Writing Contest -- and she won! Enjoy.
CHAPTER ONE
The woodsman was a gentle man, strong, and sturdy. His overly large body could barely fit his rickety old bed. His eyes slowly opened, as he awoke from a long slumber. He gently lifted his head to peek at his toes. Yep. They still stuck out of the covers. Each day, his legs grew more long, and his feet felt colder from being exposed to the air, unlike the rest of his over sized body, tucked into the warm blankets. They must feel jealous. The woodsmen thought. He smiled at the thought of toes actually having feelings.Who knows? Maybe they do! No one has proved that fact wrong. He thought once more. Nah. I’m hungry. But before he sat up, one more thought popped into his head. His name. Everyone he knows calls him the woodsman, but no one really knows his real name. Including himself. He wanted to ponder this thought longer, but his hunger got the best of him. Then, he sat up to go get breakfast.
CHAPTER TWO
The woodsman rubbed his eyes as he walked downstairs. When he reached the kitchen, he pulled out the deer that he shot on Tuesday. The woodsman walked over to where his knife was sitting, picked it up, and walked back over to the dead animal. “Sorry.” He whispered softly, as he carefully glided the knife through the deer’s stomach. He walked out the front door with the piece of the deer that he cut off, and set it in the sun. “Now I must find something else to do.” The woodsman mumbled. “Perhaps I can go fetch dinner. A bear would be delicious with theherbs I picked on Sunday.” The woodsmen picked up his rifle and walked into the woods. The birds flew away from the loud sound of his feet stomping on the dirt. Woodsman! The woodsman instinctively looked up when he heard his nickname. Woodsman! His name was called once more. He heard a rustling of leaves. And there, standing behind him, was an old person. A lady, obviously. She was holding some sort of wand. “I can grant you three wishes.” She stated. He told her the only thing that popped into his mind right then. “What’s my real name?”
CHAPTER THREE
“Oh, great woodsman,” spoke the little old lady. “I do wish I could grant you that wish, for that was a great question. But, it’s too great.” The woodsman thought about what she meant. “Um, pardon me, what did you say, madam?” He asked. “That question takes too much of my magic. Say I do tell you, which I would never be able to know, so I wouldn’t, but if I did, I would be dead at your very feet. You wouldn’t want me to die over some silly name, would you?” she asked, walking around in a circle. “Oh, certainlynot, madam. But, what shall I do to find out what my name is?” He asked. “Hmm…” she thought while tapping her wand on her chin. “Tell me, you so called woodsman,” she mumbled. “Are you afraid of heights, lava, or perhaps…dragons?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Oh my, madam! I am just a woodsman! I’m scared of many things, including heights, lava and especially dragons!” he yelled. “Woodsman.” She said. “Woodsman?” “Yes, madam?” “Have you ever been to the tallest point in the world, sunk deep, deep, down into hot, steaming lava? Or perhaps fight a dragon one on one with no weapon but your fists?” she asked him. “No, no, and no, madam.” The woodsman said. “Well, than how do you know that you’re scared of them?” “True.” He stated. “Well, here is your assignment. You will travel to the highest mountain in this part of earth. Then, at the top, you will see a pit of lava. You then must somehow travel over the lava, to the other side, and there should be a dragon, ready to fight.” “But madam, I-” he got cut off. “Do you want to know your name, woodsman?” she asked abruptly. “Yes.” “Then go on, now!” The woodsman started to run towards the highest point as the old lady yelled,” Run! Let this be a lesson for you, woodsman! Never be afraid of what you haven’t accomplished! Let your name be yelled across the mountains!”
CHAPTER FIVE
Today, not many people know the story of the woodsman. He soon completed his first quest, and returned to the old lady for a new one each day. The woodsman did find out what his name was in one of his quests. It wasDevlin, which means brave or fierce in Ireland. The woodsman learned not to hate the name his was given, and to love the name he has, for some people don’t even have one. Devlin has two.
