A little rest and the beginning of remembering......

Harold was sitting on the mossy bank, with his sock still in his hand and one shoe off, staring in disbelief. First of all, he was faced with the reality of several gnomes performing acrobatics right in front of his face, swinging and leaping from the tree branches and almost landing on his lap. Stephanotis had become a bit overexcited and was performing double somersaults and back flips and even tossing his hat in-between leaps. Then, as if that wasn't enough for poor Harold to take in, there was the sight and sounds of a small band of gnomes blowing and banging on their tiny drums and trumpets  - well it was all too much to take in - and as you can imagine, Harold fainted clean away from the shock.

'Oh Dear, ' said Hortensia 'we have overdone it again, humans don't seem to have the same stamina for the unusual as we do, the poor boy has collapsed again.' The gnomes gathered around, Humperdinck proposed playing a soothing lullaby but was soon overruled. They all agreed to think again and leave matters for another day, after all Harold was bound to convince himself that he had been dreaming a very strange dream after hitting his head on a branch. It is a sad and well known fact that humans have a very hard time accepting the reality of gnomes living in their midst.

Indeed it is true that when Harold came to, he did think that perhaps he was suffering from concussion, but as he stroked his forehead he remembered something of the softness of a gentle touch that had soothed away some of his anxiety. Whatever it was, or however he justified his thinking, over the next few days Harold started coming to the wood and making his was to the Sacred Circle for a nap on a regular basis. Hortensia was always ready to stroke his forehead and slowly his worry lines did begin to fade and once in a while a faint smile would show that Harold was having a happy dream for the first time in many a year.

The gnomes knew that the longer Harold spent in the wood, the less appealing the idea of selling it would become. The more he remembered something that he almost forgotten - something that he longed to properly remember - something that teased him when he woke up, something that was ever edging closer each time he had a little rest in the forest - the more the possibilities for something truly extraordinary to happen would increase.