You’ve seen the 1964 Rankin/Bass stop motion Christmas special, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, written by Romeo Muller. It’s been aired on TV every year since it was first shown. You may have wondered, though, why Santa seems to be so MEAN-spirited in this movie (probably the only anti-Santa movie we show at Christmas time). There is a better Santa in this movie, though, hiding in plain sight.
CEO Santa Rules the North with a Manufacturer’s Mindset
Santa is the boss of toy-making and toy distribution, of all the elves and reindeer. When Rudolph is born, Santa blames Donner for having a “weird” son, and makes fun of Rudolph’s nose — — and of course, all of his “employees” do too. They’re just following Santa’s lead. His meanness and prejudice gets passed down to the reindeer. How can Santa himself be so narrow-minded!? This doesn’t feel like the Santa we know.
In a tale about manufacturing and production, this glowing reindeer and fabulous, dentist-oriented elf are merely flawed products. They are a version of an elf and reindeer who don’t do what those products should do. They are misfits like the toys they will meet later. The other elves, the other reindeer, do not want to accept them, as they have been taught to reject flawed toys.
Who do you think created the misfit toys? Those toys are typical manufacturing mistakes, tossed away. Losses. Victims of Quality Control. There is no love for a flawed product in a warehouse toy factory at the north pole. The elves must be VERY AWARE of their “mistakes”, even if they aren’t aware of the Island the misfit toys all eventually run to for safety.
I believe Santa is written this way on purpose — revealing the commercialized CEO Santa that’s kinda already there. Muller just reveals more of him because he has a doppleganger to compare Santa to. If Santa is the villain, and Rudolph is the hero of the story who has to grow and learn, then he needed a role-model for Rudolph to learn from, to really accept himself and others, since Santa won’t be modeling that.
This is the role given to the OTHER sleigh-driving big bearded man in the movie, Yukon Cornelius. I think this is done on purpose.
Yukon’s a character made up by writer, Romeo Muller, to expand the story beyond the original Robert May song. Muller doesn’t let this just be a song of Rudolph waiting till he’s useful to be discovered. That’s not fair to Rudolph. He creates someone better, a guide, a guru, a model to show Rudolph how to treat others, and himself, with radical acceptance and love.
Radical acceptance and love
Members of a group, a society, a culture, may“naturally” accept people who reflect back to them the kind of group they want to be seen as. So they might accept those who are like “us”, those who stay within expectations of social and moral cultural systems. Those who stay within the lines our group has drawn.
Hermey, though, is an elf who wants to become a dentist instead of a toymaker; Rudolph can’t really hide his bright, blinking nose and that makes him targeted by bullies. They are considered “unacceptable” by the groups they find themselves in — — not what they expect in an elf or reindeer. They don’t fit in, or won’t fit in. They won’t cooperate with what is expected. Rudolph tries to over his nose with mud. That’s not a permanent or acceptable fix for anyone.
When Rudolph and Hermey meet each other, they become besties! They have a lot of common experiences, in a way, commiserating over their differences. They reject societal norms! They are Rebels! They accept each other right away because they also want to be accepted! They go off into the world to do their own things.
They are all Abominable
Rudolph and Hermey aren’t safe in the world when they don’t play by the world’s rules. The Abominable Snowmonster is there to make them fear following their dreams. Noisy! Gnashing Teeth! Roaring! Chasing! GIANT! In a sense, as personified fear, he shows they will be unacceptable everywhere they go. He will relentlessly chase them down.
Who saves them from the Snowmonster? It isn’t Santa. Santa doesn’t even seem to know it exists, though I would say he is controlled by the fear himself.
Who HAS experienced that fear before — that fear of not being acceptable — and conquered it?
Yukon Cornelius.
Oh, he knows “Bumble”! He even reduces the scary words “abominable” and “monster” to rename him with a word for awkwardness. When we “bumble” through something, we bounce from one thing to another, without direction, we screw up, mess up, blunder, stumble. Bumble is a misfit too — and his name announces that he can’t “fit” either. Cornelius calls Bumble what he is — a socially awkward creature who is badly trying to fit in. He looks scary, and Yukon acknowledges that, but Yukon knows things about Bumble. He knows that Bumbles don’t like water and he knows they can bounce. He knows the strengths and weaknesses of Bumble. He sees through the scary part and sees the real Bumble, trying to survive alone. He will eventually save Bumble by giving him what he wants most: to be accepted with all his quirks.
Yukon Cornelius sees Hermey and Rudolph too. He sees them as who they are and who they want to be and immediately accepts them. He practices “radical acceptance” of everyone. Radical acceptance is acceptance BEYOND what you are comfortable with, what you’ve known, what is advantageous to you, or what might benefit you. You accept people for where and who they are. And you loudly support those you radically accept. Yukon is very loud. He is not afraid of anyone seeing who he’s with and who he supports.
The First Misfit
Long before they go to the island of Misfit Toys, we see that Yukon is already a MISFIT himself. He is a prospector obsessed with finding, not “silver and gold” as the snowman sings, as we are all led to believe, but a peppermint mine.
He doesn’t WANT what the rest of the prospectors — — or people want. He isn’t after money. He wants peppermint. Well that isn’t valuable, you might say. Why would a prospector be searching for peppermint? Prospecting is a hard life — — and would you go through the dangers of living in the wild, being outside of cities and companions, facing harsh weather, difficult, mountainous regions and digging through the earth — — just to find peppermint? The desire that makes Yukon different from ALL other prospectors is what makes Yukon a misfit. It seems to be a flaw. But I think it’s tied to his goals.
Santa has previously been characterized as judgmental: he knows if you’ve been bad or good. He has a list of naughty and nice people. He is a moral judge! If you are GOOD, you get blessings. If you are bad, you get JUNK. He is associated with worth and value, even commercial value, but also moral value.
Yukon, on the other hand, knows your strengths, allows those strengths to surface and guides you to use those strengths, even the ones others might dismiss. He is associated with seeking bliss, helping others, and he sees their innate value without judgment.
Yukon is set up to be a direct comparison to Santa.
Look at Yukon’s dog mushing team. This is radical acceptance in action! Whereas Santa’s sleigh has to be guided by “perfect” reindeer, Yukon’s sleigh is led by a mismatched group of sled dogs, that no one would believe would be good sled dogs: a St. Bernard, a dachshund, a sheltie, a beagle and a black poodle. We could think up a lot of reasons why this team of dogs wouldn’t work — -and yet, they work! Yukon believes in them, and they believe in themselves. They are all misfits but they love running and they run well together. They don’t know the proper commands (It takes them a while to understand “Mush” and “whoa” — “Stop” is what they have to hear to stop! Good luck teaching them Gee and Haw!) But in allowing them to be themselves, he demonstrates radical acceptance and love. He accepts the dogs for what they WANT to be, for who they know they ARE. And he lets them be that. And they show that they ARE good at what they love to do.
Yukon as the Better Santa
This is why I think Yukon contrasts so powerfully with Santa. They are similarly presented men — large, bearded, loud men with sleighs pulled by animals — but who act completely differently towards others. There are rules with Santa. There are not with Yukon.
Santa has to be convinced later into being accepting and giving . His acceptance of Rudolph comes when the reindeer can prove he can be of use NOT as a reindeer but as a beacon. Bumble, similarly, must be marketed as tall enough to put the Star on the Christmas tree. Thankfully, the presents from the island of Misfit Toys don’t have to prove themselves in order to be gifted at the end of the story to kids who will love them — but Santa must still be convinced to deliver them too. In fact, in 1964, with the original broadcast, Santa makes a promise to deliver them, but is never shown doing that, to which viewers complained that they wanted to see Santa keep his promise! In 1965, a new sequence was added to show Santa delivering the Misfit Toys to their new homes.
Even if you don’t understand the parallel set up of these two men as a kid, you GET the idea that Yukon accepts people and that Santa doesn’t. Yukon is the role model of this show, not Santa.
Yukon rescues, salvages, rehabilitates, transports, and teaches. He teaches Rudolph to value himself and to value others regardless of what kinds of expectations he may have, regardless of what they can do FOR him. Rudolph teaches Santa the same thing. I believe Yukon’s save of Bumble seals the lesson that no one is above acceptance.
When WE meet Yukon Cornelius
Growing up, seeing this show for the first time, and subsequent times, I think I saw myself as Rudolph, as many kids did — — someone who was not perfect, not wanted by other kids, not what adults thought I should be as a boy, but who had an important role to play in this “plot,” I hoped. I did not have a lot of positive male role models in my life who accepted me for who I was. I always felt like most boys and men were disappointed in me for one reason or another — I did not want to play hard, play sports; did not want to be mechanical; did not love the idea of the military as a proving ground for my manhood or patriotism. I did not know I was gay, and didn’t know I had ADHD. I was artsy and geeky. I was a misfit.
My parents did a great job to meet me where I was. Dad introduced me to Star Trek, comic books, science fiction. My mother read the Chronicles of Narnia to us in the hallway. These are enormous things! They also found and gave me for Christmas some very heady and scientific books on butterflies when I was interested in butterflies. I always got great gifts for Christmas — weird ones, but ones I cherished. My parents brought me things that transformed me for the rest of my life in good ways. They also were my first introduction to spirituality, and even though we eventually disagreed about some small things (that are kinda more important now) my faith began here. They gave me enough to grow my own faith and keep it strong, even as a gay man.
But my parents, like many people in the 70s and 80s, were still subject to the “rules” of society for gender. It was very hard for anyone not to be soaked in those rules. Guidelines for girls and boys and how they were supposed to act, what and who they should love, what they should do. We still have them. They are the basis for much pain and rejection even today.
Anti-Trans laws are directly influenced by previous theories about gender; anti-lgbtq legislation is also built on the backs of outdated gender theory. Gender is a cultural construct, and while many people are more aware of this, there are still many people who are afraid of people who don’t obey those gender rules — whether that is through gender expression or sexual orientation, or any other expression of gender and sexuality.
We should know better now.
But back in the 70s, these expectations were so much a part of our culture that I can’t honestly blame my parents for believing them. All the doctors, the newscasters, the psychologists, the media, not to mention all those in office. When your access to the truth is limited, you don’t get the truth, usually.
My parents did what they could to guide. In many ways, they protected me from much of the consequences others might have wanted to give me, and in their own way, they were practicing radical acceptance — as radically as they could within our family.
We end up on the Island of Misfit Toys
These misfit toys in the movie were rejected only because they didn’t DO what was expected of them. They were still of value and still interesting (as we come to see in the movie). Moonracer, the winged lion, comes across as God protecting the misfits from others — -but unable to, himself, fix their situation. It takes Yukon with Rudolph and Hermey to help bridge the distance between these undervalued people and those who could help them find their home.
I think we unconsciously gravitate to those who accept us. Perhaps, while the kids were enjoying the animation, the adults were learning a lesson about which sled-musher to follow, about how to accept others.
Me, I was looking for a Yukon Cornelius to see my value and worth, as many of us do.
I eventually found a way to bring Yukon to me.
In 2019, I created a set of 10 paintings of Yukon Cornelius in the style of NC Wyeth — a style of boy’s adventure books popular in the early 20th Century, to explore what a gay hero might look like to me — the kind of gay hero I wish I could have had growing up. In 2022, I completed a show of about 50 paintings, acrylic and watercolor, with stories to go with them, titled, “The Further (Queer) Adventures of Yukon Cornelius,” where he went out to help other cryptids sometimes with his partner, Bumble. It gave me a gay hero that I would have loved to have read more about. We only got 10 min of Yukon Cornelius in “Rudolph” but it made me want to see what might happen if we had more time with him. Who else could he radically accept?
The Queer Connections
Yukon is the Santa we want to believe Santa is. Inclusive, accepting, encouraging, helpful, transformational. I think Romeo must have put this in here intentionally. As a writer, I can’t see this parallel as anything but intentional. Especially regarding the themes, and knowing Romeo made up the whole plot himself outside of Rudolph’s original rejection. I know you’ve probably come across a couple of articles that look at the gay themes in this show — -but wow, they certainly hit LGBTQ people strongly, whether or not they were intended to.
ALL people can identify with being rejected at one point in their lives for not being what other people thought they should be, which is why this movie has lasted for 59 years, being shown every year (I think it’s considered the longest running annual show on TV). It tapped into something universal. Rejection is HUGE for kids, and the fear of rejection is paralyzing. We are all, in some ways, a misfit.
But I do believe there is a specificity of rejection present here. Something queer kids know too well. When Donner is blamed for his son’s behavior, that Rudolph is not what his father wants him to be, and that this gets Rudolph banned from a place in society, that really hits so hard for queer people I think. To me there is a strong queer undertone for the KIND of rejection Rudolph goes through and the KIND of rejection that Hermey faces. They face shame for their different desires, their different aspirations, and their families are shamed too.
In this film, I believe Yukon Cornelius is a model for a better version of Santa. I think Romeo Muller wrote that on purpose, writing parallels to Santa into the DNA of Yukon Cornelius, in order to highlight their similarities and differences. I think he wanted us to rethink the way we “gift” others with our friendship and our acceptance. Are we here to judge them, to find out if they are naughty or nice, and then decide whether they are acceptable, or misfits?
No, I think we’re here to be more Yukon Cornelius. We are here to befriend, belove, rescue, support, transport, help, and accept people where they are, and for who they are. We all need a little more openness in our sleigh, to carry people, and not just our things, our job. We need to be able to detour away from our agendas at times and help out others with their agendas.
Perhaps today, Santa could learn some tips and could shed the “nice” and “naughty” criteria, allowing universal access to benefits and beneficence by practicing a little radical acceptance of his own.
Jerome Stueart (2007 Clarion Workshop) is an American and Canadian queer illustrator, writer, and professional tarot reader. His writing has appeared in F&SF, Tor.com, On Spec, Lightspeed, Strange Horizons, Geist, and elsewhere. He was a finalist for a 2020 World Fantasy Award in Short Fiction for “Postlude to the Afternoon of a Faun” (F&SF). His PhD in English (Texas Tech U) with specialties in Creative Writing put him forever in debt, but has allowed him to live and work as a teacher part-time for more than 25 years, running writing workshops in academia and through city programming, in schools, in churches and online. He also has a background in theatre, history, tourism, and marketing. He was the former Marketing Director of the Yukon Arts Centre in Whitehorse, Yukon. An emerging artist and illustrator in watercolor and acrylic, he lives now in Dayton, Ohio.
To get you on the right path for “Protect the Autumn Woods” just choose the first block here on the left to start the story. And then you can just follow the link at the bottom of each of the chapters…. they will take you to the next chapter.
I have loaded the first 5 of them here with links, and will do that for the rest of them soon, but if you get to Chapter 0 The Autumn Woods, and you want to read straight through, you can do that from the first chapter.
Eventually, all of these will link to their chapters. Thank you for your patience as I put the autumn woods in order!
Illustration, “Fantasy on the Art of the Deal of the Steal,” (11 x 15) watercolor, pen and ink on paper.
Apparently the internet is exploding with election fraud conspiracy theories from the Left. “‘By 8am ET, the number of posts per hour had surged to 31,991,” PeakMetrics wrote in an analysis shared with WIRED.” (WiRED, Nov 6, 2024)
Who’d have thought, huh?
I guess folks would rather blame a convicted felon, serial liar, racist misogynist, and his billionaire sidekick, owner of a vast media empire freely used to spread misinformation, citing their association with Russian hackers — than, you know, turn and blame each other for this election loss.
I can understand that sentiment. People are in pain. We want to find reasons. We want to still believe in the unity we witnessed during the campaign–that it is NOT an illusion. We don’t want to believe it might not be as effective or as widespread as we thought. So there must be another illusion out there…. we think.
Too bad that questioning election results has been a rallying cry of the far-right for so long that we made an oath of office accepting the election returns no matter what. Too bad for voters that election results denial is associated with a lack of trust in democracy, associated with believing in ancient aliens, or lone gunmen, or other conspiracy theories that have no evidence, and just not acceptable to right-minded people. Too bad that even the hint of the question may give the far-right more ammo in their distrust of government.
And nobody wants to do that. So we must tread carefully when understanding where we are.
But blaming each other for Trump’s win, or stigmatizing marginalized groups of voters, or criticizing Harris or Biden or Democrats in general is not the answer either. I’ve been seeing too much of that lately and it’s ripping the Left to pieces; it’s destroying the coalition of joy and those wanting to create a better society from within. Yes, society must change to be better for everyone. We have to build that, but we need each other intact, not bloody on the election floor.
We already built a strong coalition. I saw that. You saw that. We have to maintain that coalition. I saw the future I’d hoped for being created across America these last few months. I still believe it’s there. It was YOU. You were building that. It still exists.
Keep being kind to each other in these uncertain times. We need each other. We can’t let ourselves be divided even more.
I only hope that one day neither party ever figures out how to hack those machines (like they hack banks and credit card companies so easily) because, in our pride, in our sanctimonious belief that we are impervious to being fooled and our machines are hack-proof, and that we aren’t the kinds of people who believe in conspiracies, we won’t be able to allow any Dorothy to pull that curtain back.
Ramsaur sat on the edge of the dark pit filled with orc raiders.
He looked into the dimness to see if there was any movement. He held a rock in his hand.
But that was just to reassure his friends that he was “guarding.”
All around him was movement, talking, people being helped, healed.
They were the living.
His job had always been with the dead though. He tended them. Even these. He felt like someone should watch them. He said it was just to “make sure” they were really dead and that they wouldn’t try to hurt them all anymore. But he knew in his heart, he was fascinated by the dead. There was a silence over them. A peace. And he wondered where their thoughts were now.
What kind of soul or afterlife did Orcs have?
His brother’s skull, around his neck, whispered, “they are dreaming now.”
Gressler had organized a makeshift hospital area so that the wounded were all accounted for and the healers had one place to tend to them all. Fernlove, the swan, was very skilled at deep wound healing. Fenzel, the Cleric, was using healing spells as well, and he was especially careful to reset and repair the wings of bumblebees. Sir Asa had already bound his own wounds and applied healing enough to help others too. He hobbled, but his cane was useful, this time more than decorative, but still elegant.
Cassie’s arm would be tender for a while, but it would heal now. Stench was by her side the whole time fussing, and she acted like she hated it but he knew she didn’t. She called him Sweet Bread just once but it might as well have been the thing she said over and over according to Stench’s personal account of the moment.
Madrijolopur had already healed from his injuries before, and was applying pond herbs to wounds of the humans and woodland creatures alike, praying over them, and allowing a healing soft green light to envelop the injured places. Carlotta translated for any of them treating the humans. She had to get around quickly. But she was hoarse too. As she made the rounds to the humans, she received more and more thanks and smiles for her lovely trick. She and Xini shared a look that would last her a lifetime in appreciation. Oh they would work together again, no doubt.
Emil and Roth had joined the group of humans and creatures talking about what the battle they just fought meant for their futures, and pooled together what they knew about the orcs.
Fade and Dame Brigitt were there. They said it might get worse.
They talked about orc strategies and orc raiders. And wizards they’d heard of. They made strategies for the future.
Someone mentioned Oof and his second sight and they all decided that they needed to take their meeting to him later to see what he might see.
Tourmaline could be heard above in a tree composing a new song. It was less alarming and more celebratory. Her voice was uplifting.
Something about the stars coming out after a storm.
The beaver brothers dragged some of their barriers one by one off into the woods, keeping a few in place in case there were other raiders to come.
The sun was setting quickly and Tourmaline’s stars were coming out. Thimble was sitting uncomfortably on the ground, waiting to become a mouse again. Able was with him.
“It may not wear off right away,” he said.
Thimble, his face, highly animated for a bear, said, “The spell is supposed to be over when the threat is over.”
Dame Brigitt walked over to him, “Maybe the threat isn’t quite over. We can use a big bear Barbarian, Thimble. Maybe Able can show you some new ways to use and fight with your bigger body.”
Able nodded. “I can make you an acrobat.”
Then, suddenly, a noise came from behind them all. From the pit.
And scrambling to the surface were all the orcs come back to hurt them again.
Everyone froze.
Then Emil called out, “Ramsaur, put down the dead things! No one needs them here right now!”
Folks breathed.
Someone laughed the kind of laugh you do when you are spent and tired and you want to believe in something funny again.
The orcs did not move. And Ramsaur did not move. But you could hear Tourmaline’s song in the trees, trimming the moonlit branches.
“The moon reveals/ all your friends/ standing after the storm. When the winds have died/ and the breeze is still/ and the clouds–they move on./ What we have/ is greater than what we had before/ what we keep/of what we see/ tells us we had more.”
And the orcs sat down on the ground together. The woodland creatures who had fought them and killed them looked at them now, not hidden away in a pit.
Perhaps if there had been another way. Or another method to save their own lives, they would have used it.
Fade said, “You know. They might still be useful after all.”
The orcs swayed to the song. Most of those gathered believed it was Ramsaur who was making them do this. But some weren’t sure.
Later that night, when everyone was asleep in their warm beds that they had fought to save, when the humans were back in the villages safe with their families, Ramsaur would be here with the orcs, though he would have them all under trees now, this time like they were sleeping.
His brother told him, “That’s better. Now they look like they’re dreaming.”
And Ramsaur would find his own dreams filled with orcs drinking at a tavern, singing and being happy they weren’t at war.
THE END. FOR NOW.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is an illustrated story by Jerome Stueart in 33 short flash fiction chapters. The story features D&D-inspired magic-using forest animals who fight to protect their homes. This story was at first a response to a prompt list created by Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for an October Art Challenge in 2021. You can now read all 33 parts of the story, “Protect the Autumn Woods” with the search term, #AutumnWoods. “Protect the Autumn Woods!” Art Show at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1 — December 15 2024.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is adjacent to a larger show of amazing Dayton Artists, “Small, but Mighty.” Come see all of the art, any weekend, Friday 12-5, Saturday 12-5 to experience the art yourself.
It was a combined effort from the citizens of the Autumn Woods to control the orc threat.
From her spot high up in the maple tree, Carlotta could see it all unfold.
Her part: stay hidden, be the voice of an Orc General and lure them to the pit. They had few choices. The pit could kill them in the fall. The humans had dug it deep, put rocks at the bottom. They thought only of survival. The orcs were on a hunt to eradicate every human presence in the valley. They knew that now.
It was mere oversight that the woodland community had not been on their list to destroy.
Old Biddy had told them they could not pass this responsibility to others when they could stop the orcs. The orcs had already devastated villages, murdered humans, whole families. They had to do something. The pit, in comparison, was humane.
At least they wanted to believe that.
“Hurry! Come this way!” she called out in her best Orc. “A human village still stands!”
Look at them, hearing her voice and abandoning their fight with the animals so they could kill humans. They ran and then disappeared below the false image of the path that Xini had created and was maintaining. They were in the pit. Two more down.
Admittedly, Carlotta was addicted to tricking everyone, all the time. It was kind of a power rush for her. She was SO good at it. She often practiced her voices on friends, and they might wander in the trees for a bit. “Oh, Carlotta. I had things I had to do!” they said to her when they learned of her ruse. It was all just in play though. She meant no harm.
“The human village awaits! Where are you?” she roared to the ones fighting her friends. One turned and ran to help, and fell through the path again. Carlotta felt a great deal of remorse. And satisfaction. That mixture bothered her. It was not in fun that she tricked them. It was to save the lives of her friends and others. Just not the orcs.
A bear came through the trees carrying Stench and Cassie. A bear with a huge sword. The orcs saw his size. He was larger than any of them. That bear must have been seven feet tall. But he was helping the other animals. The orcs that saw him, though, and ran straight for him, leaving Fenestra’s second or third puppet (she had lost count how many the other orcs had killed) fighting air. Was it because he seemed so much like a champion with that sword? But that bear’s arms were full of wounded. He could not fight without dropping or injuring them.
“Don’t bother with that bear, you fools! He’s on our side! Don’t you see, he’s taken their wounded! Come! Hurry! To the human village! Follow me!” she called out. They did not seem to hear her. She bellowed louder as they were almost on top of that bear. Stench had jumped down and taken Cassie quickly in his arms. The bear was not ready.
“The sword is magic! Beware! It is the OrcKiller!” she called out in a different Orc voice. “Stay out of its reach!”
That did it. They slowed down, just out of the bear’s swing. In this way the bear was able to get grounded against three of them. But he was not the only one overwhelmed.
Sir Asa was down and Gressler, the Badger, pulled him to safety in the bushes. Xini created a second and third bear illusion to distract them. Carlotta knew Xini couldn’t keep so many illusions going at the same time. Fenestra’s orc ran to help the bear. And the two of them against three orcs looked better equipped.
The Monk leaped over the pit, in a somersault, and with a flip landed in front of an orc and pushed him into the wavering illusion. Dame Brigitt and Fade flew at two other orcs, slicing their faces with Fade’s talons. But an orc blade caught Fade’s leg. Dame Brigitt held on as the hawk faltered and dove.
Carlotta couldn’t stay in the trees.
She flew into the center of the fray. “Now!” she said in Orc. “The magic of the woods is ours!” She shouted so hard to make them hear her.
They looked at her. “Look at how the magic has transformed me, brothers! I can fly! Come to me and receive your magical blessings and we will not only destroy these creatures but take all their magic with us!!”
She hovered in the air just over the disguised pit. She was vulnerable to any arrow. Any blade thrown. “I have the Magic of the Woods!” she shouted, starting to go hoarse. She cackled. “With this magic all humans will die!” It didn’t matter what it meant–it was how you sold it. It’s always that way with voices.
Be who you say you are and everyone will believe you.
Around her wings, which were getting so tired hovering in place, a pink light shown. “See the light as I am about to grant you the Magic of the Woods!” she said. “I have stolen it from the magic users.”
Fenestra’s latest puppet came forward to be a model, saying in orc, “this magic will help all of us.”
That was what they needed. The orcs started to come near her. But she was about to fall through the illusion herself. She imagined what it would be like to fall into the pit, into the hands of the orcs and what they would do to her.
The light around her grew in intensity.
It was Xini and Sir Asa with all their might creating a grand illusion to go along with her ploy. She’d always hoped to do something with Xini. Such a natural pair they would make.
Oh she was starting to get dizzy.
“Come and receive your blessing!” And as the orcs came and fell into the pit, Xini added more to her illusion to make it look like the orcs were walking on the surface even though they were gone. Those orc illusions held up their hands to receive magical blessings and they turned into giant wolves and foxes and a huge hawk the size of a tree. Surely this would take every bit of Xini’s strength and hurry the curse upon her. No.
“Look at what you can become!!” she said powerfully, and then she fell.
At the surface of the pit she hit something solid. It was an illusion- covered but injured Fade who had swooped in and threw them both into the bush.
Carlotta heard the most amazing thing. Her own voice was now part of the illusion even though she was on her back in the leaves. She could see herself and hear her own orc voice just repeating the phrases she’d already said. Her friends had literally taken her trick and mimicked HER voice now inside the illusion. They didn’t know Orc. But they could repeat phrases they heard.
The orcs, one by one, came to be blessed with almighty magical animal power and fell into the pit. A pit covered in darkness, damp with swamp water and too slick to climb if they survived the fall. A pit filled with rocks.
And standing over them at the edge of the pit were the last standing humans and animals of the autumn woods. They weren’t cheering. They were silent. And they were listening. They listened for movement, for any sound at all in the darkness of the pit.
The only sound she could hear was all of her friends and allies breathing. Heavy. In and out. Coughing. Waiting.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is an illustrated story by Jerome Stueart in 33 short flash fiction chapters. The story features D&D-inspired magic-using forest animals who fight to protect their homes. This story was at first a response to a prompt list created by Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for an October Art Challenge in 2021. You can now read all 33 parts of the story, “Protect the Autumn Woods” with the search term, #AutumnWoods. “Protect the Autumn Woods!” Art Show at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1 — December 15 2024.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is adjacent to a larger show of amazing Dayton Artists, “Small, but Mighty.” Come see all of the art, any weekend, Friday 12-5, Saturday 12-5 to experience the art yourself.
Thimble had raced up the side of the tree so he could be near an orc’s face should one come this close.
He was trying very hard to be be a hero. To be the Champion.
He would poke some orc with the Sword of Goddard. He was angry. He was frightened. His friends fought orcs all around him and he could not help them. He felt useless. Some Champion of the Autumn Woods he turned out to be. He couldn’t even get the sword to work.
He had pulled this sword from a dream. From a dream. He knew it was Magic. But he had recited the incantation and everything, exactly as he was supposed to and…nothing. Now he was parked in a tree–like Cassie told him to!— but he was going to slice an orc cheek if he could. Or pierce an orc ear. At least the sword was pointy.
Three of them were on Cassie and Stench, and they fought so hard.
“Sword of Goddard, hear my prayer,” he said, holding the sword up, “Foes surround us everywhere–” and the orc slammed his hammer against Cassie’s shoulder.
She wavered.
Another orc stabbed at her with a dagger, but it missed.
“KNOW THEIR WEAKNESS, THEIR DEFEAT/ AND GIVE ME NOW WHAT I MOST–”
And Cassie fell.
Stench’s arrows found their marks, but they pulled them out and turned to him. As Cassie lay on the ground. They turned to Stench. Three of them charged Stench as he ran from them. “—NEED!”
They charged at Stench.
“Need, need, need, need, need, need.” Thimble ran along the branch, his eyes on Cassie, and she wasn’t moving. “Need, need, need, need,” he cried. And he ran down the tree and crossed over the fallen leaves till he was beside her. “Give me now what I most need. Please!!”
The three orcs wouldn’t stop chasing Stench. He couldn’t load his bow.
“SWORD OF GODDARD I NEED YOU!!!”
He ran towards the orcs pursuing Stench —a hundred thousand miles away from his tiny feet.
“You said you would protect us!!” he said to the sword. “SO PROTECT US!”
Suddenly he was flying across the woods, or it seemed that way.
His head rose above the branches but his feet were still on the ground.
He’d become taller, and he ran faster. Faster to catch the orcs. And he gained on them and he roared. So loud he shook the trees. The orcs turned just as he got to them and he stabbed them and sliced them and ran his sword through them and he did it over and over again and he wouldn’t stop roaring and crying and impaling. Till all that was left was Stench standing there. Looking at him.
He fell to his gargantuan knees, sobbing, looking at all the bodies, the blood, and he was shaking and shaking.
“It’s okay,” Stench said, holding out his tiny hand, touching him on the shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, buddy.”
Stench ran to Cassie. She moved. Thimble cried even more. She moved. She got up and they limped towards him. “I tried to stay in the tree,” Thimble said. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. I’m so sorry.”
Cassie said, “Thimble?” Her eyes were wide.
“The sword made me big,” he sobbed. All he wanted to do was to crawl up into her arms and hug her neck but he couldn’t.
“The sword,” Stench smiled, “made you a bear.”
Thimble looked at the orcs, what was left of them. He cried. He was shaking. Stench and Cassie put their arms around his neck.
“Big friend, we need to take you down the path so you can help out the others now. Can we do that? Can you do what you did here again?”
Thimble stood up, and Stench and Cassie were only as tall as his knees. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did.”
“Well, you saved us, buddy. You saved us. That’s all I know. Let’s go save some more of our friends, okay?”
Thimble nodded.
They started walking as fast as Cassie could handle.
Then Stench turned to him, “Can you give some old friends a lift?”
And Thimble picked up Cassie with one arm, and Stench with the other, his sword still in hand. And Stench rested his head against Thimble’s chest.
“So this is what it feels like to be you,” he said, making Thimble smile.
And the bear, Thimble, with his friends in his arms, ran down the path.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is an illustrated story by Jerome Stueart in 33 short flash fiction chapters. The story features D&D-inspired magic-using forest animals who fight to protect their homes. This story was at first a response to a prompt list created by Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for an October Art Challenge in 2021. You can now read all 33 parts of the story, “Protect the Autumn Woods” with the search term, #AutumnWoods. “Protect the Autumn Woods!” Art Show at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1 — December 15 2024.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is adjacent to a larger show of amazing Dayton Artists, “Small, but Mighty.” Come see all of the art, any weekend, Friday 12-5, Saturday 12-5 to experience the art yourself.
Oakwall, Summerpond and Firefly flew over the trees because of a lovely lift spell Garna gave them–able to glide longer, farther. They carried little bombs on strings. Bombs she made that may not do a lot of damage to such big orcs, but would be annoying. Their goal was to annoy the orcs.
The squirrels had annoyed old Biddy for years being too playful among the stacks of books, but now it would be fun to let loose!
If they lived, that is.
The orcs had the woodland warriors cornered and stalled too far up the path. Cassie and Stench and Fenestra, and possibly the Champion of the Autumn Woods was somewhere here. They did see a big orc who was wreaking havoc on the raiding band of fellow orcs, so Fenestra was doing pretty well.
The others were holding their own, barely.
All their allies waited at the end of the path. They could see a large dome of light on the ground near them and they didn’t know what it was, but a shadow of a bird was inside.
“Try not to miss with the bombs. They will burn and they will flash, and be painful to the orcs, but if they are dropped on the ground that won’t mean much,” the Badger had told them. “Remember,” and he’d breathed in and paused, “we need them to see you and chase you.”
They whizzed through several orcs and dropped three bombs. One missed. Two exploded on an ear and a foot. Firefly dropped his second one, which burned an orc’s neck. Then they flew so close to them to get their attention. But the orcs didn’t even consider them of interest.
The orcs looked at them, but went back to attacking.
Some of them went after Cassie. Two tried to break into the dome of light. Several were trying to stop Fenestra’s orc puppet. Others were chasing something small. About ten seemed like they could barely see.
All around them the squirrels heard a song in the woods, “Wake, Wake!”
They tried again to get the attention of the orcs. To move them. To be enticing. To be chased. But the orcs were too involved in battle. Then a shout in the woods ahead!
A big orc voice! All the orcs turned! They bellowed in response. They raced down the path! The squirrels flew ahead of them! The orc voice got louder. Like orders. Was there another orc band ahead of them? No! What had happened to their allies?
The squirrels flew just out of reach of many of the orcs, speeding, gliding, as the orc voice got louder in front of them. Then the ground below the orcs in front collapsed–all the leaves that covered the path fell and revealed a freshly dug pit. From the bushes, a magical pink light blasted the orcs teetering on the edge. The Hare and the Salamander both raised their hands and blasted the orcs with light and illusion.
Human allies came out of the bushes armed with shovels. Some of the orcs fell. Many of them did not. The pit covered itself over again, as Xini put her illusion back in place.
They saw Fade and Dame Brigitt flying towards them and over their heads.
The sound of the big orc voice called the orcs forward towards the hidden pit!
They spotted Carlotta in the trees puffed up and doing her best Orc!
They turned and saw that they had not gotten all the orcs here. Half the orcs were here and still half the orcs where they had been. So the squirrels raced back to try and bring the rest of them to the pit.
Their only hope was to let the pit do its work. To push the orcs in.
They flew back over the fight, the rest of their bombs ready.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is an illustrated story by Jerome Stueart in 33 short flash fiction chapters. The story features D&D-inspired magic-using forest animals who fight to protect their homes. This story was at first a response to a prompt list created by Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for an October Art Challenge in 2021. You can now read all 33 parts of the story, “Protect the Autumn Woods” with the search term, #AutumnWoods. “Protect the Autumn Woods!” Art Show at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1 — December 15 2024.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is adjacent to a larger show of amazing Dayton Artists, “Small, but Mighty.” Come see all of the art, any weekend, Friday 12-5, Saturday 12-5 to experience the art yourself.
Fenestra had one big trick. A very big trick. Her powers of sorcery could not swallow the orcs in mire like the Druid Madrijolopur or frighten them with illusion like Xini the Warlock. But she could levitate objects, small creatures, and she could ensorcell one soul to her will. She wished she was powerful enough to control them all. But she wasn’t. They had so much will of their own.
But one of them, with a flick of her tongue, was hers.
Hers.
Lift that axe. (Lifted). Attack the orcs around you. (The axe swung on a fellow orc.)
She flew beside the orc, keeping within six feet of him, important for the control to work. She’d have to dodge the battle, but it would work better than trying to steady herself on his moving orc body.
Few questers came to find Fenestra anymore, promising her adventure or treasures, if she would grant them success or bless their blades or tell them where to find magical falderall. The pond had become quiet. She waited. No one came.
She did not feel needed. Or searched for.
When Madge, as she called the turtle druid, first came to her pond, he was a rival! So much water, and rain, and waterspouts tossing the lily pads! But also so smart and fun to talk to. And they created a beautiful little magical pond full of mystery and weirdness…and it made her very happy over the last many years here. She didn’t feel like she had a purpose any longer to being magical until Madge challenged her to use her sorcery for fun now. She used it for herself and her friends.
Now she used it to save them.
O blessed night the stars fell from the sky into the pond…when she was young…the night she embodied magic, and it lived within her. She’d like to think the whole world had benefited from the things she’d ensorcelled. She may not have fought in the battles. She may not have gone on the rest of the quests. But she put little stars in everything she touched. And she gave them a new purpose.
And those stars turned all the battles.
Just like this Warrior.
See how he cleaves his fellow orcs, his axe lodging in their arms.
See how they fight him, give him all their attention.
How they stop fighting her friends, and give them a chance to fight without reciprocal attack.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is an illustrated story by Jerome Stueart in 33 short flash fiction chapters. The story features D&D-inspired magic-using forest animals who fight to protect their homes. This story was at first a response to a prompt list created by Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for an October Art Challenge in 2021. You can now read all 33 parts of the story, “Protect the Autumn Woods” with the search term, #AutumnWoods. “Protect the Autumn Woods!” Art Show at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1 — December 15 2024.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is adjacent to a larger show of amazing Dayton Artists, “Small, but Mighty.” Come see all of the art, any weekend, Friday 12-5, Saturday 12-5 to experience the art yourself.
Most of the orcs were suffering from partial blindness as their eyes started swelling shut from the stings. Cassie could tell because of how wildly and widely they were swinging their weapons. (Thank Aunt Pokey and Garna for some pretty damn good armor, she thought.)
Nope, not at all the orc precision they encountered near the Old Scopic Ruins even last year.
But what they didn’t have in precision right now, they more than made up for in size and numbers and strength. Every member of her group was small, and she was one of the largest of them. But she barely came to half the size of small orcs. Their hammers and axes would still wreak damage to the community even if they couldn’t see well. But given time, their eyes would swell shut, she hoped.
Cassie never prayed for advantage.
She had skill. Skill and strength were always enough for her even when the numbers were against her. Orcs, kobold, undead, demons–she’d fought hordes like this before and it was the passion of the few who could defeat the strength of an army. Numbers were not as important as skill and passion. Before she retired, Cassie was in demand by every small band of adventurers. Her sword. Her hammer. Her fearlessness. There was nothing that could deter her.
“Watch out, Thimble!” she said. Her sword struck an orc’s arm, cutting it deeply. “I told you to stay in the tree!”
“I’m trying to make the sword work! I’ve been reciting the spell, but nothing is happening! I’m a champion. A champion!” he said, bouncing on a branch. “Sword of Goddard, hear my prayer, foes surround us everywhere…”
Three orcs rushed her, and Cassie dodged them, as they couldn’t quite see where she was. Okay she was grateful for advantage of being small. Yes.
“Get back in the tree!” she yelled.
“Foes don’t surround me in the tree!!” Thimble yelled back.
Three arrows came over her shoulder, two of them finding orc flesh to pierce. Stench was getting rusty, she thought. It did no good for them to retire and then have to fight again if he wasnt going to keep his skillset high.
Of course, who knew this would happen? Cassie give your Sweet Bread a little slack, she thought. She ran her sword through an orc. “TO THE TREE!” she growled at Thimble. “Until your sword does its part, keep your head up…”
“…and hunker down,” Thimble ran back up the branch to the tree.
The orcs weren’t yet where they had planned to fight them. “We have to push them down the path!” she called out to her team.
Astrati the General was at her side in an instant with his daggers, leaping on the orcs and shoving his black furred arms, dagger deep, into their necks. “Oh how I’d like to take them all now.”
“We just need to have thirty of you, General.”
“I AM thirty of me!” he cried out.
But then he was grabbed by an orc, a hand twice his size. His chainmail would stop a knife, but not a crushing grip. The orc slammed the black cat general onto the ground as hard as he could and looked right into Cassie’s eyes as he did it.
He was not blinded by the bees. His eye told her exactly what he was planning to do. She was not afraid. She leapt at him with her sword, and he threw dirt and leaves into her face, yelling something in orc. She could barely see, but swung her sword wide, hoping to cut him. She hit nothing. She wiped her face quickly. He was nearly on top of her.
SWIP an arrow appeared on his face, right to the left of his eye and buried itself there. He winced, then stopped, then shook, and then fell.
“PRETTY GOOD!” she called out.
“You’re welcome!” Stench said.
She ran over to Astrati, lying still on the ground. He was still warm, and heart still beating. “Get them moved down the path!” She yelled. She had nothing to help Astrati with. She hoped someone else might.
She prayed for advantage. She ran towards the orcs to guide them to their doom.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is an illustrated story by Jerome Stueart in 33 short flash fiction chapters. The story features D&D-inspired magic-using forest animals who fight to protect their homes. This story was at first a response to a prompt list created by Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for an October Art Challenge in 2021. You can now read all 33 parts of the story, “Protect the Autumn Woods” with the search term, #AutumnWoods. “Protect the Autumn Woods!” Art Show at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1 — December 15 2024.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is adjacent to a larger show of amazing Dayton Artists, “Small, but Mighty.” Come see all of the art, any weekend, Friday 12-5, Saturday 12-5 to experience the art yourself.
Bear Witness 