The Silver Maple puts his wealth on display for all to
see.
“Look at me!
Look at me!
Come and see my endless silver!” he yells to passersby.
Indeed, his silver gleams in the sun like the
secret hoard of a great dragon.
And who
is to say whether it is or is not?
Maybe
it really
is the secret hoard of a
great dragon.
Perhaps the Silver Maple
was not even silver at one time . . . yes, of course, that must be it . . . I
am quite sure of it now . . .
Once upon a time there was a tiny and very ordinary
little tree. He lived among giants and
felt very small, indeed. There were the
magnificent prickly pines, gruff and imposing, rude and arrogant as pines
always are, you must know. There were the
powerful masculine oaks, towering and frightening in their majesty, protective
in their bounty and strength, for which oaks are famous, but surely you know
that as well.
 |
| The silver underside of the silver maple leaves. |
There were the whimsical weeping willows, dragging their
long tresses upon the ground. There were
the industrious birches, whose bark was made into canoes and baskets and
packs. There were the lush elms, under
whose gracious bows weary travelers would take their rest. There were the impressive chestnut trees,
filled with bounty for all the creatures of the forest. And even the pretty sugar maple girls had
their brilliant colors of scarlet and fiery orange in the Fall.
But the tiny and very ordinary tree had nothing. He was not special and he was not
beautiful. Oh, he was green, and that is
nice enough, but even the meadow can boast various shades of deep or dusky or
brilliant green. So even in that, he was
not unique. But how he longed to be a
special tree! And one day . . . he got
his chance.
On a particular day that would most certainly go down in
history, there was a terrible storm unlike any storm the trees of the forest
had ever seen. It started with rolling
thunder far off, rumbling and threatening.
Then the soaking rain began, cold and torrential. Of course, they had seen dangerous storms
before. However, this one was different
because it brought fire with the rain, and when that happened they knew
something wicked was coming.
And as quickly as form follows thought, that wickedness
did come in the form of the old dragon Sølv, a dragon that most of the trees had believed was only
a legend because it had been so long since anyone had seen him. Sølv
was as wicked as ever, and he had come for more treasure. But the world had changed in his absence, and
he could not find any gold or silver or jewels.
Those things were now the province of men and not the trees. Enraged, he decided he would take whatever
was precious to each tree, and then he would burn the forest to the ground.
So
the battle raged, and one by one the trees surrendered to Sølv because they were no match
for his strength and fiery breath. The
pines gave their precious resin, the willows their beautiful hair, the birches
their flexible bark, the elms their deep silence, and the chestnuts their
bountiful food. Even the mighty oaks,
who held out the longest, eventually bowed their heads in defeat and gave
their strength. And, of course, you know
that greedy old Sølv
took every single thing the trees had, but that was not enough. He then began his raging fires.
There
was turmoil and panic and death . . . Inside
the tiny and very ordinary little tree, who had been overlooked because he was
so drab and useless, a great willing was felt.
From the depths of his being he cried out for help while running toward Sølv in a last-ditch effort to
save the kingly oaks. His scream was a
deafening clap of thunder that even turned the head of Sølv.
Now,
at that very moment in Bilskirnir, where dwells the God Thor,
dinner was about to be served. But a most
terrible clap of thunder was heard throughout the halls. This vexed Thor grievously because thunder
was His territory and His alone. Quick
as flash, He grabbed His bone-crushing hammer, Mjöllnir,
and jumped into His chariot. He would
find the creator of the thunder, and what would happen then . . . He tightened
his fist around Mjöllnir. His two goats,
Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr,
flew through the dark night, pulling the chariot wildly behind them.
Within moments
they came to the forest, where Sølv had just turned around and found the tiny and very ordinary little
tree who had produced the tremendous thundering roar. He laughed when he saw the little tree, and
he opened his mouth wide to swallow it whole.
The tiny tree trembled and fell to his knees, while the other trees
stared in confusion and wonder.
And
Sølv
just might have eaten that little tree in one small bite, but he found Thor’s Mjöllnir in his mouth instead.
Now Thor was angry, very angry indeed, for you see, the old mighty oak
trees are His favorite trees of all.
Seeing them with their proud heads bowed enraged the old God. He swung Mjöllnir with all the strength of a God
and smashed Sølv’s
face with one quick blow. With another
blow of Mjöllnir, He smashed the dragon’s armored body
and rendered the old worm into pieces.
Well, as you probably know, it is not easy to calm a God
down once He is angry, but when the dragon’s body fell to pieces, out of it
came all of the treasure he had been hoarding.
This was why no one had ever been able to find his treasure before. He had kept it hidden inside himself all
these hundreds of years. Spilling onto
the ground now were thousands of pieces of gold, silver, and precious
jewels. Even Thor stepped back in awe at
the treasure.
Then He laughed with delight! At last, Sølv’s treasure was His! He took
all of the gold and silver and jewels and put them into His chariot. Then He looked around at all the trees and
demanded to know who among them had created the terrible clap of thunder. The trees all looked askance and bowed their
heads as Thor waived Mjöllnir menacingly.
And then a tiny sound was heard, and
through the crowd came the tiny and very ordinary little tree. He was trembling and fell upon the ground and
begged Thor for forgiveness. When Thor
saw the tiny tree, He had to laugh in spite of Himself, although He tried to
remain fierce to save face. He pulled
the tree up on to his feet and asked him to hold Mjöllnir while He went to His
chariot. Well, you can imagine the
surprise of all the other trees who stared in disbelief at this, while the tiny
tree himself thought he might die just from the sheer weight of Mjöllnir.
When
Thor came back from His chariot, He was carrying a huge amount of silver. He took Mjöllnir
back from the trembling little tree, and then He did what only a God can
do. He joined the tree with the great
heap of silver, and the tree grew tall and beautiful and was coated with
shimmering, exotic silver. The other
trees gazed in amazement, and even Thor was impressed with the little
tree. He winked at the tree and said,
“No more thunder for you, little one.”
Then He laughed and jumped into His chariot, and Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr flew off in a flash into the
night.
Well, you can just
picture the shock and disbelief of the other trees. Each of them congratulated the little tree,
and they were all more than a little embarrassed that they had never even
noticed him before. Of course, they would
certainly notice him now with all of that beautiful, shimmering, exotic silver
on his leaves. Even the bristly old pine
trees congratulated the Silver Maple, although in their hearts they were
desperately jealous. But that is how
pine trees are, as you must surely know.
And now you also
know the story of how the Silver Maple got his silver.
