#dreaming

The fellow turns out "Please, good trees! Bring out your dead Brethren, and if any of you feel too old to carry on, you too may leap into the pulper! Please, kindly tell me what kind of book you'd like to be turned into! Those of you that remember me know I gave your fathers and their fathers before them fine choices! Romance, Fantasy, Thrillers, and Dramas! Comedies, Tragedies! And more! Perhaps you prefer to be non fiction, a teacher of beasteries as the mortal world will know it? Or histories? WHich I guess would make you history-trees! Ha.. ah sorry that one never gets old! Bring out your dead! Let them be read!"

and a great muttering stirs i nthe leaves ...

'our dead will be read?"

"our dead will be read' another says

'it's the bookjack!' one older tree, a grandmotherly voice, totters out slow.. somehow walking

She drags a log as she does.

Earl's eyes widen

"Ohhhh..."

"This is my husband, former... and please, take me with him" The old tree says "I know I am still alive, but not for long."

"Of course, dear lady," The bookjack says "Into the pulper, and together I shall make many copies of romance for you both"

"oh he would love that..." The old tree says.. as the Book jack helps lower her husband into the pulper... and it is done as if it were a cremation rite!

In she goes as well..glamour can be felt... some sort of fuddle to dim the pain if any...

Earl breaks into a goofy grin

Zara watches - both fascinated and respectful

The pulper itself is not so noisy, as pulpers go... and processed pulp comes out in bags that read 'romance', others come up

"This was Vern, the meanest pine ever...used to like dropping things on strangers..." A willow explains

"Sounds like he'd love bein a horror book" the bookjack says and into the machine vern goes

"I might be envious..."

Earl looks at her, then asks the bookjack "Do you pick what authors or the like?"

"Oh,I have a feel for knowing which ones are better suited to Poe, which ones are suited to King... etc... but I let them tend to pick the genre or if they can't , their friends suggest it" The bookjock says "Using horror as just one thing" he smiles and helps a decayed oak into the pulper "This fellow is clearly adventure"

"I could hardly think of a better fate for a corpus..."

"Oh, there's more to it than that, hardly be fair of me to just take the fallen without given anything back... when those books fade, depending on how much glamour flowed into them thanks to the dreamers they inspire, they return to the dreaming as acorns or the like..sometimes as such powerful dreams they're even more magical. "Bookjack smiles as one by one trees are pulped and collected into bags "This my calling. There is no greater purpose for a tree to my thinking then to let it become a carrier of stories, and then, it returns a tree again... I love the giving tree as a short story, but I always thought the boy should give back mm?"

"Oh, yes. That ungrateful little boy..."

"Yes, well, don't be too hard. Sometimes the best folks can grow to be rather foolish" A pause tyhen he says "you're a librarian. I can tell. An honor" the man bows

"You can tell?"

"Of course,those who love books are better traveled than those who have gone a thousand miles and never opened a single page. We carry some of where we've been, what we've seen with us. You are a far traveler enough to make an eshu blush, and I can feel the bags of pulp almost hoping they will one day be books under your care."

"I would be honored!" She effuses!

Earl looks really tempted to remind her that the library is only so big. But clamps down.

"If they were to come into my care, they would be well tended. My Library hosts a bookwyrm, you see..."

"Oooo you are blessed, "the man says "Bookwyrms are very fussy about who they stay with at times." Bookjack says "If I might offer you a book to offer to add to the bookwyrm's hoard?"

"Bronte would love it. She is a glutton."

"A moment" he shuffles up front of the cart "Where is... oh here they are... seems wrong only to give one.. here" three books.... Age of Fire "Three books about dragons"

How good or bad they are to read is yet to be seen, but they have that new book smell that with love and care will one day be that old book smell

"Oh, sir! My thanks, many thanks, and thanks on Bronte's behalf!" She hugs the books to her scrawny chest.

"Oh it's quite all right" he shooes some trees back "No no... you're too healthy, too young, and there's a lot of sun and wind to enjoy... go live till you've got some healthy rot into you and I'll return."

The collection and ceremony is done, the Bookjack bows to the trees "See you in another century or so. More forests to visit"

"Fair fortune to you, Bookjack!"

"And to you, librarian" ANd the ox starts up again

Earl realizes "Oh wait.. um sir, do you know where the Islands of the Seasons can be found in the deeper dreaming? I Know few would remember..."

"Oh I don't go into THOSE woods" He says slowing to answer "But look for the coiled canyon...that's a winding way but it will get you closer than most I hear"

"Thank you" Earl says

And off the bookjack goes again

Earl looks at her "The coiled Canyon. Sounds promising" Wryly

"Mmm. Maybe there shall be snakes..."

"I hope it's not Balor" He wrinkles his nose and his hand goes to his sword hilt.

"Oh, ours would be jealous. Though she is so smug about those gills..."

"no kidding... and you've been an ilfuence on her.. she's stalking neglected bathtubs scaring the hell out of folks"

A raspy giggle.

"I did not think Oswald could run that fast" He tries for a disapproving look at her giggle, but can't manage it and instead must bite down on a chuckle

"I am glad for those three."