The Boy in the Tree

Once upon a time there lived a boy who spent his days sitting in a tree. This boy's name was Archer. Archer watched the world from above but wasn't overly preoccupied with the goings on of everyone below. He had all he needed in the tree. Food from the fruit on its boughs, shelter from winds and storm, and best of all he was hidden from view; safe from others.

Until one day, another boy chanced along a path that led near the tree. This boy's name was Quentin. Quentin looked up into the branches and decided he was in the mood for an adventure. He would climb to the highest branch and declare himself king of all he could see.

Archer paled at the sight of the boy now climbing his tree. He realized too late the difficulty in hiding up a tree, namely, that there was no escape if someone came up after him. The only thing he could think to do, at first, was remain very still. Still as the branch beneath him. Still as the leaves growing 'round him. He would remain unseen.

But like the branch beneath him and the leaves around him, Archer shifted and moved, and the other boy came ever closer. Branch by branch the climbing boy rose higher and higher, grunting with effort and making the tree shudder and shake. "I shall be king of the world!" the boy declared.

Archer gripped a stick he kept nearby. Would this other boy want to fight him? The boy's dirty fingers appeared on the branch below Archer, followed by the boy's leg as he swung it over. At last the boy forced himself up and stopped with raised brows, staring right at Archer.

Archer lifted his stick. "Don't come any nearer. I'll swing this hard on knock off your head if you do!"

The boy glanced at the stick before returning his gaze to Archer. "That's a great stick. After I become king of the world I'll find one to match, and we can jump down and battle."

Archer lowered the stick. He glanced at the grassy floor beneath the tree as a fine sheen of sweat formed along his neck and down his back. "N-- no." He steadied his voice, lifting his chin as he added. "Not because you would win. Just because I shouldn't like to battle you. I don't do anything I don't like."

The boy frowned. "Not even to have fun?"

"I don't need to have fun."

"All right."

Archer watched as the boy continued his climb and reached the very highest branch.

"I'm the king of the world!" The boy yelled this several times in every direction. He turned and looked down at Archer, breathless and smiling. "Come, climb to the top and be king of the world with me."

Archer noticed the way the branches bent under the boy's weight. He saw how anyone might see the boy as he stuck his head out of the top of the tree. He saw how he might not be strong enough to reach the highest branches, and then the boy would think him weak. "N-- no," Archer said. He cleared his throat and added more forcefully. "Not because I can't do it. Just because I shouldn't like to climb. I don't do anything I don't like."

The boy frowned. "Not even to be king of the world?"

"I don't need to be king."

"All right."

Archer watched as the boy swung down the branches and jumped onto the grass below.

"I'm going to journey to that mountain and reach the top," the boy said. He turned and looked up at Archer, ambition and passion smoldering in his eyes. "Come, be my companion and reach the top of the mountain with me."

Archer noticed the long path that led through dark woods. He saw how very far the mountain was, how high. He thought about goblins and giants, ogres and trolls and any number of wild beasts they might meet along the way. "N-- no," Archer said. "Not because I wouldn't make it. Just because I shouldn't like to journey. I don't do anything I don't like."

The boy frowned. "Not even to be my friend?"

"I don't need a friend."

Quentin set his sights away from the boy in the tree. "All right."

Safe in his tree, Archer watched the boy start down the path to the mountain. He wondered if the boy would make it to the top. He told himself he didn't care.