The Tuns
As my beetle rounded a mossy pebble, all five hamlets became visible. Finally a soft bed for the night!
On protruding roots stood Siltun and Waytun and higher up the other villages, Lettun, Stultun and Confustun (don’t ask), clung to outcrops of bark. These villages together were known as “The Tuns”.
I would visit all of them, though the prospect of the climb did not hold any appeal after my three days of travel.
Tomorrow would be different, maybe.
Once again I was struck by peoples’ inventiveness in choosing where to live, for better or worse. Why did so many places have to be so vertical?
I started hearing the music as I approached the towering tree. Tunnies have always been renowned musicians, their bards welcomed wherever they wandered.
The melodies came down from different parts of the villages, but remained harmonious. Notes drifted to the forest floor, never ending nor repeating, somewhat uplifting my spirits.
The morning sun was bright and nearly overhead, close to blinding as I looked up. A tunnel came into view around a root, lit up by small mushrooms, a gentle slope rising into the bark. I knew these tunnels had been carved over centuries and formed a labyrinth through the bark, linking the villages.
My first halt would be the “Prancing Scarab”, recommended to me in the previous village. Its owner supposedly one of the region’s best cooks, and known for his home-brewed moss beer.
This I looked forward to.
-Excerpt from Thadeus Ete’s “Why did I leave home? Chronicles of a reluctant traveler”