Five: Singing Trees and a Lakeful of Surprises.

“We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown...”
--T.S. Eliot


The invitation, it happened, was from Camellia Buttersfirth (scientist extraordinaire) and, needless to say, I was very excited to meet her. But the appointment was not until the following day, so I consulted Willoughby as to how we should spend the one at hand.

He reminded me that I ought to spend a good deal of time working--I had yet to produce any kind of written masterpiece--and then suggested we go swimming. This last suggestion was clearly his preference, and I knew it because, as excited as he tried to be about my writing, the thought of swimming not only got him wagging his tail with zeal, but indeed, wagging his whole body.

So I easily convinced him that we should go swimming first.

The morning was warm as we emerged from our tree, the air sweet, the sky clear, and the lake was glistening friendly. We laid down our towels on the rocky beach and waded in. At first quite cold, the water seemed to warm the further from the banks we got. So we went further out, and further out. And further out.

Soon, we were hundreds of feet from the bank, but the water was still only waist-deep.

“Look Willoughby!” I said “The water is STILL only up to my wai....” and that is where my sentence was cut off because, as I had turned back to look at him, the shallow lake-bottom had come to an abrupt end and, to my alarm, I found that I was being sucked at a swift rate deep into the lake.

Now: this is not a horror story, so I will tell you in advance that there are no lake monsters (at least no un-friendly lake monsters) and I am not about to be eaten, drowned or kidnapped. Having set your mind at ease, I must admit that I was quite perturbed in the heat of the moment, since no narrator was there to reassure me of these facts.

Mild panic aside, there are a few things that I noticed: firstly, that the water, however deep I fell, remained perfectly clear. Secondly, that I didn’t seem to need to breathe. And thirdly, that Willoughby was being sucked down also, and seemed perfectly enthralled with the situation.

Soon, we had reached the bottom of the lake, which seemed to have its own gravity, since both of us were able to walk upon its sandy surface. It was not nearly as dark as I would’ve imagined a lake bottom to be, and in the near distance I could discern what looked like a huge sand-castle. Of course, Willoughby and I immediately set out towards it; the walk was slow going, but the scenery fantastic.

It looked as though we were standing on an actual road. To either side of it were far-reaching sea-weed forests that waved in aquatic hues of brown, yellow, blue, purple, red and green. As we approached the castle, the forests receded into what I can only describe as intricate sea-weed gardens, of the Versailles variety, that stretched out around the castle in labyrinths of symmetrical designs.

Awed as we were by these sights, there were also the myriads of mer-people and sea-horses frolicking inside of, outside of and straight through the castle, audibly singing, laughing and talking. Yes, yes, I know: you thought they didn’t exist. But they do. People just never look for them in the right places. Mer-people, first of all, much prefer fresh water and second of all (obviously) prefer to go undiscovered more often than not.

In addition to fish and sea-horses were also the lake monsters that I (sort of) mentioned. They were swimming about with the rest, playing and laughing as heartily as anybody.

It was when we reached the edge of the gardens that we were spotted: a shapely, red-haired mermaid called loudly “Look, everyone! Visitors!!” As if the party had come to an abrupt halt, everyone turned on their heel...fin, rather...and swam in our direction.

Willoughby and I, eyes wide, smiled sheepishly as a they raced towards us in a herd and, having nowhere to go once they got there, swam around us in a tornado of fins, scales and toothy smiles.

The red-haired one, along with a mer-man friend of hers got within earshot and exuberantly fired off questions at us at such a rate that we could only look at each other and stammer “well...yes...you see...yes...in fact...” in between.

We ascertained that, although all of the hermits were invited to visit the castle as much as they pleased, few ever did. We ventured a guess that perhaps it was because mer-people are a bit too...um...chatty to most hermits’ tastes (imagine poor Calvin bombarded with so many questions; He would implode!)

She finally got around to introducing herself--Veronica--and introduced everyone in the mer-tornado that continued to swirl and laugh around us.

“This is Harold. That’s Sherry. That’s Emily, and Roger, and Carolyn, and Charlotte, and, and, and...” Willoughby and I felt on the point of implosion ourselves.

Be forewarned: Mer-people are very, very friendly!

Anyway. We finally arrived at the castle itself and were shown around it’s many chambers--it was just like a castle one might find inside a fish-tank, but much bigger (obviously). The rooms were decorated with various themes: one a music room, one a kitchen, many bedrooms. The lounge looked relatively unused.

Finally, Veronica showed us to a chamber at the very bottom of the castle where, swimming through an underground passage, we re-emerged (sopping wet) into the lobby of an underground, air-filled grotto. Being a mermaid, when we climbed out of the pool that had brought us there, she bade us farewell and told us that if we continued down that passage, there would be somebody who would be happy to see us.

Now, I’m sure this whole time, one question has really been bothering you: HOW could Willoughby and I have been not breathing this whole time? Well, I was wondering myself, and the person we met at the end of the passage was just the person to explain it...

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