The Tree

The Tree
The disheveled old man sits behind the desk. When you walk in you can't see him, he's hoarded almost every book you think might exist in Iheya. He's not listed among the Master Scholars at the University, but they refer to him in hushed tones, as if speaking his name will either summon him, or he'll fall over dead.
The shack is small. I mean, it's a house for him, couple large rooms including a kitchen on one side. But his 'work room' is piled high. There's a desk under there somewhere, but books are stacked haphazardly from the floor to looming over the desk.
"In here," his high raspy voice calls, "just leave the food in the kitchen, if its Toni there’s a note for you in the usual place, if its the post you know where it goes."
"No Sir, I'm from the university," you were told to announce after he speaks. "I'm here to ask about the tree."
Nobody would talk about the tree at the Uni. Voices would drop to a whisper when you asked, much like when they would talk about the old man. You stumbled across a reference to a great tree and a few lines then the next page was torn out. Actually, many of the next pages. On the next whole page that was there, it said "and that's how they save the Island of Iheya. The End."
The thesis isn't going to write itself, so you figured you'd start with the tree, maybe that could be a good anchor for figuring out what happened on Iheya that led to the very vaguely mentioned happy ending. After a few weeks of twists and turns, dead ends and professors who would be obtuse or answer questions with questions, wane philosophically about 'just what is a tree' and such nonsense. Even the Master Biological had nothing to contribute, and he had one of every tree leaf, evergreen needle, cone, flower, seed, bark.... every conceivable part of trees from all of the Islands in his lab. He had nothing to say about this tree.
A fuzzy grey haired old man stands up from a behind a pile of books, off to one side, not centered like you would expect, closer to the window. Bright sharp eyes look at you over a sharp nose and thin cheekbones. His skin looks paper thin and seems stretched tightly over the features of his face. Ears stick out like wings on either side, the left is missing the upper one third and an white scar goes across the side of his head in line with the missing portion.
"Tree?" he says lightly. You anticipate some diversionary tactic, questions for answers again like at the Uni.
"Did you pack a lunch?" he asks. "It's a short walk from here. you probably saw it and didn't realize. did you come form the south port?"
"Yes sir, on the ferry."
"Ah, well, lets get moving so you can head back and make this a day trip instead of an overnight...we're you staying overnight? I don't have extra food..." As he says this he's already moving past you towards what looks like a kitchen, which in contrast to the other room is a barren space with a low table on top of tatami. Only a empty pitcher sits on the table, the floor is perfectly clean, and the kitchen almost shines its so immaculately clean.
He opens the ice box "Yeah, no, no. Nothing in there, couple of eggs... wonder where Ueyoru is..." he seems to say to himself.
He turns and looks at you expectantly, "Ready? Let's go," he states before you can answer.
You find yourself following this little old man who is only tall enough to be at your mid chest but who appears to be able to walk like a track star, his strides long and deliberate, leading the way for you to follow. You have to pick up your pace once or twice to keep up, there's no way he's as old as everyone said. 120? 130?
~~~~~~
A great tree sits on top of a hill. The hill is not like you think though. Imagine a small hill. Not a mound though. Or, ...maybe a 'rise' would be more like it, and not even high enough to really notice. A knob then? Because it’s not even really a hummock... Perhaps it’s only a rise because of the tree, the ground 'rising' up around the base of the tree because it’s so big, the roots expanding out beneath it into the ground, maybe deep down, into and through the whole island...
But then, the tree isn't that 'big' either. I mean, it’s big, but not like sequoia big. Tall it's not. There's so much wind about. When you look at this tree, you see power. It has a big meaty trunk, but has been kept short...not tall...low to the ground...yes that's a good description. A lowly tree.... wait, that doesn't sound right, although some people think, it's just a tree, what harm can come from carving mine and my beloveds initials within a heart, or taking a branch for display... Its low because of the hundreds of days of sea wind. Gentle breezes, gale forces, typhoons even. Hundreds of winds, hundreds of thousands of rains, thousands of thousands of days of sky.
This tree.
It has power.
But no one knows how to harness it, but that's not really anything you would do anyway. I mean, it's a tree.
Most people would think to harness it by building a house from it, or something stupid like a table, but that's just being an asshat. 'I honored this living thing by killing it, destroying its true form and making something with it that I like.'
You can't summon the power of a tree. It's not like a great beast whose blood you could drink to take its power. Or a stone from a great mountain that you would chip into the sharpest of weapons to slay creatures whose hides are so hard no known metal can penetrate. Or the purest of metal ore, shaped and honed to a token, necklace, weapon, where you could cast magic into it to make it cut like a breath.
No.
This tree is power with wisdom.
It has… seen things.
From the mother bird feeding her young, watching them to grow and fly away, to return generation after generation. It has seen the coming of the crows that then eat the last batch of eggs, no more generations to come. It has seen the silkworm spin its nest; the wasp makes its paper.
It has bloomed. It has grown. It has become sick and healthy, it has become young, adolescent, old and young again when the earth shifts. When the smoke spread and it feared for its life, the nourishing rain came to quench it and keep it alive. When the men came with axes, the great wolf sleeping under it appeared, and they ran in fear. When the men with weapons came to fight others and they used it for shelter, speaking strange tongues, it listened.
After all it knows the sound of the sun, of the rain and sky. It knows the sound of the moon rising and the song of its every phase. It's heard stars collapse from its tiny hill. It's watched meteors descend from the sky and crash into the horizon. It has seen the constellations move across the night, changing shape and name with time. It remembers when the red star was blue and green, just like here. It saw the fire consume it and feared it would come here.
It has seen the young lovers lay beneath it, breathless and passionate, their own limbs twisting and bending. It has seen the next human born, protected by its own limbs from the harsh heat of summer.
But still, it's a tree.
Gentle men came and have helped it now. It has been here so long, some of its branches so long and heavy the tree thought it would have to break them and let them fall. But these gentle men came and made posts to hold the trees arms. The tree grew more then, not so weary from its long arms but now stronger, rejuvenated that someone would care for it like it has so many others.
Now, fires burn again nearby. The sky roils with clouds of smoke, the air smells of sulfur, lightning streaks across the clouds.
It can feel it, darkness is here. Tongues that should not be heard are nearby. Tongues that belong elsewhere, underground, in another time, another plane.
Not here.
They don't belong.
Something happened and the tree knows what it was. Spirits once friends and companions, devoted to one another have been separated by mischief or evil deed. Now one spirit despairs so deeply, it cannot see what it does, what it has done. It still weeps and shakes.
The tree wishes it could hold her, wrap its boughs around her shoulders and let her know it's going to be okay despite the depth of despair and the bottomless longing the spirit feels to be together again with their companion. The tree wants her to know it's here for them, for her, and will protect them and those who come to provide aid.
It's a strong tree.
Hundreds of winds, hundreds of thousands of rains, thousands of thousands of suns and moons. It awaits its purpose, knowingly.
~~~~~~
"And that's the story of how I caught the biggest tuna recorded around the Island," the old man's voice says, cutting through the fog of your mind.
You stagger a little in the shade, tripping over one of the great roots on the ground, exposed. You catch yourself on a low limb in front of you. Did you catch yourself?
The old man siting nearby has spread out a piece of fabric and has begun setting out his lunch.
"Picnic?"

Type

Natural Wonder