*VOICEOVER*
In the last episode… After rescuing (and accommodating) Crystella Sweetlake, Roger Longhorn started to introduce his young protege to the life of a park ranger, little realising that she was using her feminine wiles to win more than just a job. Well, I say ‘little realising’… But I’m not entirely convinced. Roger’s fiancee, the indomitable Bertha Rock, is justifiably suspicious of Crystella’s intentions.
When we left them last time, Crystella was leaving the log cabin for an evening constitutional around the glade, so sit back and prepare for the gripping (ish) conclusion of ‘Love… On… The… Rockies……’
* * * * * *
So off Crystella strolled, down by the serene pool, over the gently babbling brook and through into the depths of the forest, leaving the two men back at the hut discussing the efficiency of pulley systems in different gravitational circumstances.
The sun was slowly sinking behind the mighty mountain tops, cleaving fiery crimson swords through the evening air, beams of light filtering on to the path where Crystella now walked. Her radiant hair shone enticingly in the fading warmth of the sun. Small creatures scuttled furtively amongst the trunks of the trees before her, some pausing for a moment to chew on a nut or berry, others too preoccupied, weaving their intricate paths through the roots and undergrowth of the forest floor. Some of the little beasts saw Crystella and froze before her, staring inquisitively with glassy, frightened eyes before gathering their wits and springing away into some shrub or hollow to observe her from a safer vantage point.
As she walked on, Crystella became aware of someone, or something following her. Unnerved, she glanced behind her but could see nothing. Then a movement up in the canopy of trees caught her eye. A fluffy squirrel was watching her attentively from a branch above. She stopped walking, and the squirrel nimbly ran down the tree and sat expectantly in front of her.
“Hello little feller!” Said Crystella, squatting down before the animal. It regarded her, head on one side, and appeared to be thinking.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if you could speak?” Joked Crystella smiling at it. “Can you speak, little feller?”
The squirrel paused a moment.
“No!” It replied, then bounded back into the tree tops before disappearing from view.
“Ah well, what a pity,” thought Crystella, and straightening up, she continued on her way.
Crisp pine needles made a crackling carpet beneath Crystella’s petite feet. Further up the path ahead of her, she could hear what sounded like a cascading waterfall and decided she would have time to investigate before dusk threw its blanket across the woods.
Fortune really was smiling on Crystella this fine evening. Arriving at the waterfall, she had unwittingly stumbled upon the salmons’ annual waterfall leaping competition. The glittering fish queued patiently in the pool at the foot of the falls waiting to take their turn. An elderly fish wallowed in a natural pool which had been carved out of the rock half way up the wall of water, measuring the attempts of the younger, more athletic fish.
Crystella found a large slab of stone with a deep curved base to sit and watch the spectacle. One particularly sporty aquatic beast allowed herself a considerable swim up, and on reaching the take-off point she gave her tail an almighty flip and shot skyward, pearls of water scattering behind her. Upon contact with the surface of the falls, she heroically flicked her tail once more and proceeded further up the torrent. Eventually, her energy sapped, she tumbled back down to the pool below, to be greeted by congratulatory bubbling noises from her kin as the senior fish registered hers as the highest leap of the evening.
As Crystella sat spellbound by this stunning spectacle, a great shadow fell across her. Did night time arrive so quickly in The Rockies? The shadow grew until the whole waterfall was soon in darkness. With an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she turned around slowly.
“What are you doing here?” Bellowed the vast, intimidating Bess, staring down menacingly upon the frail figure of Crystella. “This is my rock you’re sitting on!”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” replied Crystella fearfully. She slipped quickly from her seat and backed away from Bess.
“Never, ever, come here again,” commanded Bess menacingly, her dark eyes boring into the young trainee ranger. “Or I shall have to put my foot down!”
Crystella tried to picture the armageddon that would result from Bess, the biggest, bravest ranger of them all, putting her foot down and saw images of the earth folding in on itself, tower blocks toppling into the streets and people falling into rapidly expanding cracks, tumbling down to the flaming furnaces at the earth’s core.
“I won’t, I promise.” Whispered Crystella, trembling as she continued stepping away from her hulking adversary.
“And,” Bess added, drawing herself up to her full height so she appeared to be rubbing shoulders with the tops of the trees. “Keep your filthy little paws off my Roger, or I’ll break every bone in your scrawny body… Slowly!”
This was too much for Crystella. She turned and fled through the forest back toward the log cabin, tears streaming down her smooth, rosy cheeks. As she ran on, she disturbed the squirrel she had seen earlier, reclining on a log reading a magazine.
As she stumbled across the rickety bridge in front of the cabin, Roger, the rugged (yet clean shaven) ranger of The Rockies burst from the door, encircled her in his powerful manly arms and demanded to know what was wrong.
“It… It… It was… Bertha… She..” Crystella sobbed pitifully, her heaving bosom held tight against Roger’s chest.
“What?” He said, holding her slightly away from him so he could see her tear-laden eyes. “What did she do?”
“She… She… Threatened to kill me!” Cried Crystella, and pressed herself back against Roger’s comfortingly muscly physique. She trembled like a frightened bird in his strong embrace.
“What? Why would she do such a thing?” He asked, trying to soothe her by stroking her hair as she held onto him tightly.
“Because… Because I was sitting on her rock by the waterfall…” She answered, her voice muffled by Roger’s firm pectorals.
“She may be a fine ranger,” sighed Roger, shaking his head sadly. “But lately she’s developed such a terrible temper. I don’t know how I put up with her at times.”
“Neither do I…” Crystella whispered into Roger’s chest and pressed herself against him a little more firmly.
* * *
Crystella was awoken the following morning by gay birdsong. Rising from the bed she looked round the cabin for Roger, who had been sleeping on the bearskin chair during her stay, ever the gentleman, but he was nowhere to be seen. From somewhere outside the cabin she heard a splashing sound and wondered if something was disturbing the neighbourhood fish.
Slipping into her clothes, she opened the door a little and peered out cautiously in case there was a bear in the glade. As she located the source of the splashing noises, her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed as she saw Roger, the rugged (yet clean shaven) ranger of The Rockies swimming in the pool, completely naked! He executed a perfect front crawl across the water; Crystella was impressed. He then followed that with a stylish breast stroke; Crystella was very impressed. Next, he performed an athletic butterfly stroke; Crystella was thoroughly impressed. He continued with a sleekly graceful back stroke; Crystella was…
All the while she remained concealed behind the door. As she gazed at his long, effortless strokes an urge welled within her to strip her clothes away and join Roger in the placid, invigorating water, to let her youthful form slide over his, separated only by a molecule-thin film of liquid, to succumb to the gentle ripples of the pool’s surface as they sensuously caressed her smooth, responsive skin, to dive deep down into the subterranean netherworld and lose herself in her imagination, to witness Roger cutting through the waters like a sleek, finely crafted frigate where she would be the port into which he would dock.
But Bertha’s words still burned in her mind and she stayed where she was.
* * *
The weeks passed, and Crystella’s training continued. She avoided Bess, the biggest, boldest ranger of them all if possible, yet heeded her warnings and held her emotions in check whenever Roger aroused her ardour. She suspected that Roger had spoken to Bertha about the waterfall incident, as her bulky rival for Roger’s affections glared at her with more distaste than ever whenever their paths did cross.
The summer vacation was drawing near, a time when the park would be thronging with tourists and the rangers would be at their busiest. This also meant that ‘The Rangers’ Bi-Annual Celebration’ was imminent, as it occurred just prior to the summer vacation and again before christmas. Although the rangers were all bubbling with anticipation at the thought of this event, they still carried out their duties diligently to prepare the park for the inevitable influx of holiday makers.
By this time, and a little surprisingly, Crystella was building up a considerable reputation as a fine, hard working ranger despite her relatively brief period of training. She had channeled all her energies into learning the role in an attempt to impress Roger. However, it seemed that whatever Crystella did, Bess was on the scene to criticise and hurl derogatory comments at the young girl’s efforts. All the other rangers noticed this and were somewhat alarmed by this change in the huge and usually loveable personality, including Roger. He became increasingly distressed by Bess’s violent outbursts, which often resulted in someone taking a trip to the medical rooms, and her bitter resentment of his fastidious model student.
“Something will have to be done to put a stop to this.” Roger confided to Algis one day in the forest after Bess had ‘accidentally’ started a landslide just above where Crystella had been working to repair a path, narrowly missing her.
“Well’ it’s up to you how to proceed in this situation,” replied Algis with his trademark wisdom. “After all, you are the hero of this story.”
‘True.” Muttered Roger, and feeling more rugged (yet clean shaven) than he ever had before, resolved that something decisive would need to be done. Nearby, a bullet whistled inches from Crystella’s head while Bertha was attempting to repair a faulty rifle in some bushes.
* * *
So eventually, the big day arrived. It was Saturday, and the summer vacation started on Monday, when the park would become accessible to the general public. All through the mountains, the rangers buzzed with anticipation, keenly looking forward to the evening’s festivities.
On such occasions, all the female rangers liked to dress up in their best silk and finery and appear ladylike (for a change!) Crystella realised that tonight was her opportunity to really steal the show. Without being cruel, she knew that all the other female rangers varied between fairly plain and a bit ugly (and Bertha), and even though she was now quite adept at most of the rangerly arts, she had maintained her graceful charm.
As morning passed into afternoon, as it has a habit of doing, all the rangers returned to their cabins to prepare for the big night while Algis and Bertha took an articulated lorry to the nearest liqour store to ship in the alcohol for the event.
In one familiar log cabin, in a familiar glade, Crystella stood ironing a smart, grey suit which Roger would be wearing later. She herself had spent the past week hidden away every evening, sewing her gown for the celebration, a gown which Roger was yet to see.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Said Roger through a thick cloud of pipe smoke whilst polishing his best boots.
“Oh, I’m sure I will!” Enthused Crystella, suggestively swaying her hips as she ran the iron rhythmically over Roger’s crisp white shirt. She had decided that tonight was the night that she would go all out to win Roger’s heart, and she was going to use all the tricks in her armoury to get him. She had already applied her make-up, subtle yet highlighting her every feature, making her beauty even more splendid than it usually was. Her hair was ready to be styled, then the gown would complete the ensemble.
Roger, the rugged (yet clean shaven) ranger of The Rockies stood outside the log cabin in his best dress uniform watching the sun slowly descend over the mountain tops. He turned as he heard the door to the cabin swing open, and almost staggered back as Crystella appeared from within. Her pale blue satin gown seemed like liquid as it shimmered and clung to her curves. Her rich auburn hair tumbled across her bare milky shoulders, framing her exquisite features.
“The view’s magnificent tonight.” She observed, stepping toward Roger and linking her arm with his as she looked up to where the first hints of the stars were blossoming in the darkening firmament above.
“It certainly is…” Agreed Roger, though his attention was focused more on the observer than the observation.
He escorted her across the bridge to where the Range Rover was waiting, and together they headed off to ‘The Rangers’ Bi-Annual Celebration’.
* * *
Bodies moved around in the dusk as the car park by the lodge slowly began to fill. The Range Rover of Roger, the rugged (yet clean shaven) ranger of The Rockies pulled into an empty space, and Roger slipped out of his seat before rounding the vehicle to chivalrously assist Crystella out onto the car park. Walking toward the bright lights and bustle that emanated from the lodge, they both heard a deep mechanical rumbling coming from further down the valley. Suddenly, the olive green half-track belonging to Bess swung into view, ploughing up the dirt track and skidding into the area between the car park and the main building. With every turn of its caterpillar tracks, the cumbersome vehicle lumbered toward Crystella as she was caught in the bright glare of its headlights. With seconds to spare, Roger interpreted the situation and briskly pulled Crystella to one side. The half-track skidded to a stop at the cliff’s edge, sending a cascade of boulders plummeting to the valley floor below.
“Huh! I’ll have to get those brakes fixed.” Muttered Bess, nonchalantly climbing out of her vehicle and staring at the tracks meaningfully, before casting a disparaging glare at Crystella’s outfit. “Hussy!” She added under her breath.
Roger and Crystella turned and headed into the lodge arm in arm, closely followed by Bertha, who continued to mutter to herself and stare menacingly at the back of her young rival’s head.
The Rangers’ Lodge was a veritable hive of activity. Balloons and paper chains decked the walls and roof beams, and the main hall lurched with lively social intercourse. All and sundry raised a mighty cheer as Roger, who was seen as the ‘ideal’ ranger appeared at the threshold. This was followed by appreciative gasps as the stunning vision of Crystella stepped up beside him and curtsied politely to the assembly.
With calls for the crowd to quiet down, Algis made his way up to the microphone on the rostrum to deliver his introductory speech. He recounted a series of amusing anecdotes from his life in the mountains (not so amusing if you had heard them countless times before), then lectured upon the morals and values of the ranger within the greater society. Eventually, and with much aplomb, he arrived at the key moment of the opening ceremony; the opening of the ceremonial can of corned beef. A hush fell over the crowd as Algis solemnly wielded the ancient can opener before him. The razor sharp tip plunged into the metal casing of the meat and slowly began to make its incision around the outer edge. As every second passed the beef within became more exposed. Finally the corned beef was revealed for all to see. Algis raised the tin high over his head, the metal exterior reflecting the light all around the hall.
A wild cheer broke through the gathering and promptly the frivolities began. Drinks were obtained and a medley of disco classics pumped out of the speakers, quickly getting everyone onto the dance floor.
A short time later, the first entertainment of the evening took place. It was a comedy and magic routine from Doctor Forrest, who amused all with his jokes while impressing them with a range of conjuring tricks with onions. The spindly tree-medic performed a variety of remarkable magical feats with onions interspersed with numerous humorous quips. Everyone in the crowd was left holding their sides with laughter and before long there wasn’t a dry eye in the house (think about that one for a moment…)
After the hilarity, the music was turned up again and once more the dance floor was filled with eager couples. Many a drink slipped down many a gullet, and many a toe stood on many a toe, but the spirits remained high and soon the merriment was reaching fever pitch. Crystella never left Roger’s side for a moment as they danced and pirouetted through the throng of rangers, all the time watched by the grim stare of Bertha who lurked near the beer table nursing a keg of strong ale.
It was soon time for the next event of the evening, the mens’ competitions. The first round of the event was the pickle eating contest. Eight eager rangers stood poised over a table containing eight jars of pickles. On a signal from Algis, they each broke into their jars and started to devour the pickles at breakneck speed. Members of the crowd egged them on until at last a small stocky ranger named Wilbur triumphantly finished his jar before draining the vinegar that remained.
The next competition was a simple beer drinking race. The crowds parted and a dozen rangers took to the centre of the floor, each with twelve cans of lager. The first to finish all twelve would be victorious.
Moments before Roger and Crystella moved to the side of the arena where they had placed their drinks on a folding table, a shadowy figure could be seen dropping something into one of the glasses. Already a little worse for wear, Roger accidentally plucked Crystella’s drink from the table and drained it in one go. Slurring slightly, he apologised and offered her his own drink, which she politely declined, preferring a delicate chilled white wine to the rather warm and thick brew which seemed to be the drink of choice amongst the rangers. She went to the bar to get a fresh glass just as a particularly burly ranger named Derwood was crowned winner of the drinking race.
The final event of the mens’ competition was the ‘Elk Duel’, in which the two most masculine and brave rangers strapped elk’s antlers onto their heads and charged each other across the hall until one of them was declared the winner. Naturally, Roger was competing in this event, and he took his place on one side of the room, swaying slightly as he attempted to attach the antler-helmet onto his head. Opposing him was Gordon Redwood, one of the older rangers, but a big man with a huge barrel chest and great, thick arms.
Returning to her vantage point with a fresh glass, Crystella cheered for her hero unaware that Bertha loomed behind her with a dark look in her eyes.
The crowds parted, and the two combatants stared at each other with intent. Roger however was struggling to stare with intent as the room started to spin around him whilst Gordon bellowed and snorted comically on the opposite side of the hall.
While the audience’s attention was drawn to the imminent duel, a huge, gnarled hand slipped round the side of Crystella’s head and clamped over her mouth. Before she could react, she was dragged bodily out of the main hall and into one of the side rooms.
Unaware of the drama unfolding to one side of him, Roger prepared to launch himself across the battleground in the direction of Gordon. On Algis’ command, the two horned warriors thundered toward each other. As Roger surged forward, he couldn’t decide which of the three Gordon’s ahead of him to attack. Unfortunately he chose the wrong one, and hurtled past a stunned Gordon before smashing into the wall and knocking a hole clean through into Doctor Forrest’s surgery.
“Phew! That’s sobered me up!” Exclaimed Roger shaking bits of plaster and masonry from his antlers. Then he looked up to see an astonished Bertha holding a terrified Crystella staring at him aghast through the hole in the wall.
“And not a moment too soon.” He added angrily, reaching through the gaping hole and plucking Crystella from Bertha’s grasp.
A hush fell over the attendant rangers and they parted deferentially as Roger gently lead the still trembling Crystella by the hand up onto the rostrum before the microphone. Heads turned back and forth from the heroic ranger and his dainty trainee to the stunned looking figure of Bertha, framed in the ragged hole of the surgery wall.
Roger, the rugged (yet clean shaven) ranger of The Rockies tapped the microphone and cleared his throat before addressing the expectant crowd.
“Friends, colleagues,” he began, his eyes moving over the gathered rangers in the hall. Not a murmur could be heard from any present. “Like the passing of the seasons, like the gradual erosion of a boulder in a mountain stream, like the slow growth of a sapling into a majestic tree, so I’ve become aware of the way in which the human heart can change over time. Things which we once thought were permanent are not so. They evolve. Our hearts and minds adapt and grow, just as this very park evolves, adapts and grows to the heartbeat of nature all about us.”
Roger lifted his arms wide to illustrate his point, holding the audience’s attention like the conductor of an orchestra.
“Over the past two months, I feel there has been a season of change within me,” he continued, casting a significant look toward the shadowy figure lurking in the hole in the wall. “And other people change too. Permanence is just an illusion.
“My heart, I now realise, has been hibernating through a season of winter, cold and sluggish. Then something changed.” With this, he turned to look down into Crystella’s eyes, taking her hand gently in his. “Springtime arrived. Not only in this park that we all love, but in my life too. Warmth, new life, hope, and growth… A time for optimism and looking to the future. I feel now that my own personal winter has come to an end, the dark nights are over, and the streams have thawed. With this in mind, I would like to make an announcement.”
Every eye, every ear was focused on Roger’s words. Composing himself before the microphone he went on solemnly.
“As you know, I am engaged to be married to Bess… However, I have seen a side to her that I was previously unaware of, and with this in mind, I am breaking off our engagement as of this moment.”
A howl like a banshee broke through the hall, a deep, frightening wail that rocked the ancient building to its foundations. Then, like an enraged bull, Bertha smashed through what was left of Doctor Forrest’s wall and ran straight through the crowd, knocking startled rangers in all directions like skittles before ramming the huge main doors from their hinges and disappearing into the night.
Exclamations of shock and surprise waved through the crowd until they noticed that Roger remained poised on the stage, waiting to continue.
“Maybe I’m a fool,” he said, lowering his eyes. “And maybe I’m an optimist, I don’t know, but I can only hope…”
Turning toward Crystella, he solemnly lowered himself onto one knee before looking up into her sweet, angelic face.
“Crystella Sweetlake, you who brought springtime to my heart, you who cast sunlight into the shadows. Will you be mine?”
“Oh Roger! Roger! Of course. Nothing in the world could make me happier!”
She pulled Roger up from where he knelt and leapt into his arms, embracing him with all her strength. Beaming with joy, he lifted her from the stage and spun with her in the air, squeezing her as if he never wanted to let her go ever again.
The rangers who witnessed this spectacle now raised a cheer that practically lifted the roof off the lodge. Hats, drinks, tins of corned beef and a few onions were hurled into the air in celebration, and with a quick indication from Algis, the music started once again, and the party resumed with even greater vitality than before.
Stepping down from the rostrum, Roger and Crystella walked hand in hand toward the entrance.
The night sky was awash with twinkling stars. A barely perceptible breeze stroked the summit of Mount Batten, and the warmth of the day remained in the air. Far across the range, a wolf could be heard calling plaintively to the lonely moon.
Standing before the colossal statue, Roger, the rugged (yet clean shaven) ranger of The Rockies and Crystella, the sweetest, most charming (trainee) ranger of them all, held each others’ hands and looked up to the heavens. It felt as though the ancient light of the stars had travelled through the vast emptiness of space purely to witness their union that night, and in turn the light of their new found love shone out from the mountain peak, out into the dark spaces between the stars, out beyond the very edge of the universe and into eternity.
They turned to face each other, and kissed.
FIN
* * * * * *
Phew! Thanks to anyone who made it all the way through to the end of the story, you deserve to reward yourself with a piece of fruit or a cake, or even an alcoholic beverage. If you’ve cheated and just scrolled straight to the bottom, you don’t deserve a reward!
Re-writing this, I’ve noticed I had a bit of a thing for alliteration back in those days, and I’m also surprised that I got all the way through a story about forest rangers without making a chopper joke, shame on me!
Anyway… Next time I’ll be popping my anti-British hat on again. Not literally, I don’t like wearing hats…
Until then… Peace… ses x
opensesameseed 