The Fox and the Rainbow

The gnomes are a people who live by the telling for stories. Stories are history, stories are promises, and stories are the threads that weave wonder into the world. Even the youngest of gnomes are walking libraries for fables, chronicles, sagas, and adventures. And no gnome worth their weight in cinnamon sticks doesn’t know the fable of the Fox and the Rainbow.

Something that makes many gnome stories special, is that the vast majority of them have an thread of truth. One could say that all stories do, but for woodland folk who can speak with animals, it certainly changes things when animals themselves can corroborate the tale. Because in the case of the Fox and the Rainbow, the story is true to the word.

Fox was his name and after a series of poorly timed relationships, he found himself alone and wanting for companionship. Fox’s sorrows reached their crescendo during a terrible storm, today known as the great flooding of Dingledell. Hundreds of hollows and glens were flooded and mudslides brought ruin to many toadstool houses, hovels, and gopher holes. And poor Fox lost his den too, a den he’d so painstakingly prepared and decorated, for he believed in his heart his love would one day return to him. But she never would.

When dawn came, Fox shivered through the mud, his fur spattered with muck and his fiery coat wet and dull. His only solace came from the warmth of the sun, smiling at him from an open meadow. And so he sauntered among the flattened flowers, their colorful petals washed away, to be suddenly smitten by a bright colorful hue stretching over the meadow like two welcoming arms. It was a rainbow, and Fox had never seen one so beautiful. And as wisps of clouds passed over, the rainbow would vanish and reappear, and so Fox ran to catch it, running mile upon mile to seek the Rainbow’s end and profess his infatuation. Many animals begged him to stop, to reject his obsession, but Fox could not, not now, not ever so long as his den lay empty and in ruin, and with no hope for love in the coming spring.

In time Fox was lost and the seasons changed and the Rainbow went away. Fox never found her, Fox never found home, and as he lay dying, Fox never learned to regret.