The Isle of Greenlings

    The Isle of Greenbog sat directly between the coasts of Ireland and Scotland, in the Atlantic Ocean for centuries before the conflict between men began in this region. The Greenlings were a peaceful race at that time and only occasionally ventured near enough to a human to bewilder it with some act of creative mischief.

    Greenlings always preferred to construct their stick and mud structures high in the Alder trees, with their tiny stairways winding a mathematically neat path descending around the trunk to the base.  An entire colony of Greenlings would grow no larger than twenty feet squared throughout a path of trees, and that would be a generous estimate.

    This species was rare on the face of the known world, most likely because of their size.  At best, a mature male would measure three inches high, and weigh no more than a small skipping stone.  The peculiar creatures kept to their isle, a bit of land between the two shores, not out of caution but for the mere reason that a small pond to us would be an impassible ocean to them in size and ferocity and the waters surrounding this isle were ruthless on the calmsest of days. 

    Only one man, Ardal Mahon, was a man-friend to the isle of tiny creatures.  He had stumbled upon it as a boy, while swimming in the Atlantic tide, and being introduced to their secretiveness at such a young age, the human had grown into a trustworthy individual. 

    When the land of England invaded Ireland, Ardal made what he had figured was his last visit to his tiny paradise.  "Small ones, I come to you bearing unfortunate news,"  he admitted, "A large nation, hungry for land is invading our home and I am unsure wether I will ever see you again."  The young soldier then paused and reached out a hand, "If one among you is brave enough to observe our struggle, this information may benefit your race, is there but one?"

    Stelfad, the curious explorer, who had not been to the shores of the land of man but had seen more than any other greenling in the historyof their existence, stepped onto the palm of the awaiting hand with a bow to the shocked Greenling audience.  "Farewell, family," he said and was instantly taken away with the human who then continued to swim to the nearest shoreline.

    "Do you think we'll ever see him again, father?" asked Slivay, a tiny young Greenling.  Her father, the village ruler answered solemnly, "He may be lost forever, but in a large world that we cannot fully explore, he may be our only hope in the quest for knowledge."

    Ninety-seven moons later,  Stelfad returned exhausted, by way of a boat of leaves.  "Much war, much death," he kept repeating.  Stelfad was returned by the villagers to his family who would unsuccessfully attempt to return his mind to its former state, while the village ruler prepared a team to train in the ways of non-detection for the purpose of spying on mankind. 

    The village leader, Patrick, did not know that his friend Ardal lay motionless 30 feet away, or that the British army was making camp in the woods on the shores nearby, all he knew was that this human problem had to be seen by his people to acurately adress it, and in doing so, he might be able to protect his people.  Many moons later, the inhabitants of Greenbog would converse closely with Ardal once again, but Patrick would not be alive to experience this.