Big Yellow Taxi Chapter 1: The Forest Comes Alive, a hellboy fanfic

Big Yellow Taxi

"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got til it's gone?"

"It should be noted that there are considerable differences betwixt the races of elves and men, despite their slight similarities in appearance. Men are mortal and were created by the combining of water, earth, and air. They will die when injury, illness, or time have taken one of the elements entirely out of their body. Elves, on the other hand, are creatures born of the eldest race on earth, trees. Elves live as immortal beings until time or dire wound removes their spirit. They then become stone; petrified as the woods in the farthest reaches of the globe. Fortunately for man, who rely on the guidance of elves, their kind cannot be robbed of their spirit in a permanent sense until they have fulfilled the high purpose granted them by the almighty creator. Until such time, an elf who is killed shall be reborn through the same trees present in the first forests. The last important fact one can attribute to elves and men is that they share an equal emptiness in their hearts that cannot be filled with material gain, knowledge, or power. Love, a binding and unifying compassion, is the only substance fit to fill the void in any creature."

From: The Divine Authority on Beings by The Great Ak

The mist that usually rose over the forest floor in the mornings had dissipated quickly that sunrise. Many of the native badgers and birds had sniffed pensively at sunrise to detect what sort of change was headed towards their peaceful wood. Man had yet to invade or even settle too close to the creatures' homes for centuries. A large mansion lay over a mile away from the nearest den and the tree-house that belonged to the child of the family lay nearly the same distance from the eldest tree. Three families of badgers, two large groups of squirrels, an entire warren of rabbits, and numerous birds made their way slowly to the eldest tree and waited patiently as the tension grew greater throughout the morning. By noon, the makeshift mob of animals were all sitting perfectly still and silent, silently waiting for the tree to give some clue, any clue as to what was transpiring. The trees spoke frequently and clearly to the animals, giving them all the tools they needed to survive against the growing threat of humans. Now, it seemed the trees were as terrified by a force more powerful than man; so frightened, that they were stunned into silence.

A young rabbit wandered forward towards the root of the elder tree and bravely sniffed for a more subtle hint to give his family and friends comfort. Suddenly, the ground began to contort violently, the roots of the elder tree moaning and warping in an earthen sea of silent labor pain. Pale roots shot up from the earth and began to wrap around one another, writhing in a bizarre rhythm that seemed to create its own comprehensive pattern. In a few moments, the outline of a 'stick-man' lay near the elder tree and began to pulse as if having a heart. The animals watched, frozen in amazement, as the roots expanded and relaxed again and again. With each expansion, the roots were looking more and more corporeal; forming arms, legs, a torso, a trunk, and finally a head. Golden hair slid quickly from the head as more recognizably human features began to make themselves evident on the creature's face. The roots that had formed the chest now began to rise and fall, giving the creature it was forming the gift of breath. In a wink, fingers and other extremities were fully formed.

It now appeared that roots had never come through the ground at all, but rather a perfect and pale human lay still and breathing on the forest floor. The young rabbit moved closer once again, noting the strange inanimation of the being. Why would a human lay so still? For that matter, how did a human come from a tree? The being had white skin, as white as the snow that covered the forest in winter. Its lips were dark, as were the skins around its eyes. The creatures whispered silently to themselves wondering what parts of the tree could have created something so light and dark at the same time. As the inaudible discussion continued, the young rabbit noticed something very strange indeed. This human's ears were quite pointed. Perhaps, he thought to himself, this was a tree spirit and not a human at all. Folk tales among the forest creatures spoke of the ancient race of elves that had sprung from the trees as guardians of the earth; pale, perfect, and bearing pointed ears. Could this be the beginning of the elves once again? The rabbit, suddenly filled with childish enthusiasm, leapt onto the creature's chest and lowered its head, breathing in every scent possible as his family shouted for him to come back. The rabbit stared at the creature for several moments. In a flash, the rabbit felt the nearly-human stir beneath him. He leapt away and headed back towards the warren in terror as the being sat bolt upright screaming.

"Nualaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" it screamed. As all of the other animals fled the scene, a single mynah bird remained to watch the creature's actions. Nothing human had harmed the forest yet, but there was a first for everything. The being grunted and quickly climbed to its feet. The mynah, having seen a vast number of years more than his forest brethren, immediately recognized him. He was royalty of a dwindling line. An elf, but not just any elf, an elf prince. This was the exiled Prince Nuada. The bird cawed disapprovingly and flitted off into the rest of the forest to announce the outcast's arrival. The prince leaned against the elder tree, hearing the old one's voice telling him to be still and know that he was safe. He leaned forward and dropped to his knees, as he began trembling. "Sister," he whispered. His eyes narrowed and he began scanning his surroundings carefully. "Sister?" he called. The calling of the bird in the distance began ringing in his ears. He groaned and clutched his brow with one hand. Pain began to radiate throughout his body beginning at the crown of his head. "Nuala, where are you? Sister?!" With the final cry for familiarity, the prince fell onto the forest floor, gasping for breath. He felt weak. He had never felt so weak before in all of his long years. It was as if the warrior within had been withdrawn with the dagger that Nuala had plunged into herself. "Nuala," he whispered remorsefully as the full memory of what had transpired suddenly came flooding back. "What have I done?" The prince moaned once again as a deep and dreamless sleep overtook him.

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The sky was overcast once again. Titania looked up at the sky as the car sped over the winding path towards her mother's mansion. She lived between the mansion in England and her father's large apartment in New Jersey. It was an odd situation, to say the least, but the girl had learned to adapt smoothly. If there was one thing that she did well, it was adapt. Her father helped in the running of a rather abnormal government program while her mother lived lavishly as a fashion designer/model for Europe. Nadia, her mother, seemed to have forgiven the girl for the several months it took to regain her perfect figure after her birth, but Titania still felt a tension between them. Her father had been having trouble staying in contact as well, even during the visits; but still, Titania had managed to find her own place in her books and the few friends she had in the servants at her mother's mansion as well as her father's colleagues. She had finished a visit only a day before. She had always hated the plane trip and the car ride out to the ridiculously large dwelling, but it seemed more tolerable than any other time before. The visit had been particularly dull, and Titania looked forward to being back in her tree house and observing Bethmoora forest once again.

She sighed heavily and looked down at the evidence to the only infraction she had ever committed; a book, confiscated from her father's study. The book was old, too old to be something he would have truly enjoyed. Tom Manning was all about the now and being in the know. Titania had learned to be tolerant of this in being silent and keeping to herself. She flipped through the ancient pages again and again. It was written in a language that she didn't quite understand, but perhaps one of the servants in the mansion, who spoke fluently the dead and smoldering Pagan tongues, could decode it for her. The car slowed and the driver, a newer employee of her mother, announced their arrival. She waited only a few seconds after the vehicle had stopped to open the door and hurry towards the door of the mansion. She skidded to a halt, realizing that she had forgotten her things. Frowning in frustration, Titania raced back to the car and gathered up the two suitcases and small overnight bag from the vehicle. She turned towards the driver who shook his head and smiled.

"Sorry about that, Klaus," she said.

"Are you sure I cannot take something for you meinne schunne?" he asked with a laugh.

"No, I could use some kind of exercise after being in that plane," Titania replied as she turned back towards the mansion. "Mom tips you every time, right?" she called behind her.

"Ja, and generously," he said with a kind wave.

Titania heard him climb back into the small car and start the engine. The butler, Magnus, opened the door and lowered his head with a similarly kind smile. Titania may not have found unconditional acceptance with either parent, but she seemed to have befriended the servants and completely endeared herself to any of the people she had come to know at either home.

"Is mom home right now?" she asked as Magnus closed the door and followed her to the base of the stairs.

"Not at the moment, miss," he replied with a tone of disapproval. "May I carry your things to your room while you settle in? Misses Badcrumble is in the kitchen and has been waiting a good while for your return."

Titania thought for a moment. She had missed all of her friends here at the mansion and hadn't been able to spend any real time with her friends at her father's work. Perhaps it would be nice to have a short chat with Misses Badcrumble before going out to the tree house. Ah, the tree house; Titania felt a longing for it as she walked through the mansion towards the large kitchen past the public dining room. She had spent a better portion of all her time here in England at the tree house and studying the forest around it. The animals never seemed too afraid of her, even the naturally timid rabbits. One in particular, a large and speckled white rabbit, had seemed to have been there since she had been a little girl. Titania had moved to the mansion with her mother at the age of four and couldn't remember much of her parents' marriage. What she did remember was the discovery of magic. As she continued wandering through the enormous dining room and over to the door of the kitchen, she thought about the book she had taken from her father's room and the very day that she had begun to believe in the magic in the forest. The book had a strange symbol on the front that echoed back towards the forest and its holdings. Perhaps she had been drawn to it. She shook the deeper thoughts aside and made her way into the kitchen.

Misses Badcrumble was a round, bright skinned, broad smiling, and squat Scottish woman. She had come to work at the mansion at the same time Titania and her mother had moved in. Titania felt a grand-daughterly connection to the woman. She smiled and breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread as she stepped into the stone-laid room. The kitchen seemed to have been there longer than the house, wrought from stone and iron and always brimming with warmth. From her history studies, Titania could tell that the kitchen had been made in the style of the medieval kitchens with large ovens and even larger pantries and countertops. More modern appliances and cleanliness were present as well, but the feel of an ancient room for housing the most ancient of arts gave anyone that walked into Misses Badcrumble's territory a feeling of comfort.

"Aye! There you are, dearie!" Misses Badcrumble exclaimed from the corner oven as Titania entered. The woman wiped her hands on the filthy apron around her waist and waddled hurriedly over to the girl. Titania smiled and wrapped her arms around the woman tightly. "So good to see you home, wee one."

"It's good to be back, Misses Badcrumble," Titania said with a tone of sheer disappointment from past events. Misses Badcrumble took either side of the girl's head in her hands.

"What happened, love? Was the visit with your father a bad one?" she asked softly. Titania sighed and looked down.

"No, it just didn't happen. He wasn't there at all," she replied. Misses Badcrumble's smile faded into a reproachful scowl. "I'm rethinking having my sixteenth there."

"That daft git better rouse some sense to himself before he loses what matters most," Misses Badcrumble said angrily. "Of all the ridiculous, no time with you at all? Nonsense!" The old woman grabbed a nearby spoon and waved it menacingly at nothing in particular. "If I had the funds I'd go there myself and give him a good thrashing. Your mother, as well, for not being here today."

"It's alright, I kind of prefer it this way," Titania lied. Misses Badcrumble shook her head and waddled towards a farther counter where various crates, sacks, and small parcels lay jumbled and waiting for orders. "Besides, there's a nice sky out and I'd like to go out to the forest for a while."

"You beware of those woods, child," the cook said, adding a trembling to her voice for effect. "There's all manner of pixies and faeries making trouble for us big folk in those woods. They're older than my old mum was when she passed on, God rest her soul. If you're not careful, they'll have you bewitched and captive, they will. Mischief makers, every last one of them."

Titania smiled to herself and looked towards the door. "I think it would be interesting to meet one."

"Ah, you say that now," Misses Badcrumble parried as she waddled back towards the girl carrying a nicely sized basket. "But you'd change your tune in the minutes shortly after the meeting. They hate us, the faerie folk do. It's not at all like your bedtime stories from America, dearie. There's no wishes granted by faeries, no dancing with pixies, and nothing good to be had with elves." The old woman carefully placed the basket in the girl's hands and breathed deeply. "Mushroom rings popped up yesterday. Dark magic's afoot, mind you."

"Don't worry, I'm void of anything truly exciting happening to me good or bad," Titania replied with a slight laugh. "Those things happen to people I know, but not me."

Misses Badcrumble gently stroked the girl's face and smiled warmly. "Go on with you, and be back after dark before your mother gets home. No doubt she be in at an ungodly hour."

"I'll be back, then," Titania said with a wink and hurried out the door and into the dining room. Once outside the doors, the girl peered into the basket and smiled brightly. Misses Badcrumble had, no doubt, been hard at work in the kitchen all day. There was fresh soda bread, three berry tarts, two cheese crumpets, and a biscuit. Titania was never quite able to eat all of the sweets that the woman had graced her with in her childhood, but she knew that the rabbits, squirrels, badgers, and birds were always glad to help. She felt all the heartache of the nonexistent visit melting away as she headed out the French doors to the veranda off the dining room and out into the forest.

Tom Manning paced back and forth as his last employee sat signing an incident report. He rung his hands and wiped pouring sweat from his brow. He panted and slipped three calcium antacids in his mouth, chewing them furiously.

"You want me to grovel or something? Because that's not going to happen, no. Tom Manning does not grovel," he said firmly. The dark haired young woman with piercing dark eyes glanced up at him with a gaze as hot as her persona. He froze and frowned. "I should grovel, shouldn't I?"

"It won't matter," the woman replied. "A normal life for us starts far away from this prison."

"Liz, the world out there won't accept all of you! What are you going to do for a living? It's not like you can walk into any place of business and apply? Who's going to hire Hellboy?" the man ranted.

"We'll get by, Manning," the woman replied between tightened lips. She was growing more and more angry as surges of hormones and emotions began swelling within her. "We always have some way or another."

"Yes, but you were here! You had what you needed including a little something to satiate that streak of thrill seeking he has," Manning retorted. "What are you going to do about that now? Where are you even going to live?!"

"I DON'T KNOW, ALRIGHT!" she shouted back as a flicker of flame enveloped the crown of her head. Manning looked away and tried to think of something to ease the tension and begin the process of cajoling the team back together. The Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense would be nothing without its paranormal operatives. This was his worst nightmare. Liz sighed and put down the pen. "Look, this isn't easy for us, either. It's not as if we woke up and decided we were going to throw away everything we've worked for over the past years and try to scrape out a new life on the street."

Manning, despite his poor emotional intelligence could see the beginnings of tears in the young woman's eyes. He moved towards her slowly, cautiously.

"I understand that everyone had a little upheaval, last week, but . . ." he began.

"No, you don't understand. Don't you get it? Red and I are trying to have just a smidgeon of a normal relationship, Abe lost his first love, and there's no telling what Krauss is thinking or feeling," she said angrily. "This isn't the life we want anymore. I don't think it ever was."

"But what could be done to change that? We could add some benefits. Vacation time! Everyone likes to get away, right? We could work something out with . . ." Manning's voice faded as a look of horror crossed his face. "Oh my God, what day is it?"

"It's Friday," Liz replied emotionlessly.

Manning's face twisted in embarrassment and he began slapping his forehead repeatedly. "I was supposed to go and pick Tania up from JFK!" he shouted.

Liz rolled her eyes. "That was two weeks ago, Manning," she corrected. The man froze and stared at the young woman in disbelief.

"What?"

"Tania was here two weeks ago. You were supposed to take her to JFK to go home this morning, which I gather you didn't," Liz said as she picked up the pen and set back to scribbling in the details of the events surrounding the prince, the princess, the crown, and the golden army. She shook her head. "You didn't even notice she was there, did you?"

"Well I was a little preoccupied," Manning said defensively. "I'm sure there's a later flight and I can talk with her until then. Wait! That's it! What about what Tania would say about all this?"

"She said it was great to see someone flexing their independent thought processes and that we only need to consider our health and friendships before making any permanent decisions," Liz retorted. Manning continued to stare at her in bewilderment. "I took her at about seven. God, I hate getting up that early."

"She left?" Manning said softly.

"Yep," Liz said as she dotted the final I. She stood and quickly handed the stack of bureaucratic nonsense to the man. "So did we."

"I need to call her," he whispered.

"You do that. In the meantime, we will all get packed and get out of your way," Liz replied. She left the room, leaving Manning to stand in stunned silence as the world collapsed around him.

The prince lay unconscious in the forest for hours. A few birds flew overhead and three squirrels neared the elder tree at one point, but none of them dared near the notably violent son of Balor. There were many myths and theories as to why the happy-go-lucky golden boy had turned so fully into a seething pool of hatred for humanity. His hatred had positively consumed him. The dark skin around his eyes and mouth were only a small token of the night that dwelled within him. As the sun rose to the centre of the sky, a white speckled rabbit entered the clearing. He gazed apprehensively at the elf and cleared his throat. The elder tree had fashioned a kilt out of bark and vine, but that was all that the prince now had to his name. The rabbit shuddered at thinking how angry the youth would be when he woke and discovered his present state of destitution. Still, as emissary to all the royals, it was his job to convey information from one king, prince, queen, or princess to another. He hopped silently up to the lifeless form and raised himself onto his haunches.

As he stood more fully, his legs extended further. His height reached about four feet and his body swelled and widened into the form of a portly man. His buck teeth protruded over his lower lip and his enormous eyes glowed with anticipation. His ears had become enormous, nearly the size of an average child's arm with a greater thickness to them. The rabbit leaned forward and cleared his throat once again.

"M-m-my prince?" he asked cautiously. The royal groaned and climbed slowly to his feet, leaning against the tree once more. "Oh, so glad to see you well and about again, sire."

"Where am I?" Nuada said.

"Why Bethmoora forest, birthplace of all the elves!" the rabbit replied. "And here stand I, Puck, your humble servant, on behalf of Oberon king of the Faerie folk."

"Oberon?" Nuada suddenly exclaimed. "Oberon was banned from Bethmoora forest! He was sent, with his rebels, into the wilds of the barbaric regions where the humans waged their great battles against one another. How dare he return to my father's home!"

"If you please , sire, this was all done years before me. I believe your father said nothing when he returned and his majesty took that as permittance to reside here once again," the rabbit reasoned.

"Silence is not permission," Nuada countered. He looked down at the bizarre creature. He smirked. This was a pwca, native to the highlands of the old countries. He must have been somewhere near where he and Nuala had fallen. Perhaps not in the general area, but near enough. "I am no longer on the isle of greenery, am I?"

"Oh, well, I suppose that you could call this an isle of greenery, sire, but the truly emerald isle where the goblins dwell is a good distance that way and out to sea," the pwca replied. "May I be of any assistance to you at the moment, my prince?"

Nuada looked into his eyes deeply and breathed heavily. "Something terrible happened at the Giant's Causeway," he explained. "I must find some way to speak with The Modron."

The pwca's eyes widened in horror. "The lady of mysteries, sire?" the faerie whispered.

"The same," Nuada replied. He looked down at his humble attire. "But first fetch me something more fitting to appear in at the audience. I will not face her so debased."

"As you wish, sire," the rabbit replied. He knelt, allowing the form of the timid forest creature to take full control once more. With a quick wink, the rabbit bounded out of the clearing and into the forest. His direction was steadfast, he needed to get to the mansion where the curious one lived. The girl that brought him jam tarts and visited with the trees alone lived a great distance away, but not too far for the pwca to be unable to call upon the favour of borrowing something.