Therapeutic Bedtime Stories for Children - Free complete book donated by authors. Part 6
The Fulture Kingdom
Part Two
Night-time. Bright stars flooded the darkened skies. All was settled and calm, yet the two royal guards lay restless in their caves, unable to sleep.
“It isn’t right to have a child fulture locked up like that, all alone in the forest,” one of the guards was thinking to himself. Thoughts of Fumblekins all alone in a hobgoblin’s cage had taken full occupation of his mind. Suddenly, he got out of bed.
“What are you doing?” the guard’s wife sleepily asked her husband.
“I’m flying to Cloakwood Forest to tell Rosador what’s happened to Fumblekins. She’s the only one who can help him.”
“That’s a very brave thing to do,” his wife said encouragingly.
The guard hurriedly put his uniform on, and plonked his special guard’s hat on his head. He pecked his wife goodbye and flew off through the darkness, using the stars to guide him.
Soon he arrived at Rosador’s front door. It was the middle of the night. Everyone was asleep. However, Rosador was tuned in and already wide awake, waiting for a message from somewhere. She heard the guard’s voice calling up to her window. Quickly she scuttled down the wooden stairs of her tree-trunk home, trying not to disturb her parents. She needn’t have worried. Her dad’s snoring was well known to the elves living around them. Sometimes it was so loud they had to use ear plugs! Quietly, she closed the little trunk door behind her, cloak in hand, ready for whatever lay ahead.
The guard wasted no time telling Rosador what had happened.
“I will go and talk to the king immediately,” Rosador replied.
“What?” the guard said. “You can’t do this all alone ... can you?” The guard was surprised. Rosador was only a child elf, after all; far smaller than the king. But of course she was an elf and that was the difference! Rosador was full of true power; power from knowing she was loved. Power from feeling connected and tuned into nature. Power from just being! Rosador had been born into a world where the elves had never been taught they had to compare themselves with each other. They’d never felt that for one to win, another had to lose. They knew they all had talents and skills they could share with each other. All the elves felt that they were a part of one big family.
“We have no time to waste. We’ll fly back over the valley together, and then you go and let Fumblekins out of the cage. Don’t worry; you won’t get into trouble. Leave me to go and sort out the king.” Rosador patted the nervous guard’s wing, flung her cloak around her body and swiftly did up the tie. “Come on!” she said, her feet already off the ground. The guard followed her, marvelling at her courage.
Back in the mountains, Fumblekins’ mother was watching the night sky, wondering where her son could be. However, Fumblekins was sleeping blissfully in the hobgoblin cage. He’d eaten the nuts and seeds from the pouch that his mother had given him and snuggled down into the soft bedding on the cage floor. This wasn’t the old Fumblekins who would have been worried and frightened, full of dark thoughts about himself. This was the new Fumblekins; full of contentment and self confidence, his mind and heart settled and peaceful.
Before long, Rosador arrived at the mouth of the royal cave.
“Wow!” she thought. Stalagmites and stalactites grew from the rocky roof and floor. Little passages led away into smaller caves. In the middle of the cave, the king lay sleeping in a massive nest. A big sign with ‘King’ written on it was tied to the top of the nest. It reminded him who he was supposed to be when he woke up in the morning. Rosador crept up close to him, quietly watching his face. The royal crown was perched precariously on his head, but fallen to one side, half covering his eye. For a moment she could see the sad child that was also sleeping inside him, a little part of him that still needed to be noticed.
“Maybe he was bullied as a child,” she wondered to herself. “The bullied usually become the bullies when they get older. They can’t help it. Those horrible dark fairy feelings cause all those cruel thoughts.”
Quietly she tiptoed around the sleeping king’s bed, before entering a little passageway that led into a cave full of food. Baskets full of fruits with every kind of berry you can imagine. More baskets: some with seeds and nuts, others with unusual foods that other fultures never had a chance to eat. The greedy king kept them all to himself to make him feel more important than everyone else. There were vegetables like wild rocket and watercress, fresh young nettles, wild cabbages and wild parsnips.
Rosador tiptoed down another passageway. Here, the air was cool. Her body shuddered. This cave was full of fancy royal clothing. In one corner, she noticed handmade cloaks. Lots of them. One made of deep red velvet, another of silk and yet another one made of fine thread cotton. Rosador had seen these cloaks before. Many times. They had all been hand stitched with great care by her grandmother so they could be sold in the market. They’d gone missing a long time ago. Rosador drew a deep heavy sigh.
“How sad the king is,” she thought, tiptoeing back towards the main cave, “that he feels he has to have all these special clothes that wouldn’t even fit him if he tried wearing them!”
The king turned over on his side.
Rosador stood at the end of his bed.
“Wake up, king!” she demanded.
The king’s body shook. One dark eye blinked open. The crown slipped further down. Rosador tried not to laugh. The eye closed again.
“Wake up!” Rosador commanded, more forcefully this time.
This time the king woke up.
“Ahhrgh.” The king let out a huge breath. He sat bolt upright, shocked to see Rosador standing at the end of his bed. In his royal cave. In the middle of the night. He stared at the opening of the cave.
“Guards,” he called out, straightening his crown. “Where are you? Come here at once.”
“They aren’t here, Fulture King. They’re in their own caves sleeping instead of having to stand here watching over you all night. There’s nothing to fear all the way up here. No hobgoblin would ever be able to reach your cave so high up here on the mountainside.”
The king was flabbergasted.
“How dare you?” he bellowed. “How dare you come flying into my cave like this, young lady!” he exclaimed, waving his wings in the air dramatically.
Rosador took no notice.
“What are you doing, locking Fumblekins up in a hobgoblin’s cage? Why?” Rosador asked.
The king took a deep breath. Rosador sat herself next to him.
“Fumblekins was different when he got back from Cloakwood School,” the king replied. “He was calm and confident. I was jealous of him. Deep inside I’ve always felt weak and ... stupid really. My father used to tell me I’d never amount to anything. There was nothing about me that he seemed to like. He didn’t believe I was good at anything. I had to set out to prove him wrong. I tried and tried. I worked hard at school but I wasn’t very clever. The teacher said I had no brains. My school reports always said I must try harder. I taught myself how to build amazing nests that birds from all around the island would come and admire. One night the hobgoblins came and pulled all my nests to pieces.” The king looked sad. Big tears welled up in his eyes, falling down his beak onto his expensive silk pyjamas. “I tried building the nests back up again one by one. I wanted to show my father I could do something good. Then one day he came to visit the special nests that I’d built. I thought at last he would be proud of me.” The king looked down. “Instead,” he mumbled, “he taunted and teased me. He told me my nests were no good. He said that all the other fultures had only been pretending to like my nests when really they were all laughing behind my back.”
Rosador listened quietly. The king continued.
“Then I decided to build my muscles up and become stronger than the others. I would fly around in circles with heavy pouches of grain on my back. I did it every single day. I’d fly over the Fulture School, determined that I’d show them. I’d show them who was boss. I hated the school teacher that didn’t believe in me. I hated my father. I hated everyone.”
The elves knew they could only love others if they loved themselves. Fulture King never had the chance to feel good about himself as a boy, and had ended up copying his father by becoming a bully himself. It was hopeless to look for approval from the other birds when he had never felt approval for himself.
“One day my chance came,” the king said. “The king of the fultures became old and weak and fell from the sky. I thought that if I could become king, I’d feel okay. I’d feel like I was needed by all the fultures in the kingdom. Like I was a someone. A special someone. I told all the fultures how strong I was and that I’d make big cages and capture all the bad hobgoblins every time they came and stole things from our nests. They thought I was really cool and soon I became the new king. I even changed my accent to try and sound the way I thought a king sounded. But even then the hobgoblins didn’t really care about me. They only cared about the things I could do for them.”
“How do you think it would be if you were able to love and approve of yourself and not be concerned about what other fultures thought of you?” asked Rosador.
The king looked at Rosador. He looked at the sky. He thought for a while.
“I don’t know, Rosador. I’ve been a bully for so long. I don’t know if I can change now. Do you think your school could help me?”
“Yes,” Rosador replied. “It’s time to let go of the bad feelings you have about yourself. Bad feelings turn into bad ideas. That’s what your dark fairy is. It’s all the bad feelings you have about yourself that have turned into wrong ideas. Then you end up being cruel and unkind to others when it isn’t really you at all; it’s the fake you, the unreal you. It’s the little boy inside you that’s still hurting,” Rosador told him. “Being at Cloakwood School is the best Universi-tree in the whole world. We will soon have you feeling amazing! We do some cool subjects there, like Ecoliteracy. We learn all about the natural world and all about connection. You’ll become a king from the inside out. Come on! There’s no time like the present. Let’s go!”
The king smiled with relief. He took the golden crown off his head. It had weighed heavily down on him.
“And,” Rosador suddenly remembered, “would you mind bringing the cloaks along too? The ones in the cave down there?” she said, pointing down a corridor.
The king blushed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “The cloaks looked so special. I thought they’d make me stand out from the crowd. Look like a real king!”
“It’s okay,” Rosador smiled.
The two of them took flight into the moonlit sky, headed towards Cloakwood Forest.
As you settle to sleep now, imagine your world becoming warmer and brighter than ever. Get yourself all snuggled up in your bed, just like the fultures in their big soft nests. Breathe in deeply and blow away any feeling of discomfort or anxiety in your tummy. Remember that just like Fulture King, you are just as special and important as every other child in the world. Close your eyes and be with Rosador and Fulture King on Wellness Island. All the elves in Cloakwood Forest are saying how much they’re looking forward to being with you in the next part of this story!
Sleep tight and Night Knight. TM ooOoo
Attack of the Hobgoblins
Part One
“Welcome to Cloakwood School,” the teacher said to Fulture King. The king had been given the same desk that Fumblekins had sat at during his last term here. It was the one next to Rosador. “This is the King of the fultures,” the teacher announced to the class. “He’s come to learn lots of exciting new things at our school and I know you’re all going to make him feel very welcome here,” he smiled.
The elves looked over at the king and smiled.
The king wanted to return their warmth, but he wasn’t used to being just plain old friendly! It felt scary for him.
His dark fairy was waiting to land! Fulture King decided he wasn’t happy to have only been given a plain desk to sit at. After all, he was a king, and, “Well,” he thought, “the others do need to realise that I’m a bit ... a bit more ... special than them.”
Just then, the headmistress walked into the classroom.
“May I borrow Rosador for a while?” she asked the teacher.
Rosador was excused from class and went and sat with the headmistress in the conservi-tree.
“It’s Norrin the hobgoblin,” the headmistress said, shaking her head. “He is so irritable and moody. One day he’s happily doing his work. The next day he sits around looking dead glum. No use talking to him. He claps his hands on his ears. ‘Not lisnin’,’ he’ll say. ‘Not lisnin’ at all!’ Then he closes his eyes and doesn’t budge an inch!”
“Well,” Rosador answered, “while he’s been staying at our house, Dad says that Norrin’s been needing lots of encouragement. He needs you to keep telling him what a good job he’s doing. He’s never been part of a loving community. Never had anyone encouraging or praising him. He hardly has any self-confidence. Little things make him feel anxious and worried. Dad’s noticed that if he ever forgets to say thank you to Norrin, the next time he asks Norrin to do something, Norrin will fold his arms and say, ‘Why should I care?’ If he’s feeling very moody and cross, he does that hands-over-his-ears thing that you’re talking about. My dad will say something like, ‘Norrin, I forgot to say thanks for your help last night, mate!’ and then Norrin’s okay again!”
The headmistress was thoughtful. “Mmm, I’m wondering if he would benefit by going to stay with Fumblekins.”
“What a great idea,” Rosador said enthusiastically. “Fumblekins used to feel just like Norrin. I bet he could really help him.”
The headmistress sent a note over to Fumblekins and his mum by pigeon post, asking them what they thought about the idea. The reply came back straight away. It was a big ‘Yes!’ Fumblekins and his mum had never had a hobgoblin staying in their cave and were very excited by the idea.
The very next morning, Rosador’s family sat around the kitchen table, sharing their new plan with Norrin.
Norrin wasn’t happy about leaving Rosador’s home. He wasn’t happy at all.
“I’ll only go if ’e comes wiv me,” he muttered with folded arms, turning towards Rosador’s dad, who was sitting beside him.
“It doesn’t mean we don’t care about you, Norrin. We want the very best for you. It’ll do you good to spend some time with Fumblekins,” Rosador’s dad said. “You can always come back and stay with us again another time.”
The hobgoblin thought for a while. “S’pose so,” he muttered, looking down at the kitchen table.
“Rosador,” her father said, “in the morning I would like you to go with Norrin to Fumblekins’ cave. We’ll go down to the boat yard and find a vessel that you and Norrin can row along Cloak River. You’ll need to be careful when you get close to the rapids at Willow River. Fumblekins will be watching out for you along the river bank. Now then, Norrin,” Dannyor said, turning to Norrin, “I just wanted to say thank you. I know I can trust you to take care of my daughter while you’re rowing along the river,” he told him.
Norrin turned to Dannyor and smiled the hugest smile; his big wide face beamed with happiness. It felt so good to be trusted and cared for. For the first time ever.
The next morning they set off down the zig-zaggy paths of the forest to the boat yard. Once Norrin had managed to clamber into the boat without falling over, he reached out for an oar. Rosador sat herself next to him in the middle of the boat, and reached for the second oar. Soon they were gently gliding down the river. However, it didn’t take long before Rosador was huffing and puffing trying to keep up with Norrin’s sturdy rowing.
“’S alright,” Norrin said to Rosador, “best if I row now. You can watch a while and take it easy. No need for you to be rowin’.”
For a moment, Rosador wasn’t completely sure if she could trust Norrin not to do something silly, like turn back so that he could be with her dad again.
“It’s okay,” she reassured herself, “if Dad trusts him, so do I.”
The sun was shining and all was well.
“Thanks, Norrin, that would be great,” Rosador said, handing her oar over to him. She moved to the back of the boat where she dipped her fingers into the cool, fresh water. It was lovely! It made her tingle all over. Norrin rowed at a faster pace and soon they were singing along together and imagining the delicious food that would be waiting for them at Fumblekins’ cave. Norrin talked to Rosador in the peace and quiet of the boat where no one could hear him. He felt safe here, being so often teased and bullied by the hobgoblins in the Dark Forest. No one knew the real Norrin, hidden inside.
All was calm. Two eagles glided across the path of the boat, their beating wings in harmony with the water. Little waves lapped gently against the side of the boat. Norrin was singing his heart out in his deep and grainy voice. He sang hobgoblin songs that made Rosador laugh and giggle till she could hardly breathe. She didn’t understand a word, as Norrin belted out one song after another with all his might.
BANG! Something hit the boat.
“What was that? Must’ve ’it a wok,” Norrin exclaimed. Rosador shuddered. She couldn’t see anything but she could feel darkness in the atmosphere. Along the river bank she could now see them. Shadows weaving in and out of the trees.
“Row faster, Norrin,” she urged her companion. It was too late! A huge ugly hobgoblin appeared, lurching and grunting like an excited pig. A glimmer of gold amongst rotting teeth shone behind the dribble that fell from its mouth. Gross! It was none other than the gruesome Clutterbore. 
His dark fairy was cackling like a wild witch on his shoulder. Norrin ploughed the oars deeper into the water, pulling with all his might. It was no use. Another hobgoblin appeared, and then another, trampling over the wild primroses as they pounded along the river bank.
“Take that!” one of the voices roared, hurling a rock at the boat. It crashed into the side, creating a gaping hole. The boat heaved to one side. Rosador fell backwards. Norrin kept rowing.
“Fly away, Rosador,” he urged his companion, “fly ahead to Fumblekins and ask ’im to bring some ’elp. Quickly!”
Rosador frantically grasped for her cloak pouch. The pouch was gone! She looked down at her waist; a strand of broken ribbon hung in its place.
“Uh?” she gasped, looking all around her, before spotting the pouch floating away from the boat. It was out of reach. She was trapped. Another gruff voice shouted out.
“What ya doin’ keepin’ company wiv an elf, Norrin? Ya turnin’ into one of ’em, are ya? Ha ha ha.” Other voices joined in the laughter.
“They’re just a bunch of cowards, Norrin. Take no notice. Bullies always attack in groups,” Rosador bravely shouted out. “Just keep rowing.”
Another rock crashed into the side of the boat, followed by a bigger boulder. Norrin tried desperately to steady the boat. Rosador closed her eyes.
“Fumblekins, hear me,” she prayed, “please hear me. We’re in trouble.”
“Keep down,” Norrin shouted. Rosador ducked as a rock flew over the top of her, splashing into the river beside her. Her feet were soaking. She looked down in horror. The boat was rapidly filling up with water. Norrin pulled one of his huge shoes off and handed it to her. Rosador started ladling the water out of the boat as fast as she could.
“Ha ha ha,” a voice shouted out from the river bank, “serves ya right. Fink you elves can change us, do ya?” The dark fairies were loving it. All those unkind thoughts. However, the hobgoblins had stopped chasing them now, struggling to keep up. They slouched forwards, a heaving mass of bodies, struggling to get their breath back.
Norrin carried on rowing, not realising that the boat was about to sink.
“Norrin, look!” Rosador exclaimed, pointing to the water that was now filling the boat. “We’ll have to swim.”
“We’re comin’ to the rapids, little ’un.” The boat was sinking from underneath them. “Climb on me back an’ ’old on tight,” Norrin shouted, heaving his way into the water before letting go of the disappearing boat. He tried to swim against the flow, but it was hopeless. The current was sweeping them fast towards a bend well known for the rapids that lay beyond. Many a boat had capsized and sank along this dangerous stretch. Just for a moment they could smell the scent of the wild berries along the water’s edge. The boat gently turned the corner of the bend. Norrin was holding tightly onto Rosador’s legs, her hands knotted around his neck. WHOOSH! Before he knew it, the force of the torrent had picked them up like a raging bull, carrying them down the river at a frightening speed. Norrin had lost all control. Rosador struggled to hang on, her body swirling from side to side to the rhythm of the raging waters.
The river was flowing away towards the sea now, carrying Norrin and Rosador helplessly along. They had been dragged off in the wrong direction. As if to remind them of its power, a wave surged them forward, pulling Rosador clean away from Norrin’s back. Norrin was pulled along with the current, unable to rescue his friend. The weight of his heavy body pulled his face below the water’s surface for the second time. Norrin didn’t hear the flapping of wings just above him.
Strong talons took hold of Norrin’s shoulders. Norrin was quickly pulled onto the river bank by a flock of fultures who had followed Fumblekins in his rescue mission. As he fell onto the soft warm grass, Norrin struggled to talk. Taking a deep breath, he managed the words, “She got pulled off me back,” before falling in an exhausted heap on the grass.
While one of Fumblekins’ group stayed behind to look after Norrin, the others flew back downstream in search of Rosador. The young elf was being pushed around in whirlpools of foamy waters, dragged under the surface, and then back up again. Desperately she gasped for air, instead swallowing a mouthful of water. As her body plunged below the surface for the last time, Fumblekins spotted her raven-black hair. Quickly, he flew over to rescue her, diving straight down into the depths of the heaving torrents. Courageously, he grasped again and again for her collar.
“It’s no use, Fumblekins, she’s gone,” one of the team squawked.
Fumblekins took no notice. This was the girl who had helped him find his purpose in life. This was the girl who had helped him find life. Real life! He wasn’t giving up on her now.
“Leave her! It’s too late; you’ll drown too, Fumblekins!” another bird anxiously called.
Once again, Fumblekins plunged back down into the depths of the icy waters. This time, his claw captured her sleeve. Frantically, he signalled to his friends above the water’s surface. Their keen eyesight saw his beckoning wing. They dived in, pulling Fumblekins and Rosador back up to the surface.
As soon as Rosador was pulled out of the water, the fultures gathered round and sat her up on the river bank. They dried her with towels and wrapped her up in warm blankets. Soon, she and Norrin were drinking hot broth together, feeling grateful for being alive. Their terrible ordeal in the water was over.
Everyone sat down together, and watched the sunset splash its magical colours far and wide across the valleys and mountains.
In that same moment, Norrin looked up at that amazing display of nature, and decided that he was going to learn to be a fearless hero like his rescuer Fumblekins.
“I’m gonna let vat Fumblekins show me how ta be calm and stop worryin’ me ’ead off!” he thought to himself. Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of the way that Fumblekins and his fulture friends had rescued Rosador and himself. He’d never felt so cared for before. For a little while, he quietly watched Rosador, Fumblekins and his friends, surrounding him in the evening sunshine. All his feelings of worry and anxiety started melting away. In this little group of friends, each one so different and unique, he had discovered the meaning of true friendship.
Tonight as you settle to sleep, imagine you are sitting on the river bank watching the water flowing past. You are all snuggled up in a warm blanket like Rosador and Norrin. The rays of the evening sunshine are warming your face. You feel relaxed and happy. There is nothing to worry about in this land of contentment. As you gently drift off to sleep, feel the sheet or duvet touching your skin, the weight of your body on the bed. Feel how good it is to be cosy and comfortable. Take a slow deep breath ... and again. As you breathe, feel the way your chest moves in and out. Let your breathing slow down. Gently watch the breath as it glides along like water flowing along the river. Let it follow its own course. Flow as it wants to flow. Allow yourself to be. 
You are wearing a cloak just like Rosador’s, and you’re flying away into a gently dreaming place where you feel really good inside.
By the way – Fumblekins has just said how much he’s looking forward to seeing you in the final story. Here, he’s going to show us how he helps Norrin sleep well and become even calmer and happier, and he says he wants you here too. He says his world just wouldn’t be the same without you right here beside him!
Sleep tight and Night Knight. TM
ooOoo