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"You're my main
Telegram Sam - Marc Bolan.
Lionel Lark and Kingsley Mole
Kingsley Mole sat high on a windy knoll, his eyes
consuming the silent midnight woods. He nuzzled his long
moleish snout deep inside the heart of a marigold and let his
moleish imagination skip to and fro over sunken galleons and
pirate pictures of rusted doubloons and deep-water cabins
stacked to the brim with musty muskets and goldfish gauntlets,
once worn by Henry Morgan.
The lark awoke and doffed its plumed three cornered hat to
its own sleepy-eyed reflection, then it hopped past the
crested nest of the snoring cuckoo, and flew off into the
Lionel Lark morning looking for friend Mole. Mole was on a
marigold come down and sulkily scraped bluebeat rhythms with
his ground-digging paw.
"Yes," he whispered, "Me and Li are going
aquesting for the Lily Pond of Fox Necks."
"Li'll know all the mapping gen," so the
Mole, kneeling on the soft soil, said a morning prayer to Ra,
not even caring if he dirtied his yellow Rupert trousers
because his moleish mind knew that praying was special.
Lionel Lark was an alchemist by profession but he loved
to quest. Li and Mole were a romantic pair. Li, with his
many-coloured zodiac coat flapping about as he rode the dawn
wind. Rubbing his rimless spectacles, he lectured Mole in his
larkish manner about the mythical Lily Pond and its latitude
and longitude, and goofing sometimes, and mentioning the
Hyperboreans, the frozen folk who lived behind the North
At eight o'clock he scribbled little spells and
directions on a dried mushroom parchment and Moley got
proudly into his pigs-bladder balloon. Lionel took off, at
first a little shakily, but soon as swift as the lordly
eagle, the Emperor of the Sky-Skinned Airships.
Bopping through the morning clouds, Kingsley rocked to and
fro, now and again straightening his course by adjusting the
misty spider's-web rope which was harnessed around
Lionel's little puffed-out chest. They made a wonderful
sight, these animal Wright brothers.
A lonely elf crunched the autumn leaves and solemnly
dictated to his mouse scribe long, winding spirals of
wonderful runes which, in our heavy translation would awaken
Ra at midnight, or un-hibernate a legion of poley albino-eyed
hedgehogs or even cause a chasm on the deeply swirl of Fox
Necks to drown a blessed water lily. Pan be praised for
elfish ability to know about wisdom and to use it wisely.
The elf's autumn feet hidden in rose-petal, pointed
shoes walked into The Mighty Grove and his never-ending
stream of merriment soared and gushed Niagarally through the
Wonderful Kingdom. But even as quick as it came, it had
ceased. His wise eyes became beacons of true light.
As the piggy bundle tumbled from the blessed heavens, the
leaping elf hastily harnessed his beloved, tame nightingale
and made for the point of ejection with a heart of many
carats. Entangled in thorns and briars was Kingsley Mole, his
snout sticking high in the splendoured air; tents of zodiac
folds cascaded over Lionel's larkish dome. De-spectacled,
he moaned into Kingsley Mole's eyes and cursed all flying
machines doomed to rely on the ficklety of piggish
The two saddened creatures trundled from their rose-bush
prison and lay scarlet and fatigued in the escaping
afternoon. The handsome, elfin figure soared through dusking
skies and upon landing, kissed the proud brow of his sky
steed and called a greeting to Mole and Li.
After tea from acorn cups and slices of blueberry pie, the
handsome elf told all the large legends that he knew about
the perilous pond and its scaly protectors. Also of its
healing ability and how one draught of pond dew could put
forests of tangling tufts on the baldest badger or field
After glow-worm talks and plans for the quest, the elf led
the tired companions through the foreboding fairy wood until
they reached a large, beautifully-worked leather fencing
boot, which had a door in its heel.
"My great grandfather," the elf said, as Lionel
commented about image engraved on the door knob.
"An alchemist you know," said the fairy one.
"Mmmmm," said Li suspiciously.
They were made very comfortable in beds of great expanse,
spider web sheets, and towers of warm, woolly moss blankets
and, as always in an elvish abode, dreams of the gentlest
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