“It can’t be true. It’s just a myth. Isn’t it?”

“It is no myth, my son.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, Stroth, I have seen it. It stands in the center of a thick stone wall, stretching to the heavens. And they say that at the very top, you will find the Queen of Birds, the magnificent Swan of Sweld. Since the world began she has dwelt there, guarding a sack of gold so huge it would take ten men to lift it. Many have attempted to reach her, but they always return home with the news that they were not worthy of the prize.”

Twelve-year-old Stroth arched an eyebrow. “But I thought the tree had no end?” he challenged.

His father laughed. “They say that about it, too. It is one of the greatest mysteries of this world, after all. Why not make it even more mysterious?” He yawned and stretched his arms. Motioning to the rest of his children gathered about his feet, he said, “Anyway, it’s time you all went to bed. I aim to get up early tomorrow. If we don’t get the crops planted now, we don’t stand a chance of surviving the winter.”

Stroth did not let the story slip from his mind as he settled down onto his bed. The truth was, it intrigued him. The thought of a tremendous sack of gold, guarded at the top of a legendary tree, sent him hurtling into childlike fantasies in which he and his family stood at the door of a towering mansion, surrounded by heaps of rubies and gold. The entire village gaped at them, awestruck, their eyes shining with wonder.

Then reality returned, and he found himself lying on a hard, lumpy cot in a drafty old house, the eldest child of a family with so little money that starvation was constantly looming.

That night, he wondered if it was possible to search for the Endless Tree. To climb its impossible trunk, and to meet the Swan of Sweld. Anything to rescue his family from their miserable state of living was worth considering, after all.

Stroth did not go to sleep that night. He lay there, heart pounding, wondering if it was all a foolish ambition and, even if it was, whether his family’s situation was so desperate that he must attempt it.

Then he did it. Ignoring the part of him that warned him not to and clearing his mind of any other thoughts, he tiptoed down to the kitchen and hastily scrawled a message onto a piece of paper explaining why he had left. He would have taken food if there had been enough of it, but since there was not, he was forced to leave without it. Besides, he was used to going hungry for long periods of time.

Just as he stepped out of the door of the house, he wondered whether he should take the rest of his family with him–at least his father, who knew where the Endless Tree was. But then he remembered his father’s words, about how if they did not get the crops in right away, there wouldn’t be enough for winter. That was it, then. He would have to go alone.

The moon led him far into the forest, along a trail that was now overgrown with brambles and thorns. More than once he was tempted to turn back, especially when the trail began disappearing beneath the shrubbery for a few minutes at a time. But Stroth was not one to give up so easily. He was tired of living on the edge of starvation. Either he made a new life for his family, or he died out here in the untamed woods.

He would have to rest soon. The moon was sinking lower, and the sky was beginning to lighten. Just a bit further, he thought to himself. You’ve got to keep going while the moon’s still out.

His eyes did not seem to agree with him, however. They continued to droop lower and lower, so that soon he was nearly colliding with trees, or falling face-first into the thorns.

It was then, when he was mere moments away from falling asleep, that he felt his head smash into a cold, stone structure. He toppled back with a cry, clutching at his forehead and grimacing at the knot there that was already swelling.

At last he opened his eyes, and when he did, he gasped in amazement. Towering almost five feet above him was a great stone wall, covered in thick blankets of vines. He recalled his father’s words: “The Tree stands in the center of the thick stone wall, stretching to the heavens.” This place fit that description perfectly. Stroth was almost certain that he had arrived at his destination–with, of course, the help of the caring moon.

He turned around, as if to thank it, but it had already sunk below the horizon and surrendered the sky to the sun.

Well, he thought, all I’ve got to do now is find a way through this wall.

The first part of his journey was past. Now he prepared himself for what he supposed would be the hardest part–climbing the Tree.

Shielding his eyes from the light, he slowly approached the stone doors. They were massive, so even though they were opened only a crack, the distance between the two of them was longer than Stroth was tall. It was through here that Stroth entered–through here that his heart leapt with excitement, and his eyes sparkled with a hope he had never known.

Inside the wall was a gorgeous clearing. Exotic flowers of all kinds covered the lush ground, and bubbling streams of water danced merrily around his feet. But Stroth saw none of this. His eyes were fixed on the colossal tree soaring up from the clearing’s center. His jaw dropped, and for a long time he was incapable of moving, even of thinking. The Tree was so impossibly huge that it would be a waste of time attempting to describe it. The best way of imagining it would be to picture a normal maple tree, already quite majestic, and then to increase that tree’s size at least fifty times in one’s head.

So Father was right after all, thought Stroth. Or at least, he had been right about the Tree’s existence. But did the Endless Tree have an end after all, an end that was also the dwelling of the Swan of Sweld? There was but one way to answer that question, and that was climbing the Tree.

Yet despite how triumphant and awestruck young Stroth was, he could not for much longer resist the need to sleep. The climb up the Tree would require every ounce of energy he had, and who knew how long the journey would take? 

It was for these reasons that Stroth settled down on the bed of flowers, closed his eyes, and finally fell asleep.

When Stroth awoke again, he thought at first that he was still at home. But then he looked about him, and all at once he remembered what had happened the night before.

He wasted no time in springing to his feet: the earlier he began his climb, the better. However, he first stooped beside one of the streams of water to drink. He knew he had to fill himself with as much water as he could before he started out, and so he drank till he could drink no more. There. Now he was ready to ascend the tree.

Suddenly something struck him that he hadn’t previously thought of: How exactly would he climb it? He didn’t have to wait long for the answer. For, as he gazed at the wooden giant, he realized that its enormous branches actually formed a kind of stairway, spiraling up and up around the trunk. Why, this would be easy! So easy, in fact, that he wondered why no one else was climbing it.

Stroth dashed towards the base of the tree with a laugh, but before he reached out for its lowest limb, he closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Then, with that same determination flaming in his eyes, he grabbed hold of the huge bough and clambered atop it. From there, he was able to hop from branch to branch as easily as a rabbit hops across a prairie. And as he hopped, he sensed an emotion coursing through him that he had experienced only once before, when he had entered through the gate last night. It was hope, wild, surging hope, and it set Stroth’s heart on fire.

He climbed for hours, and eventually his legs ached. Suddenly struck with fear, he gazed back down the way he had come. One misstep, and it was all over. He shuddered but kept on climbing.

Soon he was well above the forest canopy. Nothing could be seen but a wide expanse of blue, entirely empty of clouds. Stroth looked up again, and the hope he had felt before was slowly replaced with despair, for still the tree soared up into the sky, and still he could see no end to it. It made him feel, dishearteningly, as if he had accomplished nothing. You can’t give up yet, he told himself. You’ve got to keep moving.

By the end of the day, nothing had changed, save that Stroth was now wrapped in darkness, and had only the stars to help him see. He shivered, wishing he had brought a warmer coat. But of course, he’d had none to bring, and that was one of the reasons he had come here. Pressing his back against the tree to sleep, he wondered what his family had been doing today. Searching for him, likely. And by searching for him, they were also neglecting their crops. Stroth closed his eyes, trying to hold the tears back. How foolish he had been! How arrogant, how discontented! He would give anything to be reunited with his family right now. But it was already too late. Going up the tree had taken a bit less than a day; going back down would surely take just as long. At the moment, the best thing he could think to do was go to sleep until morning.

When he woke up, he was terribly hungry. He had felt little need for food the day before, but a twelve-year-old cannot fast for much longer than a day. Even worse, his throat ached for water. His best choice, obviously, was to climb back down and find his family. 

But something inside him resisted. It was that same determination he had always possessed, begging him to keep going. It was a foolish part of him, to be sure. But also one that was difficult to withstand.

Stroth gritted his teeth and clamped his eyes shut. Of course, he knew what he should do. He knew that his family was desperately searching for him. And he knew that by pressing on, he was no longer climbing for their sake, but for his own.

How could I have been so selfish? he wondered. The old determination in him was gone now. His decision was made. He would climb back down the tree, and he would not stop till he was reunited with his family. That was that.

And so, ignoring the dizzying drop below, Stroth began the descent down the tree. Only a few minutes had passed, however, before he heard a gentle flapping sound near his ears. At first he assumed it was merely the wind brushing through the leaves of the tree. Unlike the wind, though, the sound seemed to be growing louder. All at once Stroth had the peculiar feeling that he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, but out of a different kind of fear than he had ever experienced. Slowly he turned round, and he could never have predicted what would happen next.

There, hovering like an angel in front of him, was the Swan of Sweld. It looked like any other swan, save that it was tripled in size and shone with a deadly brilliance. Stroth felt a rush of air as it flapped its wings, and by this he knew that this was no hallucination.

“So,” said the Swan. Her voice echoed with both power and authority. “You have dared to climb my blessed Tree.”

Stroth blinked and swallowed hard, at a complete loss for words.

“And yet,” she went on, “you are far younger than any others I have met on this tree. You are only a boy, are you not?”

He gave a trembling nod.

“For what reason, then, have you come here?” inquired the Swan. She peered at him intently, as if searching his face for dishonesty. Unable to endure her gaze, Stroth looked down at his feet, struggling to respond.

“You came here for the gold,” she said after a pause. Stroth looked up in shock. She had known the answer all along.

“However,” she continued, “you did so for reasons beyond selfishness–unlike the others I have met on their journey up. You did it for your family, who will starve if you do not get the gold. You did it out of love.”

At these words, Stroth forgot himself. In a quavering voice he blurted out, “But–but I didn’t! I ran away from home and … and … and endangered my family. I’m sorry for it. I’ve decided to go back.”

The Swan regarded him sternly and silently. “What you say is true,” she declared at last. “You have done a dreadful deed in leaving your family. But you have repented, have you not? And once you have repented, you must resolve whatever wrongs you have done.”

“I want to resolve mine,” he said. “By going home.”

The Swan’s grave face softened. “You are a brave boy. Braver than most I have met, and more honest as well. Because of this, I have chosen to fly you back to your family.”

Stroth felt tears well up in his eyes. He would have told her, “thank you,” but he was so overwhelmed with relief that he seemed to be empty of words.

“But first,” said the Swan, her eyes sparkling as she spoke, “I have something I would like you to see. Your journey here would be for nothing if I did not take you there.”

Stroth gasped. “But I … but I didn’t make it!” he protested.

“You made it,” said the Swan of Sweld. “In your heart.”

Stroth felt no fear of hurtling through the air like this. He trusted the Swan like he trusted his own mother. Besides, he was willing to risk just about anything to support his family.

After a long while they were above even the highest of clouds. The air was thinner and cooler up here, and the Swan began slowing down in flight.

“We are nearly there, my child,” she whispered in that soft, elegant voice of hers. “Lift your head, and you will see it!”

Stroth did as he was told, and once again, he gasped in awe. He had done a good deal of gasping lately, and one could hardly blame him. For, just now, they had reached the End of the Endless Tree.

And what an End it was. Where the branch-stairway stopped, thicker, leafier boughs stretched out in a circular pattern. Around and around the summit these boughs had grown, giving birth to even more branches near their tips, so that the result looked something like a magnificent whirlpool of wood and leaves. In the center of this whirlpool, inside what Stroth guessed was the Swan’s nest, the sack of gold rested, a gigantic treasure that glowed so brightly that Stroth had to shield his eyes.

The Swan alighted on one of the larger branches and waited as Stroth slid off her back. “I have waited long to reward a person with this gold,” she said. “But during all these hundreds of years, no one worthy of it has come–until now.” Her black eyes glimmered, and her feathers quivered in excitement. “At last, I shall be free to roam the skies again. Free to live as a normal swan, and not as a guardian of some human treasure.”

And my family and I shall no longer live in constant anxiety, thought Stroth. He felt that rare emotion–hope–rise up within him once more as he watched the Swan lift the sack of gold up in her beak and beckon him back over with her wing.

Of course, no amount of gold could make a family truly happy. His father had told him that many times, and Stroth knew it to be true. They had always been a joyful family, but this gold would add to the happiness they already shared by easing their burdens.

Stroth took a deep breath. He knew very well that climbing onto the Swan’s shoulder meant climbing up into a new life, and that also meant that these were the final moments of his old life.

“O.K.,” he said, looking up into her eyes. “I’m ready.”

And with that, they took off in flight–off into a new and glorious future.