Split Tree
Somewhere in a lonely field in Portugal, there stood a tree. The tree had been there for centuries, on its own, the only tree in the field with no others around it.
One day, two goblinhos moved into the tree.
One was named Fernão, and the other was called Vicente. Immediately after claiming the tree as their own, they took a nap, because moving is very tiring.
When they woke up, the sky was dark and grey. It looked as if it might rain. Vicente was concerned.
"Perhaps we should get out of this tree," he suggested.
"Why?" Fernão whined. "I just found a nice spot!"
"What if lightning hits the tree?" Vicente said. "We'd be toasted!"
"Don't be silly," Fernão replied.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"There, you see?" Vicente cried.
"At least wait to see if it gets closer," Fernão grumbled irritably. "I'm going back to sleep."
A few minutes passed. The sky grew darker and darker. Just as Fernão began to drift off, a loud thunderclap awoke him. He yelled in fright and fell off of his perch, just managing to catch a branch before he hit the ground. He clambered shakily back up to his spot.
"I TOLD you!" Vicente shouted triumphantly, causing his companion to cover his ears. Fernão glared at him. "That doesn't mean lightning will hit our tree," he protested.
"Yes it does."
"Not."
"Does."
"NOT."
"DOES."
"NOT!"
"Why don't we ask the lightning, then?" Vicente said huffily. "Since your tiny little mind refuses to see reason."
"Fine," Fernão snapped. "Since YOUR tiny little mind is so afraid of a bit of rain."
Vicente scowled at him, then looked up at the sky. "Hello!" he called. "Lightning!"
The clouds lit up with a sudden flash of light. "What?" the lightning asked in a crackly voice.
"Are you going to strike this tree?"
"I don't know," the lightning replied.
"How could you not know?" Vicente exclaimed. "If you don't, who does?"
"The Rainha do Céu," said the lightning. "I'm just her lackey."
"Well, would you ask her if she intends to strike this tree, please?" Vicente requested, but the lightning had already moved away.
"We'll be fine," Fernão insisted. "Why would she destroy us out of all the things in this field?"
"Why would she destroy that bush over there?" Vicente retorted, nodding to a large pile of ash a few hundred meters from their tree.
"A fluke."
"It was not."
"Yes it was."
"No it wasn't!"
They continued in this manner for a time as-unbeknownst to the goblinhos-the Rainha watched. After about a quarter of an hour, she grew tired of their quibbling, and called the lightning over to her.
"Lightning," she commanded. "Go and strike the tree in which those goblinhos sit. Strike the one for his arrogance in believing he is invincible, and the other for his foolishness in remaining with his friend instead of abandoning a lost cause."
The lightning set forth to do as he was charged. He struck the tree right in the middle, directly between the two arguing goblinhos, splitting it in two and silencing their quarrel.
There are still, to this day, two burnt and blackened impressions on either side of the lonely tree. Both with arms crossed, one is turned toward the west of the field, and the other toward the rising sun.
They almost look as if they are giving each other the silent treatment.