"Let's ask Mr Mole why nettles have stings, he’s sure to know."
"But," Harry protested, "we don’t know where he is."
“Well he’s got to be in the meadow somewhere. Come on let’s look.”
"Why don't you go and ask him yourself?" grumbled Harry, “Then you can come back and tell me."
Robbie sat down, tapping his fingers on the soil impatiently, "It's no fun on my own," he said, "besides you’re my friend, I would go with you if you asked me to.” He smiled cheekily. Harry felt suddenly rather happy, as if a little glow had lit up inside him: it was nice when someone said you were their friend, he thought, even if they did bounce rather a lot.
"All right," He agreed, "I'll come with you." He rolled down Mr Mole’s hill and jumped up, eager to find out the answer to his friends question.
"Goody, " said Robbie, jumping backwards and forwards in excitement.
They set off; Robbie leaping cheerfully from one clump of grass to another, while, beside him, Harry’s beautiful fur glinted in the sunlight. They hopped joyfully, with the warm summer breeze ruffling their fur, two of the best friends in the meadow. They both bounced from one molehill to another, looking for wise old Mr Mole. They poked their twitching noses here and there, searching till finally a black nose and silver claws scrambled up to the surface.
“Good afternoon boys, what can I do for you?” said Mr Mole; he squinted down his spectacles at the pair, expectantly. They had almost forgotten why they were looking for him. Robbie was munching on grass again, Harry nudged him to make him ask Mr Mole. However his mouth was to full as he shook his head
“Mr Mole?" He asked, with Robbie making crunching noises in his ear, "If grass leaves taste so nice and don't sting, why do nettles?"
"Why do nettles what?"
"Stings," continued Robbie, his mouth still full of leaf.
Mr Mole scratched his head. "I’m not quite sure about that, I really don’t know why," he replied, "But I do know a story that seems to make sense."
Robbie stopped chewing. "Can you tell us?" he asked.
"Of course, if I can remember it," replied Mr Mole, as he rested his head on his paws, trying to recall the story.
"Long ago," he began, "There was a nettle growing in a meadow."
"Just one?" Robbie was picking at a piece of leaf that had got stuck between his big front teeth, “There are lots in our meadow: specially in the shady bit."
"Maybe there were lots in this meadow as well," Said Mr Mole, "The story didn't say."
Harry and Robbie began to make themselves comfortable again in the sunshine. They were watching Mr Mole waiting for him to continue with the story. Robbie began to fidget impatiently.
"Anyway," Mr Mole began again, "This nettle was really sad."
"Why?" Demanded Robbie.
“Probably because he was lonely," Huffed Harry. He wanted to hear the story. “He would have been very lonely if he was the only nettle in the meadow.”
Mr Mole could see it was going to take some time to tell the story.
"He was sad," He sighed, "Because nobody liked him."
"That's probably because he stung them,” Muttered Robbie.
"M'mm," Agreed Mr Mole, "But he couldn't help it: that's the way he was made."
"Then," Mr Mole continued, "One day, while all the other bugs and minibeasts were happily playing together, a big shadow began to cover their playground. The nettle hardly noticed because he was so miserable. He was always being left out, but it wasn’t his fault.
“Well he shouldn’t have stung everyone then,” Robbie interrupted again; he was beginning to greatly irritate Harry.
“Like I said it was just the way he was made, you can’t really blame him. Anyway, he was stood all on his own in a corner, even the grass leaves tried to keep away from him, when he suddenly heard a loud snorting and snuffling. He looked up to see a huge blackness coming towards him and all the other creatures. He looked around, but no one else had noticed; they were too busy enjoying themselves.”
“Oh no!” Robbie was really getting in to the story.
“ The nettle tried shouting out to everyone, but nobody was listening. Suddenly there was a scream and everyone came running towards him. He didn’t understand why until he realised that they were hiding behind him.
“Sting the blackness Nettle, please, you’re our only hope.” His tormentors needed his help; finally this was his time to be special. He towered above the others protecting them with his leaves. He was careful not to touch them though. He was saving his sting for the blackness. He lashed out at it with all his might, until finally the darkness resided and sunshine came back to the playground.
Cheers went out from the crowd; finally he was being noticed for something good. From that day on he always had friends, even though he was extremely careful not to sting anyone again.”
“But what was the darkness?” asked Robbie.
“It was my nose,” replied Mr Mole with a smirk,” believe me boys, I’ve learnt my lesson, to stay away from nettles, but now I have a lot of respect for them. That one nettle looked after those creatures even though they had bullied the nettle, and now he has all the friends in the world.”
Robbie yawned as it was getting late. They thanked Mr Mole and made their way through the meadow back home. On their way, Harry started humming a tune. He was thinking about the story and how the nettle had made so many friends even though they hadn’t gave him a chance before.
Robbie was still munching on grass leaves as he began to hum also. They were happy to finally find out why nettles have stings.
