Mythical pagan rambling myth -- under construction
Created | Updated Jul 13, 2006
It was a rare place. A creature could rest there and partake of the healing life power that Gaia the Earth Mother offered to her children. It was properly a glade, a large circle of soft warm turf, surrounded by dense forest, which refrained from encroaching upon Gaia's grassy shrine.
The forest was ancient and deep, home to the usual mix of life. Lithe creatures made way for the large blundering beasts that passed through in search of a meal, a drink, or a nest. Ferns, vines and grasses provided thick lush carpets upon the forest floor, and hoary stately boles of ancient giants upheld their canopy over woodland halls.
Like any forest worthy of the reputation, it was a realm of mystery. Those creatures that spent their lives wandering through this land often encountered the unexpected: a sudden rift in the forest floor, with the sound of flowing water in the invisible depths; a sudden outcrop of rock gleaming in the sun; streams, springs, and lakes; impassable thickets, home to the most timid creatures. Among these timid creatures were dryads, devoted to the forest goddess Adwinna. They generally wore the aspect of young does, and carefully tended the young saplings that strove to rise above the ferns.
The glade remained impervious to the seasons. It was by far the largest and strongest upwelling of Gaia's presence in the land. With the sureness of keen instinct, beasts trod straight narrow paths through the forest toward the place of perennial green turf. Creatures of every sort came and went, mingling indiscriminately and peacefully. Their presence at this wellspring of life energy was purely for healing and rest. Blood was never spilt, for such was Gaia's command. For a great distance about the magic circle, predators would not pounce and insects would not bite.
* * * * *
The land lay quiescent for many an age; the climate was mild and the forest grew, on the flat southern ranges of a very large half-mountainous island. It spread with such patient fecundity throughout the centuries that its uttermost fringes were washed by the salt spume of the sea.
Creatures of myth convened with the beasts of the wood, and the cycles of life in the house of Adwinna flowed in fertile rhythms. Her domain was charmed with bounty and growth.
When humans arrived at this island, they came in fits and spurts over a long span of years. Small bands of bold seafarers would wash ashore on all manner of boats and rafts. Many would tarry at the shore and build their shelters there, being sea-folk and fishers. Others would land clumsy rafts upon the strand, cast off their salt-sodden wrappings, gather their children, hounds, tools and meagre provision, and trek into the forest.
Adwinna saw that the early two-legged immigrants to her realm were hunters and gatherers, slowly drifting through her immense house, disturbing no more than necessary to fulfill their own needs. They brought fire with them, which startled and worried her.
They also brought a deep sense of reverence in their human souls, which distinguished them from the other creatures, large or small. Their instincts were strong yet adaptable, and they grew properly close to the living presence that fed and sheltered them. Gratitude grew in their hearts, and they proclaimed their everlasting devotion to the Lady of the Wood. Every harvest, indeed every four-legged creature slain by the hunters, was consecrated to Adwinna. Every departed elder was ceremonially laid to rest in a quiet grove, the tribe commending the travel-weary soul to Adwinna. Tender blossoms grew from the tendrils that wove their nets over the simple graves.
Adwinna was pleased.
* * * * *
Gaia wistfully wondered how she should attract that vivifying human devotion that Adwinna enjoyed. Her gift to the world of the living was life itself, much more fundamental in its value than Adwinna's. The young forest-maiden trumped her! And to think that she also claimed the dead! That was going too far.
This slow spark of jealousy roused Gaia from her somnolent perspective, quickening her and urging her onward, closer to the regions Adwinna occupied. She composed herself presently, and prepared to pay Adwinna a visit at her woodland court.
Her golden awareness set forth to the hoary depths of the first forest, alive now with colour and commotion, for Spring-time was now in full riot. She meandered serenely through thickets of old growth and airy realms of green-tinted light. She approached Adwinna's abode at length, guarded by a maze of trees, hedges and brambles, thousands of human paces in length.
At sunset, Gaia entered the sanctum of the wood-goddess, a grove of stately beech trees, the very air sparkling with red and green dreamlight as daylight faded. She saw now, in the circular central hall, a dancing creature of human aspect, clad in the fullness of womanhood, rich dark curls flowing from under a crown of forest flowers, eyes shining with joy, skin blushed with the high vigour of life, her every gesture bespeaking a passion that transcended mere lust. A party of pale maidens ringed their Queen, and Gaia, observing them closely, saw them to be dryads. They stood quietly, thirteen with hands linked, their solemn eyes flashing soulfire to their queen as she wheeled, swayed, and finally sank to the soft mossy carpet within their circle.
Gaia drank deeply of the ambient passion. She felt herself quickening to a level she only rarely entertained. She chose the moment to manifest herself as an amorphous golden light directly in front of Adwinna.
'What transpires, O mistress of the forest?'
Adwinna was vexed for an instant at this intrusion, but recognised Gaia's presence and composed herself enough to offer a gracious greeting. She rose gracefully to her knees, her bright chaplet sliding askew on her hair.
'This day is chosen to celebrate the spring renewal, Mother. My dear children' -- indicating the dryads, who had dispersed to form a loose circle at the periphery of the grove -- 'have hunted a young hunter to his ecstatic end. They fed well, and have come to share the flavour of his soul with me.' Adwinna smiled dreamily and caressed herself abstractedly, sensuously, and threw back her head, her chaplet falling unnoticed behind her. Whispering now: 'I crave their rich living passions, Mother. It is like nothing else, and it gives me so much joy.'
The golden light drew into itself and formed an image of a golden-skinned, golden-haired woman, somewhat obscured by her hazy golden aura. Her aspect was matronly, wider of hip than the forest-goddess, heavier of breast and belly. Her eyes conveyed a tender longing.
'Jealousy brought me here, dear Adwinna. I have felt of the dreams of these creatures that adore you so fully. They regard me not at all, and I want my righteous share of their devotion.'
Adwinna sat back on her heels, sympathy in her eyes. 'They are so close to me, Mother. They live and die in my house; they sing and dance for me; they name their babies in the groves where they gather to love me; Every youth with legs to run, runs through the forest on high days like today, every one prepared to give his life for me.
'My dryads hunt only one. They wear the aspect of comely maidens to excite the male heart and inspire the chase. They choose a strong youth, proud of his sex, simple of heart. One after another, my darlings beguile him, enthrall him, and extract portions of his life-force until nothing remains in his poor husk.
'Then they bring it all to me. Do you feel the passion, Mother? Do you wish to dance now in the dryads' circle?'
Gaia demurred. 'His life-force was my original gift to him. Please do not allow your hunger to grow.'
'For each of the four seasons, there is only one youth taken from the whole forest. They offered me maidens as well, but the fire in those gentle hearts did not warm me...no, Mother, it is not your life-force I drink, but their animal passion.' Adwinna rose to her feet. 'You spoke of their dreams.' She signalled the dryads closer. 'I drank deeply of the spirit of that youth, yet something remains. Dream? I am not really sure; perhaps you would discern.'
The thirteen pale figures drifted languidly, almost reluctantly, into the moss-carpeted hall again to encircle the two goddesses. Gaia saw hints of beech, willow, oak, elm, rose, ash, and others, in the colours and aspects of those silent creatures. They were comely maidens to the eye, yet they lacked the verve of woman-children. Their eyes were those of creatures who had never felt human passions or dreamt human dreams.
Except for one. She wore the fragrance of oak leaves. Her eyes shone with a dim glimmer of memory. Gaia approached her and gently touched her cheek.
The dryad was stimulated by the golden touch, and a hopeful yearning light dawned in her eyes. Her small mouth, unchained from the silence of a dryad's world, opened to utter whispered words: 'I knew this hunter in his boyhood.'
The other dryads fled into the darkling hedges.
The golden woman grew into a sphere of light which enveloped the oak-dryad. After a moment Gaia drew away, formed a bright core, materialized the recumbent figure of a youth, and then smoothly withdrew to where Adwinna stood bemused.
'To a distance, then, my dear Adwinna. Let the young man's dream live its brief life. I would ask nothing more of you. Come.' Thus did golden Gaia gently coax the forest-goddess away from her sanctum. Lambent golden sparks swirled up to add their glimmers to the dreamlight.
The dryad was quickened now by living blood and emotion. Trembling, she watched the youth awaken fully into his dream-body. Yes, she knew him intimately.
She had been permitted to choose the victim that morning, because she was hosting her sister dryads from across the forest for the season's Merry Chase. She had taken the boy that became this young hunter, as her pet, many seasons past. Of all the youths cavorting naked through the forest on the Chase, only her pet actually saw her, touched her, and sacrificed himself to her.
Were the dryad capable of understanding human friendship, the youth before her would have been her friend for many years. She lived in his dreams, not as a dryad, but as a living girl.
The dryad's newly wrought heart made the connection with their shared past. She felt both joy at his presence in that moment, and loss, for she had ended his young life. He had first knelt before her when the day was not yet at its noon, accepting the dryads' doom at her first ensorcelment; he was then passed from dryad to dryad like a wine-flask between thirteen thirsty friends. But her first drink from this vessel carried a sweetness that transcended all else in her sempiternal experience. She was touched by that; and the touch was glorified by the Golden Mother, whose potent magic endowed her now with a human heart. The day had now become night. Her fate was now linked to his.
She sank to her knees to enfold him in her arms. He aroused, breathed deeply, and addressed her with gentle words: 'I smell you, oak-maiden, I know you. I dreamed of you and loved you since first I climbed your tree. Would you tarry with me now, Derwyn?' He rose to his knees.
The dryad with the woman's heart clasped him closer yet. 'I found you asleep in my tree one summer day many years ago, a small young tender offering. I bound you to your sleep for a time and touched you, tasted you, but I did not partake of you then because your fruit were not yet ripe. I would wait for my man-child to ripen. You never saw me, but I was often close to you during the long winter nights in your family's shelter, and I was always at my tree...our tree...to welcome you when you visited. You ran today on the Merry Chase, and I claimed you. I was loath to share you with my sisters, as I have been close to you for most of your life.' Derwyn smiled for a long moment, thrilled by a new emotion. 'Now you, have named me; now I, am truly yours.'
He retrieved Adwinna's chaplet and placed it with tender gentleness upon her head.
* * * * *
Passions spent, the lovers -- the twofold Derwyn and the dream scion of the young hunter -- slumbered together on the moss-carpeted floor of the wood-goddess' grove, their bodies a pale glyph against the soft darkness.
He sleepily drew her closer to him, and in that slow moment of motion, his dream-body faded into a mist, which quickly enveloped and permeated her.
Derwyn dreamed, for the first time in her existence. She entered the realm that her lover had long since prepared for her, and he walked beside her in a land that knew no decay or corruption.
In the grove's centre, her pale body slept peacefully. Her chaplet lay discarded, forgotten, and somewhat the worse for wear, a short distance away. The stars wandered across the open sky amidst the shadowy treetops. A hush had fallen over the grove, as if all life in that place had agreed not to disturb this sleeper.
Adwinna stood in the middle distance, silent, thoughtful, awaiting the dawn and this twofold creature's awakening. Twelve pale figures stood at the periphery like frozen wisps of witchlight, awaiting their mistress' pleasure.
The sky to the east began to brighten, and soon the spell of silence was lifted. The dawn-song of the forest birds arose first in the east, faintly, and quickly enveloped the grove with their chorus, as the wave of music flowed into the west.
Derwyn awoke, and she opened her eyes to behold Adwinna standing over her, unfathomable eyes regarding her, deliberate fingers repairing the damage done to the twice-discarded chaplet.
'When a nymph falls in love she is doomed. As you are doomed, but the nature of your doom is obscured to me. You are two-fold now, only the small fading dryad memory within you gives you access to me. You were greatly blest by Mother’s touch yestereve, else you would have withered away by now, and become nothing.'
The twelve stood close now, their moods and emotions faintly but clearly conveyed. 'Tainted!' 'Filthy!' 'Obscene!' and other expletives of that sort bombarded her. She bore the assault calmly and quietly, realising that she was now forever sundered from the world she knew just the day before. Those who yesterday were sisters, were now filled with fervent scorn. Dryads were not known for sympathy for the fallen.
Adwinna bade the dryads depart, and they rapidly shifted beyond Derwyn's vision, in the same mode that she had used to hide from mortals. She would never again dance --
'You are mortal now. I cast you out, but by Mother's wish, you are protected from all harm within my domain.' Adwinna placed the restored chaplet upon Derwyn’s head. ‘I shall raise a base creature to be the oak-dryad, and I command you to shun the oak, from now to forever.
'Mother has taken you as her own; you must seek her guidance in your new life. She can be found in various quiet places under the open sky, where hurt creatures go for healing. Follow the paths of the wounded creatures, and you will soon find her.
'Seek a green glade, seek a stony hill, seek a cliff or cave or river channel. My forest is no longer your home. Go now.'
Derwyn began her trek, guided through the long maze by quick glimpses of motion. Her feet brought her to its opening at about midday. Never before having felt fatigue or thirst, she was puzzled by the weakness, and found a patch of dark shade where she could compose herself. She slumbered within moments, and sought her dream-partner.
He found that she had no mortal instincts. He resolved to instill his own instincts, as well as his skills, into her awareness; thus the bond between the two strengthened further.
She pouted. She had never named her man or even remembered the name that he used!
‘It makes no difference,’ said he, ‘any name will do, as I will always be with you at your first word.’
‘Yes, but if I want to sing of love, what name will fly to the sky?’
‘My name was Enno. Name me now, Derwyn.’
‘Enno. Enno. Enno, we need to find a place where the Golden Mother will help us.’
‘Derwyn, Derwyn, Derwyn, first we need to eat and drink.’
‘Oh.’
* * * * *
Gaia was pleased.
* * * * *
The human clans, growing in scope and number over many generations, crossed paths from time to time, and would commingle their blood rather than spill it. Camps of varying degrees of permanence were established to commemorate these meetings. Over time, being close to well-travelled pathways, some of these camps grew into villages.
Ravenrock was not a typical village. It stood far from any well-travelled road; its huts and sheds nestled against a massive fir-clad hummock under a craggy outcrop of rock; it was peopled largely by elders and seers from various clans, who sought enlightenment in that place. For the Raven’s Rock itself was fraught with rumours of sublime power, and it gathered to itself the human souls who had awakened to Gaia's dream.
Even the weariest of those old bodies could make the slow trek up the fir-studded slope to the level of barren rock. Skirting the sheer southern rock face on a narrow stony path, they could soon come upon a broad green terrace edged with stone, offering a vista of the endless sky above the endless forest.
The rocky crags above, inaccessible even to strong, agile, determined climbers, were inhabited by ravens.
The terrace was inhabited by a venerable oak. Each of those who saw it marvelled at its strength and green beauty, even as they wondered at its presence so high above the forest, so far from its kin.
The oak had a splendid home on that green terrace. Its roots found good deep earth in that high place, basking in its sunny niche in the smooth sheer cliff. It bore no fruit, however, and the small creatures that would normally live in such a tree remained in the forest far below. The ravens in the rocks above ignored it; only the humans from the village below showed any interest.
They honoured the tree in their clean simple ways, and the village youths and maidens found the oak's high terrace an excellent trysting-place.
The forest was ancient and deep, home to the usual mix of life. Lithe creatures made way for the large blundering beasts that passed through in search of a meal, a drink, or a nest. Ferns, vines and grasses provided thick lush carpets upon the forest floor, and hoary stately boles of ancient giants upheld their canopy over woodland halls.
Like any forest worthy of the reputation, it was a realm of mystery. Those creatures that spent their lives wandering through this land often encountered the unexpected: a sudden rift in the forest floor, with the sound of flowing water in the invisible depths; a sudden outcrop of rock gleaming in the sun; streams, springs, and lakes; impassable thickets, home to the most timid creatures. Among these timid creatures were dryads, devoted to the forest goddess Adwinna. They generally wore the aspect of young does, and carefully tended the young saplings that strove to rise above the ferns.
The glade remained impervious to the seasons. It was by far the largest and strongest upwelling of Gaia's presence in the land. With the sureness of keen instinct, beasts trod straight narrow paths through the forest toward the place of perennial green turf. Creatures of every sort came and went, mingling indiscriminately and peacefully. Their presence at this wellspring of life energy was purely for healing and rest. Blood was never spilt, for such was Gaia's command. For a great distance about the magic circle, predators would not pounce and insects would not bite.
* * * * *
The land lay quiescent for many an age; the climate was mild and the forest grew, on the flat southern ranges of a very large half-mountainous island. It spread with such patient fecundity throughout the centuries that its uttermost fringes were washed by the salt spume of the sea.
Creatures of myth convened with the beasts of the wood, and the cycles of life in the house of Adwinna flowed in fertile rhythms. Her domain was charmed with bounty and growth.
When humans arrived at this island, they came in fits and spurts over a long span of years. Small bands of bold seafarers would wash ashore on all manner of boats and rafts. Many would tarry at the shore and build their shelters there, being sea-folk and fishers. Others would land clumsy rafts upon the strand, cast off their salt-sodden wrappings, gather their children, hounds, tools and meagre provision, and trek into the forest.
Adwinna saw that the early two-legged immigrants to her realm were hunters and gatherers, slowly drifting through her immense house, disturbing no more than necessary to fulfill their own needs. They brought fire with them, which startled and worried her.
They also brought a deep sense of reverence in their human souls, which distinguished them from the other creatures, large or small. Their instincts were strong yet adaptable, and they grew properly close to the living presence that fed and sheltered them. Gratitude grew in their hearts, and they proclaimed their everlasting devotion to the Lady of the Wood. Every harvest, indeed every four-legged creature slain by the hunters, was consecrated to Adwinna. Every departed elder was ceremonially laid to rest in a quiet grove, the tribe commending the travel-weary soul to Adwinna. Tender blossoms grew from the tendrils that wove their nets over the simple graves.
Adwinna was pleased.
* * * * *
Gaia wistfully wondered how she should attract that vivifying human devotion that Adwinna enjoyed. Her gift to the world of the living was life itself, much more fundamental in its value than Adwinna's. The young forest-maiden trumped her! And to think that she also claimed the dead! That was going too far.
This slow spark of jealousy roused Gaia from her somnolent perspective, quickening her and urging her onward, closer to the regions Adwinna occupied. She composed herself presently, and prepared to pay Adwinna a visit at her woodland court.
Her golden awareness set forth to the hoary depths of the first forest, alive now with colour and commotion, for Spring-time was now in full riot. She meandered serenely through thickets of old growth and airy realms of green-tinted light. She approached Adwinna's abode at length, guarded by a maze of trees, hedges and brambles, thousands of human paces in length.
At sunset, Gaia entered the sanctum of the wood-goddess, a grove of stately beech trees, the very air sparkling with red and green dreamlight as daylight faded. She saw now, in the circular central hall, a dancing creature of human aspect, clad in the fullness of womanhood, rich dark curls flowing from under a crown of forest flowers, eyes shining with joy, skin blushed with the high vigour of life, her every gesture bespeaking a passion that transcended mere lust. A party of pale maidens ringed their Queen, and Gaia, observing them closely, saw them to be dryads. They stood quietly, thirteen with hands linked, their solemn eyes flashing soulfire to their queen as she wheeled, swayed, and finally sank to the soft mossy carpet within their circle.
Gaia drank deeply of the ambient passion. She felt herself quickening to a level she only rarely entertained. She chose the moment to manifest herself as an amorphous golden light directly in front of Adwinna.
'What transpires, O mistress of the forest?'
Adwinna was vexed for an instant at this intrusion, but recognised Gaia's presence and composed herself enough to offer a gracious greeting. She rose gracefully to her knees, her bright chaplet sliding askew on her hair.
'This day is chosen to celebrate the spring renewal, Mother. My dear children' -- indicating the dryads, who had dispersed to form a loose circle at the periphery of the grove -- 'have hunted a young hunter to his ecstatic end. They fed well, and have come to share the flavour of his soul with me.' Adwinna smiled dreamily and caressed herself abstractedly, sensuously, and threw back her head, her chaplet falling unnoticed behind her. Whispering now: 'I crave their rich living passions, Mother. It is like nothing else, and it gives me so much joy.'
The golden light drew into itself and formed an image of a golden-skinned, golden-haired woman, somewhat obscured by her hazy golden aura. Her aspect was matronly, wider of hip than the forest-goddess, heavier of breast and belly. Her eyes conveyed a tender longing.
'Jealousy brought me here, dear Adwinna. I have felt of the dreams of these creatures that adore you so fully. They regard me not at all, and I want my righteous share of their devotion.'
Adwinna sat back on her heels, sympathy in her eyes. 'They are so close to me, Mother. They live and die in my house; they sing and dance for me; they name their babies in the groves where they gather to love me; Every youth with legs to run, runs through the forest on high days like today, every one prepared to give his life for me.
'My dryads hunt only one. They wear the aspect of comely maidens to excite the male heart and inspire the chase. They choose a strong youth, proud of his sex, simple of heart. One after another, my darlings beguile him, enthrall him, and extract portions of his life-force until nothing remains in his poor husk.
'Then they bring it all to me. Do you feel the passion, Mother? Do you wish to dance now in the dryads' circle?'
Gaia demurred. 'His life-force was my original gift to him. Please do not allow your hunger to grow.'
'For each of the four seasons, there is only one youth taken from the whole forest. They offered me maidens as well, but the fire in those gentle hearts did not warm me...no, Mother, it is not your life-force I drink, but their animal passion.' Adwinna rose to her feet. 'You spoke of their dreams.' She signalled the dryads closer. 'I drank deeply of the spirit of that youth, yet something remains. Dream? I am not really sure; perhaps you would discern.'
The thirteen pale figures drifted languidly, almost reluctantly, into the moss-carpeted hall again to encircle the two goddesses. Gaia saw hints of beech, willow, oak, elm, rose, ash, and others, in the colours and aspects of those silent creatures. They were comely maidens to the eye, yet they lacked the verve of woman-children. Their eyes were those of creatures who had never felt human passions or dreamt human dreams.
Except for one. She wore the fragrance of oak leaves. Her eyes shone with a dim glimmer of memory. Gaia approached her and gently touched her cheek.
The dryad was stimulated by the golden touch, and a hopeful yearning light dawned in her eyes. Her small mouth, unchained from the silence of a dryad's world, opened to utter whispered words: 'I knew this hunter in his boyhood.'
The other dryads fled into the darkling hedges.
The golden woman grew into a sphere of light which enveloped the oak-dryad. After a moment Gaia drew away, formed a bright core, materialized the recumbent figure of a youth, and then smoothly withdrew to where Adwinna stood bemused.
'To a distance, then, my dear Adwinna. Let the young man's dream live its brief life. I would ask nothing more of you. Come.' Thus did golden Gaia gently coax the forest-goddess away from her sanctum. Lambent golden sparks swirled up to add their glimmers to the dreamlight.
The dryad was quickened now by living blood and emotion. Trembling, she watched the youth awaken fully into his dream-body. Yes, she knew him intimately.
She had been permitted to choose the victim that morning, because she was hosting her sister dryads from across the forest for the season's Merry Chase. She had taken the boy that became this young hunter, as her pet, many seasons past. Of all the youths cavorting naked through the forest on the Chase, only her pet actually saw her, touched her, and sacrificed himself to her.
Were the dryad capable of understanding human friendship, the youth before her would have been her friend for many years. She lived in his dreams, not as a dryad, but as a living girl.
The dryad's newly wrought heart made the connection with their shared past. She felt both joy at his presence in that moment, and loss, for she had ended his young life. He had first knelt before her when the day was not yet at its noon, accepting the dryads' doom at her first ensorcelment; he was then passed from dryad to dryad like a wine-flask between thirteen thirsty friends. But her first drink from this vessel carried a sweetness that transcended all else in her sempiternal experience. She was touched by that; and the touch was glorified by the Golden Mother, whose potent magic endowed her now with a human heart. The day had now become night. Her fate was now linked to his.
She sank to her knees to enfold him in her arms. He aroused, breathed deeply, and addressed her with gentle words: 'I smell you, oak-maiden, I know you. I dreamed of you and loved you since first I climbed your tree. Would you tarry with me now, Derwyn?' He rose to his knees.
The dryad with the woman's heart clasped him closer yet. 'I found you asleep in my tree one summer day many years ago, a small young tender offering. I bound you to your sleep for a time and touched you, tasted you, but I did not partake of you then because your fruit were not yet ripe. I would wait for my man-child to ripen. You never saw me, but I was often close to you during the long winter nights in your family's shelter, and I was always at my tree...our tree...to welcome you when you visited. You ran today on the Merry Chase, and I claimed you. I was loath to share you with my sisters, as I have been close to you for most of your life.' Derwyn smiled for a long moment, thrilled by a new emotion. 'Now you, have named me; now I, am truly yours.'
He retrieved Adwinna's chaplet and placed it with tender gentleness upon her head.
* * * * *
Passions spent, the lovers -- the twofold Derwyn and the dream scion of the young hunter -- slumbered together on the moss-carpeted floor of the wood-goddess' grove, their bodies a pale glyph against the soft darkness.
He sleepily drew her closer to him, and in that slow moment of motion, his dream-body faded into a mist, which quickly enveloped and permeated her.
Derwyn dreamed, for the first time in her existence. She entered the realm that her lover had long since prepared for her, and he walked beside her in a land that knew no decay or corruption.
In the grove's centre, her pale body slept peacefully. Her chaplet lay discarded, forgotten, and somewhat the worse for wear, a short distance away. The stars wandered across the open sky amidst the shadowy treetops. A hush had fallen over the grove, as if all life in that place had agreed not to disturb this sleeper.
Adwinna stood in the middle distance, silent, thoughtful, awaiting the dawn and this twofold creature's awakening. Twelve pale figures stood at the periphery like frozen wisps of witchlight, awaiting their mistress' pleasure.
The sky to the east began to brighten, and soon the spell of silence was lifted. The dawn-song of the forest birds arose first in the east, faintly, and quickly enveloped the grove with their chorus, as the wave of music flowed into the west.
Derwyn awoke, and she opened her eyes to behold Adwinna standing over her, unfathomable eyes regarding her, deliberate fingers repairing the damage done to the twice-discarded chaplet.
'When a nymph falls in love she is doomed. As you are doomed, but the nature of your doom is obscured to me. You are two-fold now, only the small fading dryad memory within you gives you access to me. You were greatly blest by Mother’s touch yestereve, else you would have withered away by now, and become nothing.'
The twelve stood close now, their moods and emotions faintly but clearly conveyed. 'Tainted!' 'Filthy!' 'Obscene!' and other expletives of that sort bombarded her. She bore the assault calmly and quietly, realising that she was now forever sundered from the world she knew just the day before. Those who yesterday were sisters, were now filled with fervent scorn. Dryads were not known for sympathy for the fallen.
Adwinna bade the dryads depart, and they rapidly shifted beyond Derwyn's vision, in the same mode that she had used to hide from mortals. She would never again dance --
'You are mortal now. I cast you out, but by Mother's wish, you are protected from all harm within my domain.' Adwinna placed the restored chaplet upon Derwyn’s head. ‘I shall raise a base creature to be the oak-dryad, and I command you to shun the oak, from now to forever.
'Mother has taken you as her own; you must seek her guidance in your new life. She can be found in various quiet places under the open sky, where hurt creatures go for healing. Follow the paths of the wounded creatures, and you will soon find her.
'Seek a green glade, seek a stony hill, seek a cliff or cave or river channel. My forest is no longer your home. Go now.'
Derwyn began her trek, guided through the long maze by quick glimpses of motion. Her feet brought her to its opening at about midday. Never before having felt fatigue or thirst, she was puzzled by the weakness, and found a patch of dark shade where she could compose herself. She slumbered within moments, and sought her dream-partner.
He found that she had no mortal instincts. He resolved to instill his own instincts, as well as his skills, into her awareness; thus the bond between the two strengthened further.
She pouted. She had never named her man or even remembered the name that he used!
‘It makes no difference,’ said he, ‘any name will do, as I will always be with you at your first word.’
‘Yes, but if I want to sing of love, what name will fly to the sky?’
‘My name was Enno. Name me now, Derwyn.’
‘Enno. Enno. Enno, we need to find a place where the Golden Mother will help us.’
‘Derwyn, Derwyn, Derwyn, first we need to eat and drink.’
‘Oh.’
* * * * *
Gaia was pleased.
* * * * *
The human clans, growing in scope and number over many generations, crossed paths from time to time, and would commingle their blood rather than spill it. Camps of varying degrees of permanence were established to commemorate these meetings. Over time, being close to well-travelled pathways, some of these camps grew into villages.
Ravenrock was not a typical village. It stood far from any well-travelled road; its huts and sheds nestled against a massive fir-clad hummock under a craggy outcrop of rock; it was peopled largely by elders and seers from various clans, who sought enlightenment in that place. For the Raven’s Rock itself was fraught with rumours of sublime power, and it gathered to itself the human souls who had awakened to Gaia's dream.
Even the weariest of those old bodies could make the slow trek up the fir-studded slope to the level of barren rock. Skirting the sheer southern rock face on a narrow stony path, they could soon come upon a broad green terrace edged with stone, offering a vista of the endless sky above the endless forest.
The rocky crags above, inaccessible even to strong, agile, determined climbers, were inhabited by ravens.
The terrace was inhabited by a venerable oak. Each of those who saw it marvelled at its strength and green beauty, even as they wondered at its presence so high above the forest, so far from its kin.
The oak had a splendid home on that green terrace. Its roots found good deep earth in that high place, basking in its sunny niche in the smooth sheer cliff. It bore no fruit, however, and the small creatures that would normally live in such a tree remained in the forest far below. The ravens in the rocks above ignored it; only the humans from the village below showed any interest.
They honoured the tree in their clean simple ways, and the village youths and maidens found the oak's high terrace an excellent trysting-place.
