A queer flower blooms on an ancient tree deep in to the forest. It is a lovely thing with snow white petals and splashed with fiery streaks and an emerald centre. It only blooms on the tree branches once a year.
A young man was once walking through the forest with his bow in hand looking for a stag or a boar. He was indeed looking for a large addition to his store of meat for winter was on wing.
It was when his arrow missed a stag he heard somewhere in the forest the most beautiful music he ever did hear.
A lovely melody strung together by magical notes sang and plucked on a silver stringed harp. The one singing was even more beautiful than the song she sang. It was a spritely young lady with snow white flesh and hair like bright fire while her eyes shone emerald. The lad dropped his bow and spied on the fey girl playing her harp of willow wood and silver.
That was when he saw her turn to his direction and he knew she had spied him in the brambles. He stood quickly to reveal himself and chance speaking with the maiden of the tree
Anderson/Tragedy Dryad/2
but when he stood she had vanished.
The maiden of the fiery autumn oak haunted his dreams, her song filling his head while he watched her dance among the leaves. So possessed the lad was with the maid, he went to the forest the next day armed only with an apple he intended to split with her. He heard her voice once more, wispy between the willow fronds veiling the lake that were so close to her ancient oak.
The lad followed her, but once she spied him she retreated to her tree. He stood guard that evening, even as the sun sank and the moon took her turn in the sky. The lad knelt and held the apple out to the tree. He sang to her of undying love, of making her his bride.
Still she did not come out from her tree, but she did grace him with her sweet voice. A dryad's only mate was her tree.
After sunrise he returned to town. He took his axe and went back to her oak. It was there he fell it. It was thick so it took him until sunset, but the oak fell to the ground with a crash and a heart wrenching cry. There he saw her, but before his eyes she turned into a white flower with fiery streaks and an emerald centre. The lad became a tree, as black as night where the oak once stood, getting his wish to be with her, for a dryad's only mate was her tree.
They say that if the wind is blowing just the right way, you can still hear the anguished cry of the fairy girl and the shriek of the lad who sought to take the dryad from her forest.
A young man was once walking through the forest with his bow in hand looking for a stag or a boar. He was indeed looking for a large addition to his store of meat for winter was on wing.
It was when his arrow missed a stag he heard somewhere in the forest the most beautiful music he ever did hear.
A lovely melody strung together by magical notes sang and plucked on a silver stringed harp. The one singing was even more beautiful than the song she sang. It was a spritely young lady with snow white flesh and hair like bright fire while her eyes shone emerald. The lad dropped his bow and spied on the fey girl playing her harp of willow wood and silver.
That was when he saw her turn to his direction and he knew she had spied him in the brambles. He stood quickly to reveal himself and chance speaking with the maiden of the tree
Anderson/Tragedy Dryad/2
but when he stood she had vanished.
The maiden of the fiery autumn oak haunted his dreams, her song filling his head while he watched her dance among the leaves. So possessed the lad was with the maid, he went to the forest the next day armed only with an apple he intended to split with her. He heard her voice once more, wispy between the willow fronds veiling the lake that were so close to her ancient oak.
The lad followed her, but once she spied him she retreated to her tree. He stood guard that evening, even as the sun sank and the moon took her turn in the sky. The lad knelt and held the apple out to the tree. He sang to her of undying love, of making her his bride.
Still she did not come out from her tree, but she did grace him with her sweet voice. A dryad's only mate was her tree.
After sunrise he returned to town. He took his axe and went back to her oak. It was there he fell it. It was thick so it took him until sunset, but the oak fell to the ground with a crash and a heart wrenching cry. There he saw her, but before his eyes she turned into a white flower with fiery streaks and an emerald centre. The lad became a tree, as black as night where the oak once stood, getting his wish to be with her, for a dryad's only mate was her tree.
They say that if the wind is blowing just the right way, you can still hear the anguished cry of the fairy girl and the shriek of the lad who sought to take the dryad from her forest.
