Oak Girl

They never meant to fall in love, the man and the Dryad. Dalyn had not even believed the stories of spirit women linked to a tree. Not just linked, but part of that tree. Some people claimed they amounted to the same thing as the tree’s soul.

Dalyn could be called a free-spirited young lad. A friendly and well-liked man, he could have had his pick of any of several young lasses. But, his heart belonged to the forest. He enjoyed nothing so much as spending time in the woods, wandering further and further into its depths. He hunted the lesser game to keep their numbers in check. He identified areas that needed some of the trees cleared to make way for new growth. But mostly he spent his time exploring the depths of the great forest.

He had certainly not expected to find her that day. On that day he found himself  hunting deeper into the woods than he had ever gone. The brush grew thick and it made for slow progress through the trees. He struggled, the rich scent of green things strong in his nostrils.

He pushed through the thick undergrowth with a final surge and found himself in a wide clearing. A small stream rilled across the glade in a series of small cascades that filled the air with the quiet music of flowing water. A lovely place, this opening in the forest enchanted him. On the far side of the clearing stood an immense oak tree. Its branches spread wide.

He started when he realized another person inhabited the clearing. A young woman stood, barefoot, on the mossy stones alongside the brook. Her chestnut hair fell in long and lustrous waves, shining in the sun. Clad in a dress that as though sewn from living leaves, Dalyn knew he had never seen a more beautiful creature in his life.

For her part Alura looked back at this human man. She had never seen one but had no doubt that she faced one now. The stories of the elves and the other sylvan creatures told of the depredation and destruction humans always brought with them. She turned to run.

“Wait!” Dalyn called. “I won’t harm you.”

She knew she should be afraid, but no fear surged within her. Alura lived for the most part alone. No other dryads lived close by. She loved the forest animals and birds. The Sylvan folk provided wonderful company when they happened by. Alura lived a content life, though lonely by human standards. In spite of her contentment she sometimes longed for someone to talk with.

She turned back to regard him again. He looked tall and lean. She smiled at the tangle of creepers and twigs that festooned his golden hair and short beard from fighting his way through the undergrowth, giving him a wildly disheveled look.

“My name is Dalyn.” He ventured. “What is yours?”

She hesitated but felt drawn to this being. So, she answered.

“I am Alura.”

“What are you doing out here?” He asked

“This is my home.” She stated matter of factly. 

“You live here? By yourself?” He blurted incredulously.

She half smiled and made a gesture that seemed to encompass the entire woods.

“No one is ever truly alone in the forest.”

He didn’t quite know what to say to that. They talked all that afternoon, of little things. They talked into the night and when the next morning dawned he realized he must lie down to sleep for a time. She stood watch while he dozed, not needing sleep herself. Except when the harsh winter months would strip her tree bare of leaves and they both would slumber until spring.

While she knew his nature he did not learn hers right away. But, she could not forever maintain the guise of a human woman. Eventually he came to realize her true nature as one of the sylvan folk and finally she explained her nature as a dryad and her bond to the great tree in the clearing.

They spent the summer growing to know each other. He built a hut of stones and fallen wood. He would no longer cut living wood from any tree. Sometimes he would stay in the hut for days on end before returning to town. He became a man divided, with two lives. One life in the city with its bustle and confusion. The other in the forest around Alura’s glade. Of the two the city life seemed less real. He always longed to return to the forest now.

Summer ended and autumn began. With it came a change to Alura. The leaves of her dress took on new, brighter hues. Yellow, orange, and even red. Her hair too became streaked with red and yellow. Dalyn one day asked what the changes meant.

“Winter is coming.” Alura explained. “With autumn’s end I will be forced to enter my tree to sleep until spring.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Dalyn pleaded. “Is there no magic that will let you stay with me.”

“My dear one.” She caressed his cheek. “This is normal. I sleep every winter inside my tree. No magic can change that. Nor would I want it to. It would be a perversion of my nature. But when spring thaws the roots I will awaken and return to you. If you can bide until I come back.”

So, he did as she asked and bided. More days than not, he came to the clearing to visit her tree. And to think back on memories of the summer they spent together. Never before had he longed for spring with such fervor.

When at last the day came when spring had thawed the ground and the green things had begun to grow again. And with the spring came the day he came to Alura’s glade to find her standing there waiting for him. An echo of their first meeting she stood barefoot in a dress of green leaves. Her hair still had streaks of white but they seemed to fade as he watched. With a mutual cry of joy they ran forwards, falling into each other's arms. Their wild excitement at being rejoined seemed to spread outward. The grasses and trees became more verdant, fairly bursting with life.

This spring and summer they lived every moment together they could. Dalyn almost never returned to town,  now known as the strange hermit lad. The elves and other Sylvan folk had become aware of the joining of Alura and Dalyn. At first it came as a shock, but only because no such union had been heard of before. The Sylvan folk all rejoiced at the love between these two.

As happened the previous autumn, the time came for Alura to enter her tree to sleep through the long winter. Dalyn did his best to remain cheerful for her, but the parting weighed heavy on his heart

He spent the winter months improving his hut with the help of the Sylvan folk. With their aid and the food they provided he did not return to town at all that winter. He found contentment in the forest working on making  the home he had built more comfortable for when Alura returned.

The seasons turned once again. Now Dalyn’s awareness of the forest had become sharp. He could feel the approach of spring. He could have told precisely when the time would come for Alura to awaken. And indeed when that moment came he stood by her tree waiting for the return of his love.

This time when she emerged from the tree brought a difference. Dalyn’s jaw dropped. Alura came forth from the tree pregnant. It did not look as though much time remained until she would give birth

Within a few weeks, Alura had given birth to a perfect baby girl. She grew quickly through spring and summer. Already walking by the time winter had come again and her mother returned to sleep, the child watched as her mother entered the tree to sleep.

Dalyn cared for the child all through the winter. They had constant visits from the sylvan folk anxious to meet the child. Their generosity made the winter much easier to bear for Dalyn and the child than it might have been otherwise. And in the spring Alura returned to help care for the child she had birthed.

This set up a pattern, the three of them spending the seasons from spring through autumn together. And when winter came Alura retreated to her tree as Dalyn and the child watched her go.

The small hut built by Dalyn had become a spacious and beautiful cottage, thanks to the aid of the Sylvan creatures. Those beings did not understand how the love between Dalyn and Alura could be but they held that love in awe. And most especially they treasured the product of that love.

Dalyn stood, holding the hand of a small girl. Her hair like her father’s, golden and shining in the sun. In her free hand she held a garland of meadow flowers. They stood beneath the great oak, waiting. 

There came a rustling, creaking sound and Alura the dryad stepped out of the great tree’s bole. 

“Mommy!” Shrieked the little girl. “You’re awake! I made you a flower necklace.” She held the garland out with one chubby hand.

“Adelia, my little acorn.” Alura enthused, stifling a yawn. Look how you’ve grown this winter.