Chapter 2: American visitors

Which brings our story to the present day. Although long lived, dryads don’t live forever. Regardless of whether the dryad is transformed from a human, or is born as a consequence of the Moonstone Rock orgies, there is always a need for more dryads to protect the forest from the encroaching world. Foresters, developers, pollution and climate change all eat away at the verdant life of the Briarwood. The dryads are committed to doing everything they can to stem the slow destruction of their homeland. New recruits for the commune of dryads are always needed, which is why regular visits to the world of humans are necessary.

Despite having lived for nearly four centuries, Hazel is still fit enough to visit Thingley Bottom from time to time. Since dryads only physically age when in human form, Hazel has the appearance of a fifty year old woman. Her knowledge of local history often astounds the patrons of the tavern, who invariably buy her a drink to listen to her recall some interesting facts about a long forgotten person or event. Nobody suspects her of having any connection the weird happenings in the Briarwood.

“ ... the gnomes of Briarwood fuck any who dare to cross their borders,” slurs the slightly inebriated storyteller to an even more inebriated audience.

“There are no gnomes in Briarwood,” laughs Hazel, unable to resist interrupting the storyteller.

“And how do you know, woman?” replies the storyteller. “One look at you is enough to kill the ardour of any gnome and send him into hiding.”

“It’s very difficult to do anything to a creature that doesn’t exist,” replies Hazel, ignoring the storyteller’s rudeness.

“Well, I’ve seen them with my own eyes,” continues the storyteller, undeterred by Hazel’s interruption. “Gnomes, elves and fairies all inhabit the upper valley. They seduce any who venture there and turn them into mindless slaves for their unholy pleasure.”

“Then how did you escape, Gordy?” asks one of the storyteller’s audience.

“I’m a man on a mission from God,” replies Gordy. “For a few coins I can sell you a copy of this scroll. It contains the words spoken by Saint Julius to dispel all creatures of the netherworld who encroach on the world of man. Reciting these words will protect you from the influence of their evil.”

Hazel has met charlatans like Gordy before. She begrudgingly admits that Gordy is more convincing in his fervour than most of his kind. The scroll of Saint Julius has reappeared from time to time over the last two hundred years. Hazel actually knows the scroll’s origins and would happily tell anyone who asks. The author was a seven year old girl called Julia, who wrote the ditty to ward off her overbearing governess. It works as well now as it did then ... in other words, not at all.

“Hi. I’m Lily. Are you Hazel? The barkeep says you know a lot about local history,” says a young American woman as she approaches Hazel.

Hazel studies the young woman before replying. Lily looks about 23 years of age with pale skin, blue eyes, brown hair, and tiny freckles on her face. She has an hourglass figure with modest round breasts. She is attracting the eye of every male in the room ... at least those sober enough to notice the pretty angel in their midst.

“Hmmm, I am and I do,” replies Hazel while she continues to give Lily a critical appraisal.

“My boyfriend and I are wondering about the weird tales we keep hearing about the Briarwood forest,” continues Lily. “Surely nobody believes in such stories?”

“What part of the stories don’t you find believable?” asks Hazel.

“Wild orgies in the forest and naked elves dancing around a huge oak tree,” laughs Lily’s boyfriend, who has joined them.

“Well you can always go to Moonstone Rock during a full moon and find out for yourself,” replies Hazel. “As for elves dancing naked around an old oak tree, then that is a fanciful adaptation of a legend that has existed around here for the best part of four hundred years.”

“So what does the original legend say?” asks Lily.

“That the beings are dryads, not elves, and that they are clothed in garments provided by nature itself,” replies Hazel.

“Yeah, right,” says Lily’s boyfriend. “Like that’s more believable! How come nobody has photographed these events?”

“Because only true friends of the dryads are capable of seeing them,” replies Hazel.

“Come on Lily, we’ve heard enough of this nonsense,” says Lily’s boyfriend.

“Don’t be rude, Cedar,” chides Lily. “I asked a question and Hazel was kind enough to answer. She hasn’t asked you to believe anything.”

Lily is reluctant to leave Hazel’s side, but Cedar is pulling her back to the booth where they were sitting, flirting with each other. Hazel watches the pair as they walk away. With hundreds of years of experience at searching for new recruits for their commune, Hazel has learned how to assess the suitability of those she meets. Lily has a personality that Hazel would describe as mellow, down-to-earth, fun-loving, and confident. Cedar, on the other hand is an enigma. Hazel is unsure whether Cedar is his real name or a nickname. He looks to be the same age as Lily, with dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and a slender body. As for his personality, then Hazel will need to study him longer.

Although Hazel identifies Lily as potential recruit for the dryad commune, she knows better than to rush the process. Only those without close family and friends are ever admitted into the commune, and neither Cedar nor Lily has spoken about their background. Their accents label them as tourists, in which case they are well away from the usual tourist routes. Thingley Bottom barely registers on the map, and certainly not in any tourist brochure or guide.

Hazel turns her focus away from the storyteller, who is still droning on about pagan rites and other such nonsense. Even his audience has thinned as more ale holds a greater appeal than listening to the man’s drivel. Instead Hazel studies Lily and Cedar from across the room.

Lily seems fascinated in the paintings lining the walls of the tavern, while Cedar seems more interested in hauling Lily off to bed so that he can jump her. Hazel understands the motives of both of them. Lily is certainly the attractive sort of woman any young man would like to plough. As for the paintings, then Hazel knows quite a bit about those. The artist was a local man who fancied himself as a great painter. He was very talented, but unfortunately for him, his art was only appreciated after he died. The tavern owner at the time rescued a number of the paintings as they were about to be burnt. It wasn’t as though the tavern owner was a great admirer of the arts, more that he needed something to cover the badly marked paintwork on his tavern walls. It was a fortuitous decision, as these paintings are the only depiction of scenes from the original Briarwood legends.