Chapter 2

Chloe and I woke Saturday morning in a damp patch – pink stained – unsurprisingly. I made the discovery that sharing a shower may not save on the bills, but it certainly is a lot more fun than doing so alone. Chloe rang her parents.

“I’m with Burt ... yes, I’m fine, he’s fine ... we’re going out to Longshaw later ... yes, I’ll be home for Sunday Lunch ... I’ll ask him. Yes, Mum ... I’m sure, Mum ... Give me time, Mum ... Okay, Mum. Love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She finished the call. “Your Mum worried about you?”

“Well, since you’re the first boy ... man ... I’ve introduced to them, and since this is the first time I stayed out all night, yes. She’s ... concerned, I think is better. You’re invited to Sunday Lunch at our house. That’s a bit of a big deal in a way, but nothing to worry about. They are quite civilised.” She hesitated, but grinned and went on, “I brought a couple of changes of undies. I don’t suppose you’d thought about that, but I knew what I was intending.”

I shrugged. “No, I hadn’t thought about it. But if I was intending to be out all night, I’d probably make sure I had my toothbrush and a change of undies too.”

We ate breakfast – still nude, by the way – then dressed and headed out. There was no rush, well, at least the rush hour, so we drove in a relaxed fashion out to Fox House. I was a little surprised that Chloe parked in the Longshaw carpark. “Trust member,” she explained. From there, we walked down to the visitors’ centre for coffee and a snack. Parking there – a note on the dash as the carpark closes at dusk – meant almost doubling the walk down to Grindleford, but the paths are much better at the top there. We took the path on the western side of the gorge which is somewhat better than the other. That got us to the Station Cafe in time for lunch. It was probably after two o’clock by the time we were squeezing through the stile into the woodland. The paths on the eastern side, as I’ve mentioned before, are narrow and uneven and often muddy. Chloe and I could not hold hands for much of the walk, but when we could, we did.

As we approached the place we thought we might meet the elders of the wood, we were surprised to be greeted by a small group of humans.

“You must be Chloe and Burt,” an older man said with a smile. “I’m Harry Bird. This is my wife, Kat...” the plump, flame-headed woman, baby in a pouch on her chest, smiled and shook my hand, “and our daughter Aibhilin.” The little girl, hair even brighter than her mother’s, grinned at us. “In the baby carrier is our latest addition, Diarmuid. I hope you’re not offended by breast-feeding, he’s only a couple of weeks old.”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” I said, “but I’ve seen mothers feeding babies from time to time, so it doesn’t offend.”

“I like to see it,” put in Chloe. “I think it’s a beautiful thing. But who’s this,” she nodded at a young couple a few yards away.

“Calida and Sean,” Kat said, and called to them. The boy ... young man ... was pale-skinned and freckled. The young woman was tall and slim, with russet hair. She was only an inch or so shorter than her companion. They came over, smiling.

“Chloe and Burt, meet Calida and Sean Mullaney.”

Hands were shaken all round. Calida came to me last. There was a strange sensation as our hands met, and Calida held on to the contact. “Yes, definitely. Both of you, but especially you, Burt. Welcome.”

“What do you mean ... Calida? I felt something, but...”

“Burt, I am part Dryad. I can sense that you have a connection with the earth, with plants.”

“I am a gardener, and I do seem to have a gift. I have been named ‘druid’, though that’s not something I am sure of.”

“Oh, surely. There’s no doubt about it. But you probably need a mentor.”

“I think you’re right. Do you have a suggestion?”

“Oh, Kat would help a lot, I think. Kat, and Father Quercus. Or perhaps Mother Clio. And you must not discount your link with Chloe. Two is greater than the sum of the parts.”

“About that...”

Calida smiled. “Your relationship is new, I think? Relationships here in the woods tend to be flexible. But no one will be offended if you politely decline any offers. Over time, you will probably be more comfortable with the openness among our community. For now, I suggest letting Chloe choose.”

“I will do that. Thank you.”

Sean was standing near, but the others had moved away. I nodded to him and went to stand near Chloe, who was deep in conversation with Kat. She glanced round, smiled and held out her hand, then turned back to Kat.

“It’s about connecting,” Kat was telling her. She turned to me. “Let’s try something, Burt. You and Chloe – holding hands, that’s good – close your eyes and imagine roots from your feet spreading out into the ground.”

As I did so, I became aware of the woodland around me in a completely different way: as a great unified organism. Beside me, Chloe gasped, but I was too engrossed in what I was experiencing. I sensed the life of trees and shrubs, even the grasses and mosses, bluebells, aconite, it was all vibrant! Here and there, a different ‘feel’, where I connected to dryads and hamadryads. Then, the stream, and a new life, female, definitely.

I couldn’t lift my feet – I was, literally, rooted to the ground – and I had to deliberately withdraw my consciousness from the life around me. It was incredibly difficult. But as I did so, I met Chloe, and together we separated ourselves to return to our new friends.

Kat was smiling broadly. “That worked, didn’t it?” Actually, more of a statement than a question.

Chloe spoke first. “My god! I never knew, never realised...”

“Most people don’t,” Kat responded. “But then, most people are detached from the life around them. That’s part of the problem with our society – it’s too easy to ignore the life around us, and the needs of others, and be selfish.”

“Thank you, Kat. That really begins to make sense to me.”

“I thought it would work for you. It won’t for a lot of people, but you obviously have a rapport with Gaia. In time, you will be able to draw on the power of the earth, to heal and restore. There are dangers, of course. The power to heal can be used to destroy, too.”

That made me think hard. I was aware, of course. Technology that grew out of military needs, become social necessities. Nuclear power. Radar. Microwave technology. Chemical poisons which can be used in oncology.

The day wore on and we met several of the denizens of the woods. For the most part, they were individuals, but we met a couple of oak dryads and a pair of willow dryads, walking hand in hand. Clearly there were stories to be told. We humans took ourselves to the cafe for a meal early afternoon, then walked to Padley Chapel. The chapel is of historic interest and is scheduled grade one*. However, it was not open at the time.

*A building or landscape of historic, architectural or aesthetic importance may be protected in law by scheduling. The highest grade is grade one, which prevents alterations without permission, and the permission may be very difficult to get. Sometimes the owner may be compelled to carry out maintenance or repairs, or the property compulsorily purchased.

But we walked up the west side of the gorge after pausing there, diverted to visit the little quarry at the top, and crossed the river by the bridge. As dusk approached, we made our way down to where we’d met the elders.

The space there was much larger than before. Figures moved purposefully about. I was uncertain, though Kat and the others circulated, and Chloe and I stood holding hands at the edge of the clearing. It should have been dark by that point, but there was a luminosity about the place, which seemed to have its source both in the remaining trees and the moving figures. We were approached by Mother Clio, smiling.

“Burt, Chloe, if you come with me there’s someone who wants to meet you.”

She led us to a rock formation which was serving as ... well, a throne, I suppose. Seated upon that was a very slim, naked woman. I might have thought it would be cold and uncomfortable, but didn’t comment. Standing to the side and slightly back was a naked man. I say naked, but he had a large sword slung on his back, the hilts showing above his shoulder.

“Princess,” Mother Clio declared, “this is the Druid, Burt, and his partner, Chloe, as you asked.” She turned to Chloe and me. “Burt, Chloe, this is Princess Niyulnos and her consort Oliver. She represents Rex Solaris, the Elven King, here.”

It took a moment to penetrate my brain, but when it did, I dropped to my knees and Chloe copied me.

But the Princess laughed – such a pretty laugh. “Oh, Master Druid, that is quite unnecessary. Please stand.” Her eyes moved to Chloe. “Mistress Chloe, please, stand.”

We did so, standing hand in hand before her. “Ma’am, everyone seems to be calling me ‘druid’, but honestly, this is all new to me and I have no training or experience.”

The princess continued to smile, shaking her head. “Burt, you have the potential and Mistress Kat tells me that you demonstrated that earlier. Training and experience will come in time, especially if you work with Kat to develop your abilities. I hope you will visit often – both of you. Chloe, you are, perhaps, as important as Burt in this.”

We stood silent, not knowing how to respond, but she continued. “Respect should be earned, and there is no need for formality. It might be easier for you if you call me ‘Aster’, which is a free translation of my name. You have been named ‘Friend’ and are very welcome.”

It was Chloe who responded eventually. “Ma’am ... Aster ... thank you for your words. We are privileged to be here, to be welcomed, named Friend. I am sure we will return often.” She bowed, and I followed suit, before we left.

The gatherings, socials, dances, whatever, have been described elsewhere. For Chloe and myself, undressed, it was dancing, eating and drinking, and several times politely declining invitations to intimacy. We were briefly separated during some of the dances, and each of us was approached by woodland folk. In other circumstances, I might have been tempted. Would have been tempted. None of the folk were unattractive, regardless of age. But we each explained we were new to our relationship and to the community, and that was accepted with equanimity. Only one, a little sprite with bright blue, spiky hair, was at all persistent, and she was diverted by Betula who whispered something in her ear. She perked up, then and headed purposefully off into the throng.

“She’s looking for an old friend,” Betula told us. “She’s a bit brash, but with Steve she’s quite transformed.” She laughed. “Steve is Calida’s ... father.”

I wondered about the hesitation, but set it aside. It was much later I heard the story there.

It was late, after midnight, in fact, when the party wound down. We’d seen the Princess and her consort circulating, and indeed, we’d danced with them, but they disappeared and the musicians finished their last tune. Betula led us to a quiet spot in the shade of a birch tree, and Chloe and I lay together on a bed of moss. Our clothes were there, piled next to the tree. Tired but exhilarated, we cuddled, enjoying the closeness, until mutually our hands began to roam. We made love there, slowly, gently and at length, completely oblivious of the setting or the nature of our bed. As we reached our mutual completion and the aftershocks were fading, we drifted off into slumber.

I’m told everyone dreams, but mostly the dreams are forgotten in the morning. When I woke, there were traces of vivid dreams in my memory: walking, talking, trees, nymphs and dark presences, but they mostly faded away with the dawn. Betula led us, still naked, down to the river – officially it’s a brook, actually, Burbage Brook – to a place below a cascade, where the water is a little deeper. There we bathed away sweat and assorted other secretions. The water felt like hands stroking us. It was Betula who gave the secret away, by commanding ‘Phoebe!’ The little electric-blue-haired sprite who had importuned me the previous night appeared.

“Spoil sport, Bet!”

The Birch dryad laughed. “Not at all, Phoebe. I am sure Chloe and Burt would prefer to know who was tending them in their morning bath.”

The naiad giggled. “I know, Bet. Burt, Chloe, I’m sorry. But it is fun to caress visitors when they don’t realise it’s me. In future, I will offer.”

So we had a most pleasant bath, before dressing and heading for breakfast in the cafe, then home.