A Journey Never Begun Pt. 02

Copyright (c) 2018 James Miehoff, All Rights Reserved.

This work may not be published whether for fee or free without this copyright.

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This is one of a series of stories set in the Land of Etherium, a place out of time where wizards channeled mana and a host of creatures we call fairy tales roamed the lands. It is said these tales occurred almost 27,000 years ago before a set of cataclysms shaped the face of the earth and the fairy folk retreated or we in our smugness, no longer saw them.

In any case, there are just stories after all, aren't they?

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When Muddle awoke, his first thought was, "I have really gotten soft sleeping in beds lately."

His second though was one of amazement as he stared at the perfect pyramid of acorns by his campsite.

"The lady was as good as her word," he said to himself.

He stood up slowly; feeling and hearing his joints snap and pop as he forced movement on them.

Looking at the acorns, he decided he'd better get started or he would not finish before nightfall.

Reaching into his backpack, he removed a small leather bag he judged big enough to hold the acorns and a small dagger that shone with a dim but pearly white light in the early morning gloom. He rolled his bedroll up and placed it next to the pyramid of acorns to act as his chair.

He picked the first acorn up and marveled at its perfection. "It is almost a shame," he thought before driving the point of the dagger into the nut and twisting it to create a small hole.

As he dropped the acorn into the leather sack, a blood curdling shriek came from the oak tree.

A quick glance showed a shadow that could only come from a hideous creature was bearing down on him. Calmly he picked up the next acorn and repeated the surgery, neatly drilling a hole in the new nut.

"What are thee doing?" the creature shrieked at him.

Muddle could see craggy hideous toes and knew if he looked up he was most likely to panic and run or die or both if he looked at the fearsome visage of the creature before him.

"I am preparing the acorns for planting so that you may have sisters as soon as possible," he replied quietly.

"But thou art stabbing them with metal," the creature continued. "Thou are killing them."

"Once you have helped your tree to create the gift of the acorns, do you know how they become new trees?" asked Muddle.

The voice paused and the shadow shimmered and shrank a little before a calmer voice said, "No. I just know that the tree and I work hard to make the acorns and then they drop. Sometimes squirrels or other creatures steal them before they can become trees. Since the men came and took my sisters I have not seen any squirrels or other animals. Maybe the men killed them. That would teach them to steal my tree's children."

"No. The squirrels have not come because they need more than one tree to live. The other animals have stayed away for probably the same reason," Muddle said softly while picking up yet another acorn.

"Do you know how a tiny acorn can become a large and mighty oak tree?" Muddle continued.

The shadow grew smaller and less ferocious and the voice grew less rancorous when it replied, "Of course. The acorns fall to the ground and dig themselves into the dirt and in a season or two there are many trees."

"That is nearly true," Muddle replied.

"Nearly true? What is not true? Speak!" said the voice growing angry again and the shadow grew bigger.

Muddle picked up an acorn and held it in his hand.

"What would happen if I closed my hand and squeezed this acorn?" he asked.

"Why thou would crush it and kill it," the voice said with anger and finality. "Then I would crush thee."

Muddle closed his fingers and squeezed with all his might.

"Nooo!" cried the voice and a hand or something like a hand moved to strike Muddle's fist.

He pulled his arm back out of the way and opened his hand.

"What happened?" he asked.

The voice paused and said, "Nothing happened? But how can this be?"

"Your oak tree protects her children in a shell that is so hard it can barely be cracked by the strongest man without tools. The same thing happens when the acorns fall to the ground, they are unhurt and will lay for many years before the shell wears away enough to let water in to let the seed awaken. If I were to plant these acorns untouched, they too would sit in the ground for many years before they would awaken.

"Now squirrels and other animals will take the acorns to eat, but they do not manage to eat them all. They are clumsy and they will crack some and drop them on the ground. Those acorns will taste water on the next rain and will start to grow.

"If they were lucky and fell on a rich piece of land that gets enough rain and sunlight, they will grow into trees. And if they are really lucky, they will grow big enough to become home to a dryad, such as yourself.

"I am not a squirrel so I do not bite the acorns, but I am cracking the shell by drilling a small hole with my knife. This way after I plant them, the water will get in and the seed will grow.

"But I am not going to just cast them around like the squirrels would. I will place them in places where they will get enough shade and enough sun to grow strong. I will bury them feet down so they will know to grow the right way to get to the sun and I will try to place them near your sister trees in memory of those that are not with us."

As he finished his last words he saw the delicate feet of the lady of the tree standing before him once again and he dared to look up at her.

A tear fell from her cheek as she spoke in that more than feminine voice only a nymph can achieve, "I am sorry Sir Wizard. I was so enraged by seeing thee defile my children with thy blade of metal that I forgot myself. Please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive dear lady. As you can see, I have finished my task as we were conversing," Muddle held one of the acorns out to the dryad. "As you can see and probably feel, no harm has been done to the seed within. If you will excuse me, I will begin to plant your children so that they may begin their journey."

The dryad nodded and sobbed, quietly murmuring to herself, "What a fool I am."

To Muddle, it sounded like the rustling of the leaves in the tops of the trees if such sounds were made into words.

Scanning the ground he selected a small branch that had fallen. The main part was straight and it had a fork to form a perfect 'Y' shape.

Taking the stick, Muddle headed out to the road and walked 200 paces back the way he came. He began pulling mana in as he walked forward again until he had walked 200 paces beyond the majestic oak.

Tingling with all the mana he had absorbed, he began to plant the children of the oak. First he took the stick by the fork and pressed the main branch into the ground about 4 inches. Twisting it, he pulled it loose and placed an acorn in the hole, pointed side down, then pressed the hole closed again. Finally he released some of the mana and shaped it into a blessing for growth and health and infused the area around the acorn.

He did this for every acorn. Finally, wiping his brow, he turned and walked back to the lone oak.

The lady of the tree met him as he walked under the canopy of the oak.

"Sir Wizard, I felt a flow of mana from thee and I can see where each of the children is, because there is a soft glow at each spot that thou stopped. What did thee do?" asked the dryad.

"I went back up to the road and pulled as much of the mana as I could. This will make a spot where it will take many years for the mana to flow back. When people walk through that area, it will feel odd and they will move on quickly until the mana returns. This should help to protect you and your sister trees from people camping along here.

"When I planted the acorns I used the mana I had pulled to create charms to help the plants grow and to protect them. This should help most of them to grow and be suitable homes for your sisters."

"Sir Wizard, is there anything I can do to repay thy kindness?" the dyad's voice was sultry and became almost irresistible when she repeated, "Anything?"

"My dearest lady," Muddle began, "I am well aware of the bountiful charms and magical sensuousness of your kind. But I have tempted fate and dallied with some of your sisters of another species and while immensely enjoyable at the time, pulling splinters from my cock for a week puts a damper on my enthusiasm."

She pouted momentarily and then quickly laughed like the tinkling of chimes.

"Perhaps there is a way that I can discharge my debt to thee and thou can be satisfied as well. Why not takest out that unruly cock of thine before it splits thy trousers? Thou can satisfy thineself and I will dance to keep thy interest."

As Muddle stared at the dryad, she began to shimmer and his lust became almost unbearable. Sliding his pants down he grasped his cock and began to stroke it. The dryad gasped when she saw the size of him, but true to her word, she began to dance. With no music but the wind in the tree top and the tinkling of the sunlight through the leaves, she danced.

As she danced, the dryad began to dance around him stepping forward and stroking his neck and softly kissing his ears. As her dance progressed, Muddle's excitement grew. He wanted to close his eyes to focus on the sensations coming from his cock, but he did not want to miss any of the dryad's dancing.

Finally with a guttural groan, Muddle began to shoot his seed upon the leaves. As he was finishing, he felt weak and slumped to his knees.

When his eyes could see again, the dryad was standing in front of him. He put himself away and pulled up his trousers. "Thank you," he said to the nymph.

She bent down and kissed his forehead before standing up and reaching upwards with her arms.

As he watched, she seemed to grow until her hands were touching one of the lower branches. She held a long straight branch in her hands for a moment and it came off from the tree. She shaped the end as she was shrinking back to her former size.

Muddle stood and she measured the branch against him. She pinched off the other end and ran her hand along the length. As her hand passed, bark and small twigs fell from the branch as if she was wiping them off with her hand.

Satisfied she again measured the now naked branch against him. She then quickly bent down to pick up some leaves that still held his seed and rubbed them along the wood. The wood and her fingers glowed briefly as the sperm and the leaves vanished into the wood.

Her task completed, the dryad slumped a bit then straightened and slowly knelt on one knee holding the branch before her.

Muddle gently reached out and took the proffered object and marveled at the feeling. It felt light as goose down and it tingled as he held it.

"My lady, are you alright?" he asked with real concern in his voice as he looked at the nymph. She looked to be an aged woman instead of the vibrant girl who had danced for him just moments before.

"I am Sir Wizard," the dryad replied in a tired voice. "It has been a thousand years since a dryad of the oaks has crafted a wizard's staff. I did not know that I could do it for thee, but I had to try. If thou couldst please help me to my tree, I must rest for a moment."

Muddle was at her side in a moment. He picked her up as if she was a child and carried her to the oak. She leaned against the tree and began to fade into it. Just before she vanished completely, she leaned out and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.

"Please don't go before I return," she implored.

Muddle nodded and caressed her cheek and then found himself alone standing next to a tree.

As he turned to go back to his camp; he thwacked himself with the staff. Startled, he looked at it as if for the first time.

"I don't remember holding this the whole time," he thought to himself as he walked over and sat down.

He turned the staff over in his hands and marveled at its beauty. It was flawless. The grain ran straight and true and the pommel end was a globe held up by three exquisitely beautiful dryads facing front and holding the globe behind their heads. Muddle marveled at the details. "Never was there a wood carver that could make its equal," he thought to himself.

Turning he began to break camp and pack to get a late start on his journey.

He felt her presence come up from behind rather than hearing anything. Turning, he saw the dryad looking much more like herself for her brief rest.

"Thank you Sir Wizard," she began. "Thou hast been true to thy word in all things and I am ashamed of my actions this morning."

"My lady, it is forgotten," said Muddle kindly. "I thank you for the gifts you have bestowed on me. The memory of that dance will undoubtedly cause my hand to stray into my trousers many, many times."

As she heard those words, the dryad giggled and looked every bit the maiden again.

Continuing he said, "I have no words to express my thanks for the gift of this staff. I can feel it has purpose and destiny, but I am ignorant of its uses."

"For that Sir Wizard, thou will have to learn," she said in a voice that became much deeper and very unlike her own with every word.

Muddle looked closely and saw her eyes flickering through the colors of the leaves, light green shading to dark green shading through fiery reds and yellows and back to the light green.

The dryad continued in a commanding voice, "Each wand or staff that is the gift of a dryad is unique. It is a product of a place and time and emotion and purpose and the feelings between the wizard and the dryad and the tree. The tool that is created is a bound triad.

"The bond is between the tree and the dryad through the sap that flows inside each. It is also the bond between the wizard and the tree as channeled by the sap of the tree and the seed of the wizard. And finally it is the bond between the dryad and the wizard as channeled by the sap of the dryad and his seed while she instils it into the wood.

"As it is unique, each tool can only be used by the wizard who contributed the seed. It is he who can control the magic. The dryad is magic and contributes the ability for the magic to flow through the object. The tree is of the earth and contributes the framework and the ability to hold and channel the magic.

"For over a thousand years of man, no dryad had dared to make a staff until today. Not since the great war of the wizards shaped our world and all but the last few great ones perished.

"For a small number of very special wizards we have made wands. They are small vessels to help a select few that we trust.

"Such a one was your master, young wizard. You should be proud to have had him for your master. He was one of the greatest since the great ones.

"May we know your name, young wizard?" she finished and then paused.

"I am called Muddled", he said.

Her eyes spun wildly through the colors and her voice sounded like a chorus of an infinite number of voices that cried out, "The Child of Destiny."

Then the one voice took control again and asked, "Your NAME?"

From the tone, Muddled knew the voice meant his true name. He did not hesitate but replied, "Asdledar."

The chorus was back and Muddled heard thousands of voices call out, "The child of beginnings and ends," along with much wailing and finally the original voice saying, "I pray you know what you are doing, my sister."

The dryad slumped and would have fallen if Muddled had not caught her.

He eyes suddenly opened and the tree trembled and she whispered, "What have I done?"

He held her gently as she cried and when her tears finally subsided, he quietly asked, "What just happened?"

The dryad looked as though she might run, but she shuddered and looked at Muddled and said, "I may have doomed us all. But I see now that it was my destiny to play this part in The Prophesy."

So ends the second part of A Journey Never Begun.