Silver Chains, Emerald Locks
By
DragonLady of Avalon

The year was 1770.

The previous spring, some British redcoats had fired upon unarmed colonists, setting off a brief but bloody battle in the streets of Boston. That had happened a long way away, but it breathed of unrest throughout the colonies, north and south.

Nathanial Oak was a young man, then, one of many that history would forget. He was the son of a woodsman, but, true to his generation, had more ambition than common sense. While his father, James Oak, dreamed of miles of unadulterated forest where a man could make his living for generations, tending the trees and planting two seeds for each mighty one cut, Nathanial had Northern ambitions.

The South's growing season was long and plentiful. The soil was rich and good, and there was enough rainfall without being too much. Crops grew almost on their own with only a farmer needing to make sure that insects and birds didn't get at them.

This was plenty for many who had come from England seeking religious freedom or wealth, but not for Nathanial. He hadn't immigrated, he had been dragged to the colony, quite literally kicking and screaming.

This had been more than six years ago, but still Nathanial hated the streets covered with dirt, the needing to chop wood constantly. His father had been a man of wealth back home in England, with no need whatsoever to do such...laborious tasks.

Both the boy and his mother thought that James Oak had gone off his rocker when he told them that he bought three tickets to the New World.

"After all," Elzibeth said later, "The Colonies will not amount to anything, with the Indians plaguing them and the wilderness everywhere."

Nathanial had to disagree with both parents. England would always be better than the Colonies, but they could have potential, if properly used. Take this forest that Nathanial stood at, for example.

It was a hideous sight, full of absolutely nothing but filth, wild animals, and trees, all doing absolutely nothing but taking up space and air that humans needed to survive. If Nathanial were allowed to chop the whole thing down, he'd build a strong and vast empire of iron and steel. He'd build factories turning out products that man could use to make life easier.

No more of this stupid cash crop farming, no more scrounging a life of rocks. The factories were where true living located.

But first, that hideous forest infested with vermin had to go.

Nathanial grinned as he ran a hand down the axe his father had given him for his sixteenth birthday, delighted at the thought of never having to carry it again. His fingers traced down to the sack at his hip, where a candle and a match rested. Smiling maliciously, he opened the sack and took out to two tools of destruction.

It took two tries to light the small stub of wax, which was then set down in a pile of dry oak leaves, which would catch as soon as the candle was short enough and Nathanial was safely away.

His trap set, his plan in motion, Nathanial turned away.

Logic told him that if the forest wasn't there, man could move in. Logic told him that if this forest was gone, all his dreams would come true, and soon this scant, scraggily excuse for a continent would come to resemble Britain and all her glory.

But let me tell you something about those woods. The Cherokee Indians wouldn't enter them unless they had to, and then they would show respect and reverence for everything that existed therein. They performed no profane act, including hunting or skinning. They ate only the berries and nuts the trees and bushes were finished with, and then thanked the trees for giving them.

This may sound silly to you, but there is a reason. They believed that the trees had guardian-spirits, usually female, but not always. The Greeks had a version of these same spirits, born from trees and growing up to take care of them.

The Cherokees of that area had many myths about where the forest spirits came from, but only one concerns this story.

You see, forest spirits are fickle. They do not inhabit all areas or all places, just the ones they like. This is why there are so few, they have more reservations than other kind. When you think about how they came into being, there is good reason for this.

Nathanial Oak's booted foot came down hard on a twig, which went off like a musket in his ears. His ears suddenly pricked upward and a creepy feeling crawled up his back.

He was being watched.

He turned around and saw the most lovely figure of a girl his own age that the young man had ever seen. She was small and slender, like a lily given human flesh. Her skin was as pale and creamy as the inside of a pine tree, fading to the rich pink of young oaks in all the right places. Her hair was long and shiny, flowing though there was no wind. Her eyes were the same vibrant, glossy color, like grass after a rainstorm, as the filmy, silky gown she wore, tied around her slender body. Draping from a neck that Andromeda would have killed for was an amulet in the shape of a leaf.

Delicately, she bent down and seized the candle, taking it into her grasp with utmost care, as if fearing the searing heat of the flame. A single, soft breath from her throat doused the flame into twisting smoke.

She was a dryad.

She didn't discard the candle, she held it in her warm and gentle hands, smiling mistily at Nathanial. She turned around as easily as water flows, flowing herself back the way she might have come, turning around, her spine pivoting upon her tailbone as if unattached, and beckoning for the human lad to follow.

Nathanial did so all too readily. Everyone knew the captivations the nymphs and other fair folk had upon mortal men. Good, Christian men tried hard to avoid it, especially the Puritans, but Nathanial was just a lad, and this was no evening romp for the dryad. She was on a mission.

He followed her, without question. She had him that tightly strung. The two spoke not a word to each other, but she did laugh girlishly, which only served to tighten the hold on the human boy.

The boy did not notice how dark and cold it had gotten. His lady fair had his mind in the palm of her hand, and she'd keep it as long as was necessary.

He was led to a meadow, where the dryads and hamadryads came out to play. It was then that Nathanial's lady shed her human-glamour, which caused her real face to appear, and for Nathanial to gasp in fright.

She was no less beautiful in her fairy form. In fact, there was an unearthly animalism about her that made her even more so.

She had bright green cat ears growing from the top of her head, marble- white horns curving around the space where her ears had been moments before. Her eyes were greener than ever, but slitted like a snake. Her fingers ended in bright green claws, her hair fell well below her knees and was the same unearthly, emerald tone.

This was Lady Oakwind, the daughter of the dryad cheiftess, who passed judgment on all who sought to harm the Forest of Spirits.

It was then that things really turned strange for Nathanial, for he found himself dancing amongst young dryad girls, each one horned and cat- eared. He found himself spinning amongst shimmering green veils as the dryads and hammadryads danced.

It was mostly the young girls that danced, the older ones lingered around tables laden with fairy food, observing their sisters and daughters scruntinizingly. There were a few male dryads, but these lingered at the bases of their trees, watching their sisters and daughters as hard as the females.

Lady Oakwind crept up behind Nathanial and tucked her milky hands under his shirt, lifting it upwards, over his head, to be replaced by a greener, finger one. Then Nathanial was led to a pillow, where he could watch the dancers. He was only human and tired out more quickly.

Smiling, caressing his face, a dryad on each side placed a hand flower, silver chains and emerald stones, onto the backs of each hand, clasping it tight. They then vanished back into the crowd, replaced by Lady Oakwind, who came with a silver and emerald hairflower.

It was then that things went from just weird to incredibly frightening.

Smiling her misty smile, Lady Oakwind knelt down in front of Nathanial, the hairflower resting on a pillow. Two of her dryad sisters knelt at his sides, running fine fingers up and down his arms, tracing them downwards until they reached the handflowers...and chained them to the ground.

The human lad cried out in rage and tried to break free, but the plant roots that intertwined with the silver chains and emerald stones on the pretty jewelry held him fast. The dryads, cackling, pulled him backwards, where the roots shrank and held him

When Lady Oakwind touched Nathanial's face, it was no longer a sweet and gentle caress. She grabbed his jaw so hard she left bruised fingertips, her claws drawing blood where they nicked and her green, scaly tail lashing the air behind her.

"You thought to do harm to the forest, didn't you boy?" she hissed in his face. She had the tongue of a serpent.

"N-no, I-I-!" Nathanial stammered, but Lady Oakwind only squeezed tighter.

"Don't lie to me, boy!" she roared. "You sought to burn these majestic trees that my kind live in for your own selfish glory! Like so many of your kind!"

One or two of the dryads shifted uncomfortably. No doubt they had felt the Forest Queen's anger for the same crime.

Lady Oakwind smiled almost sweetly, but still coldly. "Tell me, boy," she sneered. "What do you know of our kind?"

Too frightened to speak, his heart racing, and every fiber of his being trembling with an otherworldly electricity from where the hand flowers touched his skin, Nathanial couldn't answer.

"They, the First, were human once," the lady stated, stroking Nathanial's fading-black hair. "Greeks, a man and a woman, who held no respect for the woods that gave them life and livelihood. An Elf took offence to this, and made them the guardians of the trees."

Lady Oakwind smiled most unpleasantly and finished with, "After a trial period, of course."

Nathanial screamed and lunged forward, fighting the grasp of the fairy women. But they wouldn't be denied, and Lady Oakwind placed the hairflower on the boy's head. It was then that Nathanial managed to break free, running as fast as he could, but he was changing too quickly to loose himself from the dryads completely.

His root legs no longer bent where they should, nor moved when he told them. He fell onto his bark body and saw oak leaves growing from green fingers. Screaming, crying, begging for mercy, Nathanial James Oak collapsed on the forest floor, amidst the laughter of male and female dryads and hammadryads.

He begged, he pleaded, he promised Lady Oak that he would never ever again touch her forest. He begged for his life, but Nathanial would be denied.

At the exact spot where the human boy had fallen, a single acorn laid in the dirt. Lady Oakwind strode purposefully to it and plucked it out of the ground.

Holding it up in the moonlight, letting the white light play on its surface, she muttered to herself, "Oakleaf."