The Dream Tree
The stars were brighter out there by the sea, glistening off the restless obsidian water like hundreds of shards of glass caught beneath the surface. She would often stand out there alone, looking up at the perfect night sky, wondering at the magnificence of the world around her. Beauty was everywhere for Nuala, even in the darkest places. After all, for someone brought up to know no sadness, who had never been subject to cruelty, injustice, or malice, harsher views of life were alien to her.
Little orbs of light appeared to drift through the air nearby, some swooping close to the Elvish princess in their midst, while others flitted among the trees behind her, and a few took to spiralling up into the night sky with the tinkling of eager, giddy laughter.
Upon closer inspection, the lights took on a more definite shape. These were fairies, tiny little spindly-limbed humanoid creatures, some no larger than the pebbles on the beach. Their skin was silvery-grey, the little tufts of hair on their heads of a perfect white, and they dressed in garments fashioned from petals and grass stems. The luminous, rainbow-shaded haze around them was in fact their wings, buzzing furiously through the air to keep them aloft.
Nuala paid them no heed, for the fairies were fickle and untrustworthy, enjoying the
misfortune of others as much as they loved to aid them. These little sprites were loyal to only one master; the princess's father, the Elvish king, Balor. They dwelled among the trees of his realm, often acting as messengers or even spies. Of course, they were no threat to Nuala, who had nothing to hide, not a single secret to keep for herself. Perhaps that was the very reason her life was not as carefree as it should have been.
The princess would spend hours during the day wandering through the forest, the silent spirits there her only companions. Much of the rest of her time was taken up with caring for the world around her, whether that be helping her kin or tending to the other life among the trees. Yet despite this, she felt a constant sense of missing something, almost as if she were somehow not whole. Her wanderings were not just taken to get away from the other elves, but they increasingly felt more like a search, an attempt to find something. More than that, she felt like something was forcing her to search, not a compulsion from a separate entity, but as if a part of her knew how to give her what she wanted the most, and how to find it.
Every day, her walks would bring her to the same place, an ancient oak tree whose long-reaching branches kept the rest of the forest from encroaching on its space, leaving a wide ring of emerald grass and violets free in the dappled light. Nuala had first discovered the place over a year earlier, and under the most unusual circumstances – even for a princess who, with one touch of her hand, could learn the memories, history or unguarded thoughts of all around her. Continuing to stare up at the stars, she smiled slightly to herself as the memory came back, for although it was not entirely a comfortable one, it filled her with warmth and an inexplicable happiness.
One year earlier
The world around her was hazy, not quite familiar, the usually vivid colours were faded, shapes more extreme than normal, and often leaves would appear to melt into each other, or sprout whole trees of their own. It was for these reasons that Nuala knew she was dreaming, although, despite the surreal scenery, everything seemed so very real.
She was walking quickly through the forest, but her movements were not familiar – she did not have control over the body she was in, and it was then that she realised this was no normal dream. Unlike the ordinary, where even if she dreamed of being someone else she would feel she really were that person, Nuala was very definite that she was a separate entity from the one whose eyes she was seeing through. She did not know who he was, only that he was male, and of her kind.
Though this unknown person's movements were not familiar to her, they did not seem strange, or awkward, though she felt every move as if it were her own. His walk was silent and swift, drifting through the surreal trees with a fluidity that amazed the princess. He was headed somewhere specific, and Nuala had the sense that this place was one the elvish man loved – there was just one word accompanying this thought: peace.
Soon the trees fell away to reveal one large old oak, splendid in the moonlight, its long branches creating a ring of fully open ground. This was the only part of the scenery in the dream which seemed at all realistic – in fact, when the man's eyes turned to the oak, Nuala had the feeling that this was not truly imagination. The tree was real; she knew that.
The man through whose eyes she was seeing sighed, and the sound was one of frustration. He strode quickly to the tree trunk and flung himself down to sit among the roots. Fairies drifted over to hover by his face, staring at him with inquisitive little faces, but he batted them aside and they soon stayed away. Such unkindness – however harmless – upset the princess, and she felt herself longing to reach out and console the little creatures. Still, this was not her body; she was just a visitor in this man's life.
After a moment it became clear to Nuala that the man was muttering to himself; repeating a scene angrily over and over again. It sounded like he was a warrior, and he had made a mistake during fighting practice that would have cost his life on the battlefield. Eventually, his thoughts cleared as realisation over what he had done wrong came to him. He sighed again, only this time in triumph, and brought his fist down against the roots beside him.
Pain shot through his hand; through her hand too, and the princess cried out in surprise at the vividness of the feeling, while the man simply flinched, glancing down at one icy white hand. Already a bruise was forming on the knuckles of his right fist, and he carefully flexed his fingers, berating himself again. Then Nuala realised the man had not been speaking out loud at all – she had been listening to his thoughts.
Still moving his injured hand as the pain dulled to an ache, the man leaned back against the tree and stared up at the silver-tinged leaves whispering in the breeze over his head. He sighed for the third time – only this time out loud – and Nuala sensed an overwhelming feeling of loneliness within him, the exact same way her thoughts would turn when she was left to herself.
This man was not exactly unhappy, and his outlook on the world was somewhat neutral, only seeing a small part of the beauty that the princess would see. It was as though the years of fighting and even longer without real companionship had numbed him. He wanted to see the forest the way he had when he was a child, to love nature the way he had done. He was afraid that he was losing his emotions; he wanted, above all else, to feel.
The others teased him about his apparently solitary nature, his fierce determination to be the best of the warriors. They laughed at how he had never returned the affections of the young maids that loved so much to gather nearby in the would-be secret hope of watching the fighters practice.
Nuala knew how he felt, for her life had taken an equivalent path, only she had retained the ability to love the world around her as she had been brought up to do so. She wanted to help this man, but she didn't know how, because she did not know how to help herself. In those brief moments she had felt as though this unknown man was both her total opposite and a kindred spirit.
The dream world began to fade away then, and it was with a feeling of reluctance that the princess allowed herself to fully awaken. When she did it was to the morning chorus of birds in the trees above her. She was lying in her bedroom in the Elvish palace, with a gentle breeze drifting through the window beside her.
Dazedly, she sat up slowly, and gasped as pain flashed through her right hand. Shocked, she looked down and saw a large bruise on the knuckles there. For a long moment she just stared at the injury in confusion. Surely she would have noticed it if it had happened the day before, or even during the night? Then a new thought came to her: had she influenced her dream by accidentally harming herself, or had the dream somehow influenced her? Had it been a dream at all? If not, what was it?
Her thoughts spinning, the princess flung aside the thin sheet of her bed, and stood swiftly. She watched as her vision adjusted, the spacious, pale room tilting at odd angles before levelling out to normal. Once dressed, she paused at the mirror set among the draperies covering the walls.
Nuala regarded herself not out of vanity, but surprise. Superficially she looked just the way she had the day before – her skin was the same icy white, her hair, which reached, perfectly straight, to her shoulders, was almost as pale as that, darkening to a slight gold at the tips. She had always viewed herself as typical of her elvish kin, with angular features and a slender build, though her large, round eyes were perhaps a more vivid shade of ochre than the ordinary. The area around her eyes was naturally a pale red that somehow only enhanced her beauty in the eyes of those around her. However, the princess was entirely innocent to that particular way of viewing her.
It was not her overall appearance that was cause for her surprise, but her expression. She looked…not happy, but almost so, her lips almost curving upwards into a gentle smile. Her eyes shone with emotion, though streaks of tears glistened on her cheeks. Not immediately remembering why she might have been crying during the night, the princess thought back to her dream and remembered the man's callous treatment of the fairies. That had horrified her, though he had not actually made contact with a single one of the little troublesome creatures. Despite this, her memories of the dream came back in full then, and she gasped automatically, bringing the bruised part of her hand up to her cheek.
"I will help you," she vowed quietly, speaking not truly to herself, but aiming her words to that young Elvish man in her dream, for she was absolutely certain he was real, "I feel those things, too."
Nuala wasted no more time in pondering what she had seen, and hurried to the other side of the room, opening the pale wooden door there, and left her chambers. Beyond her rooms, a wide, closely-knit archway of emerald leaves served as the corridor through to the rest of the palace – much of which was constructed in a similar, natural way.
The skirt of her pale blue dress swished lightly over the flower-dotted ground as she turned to the left, out of the main hallway of vines that led to the rest of the palace. This direction of her walk did little to gain the stares of other elves strolling together enjoying the morning sun, for the princess rarely did spend the day in the palace. Her preference for solitude was much talked of however, and speculated upon.
Nuala's pace became swifter as she crossed through the vast, colourful expanse of the Elvish gardens. The forest was soon around her, shafts of golden light pouring down to the grass-covered ground, which shimmered with morning dew. Musical laughter drifted through the trees from somewhere nearby, a familiar sound that signified the other elves were already up, the youngsters playing among the leaves.
A soft buzzing alerted the princess to the presence of fairies flitting along beside her, whispering to one another with high voices not quite hushed enough to keep their suspicion of her behaviour a secret. They kept pace with her easily, soon giving up the act of evading her gaze and zooming ahead of the Elvish princess, only to loop back and spin around her, giggling mischievously.
Nuala paid the fairies no heed, raising her skirts a little from the ground as her walk sped almost to a run. She could feel an unfamiliar urgency to find the place in her dream, and the deeper among the trees she went, the stronger that pull became. Confused by her feelings, but wanting to find the place she knew was nearby, she followed that pull, a sensation almost of something wrapping around her and reeling her in. Despite knowing that going along with this might well prove a foolish thing indeed, she continued onwards.
Eventually, the pull vanished as the princess stumbled into the very same circular clearing she had seen in her dream. It was just as splendid in the sunlight as it had appeared by the illumination of the moon, and she stopped a moment to catch her breath and take in the view. After a moment, she brought her left hand up to face outwards, as if touching the air, and she sensed passed feelings of frustration, triumph and loneliness.
"He was here," she whispered softly, approaching the grand oak ahead of her almost tentatively.
Before she could reach the centre of the clearing and touch the bark of the trunk, a tiny fairy fluttered around her to hover in front of her face. Its wings, that glowed pure white, folded as she put her hand out and it landed in her palm, so light she could not feel its presence there at all. She could not catch a single thought from its head – this fairy was being very careful to guard its thoughts from her detection, and it looked up at her with tiny, pale eyes.
"You were the one," Nuala stated, referring to the fairy at which the man had hit out.
The little creature nodded, then brought a hand up to signal politely for the princess's silence so it could speak, its reedy voice almost too high to hear, "He is not cruel, Lady, and I know that is the answer to the question you would have asked me. He speaks to us not, even less than you, preferring the silence of the night forest to the cheer of the day."
"Then he is not content?"
"No, my Lady, and nor are you," then the fairy was gone, fluttering back to its companions within the forest, leaving the princess to herself.
When she reached out to touch the trunk of the oak at the centre of the clearing, Nuala expected to sense much of the recent past, to learn more of who the man was. Instead, visions of her own dreams flooded back to her, accompanied by many profound memories, full of sadness, longing and loneliness. This was not just her life, she realised, it was the man's, too. They were so similar, at least in the emotions that they felt, and this only helped to strengthen her resolve to help him. Perhaps he would not want her help, or it could take hundreds of years to discover him. Maybe he could sense her, too, and would seek her out even as she looked for him. Somehow she was absolutely certain they had to help each other.
Back to the present
She still had not found him. Though a year had passed since her discovery of the Dream Tree as she called it, the princess remained totally unknowing of who the man actually was. The dream she'd had of looking through his eyes had never come back, but she could sense his emotions every morning when she visited the oak. She also knew that he spent most of his nights just sitting there, watching the sky and feeling that same recurring loneliness and need for change.
Despite her resolution to somehow help him, Nuala had never summoned the courage to actually seek out the tree by night, when she knew he would be there. Many times she had almost gone, and then pulled back at the last minute, nervous, uncertain of whether he would accept her company.
So there she remained, watching the stars by the seashore and thinking of her own life, while he sat under the boughs of the oak and did the same. It occurred to her that he was probably there right at that moment, and that their thoughts might well be in perfect synchronisation, or at least matching each other's feelings perfectly.
"My Lady!" a high voice cried excitedly, breaking her train of thought with its urgency.
The princess spun around to see one of the fairies racing towards her through the air, waving its arms over its head frantically as it spun itself into a twirling stop. Breathlessly, it pointed back the way it had come, in the direction of the palace.
"What is it?"
"The…the king requires your presence immediately back at the palace. He has important news!"
Upon hearing those words, Nuala's heart leapt in her chest and she could not help the fearful thoughts that came to her mind. Was the forest in danger, and if so, what from?
Without another word, the princess set off back through the trees again, her Elvish sight making it just as easy to see in the darkness as it would be in the daylight. It was not long before she was heading back across the palace gardens, silent as they were in the silvery veil of night. She passed through into the palace from there, an inwardly ostentatious building that was only visible from the outside as nothing more than a tight weave of bushes and trees.
Golden carvings and colourful paintings adorned the marble walls of wide, gilded corridors, and intricate tapestries hung within many of the larger rooms. None of this grandeur even made its way into Nuala's consciousness as she hurried through the palace. After a short while, she came to a vast, circular antechamber with a roof of leaves, but walls and floor of silver-veined black stone. She descended the curved white stairway that led to the chamber beyond, which she crossed without any opposition from the Elvish guards standing by the gateway ahead of her. They never ceased to unnerve her, shielded from head to toe as they were with armour of dark metal.
The gates opened smoothly ahead of her, and the princess stepped into the throne room beyond without pause as they clanged shut behind her. This long, rectangular hall was just as pale as the main part of the palace, with a golden roof overhead letting the moonlight through in tinted streams. The intricately carved, marble throne stood empty at the other end of the hall, and the guards remained, still and forbidding, along the walls nearby. It was an unusual sight for Nuala that the wooden stands reserved for the king's advisors were empty, but she knew the hours for such meetings were long since passed.
Eventually, the princess spied her father leaning thoughtfully against the rail of one of the stands, and she waited in patient silence for King Balor to be alerted to her presence. He was a tall figure, dressed in rich robes of red, white and gold, with wispy shoulder length white hair and a beard of the same colour. His skin was more tanned than his daughter's, his eyes closer to yellow than orange, something visible as he turned to regard her with an affectionate, and rather sad, smile.
"Ah, Nuala, my daughter. I am glad you came here so swiftly after I sent for you, I hope I interrupted nothing?" his deep voice, though quiet, still echoed audibly through the hall.
"No, of course not, father," she responded immediately, inclining her head in recognition of his concern, "What is it that you wish to tell me?"
"You know of the growing threat posed to our forests by the humans?" the king asked, and his daughter nodded, if unwillingly so.
"You told me they were unlikely to harm our lives, that they were weak."
"Yes, but their numbers grow every day, and so does their strength. They are beginning to encroach on our lands, and there is very little we can do to stop them," he sighed when Nuala looked up at him with horrified eyes.
"You do not mean…battle? B-bloodshed?"
"I fear it must be so, my daughter," he nodded gravely, and the princess looked away, shuddering, "No official state of war has been declared, but it will become so if the humans continue to enter our lands without permission, damaging Nature. We will only fight if our way of life is threatened, and will not actively go about the course of ourselves finding and…attacking the humans. I tell you this so that you may be…prepared. I know that you would wish to help tend to the wounded should there be any – which I hope there shall not."
The princess simply nodded at this, and her father regarded her forlornly. He had not wished to upset her, but there was no other way if she was to know the truth of what went on in the realm. Not wishing to disturb her further, he dismissed her from the throne room, and Nuala hurried to her chambers, bolting the door behind her.
This was even worse than she had expected; open threat to her way of life and to the world she loved so dearly. The idea of soldiers of either side being hurt was horrible for her to think of, but the survival of Nature and, overall, of life as well, was the most important thing to Nuala. She would tend the wounded if she was so needed, and mourn the dead of both sides if such an ill fate came to any of them.
As she lay down in her bed, closing her eyes but feeling that sleep would not take her when such horrors were uppermost in her thoughts, she heard the distant scrape of metal on metal. She almost opened her eyes in fear before realising that she had not heard the sound; it had entered her mind as if from far away. There it was again! A commotion, hurried voices, the gathering of weapons, the strapping on of armour…a whole group of Elvish soldiers readying themselves for battle.
Quiet voices were speaking hurriedly, one of which was familiar, and it was with a jolt that Nuala sensed one of them was the Elvish man who spent so many nights sitting under the oak tree. After all, he was an accomplished fighter, possibly one of the best in the realm. It was only natural that he should be among those chosen to go and defend the Elvish kingdom.
The swish of a blade moving through space with blinding speed, spinning the weapon around in one hand, gaining momentum, and then bringing it forward in a fast slice that seemed to cut the very air. He was practising, spinning around and around as if in intense combat, fighting imaginary foes. This was the move that he had been previously unable to accomplish: a flip through the air without leaving himself open to attack. He landed lightly, laughing in glee as he discovered he had finally perfected that particularly difficult manoeuvre.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the dream-vision was gone, and Nuala felt emptiness again. Breathing deeply, she stared at the night-darkened ceiling and felt even greater fear than before. What if the man was hurt in battle? Even worse, what if he was…killed? What would she do then? So much of her time had been spent considering different ways of helping him, and never once had it occurred to her that the opportunity to do so might go.
Even more necessary to her than the need to help him was, in order to feel peace of mind, the knowledge that he was safe, or at least unharmed. The idea of hurt ever coming to him was worse than anything else, perhaps even than the damage of her beloved forest. The intensity of that realisation was almost painful for her; she felt such a strong connection with the unknown man that the idea of his loss – why did she think of it that way? – was impossible to conceive. But what could she do? Her Warrior was heading into battle, and he might never come back.
