Challenge #04709-L325: Difficult History

Vholno, son of a traveling bard, always thought he was a normal human boy born to a wandering man. But when patches of green appeared on his skin, his father told him that he was born of a liaison with a dryad. Now Vholno ventures deep into the wilds in search of his mother and what fate awaits the son of the forest. -- Deathshead419

[AN: I see what you did there :) ]

Dad had taught the goat to dance for their traveling show. As soon as Vholno could dance, he joined. Of course, it was the gavotte. That was dad's sense of humour. Vholno could sing fit to charm wild birds to his hand, and Dad taught him every song he could.

It was good for their income, and helped them live to sing another day.

And as a Bard, Dad knew a lot about the facts of life. Vholno learned well what to expect but... as his body matured, it started turning green. That was not normal for a Human teenager. Nor were the bits of bark in weird places. Bards were rarely shy, so Vholno immediately consulted his Dad.

"Yeah, I should have told you," Dad had a rare blush. "There was this year I spent in the company of a lot of dryads and -um- well. Nature happened. And when I was kicked out, they made me take you with me."

"Would I be welcomed without you?"

"Probably?" guessed Dad. "I don't know. Dryads have long memories and you definitely look like me, so... You might have to talk fast. Or sing. Your voice has some real genetic magic behind it. They might know you as one of theirs with that," Dad took out a scroll from his treasure box, "and this."

It was a song for a lost love. An apology for past wrongs and expression of retained yearning that, if it could be called veiled, was done so with the gossamer kind that hid nothing at all. "Aw Dad..." Vholno sighed. "My mother's the one you've been holding out for?"

"She was an experience like no other. She made memories like no other. And I can only pray she misses me. I can take you most of the way there, but... Dryads have ways of making sure their unwanted never come back." Dad fell silent as he drove their show wagon. Staring into his memories. "She has to come fetch me. If I'm forgiven."

It was a few months to reach the edge of the forest where the Dryads kept their fastness.

Dad kitted Vholno out as best he could, and wished him every luck.

Vholno could only hope the Dryads wouldn't hate him for this as he strummed his father's lute, and sang his mother's song. He watched, carefully, for any sign that the forests, and therefore the Dryads, didn't want him. Of course, his voice charmed birds from the trees. He gathered small creatures at his heels, and made bears and wolves stare at him in wonder.

And he made the Dryads of the grove dance his welcome.

Dad had aged and greyed as Vholno grew. The Dryads were still young and ageless. Skin as green as their leaves. Bark and fronds where Humans would have hair. Vholno's mother, somewhere in the gyrating tangle of lithe limbs, would look barely older than Vholno himself.

The song ended, and the dancers whirled to a halt. Staring at him as one Dryad. Frowning at him, trying to comprehend what he was. Vholno risked it all in saying, "I bring greetings and apologies from my father, Gyethamp the Bard."

The Dryads laughed. "He isn't your father," they cooed. "He's your mother. We... are your father."

Vholno was still trying to process this. "What? All of you?"

[Photo by Donald Giannatti on Unsplash]

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