Narrative V3

haven't quite been able to come up with a title for this one yet.




Music drifted lazily about the countryside, floating on leaves blown by a cool spring breeze. It scrolled over the water of a serene lake, piercing its surface before being lost in the depths below.
Content to leave the imposing walls of Troy behind him, Piccolo would often venture out to this very lake to play his flute and revel in the gods blessing of nature. He reached his hands skyward giving a stretch and a yawn, causing Zeus and all the gods of the heavens to yawn as well. Laying down the wooden instrument in his lap, he felt the wispy hands of sleep start to claim him as he reclined against an olive tree.
Not a moment after his eyes drifted closed, a voice, like that of a resonating crystal, called out to him.
“Play it again, dear Piccolo.” It seemed to say.
Slightly dazed he shook his head and peered around. No one was within his sight, lest they be hiding in the tall grass. Considering it a trick played on him by his sleepy mind and the wine god Bacchus he slowly slipped back into a restful state.
“Please, dear Piccolo, it’s been ages since someone has played for me a tune more beautiful.” came the sweet womanly voice.
He quickly woke and sat up. This couldn’t be his mind, he was certain of that much. His hand instinctively found the wondrous device. Piccolo gave the lakeshore a glance of suspicion before answering.
“Whether you be a god or a demon I can never refuse a request made of me.” He replied before playing.
He called out to his muse, asking that it bless him with a song to impress the disembodied voice. His body, his mind, his soul, his entire essence of being was focused on playing just this one song. Had his eyes been open he would have witnessed the grass around him growing a deeper green and the blossoming of multiple flowers, the tree on which he reclined sprouted and bloomed wide. The lake seemed to sing for a moment in happiness.
Life crept out from the artist while he played spreading across land. From two intertwined trees across the lake stepped two Driads, their lithe bodies like that of a beautiful woman but their skin took the appearance of solid polished wood. Drawn from their eternal slumber by the foreign sound, that tugged at them more powerfully than the desire to be embraced by the other, the two female figures swayed about the shoreline before stepping onto the surface of the water and elegantly danced their way towards him. No matter how complicated the movement of was, they always kept a part of their body touching the other in perfect synchronization to the music and each other. Arms barely touching they would leap forward and stop abruptly, then, hands clasped, they would reverse their direction in series of spins. With their bodies held tightly together they continued this motion with movements just as fluid as the water they danced across.
Piccolo opened his eyes just once and spying the two he immediately went back to playing, drawing the inspiration for his song from divine sources. As the wood-sprites neared him they reached up and drew a crown from the olive branches above him. Adorned with the blessing of nature the two stepped aside and as the last note was being drawn out from the mystical instrument they kissed. Piccolo opened his eyes as the crisp high note was leaving the air and spied the twos moment of pure happiness just before their legs dug into the earth, their arms embracing each other, hair extended until the strands became branches budding fruit. There they were, sprites of the forest intertwined as lovers again.
In that moment of awe, the waves crashed against the shore giving the sound of
thunderous applause. Water rushed together to form an emerging human body and even though she appeared as nothing but a swirling vortex of water, Piccolo could tell she possessed an aura of serenity and insurmountable beauty. As she took her first, gentle step onto land, her body changed from translucent to that of a fair skinned woman with eyes as bright as the noontime sky reflecting off the water. She looked around shyly before speaking directly at the dumbfounded musician.
“I thank you, dear Piccolo. You may call me Undine,” she said bowing low before him. He hastily regained his manners, catching himself staring at her nude form.
“How can I be of service fair nymph?” he said realizing clearly what she was before returning the gesture strange to him. She giggled at his attempt of a bow and noticed him trying to hide his gawking.
“I seek to become human so I may live in your world. To do such a thing I must first give birth to a child of a mortal man,” She said embracing him. “I would not have my son raised to be a warrior or someone who seeks to destroy. I have watched you ever since you started playing out here long ago. You abandoned your countrymen during a time of war at the cost of your exile. Your love of beauty and all things living are traits known to few men. We are of kindred spirit.” Undine continued pulling back from their hug. “Play for me that tune here every day and I will be yours until the sun and the moon shine no more,” she said, beaming a smile that reflected childlike innocence and playfulness along with maternal love.