Round The Maypole

It began, the eyes watching from the dark, dark depths of the forest slowly came to realize, not with the gentle stomping of unclad feet, but from warmth. From the warming gaze of the sun, warming the foundations of the earth and coaxing out fresh life from warm soil. From the warm breeze that pushed back the blizzards of winter and spring. From the return of the lively folk from their warm little huts with the thatched roofs and little stone chimneys that exuded warm tufts of smoke.

Yes, it all began with warmth, and the joy of being in it again.

It didn't take long, after the warmth arrived, for the lively folk to hoist up the moss and flower infested timber. They frolicked about it, enjoying the gentle breezes as they wove long sashes of gayly dyed linen and yet more garlands of even gayer flowers around themselves and the tall, singular structure.

And then the sounds of laughter and frivolity, as well as the wonderful smells of brewed concoctions and baked things, reached those lurking in the shadows of ancient elm and oak and birch and ash.

And the eyes watching from the dark felt hunger once more.

***

Clarissa spins before the simple mirror, a gift from Father to Mother from their wedding day, and gazes at her own bright reflection. It may be a simple gown of weld-yellow linen, but it hangs well on her ripe frame and ripples with every spin. She gives herself a luminous smile, dyed a lovely hue with berry and rosewater. Even her cheeks glow with a light application of the homemade stain.

Kenric wouldn't dare ignore her this year!

She pauses in her spin, laughing lightly as she trails her hands over the shift-like dress's middle and up to the flounce of fabric barely covering her bosom where she can watch her fingers sink into the weight of linen and flesh.

He won't be able to mistake these hills for a bumpy road ever again.

She considers what to do with her honeyed locks, before deciding to let the wind take it as it pleases, for today is a day of frivolity and mirth and she will not bind up her hair in ribbons, braids, nor demure veil. Today, she will feel the sun and all of nature around her!

Father calls from outside, summoning the horde to join him on the march to the grassy lawns about their village.

It's but a short trek up the cart path, and not yet dusty. The sun sings a merry yet gentle tune to which Father and Clarissa's two fiendish little brothers add naughty lyrics, earning Mother's delighted laugh.

Seeing her friends already moving about the flower-studded green, she passes off her basket of offerings for the feast to one brother before dashing forward to greet them.

The maypole stands proudly in the center of the village green, already bedecked in flowers and streamers. Clarissa salaciously reaches into the low neckline of her gown and pulls out the ribbon hidden between her fair mounds. She ties the bright yellow scrap to the nearest length of fabric leading up to the top of the pole.

Not long after bidding her friends and Conrad, who always stuck too closely to his sister Helen, a fortuitous and pleasant summer, the dancing begins.

Oh how her bare feet ache after a few rounds of twirling and prancing about the maypole!

But it isn't unbearable. The laughter and the lively tunes played by her father and some of the other village elders keep her on her feet. Long sashes and bright flowers dance around her, pulled by young men and women that attempt to trap the free dancers against the wide base of the moss-covered wooden pole.

Thrice she is kissed between mad giggles. But only by Helen and Elis and Olive. The boys are oddly shy today, or simply unlucky!

Made bold by the proud gaze of the sun, she blows a mouth fart at Conrad for daring to come near her. The laughter slowly dissolves around her, and she takes the opportunity to grab a pint of mead to refresh with.

It's at the booze table that she overhears the devastating gossip.

"Such a sad thing. What will become of our village?"

"'s more opportunities in town, there is."

"My Kenric will be back soon enough, and with a bride-to-be in tow, he claims! Might have a late summer wedding here yet, unless the inlaws have a say."

"Too right, always arguing there."

"Every year, more and more boys leave for these opportunities," her father spits at the ground, "but are they any better than the ones here? Soon enough there won't be any left for girls like my Clarissa to marry, and then where will we be?"

"Empty houses, and a village ruled by old crones that claim they never even needed the menfolk, that's where we'll be. Left rotting out in the fields while they summon up whatever it is women summon when there are no men around to keep an eye on 'em."

The men laugh off their worries with the joke, while Clarissa steals away back around the tables and towards the forest to be alone.

She had been waiting. How many summers was it now, that she had grown and he had been off at some school his father never stopped bragging about? She is the fairest in the village, almost everyone but Willowy Winifred agrees on that. If he'd only come home to see it, she would be the one planning a late summer wedding, and not some townie tart.

No, that isn't fair. She shouldn't judge the other girl until she could meet her. And then she and her friends could gossip after the engagement became public.

Still, Kenric had been the only boy in the small village she had ever thought about like that. And now, well, not counting Helen, there would already be too many young women going after the last of the young men.

Perhaps she would have to accompany Father on one of his trips into town and charm some young city boy.

But the villagers were right, a wonderful May day like this was no time to entertain such gloomy thoughts!

She slaps her already red-stained cheeks and goes back up the gentle swell of earth and grass to rejoin the dance.

***

So close! The eyes watching from the darkness narrowed in glee. He could smell the lively young thing as she sat just outside the ring of ash trees protecting the village from all the forest contained. Through honey and rose and berry, he could smell the lingering ripeness of a body filled with wants and desires.

It called to him as surely as the singing and dancing did.

Oh how he craved the warmth and life she exuded, but his desires would have to stay unsated. The watcher could only watch the festivities, knowing that his presence would only rob the lively folk of their fun.

***

The dancing, at least for the unmarried young men and women, dies down as the sun passes its zenith. Children, and those who were still children at heart, take to the maypole while the others eat slowly and enjoy the glorious weather.

Of course by now the rumors have spread, and everyone knows that Kenric will be returning in a fortnight or two with his lovely young city thing.

Her friends console her plenty, and Conrad even earns himself a string of face farts, sister included this time. If the young man wants a roll in the hay with someone, it wouldn't be with any of them.

Not even with Helen, as the rumors you don't go about repeating went.

Clarissa has had it on good authority, Helen's, that she'd laughed in her brother's face the one time he did try to ask her for a favor behind their family's barn.

"So I talked with Old Gert day before last." Olive starts up as they finish the savory pastries her mother had made.

Elis sighs, "Whatever for? Think you could put a spell on all the fine young men here?" She gestures at the small assemblage of ne'er-do-wells and braggarts.

"No, silly girl! I heard she had some perfumes for sale, real cheap. One she gave me itched so I plan to return it tomorrow."

"The cheap stuff always itches."

Olive clears her throat, kicking at Elis's bare calf with her grass-stained foot. "As I was saying, let me finish this time, I was talking with Old Gert, and Gerttie says that this whole maypole tradition is just silly. We been doing it year after year for ages, I'd argued, but she says if you want any of the real benefits, 'cuz of course it's based on some old ritual for fertility and blessing the lands and such, you gotta go into the forest."

Which is where all sorts of crazy old things hid, like Great Aunt Gertrude and her hut of mystery. Nobody knows whose aunt she is, but she is nice enough, if not completely senile. And luckily, her hut rests along the one safe path through the woods, assuming it hasn't grown legs and run off since yesterday.

The rest of the forest isn't so friendly.

"Why would anyone sane want to go into the forest for?" Helen argues quickly, being the only one of the four girls who hasn't ever set foot into it, not even on the path.

"For the ritual. And the berries and nuts and thrill, of course." Olive still claims to have made it deeper than all of them. "So Gerttie, she says they used to do the fertility and prosperity thing in the forest, using the biggest elm they could find. Still grows in there, with bobs and bits still strewn about. Wouldn't know m'self, never been that deep into the trees!"

Helen muses this bit of information over with her last bite of pie. "So if we danced around that and covered it in ribbons and such, we'd all have better luck this year?"

"Probably more than with a dead stick of mossy pine stuck into the ground."

With her more cautious friend already interested, Clarissa decides she must be the voice of reason. "We can't just sneak off from the festival and go find it!"

"Don't know about yours, but my folks will be drunk and snoring by the time we get home." Elis offers before crawling back to the food tables to get another snack.

"It's true. If anything, this'd be a good evening for it. Parents will be drunk and tired, nobody will be out to harass us." Olive argues back.

Helen adds in a hushed voice, "And she will be full and nearly as bright as the sun." Cautious as the brunette normally was, she also loves a good story of the unholy and witchy variety.

"Then," The blonde clears her throat before whispering to her conspirators. If the menfolk of the town feared witchery, then she might as well go for it, "it's agreed. We go home, grab our cloaks and some lanterns, and meet back here?"

Three young women nod at her.

***

Their plan seemed so simple during the light of day. But as Clarissa waits at the edge of the village green for her friends, she shivers. The thick woolen cloak around her slender shoulders glows with the light of the setting sun, but soon it would turn dark gray with the coming of night. The forest whispers darkly behind her, waiting just like she is.

It didn't need to wait much longer.

Soon, the flickers of a lantern, and then another, light up the cart path leading back towards the tiny village. Olive and Helen arrive together, soon followed by Elis.

"Sorry," the last girl apologizes softly, "Mother caught me and said I had best not come back pregnant. And then she gave me a bottle of her berry cordial for us."

The other three whisper back praise for Elis's mother and her foresight. And then, after helping Clarissa light her own lantern, they bundle up their cloaks, and follow Olive into the trees.

She keeps them to the safe path for a while, passing Aunt Gert's hovel and its eerie green lights around sunset. The four girls continue on into the darkness, until Olive stops.

"I think, I mean, it couldn't be that far from town, right? Let's just... there's a little old path here, maybe this is it?"

At worst, Clarissa figures, they would wander until morning and then use the dawn to make it back to the path or edge of the woods. So they follow their red-haired friend, resolving to be as lost as she is.

***

The eyes watching from the darkness could not believe his luck! The lively folk were often wary of the forest, never venturing deeper than necessary, and rarely unarmed. He supposed the lanterns were weapon enough for any that feared the light, but still. The four lithe figures that dared venture deeper with every bare step were woefully unprepared.

So he watched closely. His presence alone warned away the worst things, even as the lively folk drew more and more curious eyes their way. Dark cloaks parted to reveal long, pale legs. One with hair black as night dances ahead, waving her lantern as she spins. More eyes. More watchers.

He nods to the horned one. Such fragile things needed to be protected, and the denizens of the dark forest would do their best.

***

"It's a miracle!" Elis exclaims, wrapping an arm around the shocked and mute Olive.

"Truly a wonder. Who knew old Aunt Gerttie was right?" Their brown-haired friend concurs as she sets down the lantern.

Clarissa is just as stunned as the red-haired girl.

Before them, in a moonlit clearing, stands a mighty elm tree. Its branches dominate the canopy, several draping low to the ground at the edge where it encroaches on other trees. The tall trunk rises high above their heads, with the remnants of several branches showing where someone had pruned wide logs to clear the undergrowth. And near the lowest remaining branches, the girls can all see the remnants of fabric trapped by the bark where it grew over the garlands and sashes that had once decorated it.

"What do we do now?" Clarissa spooks herself with the sound of her own voice.

Olive clears her throat and shucks off her cloak. "Well, we can't exactly decorate him like the maypole, but we should still sing and dance, right?"

The girls set out their lanterns in a square around the tree where they won't be easily knocked over. Elis pulls out the cordial, and they all take sips before stripping.

Any good woman knows that such sacred rites must be done naked, after all.

"Lady of the Moon! Mighty Artemis, bear witness to our offering of joy and dance." Olive calls up at the white orb peaking through the branches. "Gentle Elm, who has seen the long days behind and the long road ahead, please bless us for the coming year!"

"Help us find husbands, you mean!" Elis laughs, taking another swig of the berry liquor.

Clarissa cheers back, "Hear hear! I pray for husbands more useful than the ones in our village."

The brunette crosses her arms underneath her exposed bust. "Forget a husband, I don't need one. Just help me convince Father that I'll make a better business partner than my idiot brother." Helen's declaration earns another laugh from the other three.

And then they dance, slightly inebriated and wonderfully naked to the refreshing night air of early summer. Bosom buddies by word and by deed, they twirl about the huge tree, jiggling and giggling. Clarissa wraps her yellow gown about one of the lower branches and swings gently in the air. Helen gives in to her urges and climbs up onto a branch. Elis and Olive join hands and spin until they fall over at the foot of the tree.

***

The lively folk live up to their reputations, the watchers decide. These young things enthrall with movement and laughter, a vision of delight that hasn't been seen within the wood's boundaries in ages.

And they are so colorful! Like nymphs, their hair flutters loosely around their heads, accentuating both pale and tanned skin. They glow red in flame, and the next moment white with moonlight.

Ancient Elm moves first, his higher limbs gently swaying in time with the music created by lilting voices and little feet. He returns their energy with a burst of his own as he awakens, growing fresh branches and feeding the vines that climb him for access to the sun. The vines would soon sway low, ready to be tugged and to touch the effervescent vitality of these young lively folk.

Beside the eyes that watched from the darkness, his friend, the one who tends rock and soil to ensure the plants of the forest can thrive, settles in to watch, the slash in his face tilted up to one side to express amusement. He's not brave enough to step in, not when mortal things are terrified on instinct.

Across the clearing, the horned one completes another vigilant circle. None would dare interfere with the merrymaking so long as they are here to protect the lively folk, the slender, gracefully luminous, and ripe smelling lively folk.

For the first time in ages, the eyes in the dark feels the need to swallow back desire.

***

Clarissa leans back into the air, trusting the hold of the long vines she's wrapped around her arm to carry her weight. Tonight has been wonderful so far, and not one of her friends has even suggested heading back. She wonders if that's actually the safer option, staying until dawn's light can guide them. Probably. She grins, swinging in the air with the strong vine for support. Perhaps if they don't see the sun, they could stay out here forever and become Dafne and Harmonia and Galateia and Echo, just like the old stories.

Something about these woods is becoming more intoxicating than the cordial they'd finished off. She feels light as the air and as energetic as the bee searching for more nectar.

So when the vine crawls further down her arm, wrapping around both now, she doesn't mind. Even when it raises her up into the air, her feet slowly leaving the mossy ground behind, she remains joyfully calm, at least for a moment. The lack of inhibition soon has her kicking up her feet as she tries to grab onto the vine with her leg. Perhaps she can climb it all the way up to the top of the elm's branches!

Her senses register movement before her mind can place it.

Dark shapes part through the circles of lamplight, joining the dancing girls. One, resembling the greatest buck she has ever set her eyes on, takes chase after Olive. The red-haired girl claims to be the fastest thing on two feet before she takes flight, running in a circle and leaping over roots with a glee-filled cackle.

Another shape, big, bulky, and slow, settles in close to Elis. She pushes back a strand of her dark hair and braves moving closer as she dances. The lantern light flickers, showing that the young beauty has found her mother's bottle and is using the remaining berry juice to draw on her new, otherworldly friend.

Above Clarissa's head, her other friend squeaks out a curious noise. The vines and branches have grown over where the brunette hides on a higher branch. She can make out writhing shadows in the limited moonlight. But her friend is only making hushed, quiet little noises, and not calling for help.

A little higher, and the blonde would be able to see just exactly what she and the elm tree are doing.

Oh!

She hadn't realized how far up the vines had tugged her.

The soft ground is now too far to safely fall down onto. But a shape watches from below her feet, absorbing her naked form with a pair of glowing green eyes. For one moment, it looks almost human, and in the next it's just a mess of darkness.

Long shadowy arms reach up to her, not in an attempt to grab her, she can sense that much if her mind is to be trusted, but in case she needs it. The young woman decides to do just that and trust in the feeling that says nothing would dare harm her tonight.

What a curious feeling that is! Here she is, dancing naked in the air for all the wild things to see, and she fears them not.

Helen moans loudly this time. A look up confirms she's still moving in a tangle of tree limbs, but the moonlit shadows on the elm's trunk hint that some of the branches are keeping pace with the movement of the brunette's hips.

Even more curious! Clarissa decides before realizing that the vines are slowly lowering her towards the ground again and her friend disappears from her sight.

A cool hand gently settles on her leg, helping in case she loses her grip or the vines lose control. It's the green-eyed thing. Clarissa finds it hard to describe as the shape keeps shifting like smoke freshly trapped in a bottle. Her toes reach the ground, but that's when the vines stop and keep her arms held up above her head.