Legends of Belariath
Chloe
Description:
Few are those who have taken glimpse of this one, the small, normally greenish-hued, pear dryad preferring to stay in the comfort of dense foliage. This small forest creature is barely five feet tall and weighs only about 90 pounds. Slight in stature and adorned with the softest of curves, her figure could make hearts pound. Softly she walks, her footsteps guided by the forest floor. She, like all her kind is peaceful in nature. Large green eyes, the color of young wheat grass, peer with both a lonely desperation and a curious innocence at the world about them. Her skin is normally a pale blue-green, but the destruction of her trees has caused the unfortunate little creature to fall ill. In sickness, her silky soft flesh has taken on a splotchy yellow-brown hue and her full lips a more saturated version of that same color. The only blemish upon her body is a large jagged scar that bisects her top half from lower-an obvious indicator of how her tree perished. Long yellow-brown hair tumbles from her head, framing her face and lush breasts. Dispersed throughout her tresses are pear tree leaves that grow and are part of her hair itself. Despite the fact that it is summer, her weakened state has caused these leaves to show the oranges and reds of autumn. Rarely does this little tree spirit wear clothing when in the comfort of forest, though on the occasion she ventures out, pear leaf and blossom covered vines will weave their way about her form, cupping her soft breasts and winding their way about her hips and thighs. She knows very little of life outside her forest, but misfortune has set the innocent little creature on her own; in search of a new place for her trees. While she is ever curious, she is also quite timid and rather apprehensive of non forest dwelling types
Background:
Most would say, despite it's numerous varieties and succulent fruit, the pear tree is a common tree at best. Yet Chloe, and very well any other of her kind, would speak quite differently; that there was no such thing as a 'common' pear or a 'common' tree at all. She would tell you that the pear tree was her family. That each of these trees was individual, with its own essence. That no two were alike. Each grew differently, was colored differently, spoke, smelled, tasted, and loved differently. Deep within the embrace of forest, grew six of such fruit bearing trees, spaced about in a star shaped pattern, five equidistantly surrounding one. These trees were large in size, and their fruit sweet. Serving these six trees, as well as the surrounding flora and fauna, was the dryad Chloe.
For season after season, until they became too many to count, Chloe lived deep within the harmony of her forest, bound to the six pear trees she served. All was in balance. The plants ate of the sun and earth, the animals of the plants and each other, and the earth ate the bodies of all. Summer days, Chloe would serve her trees and her forest. Happily she would tend to the plant life- urging it to grow and proliferate, and blissfully she would bask in the comforting glory of sun and foliage. Winter would find her hibernating deep with in the comfort of her tree, the center of the six. Peacefully she would slumber the snow away, dreaming of spring's kiss. Knowing of little else, the dryad wanted for nothing.
Yet such bliss would not last. One mid spring morning, a human set foot in her forest. The dryad was immediately aware of such an intrusion and would soon be silently following the man, curiously observing him. Relatively young for her kind, this was the first non-druid of another race she had ever encountered. Peaceful in nature, the little dryad couldn't have fathomed that not all were lovers of Gaea and the wilds. She watched the man unnoticed until he eventually left, and then went back to her daily activities. Little did she know, that the human she had seen heralded the destruction of her precious forest. How could she have ever dreamed that but a year later, that same man would return with many more to begin the clear cutting of her beloved home to make pastures for grazing? With a pitiful innocence, she watched curiously as these strange beings set up their camps and imported their supplies. Then all at once it started. The small creature's body was overcome with pain and she fell to the ground as the first of her sacred six trees was cut. Never before had she felt such a thing. Yes, death was amongst her at all times, it was Gaea's way and it was beautiful, but this was not death she felt. It was murder. She screamed out, pleaded for it to stop, but her voice was not heard. Staggering to her feet she would run towards the loggers, pleading sobs shuddering from her lips. She darted her way to the side of the nearest man with a saw and small hands would latch onto his arm in an effort to stop the next pull. At first it would seem to the little dryad that she actually had stopped them. The unexpected frantic screams of a young girl, followed by a completely nude dryad running up to, then through, their group had definitely caught attention and brought cutting to a temporary halt. Eyes wide, the men would watch in confusion, then amusement as the teary eyed little dryad began to beg for the lives of her trees. Silence turned to snickers and eventually one of the men came up behind her, grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her towards camp, figuring that if the forest was theirs for the taking, so was she. The concept of having to defend oneself was utterly foreign to the tree nymph, as was inflicting harm upon another, so at first she went along with the man, her cries of confusion falling upon deaf ears. Several moments later the logging began once more and the little dryad shrieked in pain as her knees buckled. The fistful of her hair the human held proved to be little more than leaves and they were plucked from her head as he tried to pull her back to her feet. Reeling with pain and wide eyed that this being had just pulled out some of her hair- had purposefully inflicted pain upon her- panic set in. Chloe scrambled to her feet and took off running, seeking the comfort and cover of the forest's arms, several of the intruders now in pursuit. The men were all about her trees, and to her horror, the little dryad realized she could not near her family. Her heart breaking she ran on and, after eluding her pursuers, hid herself in an old oak tree. There she stay in utter agony, feeling every push and pull the serrated blades made in the trunks of her poor pear trees. For several nights after, the dryad's mournful wailing could be heard echoing eerily throughout the woods. The still living trees told her that she must leave, that they would soon be next and that there was little she could do. They told her the forest was now fated to die. Despite her begging, her wish to die with the forest and fear of being left behind, they told her to leave her home and search for a new forest in which to plant their seeds, live and serve. Sobbing pitifully, little Chloe slumped to the forest floor from the tree in which she had been hiding. Her normally pale blue-green skin had taken on a sickly yellow-brown hue and despite the fact that it was early summer, the leaves which grew from her hair had begun to show the red and orange of autumn. Upon closer inspection of herself, she would find a jagged scar now ran across her once pristine belly, bisecting her top half from lower- a scar on her flesh matching the wounds that had been dealt her trees.
That night the little dryad stole her way towards the gruesome stumps of her family. Barely able to control her whimpers she called from the ground six fruit, one from each of her beloved trees. The ivies and vines wove for her a satchel, which the little dryad then lined with soft mosses and leaves. She took her precious cargo, the six pears, as well as several different acorns and seed pods, and placed it into the satchel. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, the dryad bid a tearful goodbye to the only home she had ever known, and set out in search of a new forest in which to plant, raise, and serve her trees.