The Last Nymph

Doc's House

The warm night breeze was blowing outside Doc's house when Maera finished her story of Thoe. Doc filled both their glasses with wine and thought of what he could do or say to bring up his guest's sombre mood.

"I'll be preparing a wonderful salad with my own baked bread tonight. I hope you'll join me for it, Maera."

The Nymph smiled.

"Did you see me eat anything today . . . or even with the British people on their ship?"

"Actually, no," he said, with a perplexed expression.

"You forget . . . who, what I am," she said, still smiling, "Food is not necessary. At least not to the daughters of Nereus. We sea nymphs, . . . Nereids, are not different in that way from river nymphs, Naiads or forest nymphs, Dryads."

Doc scratched his head, feeling the dizzying effect from the three glasses of wine. "Yes, I suppose you're correct." He said this trying to suppress his once too serious, pedantic voice and knowledge.

"Now that was not true for the Sirens," Maera said, putting her full glass of wine down on the table untasted. "They were terrible things, those half-bird and half women. And as you probably know, they ate the bodies of the sailors they had forced onto the rocks with their disgusting songs."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. But also many of the things you have shared with me, Maera."

She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "And just how do you know so much about the world I am from?"

"I was a professor of mythology. Classical Roman and Greek literature."

"Just what is a . . . professor, Doc? I only know of several types of men . . . sailors, fishermen and those who fought wars and were carried across the sea on ships . . . soldiers?

Doc nodded and smiled at her wonderful naivete.

"Well, a professor is just someone who looks at books all day. He . . . or she, tries to figure out this wonderful life from the many stories and legends . . . tales which you amazing creatures created for us."

"And . . . a book? What is that?"

Doc raised his eyebrows. The way he did when amused or shocked.

He stood up and carefully navigated himself across the small room to a set of shelves. There were only a handful of books on them. Below, on the floor, were several boxes of books which he had had good intentions of unpacking. But still, after three summers, he had not.

" Here," he said, handing her a copy of a very old and collectible edition of Bullfinch's Mythology. It was the celebrated text with illustrations that generations of people--mostly children over the centuries, had been educated with about the incomparable myths of the classical world.

Maera took it in her hands with interest and began flipping through its yellowed pages. She seemed expressively amazed at the drawings of mythological creatures and Greek gods.

"This is lovely," she said, her eyes widening as she perused the pages more of delightful illustrations. Doc stood closer and gently directed her to a complex sketch of King Nereus and a few of his beautiful daughters. They were depicted surrounding him with his trident in his hand. He was full bearded, bald-headed, and sentries of giant seahorses were in attendance. The setting of the kingdom palace clearly put it far below the surface of the sea.

Maera began to laugh out loud. Her giggling was musical and had the timber and charm of a schoolgirl.

"Why do you find that so funny," he asked, realizing it was only a human's futile attempt to convey the king of the sea, and his importance symbolically to the ancients.