The Fountain of Neaera

To the north, near the shoreline, there is a winding path that runs along a creek, 'round a lagoon, and into a garden that is warm and bursting with life no matter the season. At the center of this immortal garden rest a fountain belonging to the nymph Neaera. And there, hidden in among the forever blooming flowers, is also an effigy of Pan who is said to frequent the garden himself to gather drops of the enchanted water.

I'm set to travel to this garden tomorrow in order to collect a vile of the same waters and bring it back to the Altar of Hera. The vile of water from the Fountain of Neaera is but one ingredient in a potion that I'll write of later.

The coming adventure is in stark contrast to the rusty, drab landscape seen when obtaining the Hammer of Hephaestus. The forested path and hidden garden are the personification of the enchantments (and dangers) of classical beauty. It is the type of place that inspires lamenting poetry, where travelers begin to dream dreams and see the apparitions of loves that never existed and almost were. The type of place that assaults the heart and lulls the soul with sweet music. Enticing one to lay down and sleep in order to dream until death. An enchanted isle of precious moments, as intoxicating and warm as the arms of a beautiful woman.

Neaera's enchantments over her fountain and the garden that surrounds them manifests as whispering voices on the breeze, hidden, illusive, as if it were the flowers themselves that were quietly singing the gentle lullaby. Makes the mind wonder of hidden mysteries and soft, delicate shadows. Makes the heart aches for hearth and home. But also awakens something much more primal deep within the soul.

Neaera's smile sets fire to the resolve of men. Burning them up from the inside out. They see her reflection in the waters of the fountain. So crisp, so pure. They feel an overwhelming need to run to her, to embrace her, to feel her warm touch. But the pool is unforgiving, unkind, cold. It breaks the apparition with icy fingers and those who have lost their hearts to fair Neaera drown in their sorrows long before they drown in the liquid crystal waters of the fountain where their dreams appeared so clearly.

No fault to fair Neaera for the weaknesses within the hearts of men.

How often are such themes repeated throughout myths and the world? The dangers of beauty and the downfalls brought forth by lust. It was even the downfall (and rise) of Great Pan who's honor and effigy I will also capture on film within these gardens. There is no heavenly light so pure, nectar so sweet, nor poision so deadly as that of a beautiful woman. That kind of undeniable beauty that invokes both passion and hatred, weakens and strengthens, offers hope and can take all hope away. It can make the souls of men immortal, their power otherworldly. And in the very next moment, can scatter them like burning leaves.

Beautiful, intoxicating, fair Neaera who's enchanted fountain is the sum of infinite kisses and the long warm embrace. Kind only to the heart that's true, honorable, worthy. Who's will is stronger than the fires of lust - to be cooled and tempered by the icy spring.

To such she grants her kiss, her blessing, her healing touch. One small measure is all that is required. Drops and nothing more to carry one through for the rest of their days. Ever remembering the dream, forever feeling the glowing warmth from within.

A nymph to be sure. Full of allure and desire, passion and love. A magical creature as is any beautiful form that inspires poetic notions and life itself to burst forth around it simply because life itself feels that same primal pull. Always hungry, always needing more, always desiring to be ever closer to that golden glow. To feel the warmth of the sun reflected off of her skin, to feel the light that radiates only from her eyes, to feel the entire world soften at her slightest touch, to know the unspeakable meaning of love - found only in a kiss.

Dangerous.
Vital.

A long embrace before the long journey to come.