Helen, The Lady Of The Woods
I have never before set down my history. Perhaps it is time.
Most know me only as Helen, Lady Woods. Keeper of the Dragon’s Den Tavern and friend of its resident, Footpad. Holder of the key to the Glas’tor Rift, the Nexus that makes the Dragon’s Den possible. And I am so.
But I am so very much more.
I am Ancient Fae. We were made when the first notes of the Music of Creation sounded. The Dwarves are the Children of the Earth. We are the Children of the Sky. Or rather, we were. Long centuries forced many of us underground, but always we would find secret places to dance under the Stars and joy in the Sunlight.
My Sisters and I were given charge of four powerful Talismen that embodied the Spirits of the Land.
The Plate, the Spirit of the Harvest. The Fruits of the Land. It resided in the East, held by the Lady of the Fields.
The Spear, the Spirit of the Sacrifice. The Hunt, where one gives its life for another. It resided in the South, held by the Lady of the Woods
The Cup, the Spirit of the Life-giving Waters. Poured out upon the Land to nourish it. It resided in the West, held by the Lady of the Mountains
The Sword, the Spirit of the Preserving. Of food, family, clan, tribe, of Life itself. It resided in the North, held by the Lady of the Lake
The Cup was mine. I filled it daily from a well, and each morn, it was empty – drained to water the Land. (Yes, I began as the Lady of the Mountains.)
Men came. Humans. Ephemerals. Gone in less than the blink of our eyes, yet rapacious in their plunder. Some few gave honor to the gifts given them, but most merely took, thinking it their right as the highest order. And they’d heard of the Talismen. They desired them for their own uses, to pervert them for their own power. We retreated to a fastness beyond the reach of men and there resumed our duties.
In time, one rose among them who shone with the same light as the Talismen. Who desired that the good in man should triumph. Who fought the evil that was overtaking the Land, and was succeeding. My Sisters and I counseled together and determined to offer the Talismen in his aid. He was Arthur Pendragon, King of Britain. We found a human to our use – Merlin – who had the Sight. He led Arthur to the Sword, and the Spear entered his court with Lancelot du Lac, but the Plate and Cup they had to earn.
We misjudged the dual nature of humans. The desire for the higher things were constantly at war with the low. The low won out, all too often.
Galahad won the Cup, but at the cost of his humanity. There was no love in him.
When the brotherhood of the knights sundered, the Talismen were very nearly themselves broken. We retrieved them and returned to our homes, chastened and sorrowing. The Talismen were restored to their power, but my Sisters were in despair. Men were destroying all that was good in the world. Their greed, selfishness, hatred – all poisoned everything they touched. My Sisters deserted their charges and left for the Western Lands. It has been my duty all these centuries to guard the Talismen, preserve them, ensure that their Spirits remain intact.
I left my mountains to search for a new holding. I found it in the woods. The dragon, whom I came to call “Footpad”, was sentry at its entrance. We conferred, and he called a Dragon Moot, to consider my proposal. I would be given access to the Rift to secrete the Talismen. In return, I would join Footpad in guard duties. The Moot was somewhat amused at my conceit of a tavern but could see the usefulness. A larger recruiting pool. More eyes to watch. More ears to listen. So, the Dragon’s Den Tavern was built in front of the entrance to Footpads home. I hid the Talismen in different pockets of the multiverse.
The Dragon’s Den has lately appeared in the Dawn Lands, a place riddled with portals. Some still functioning, others long dead. All beyond ancient. I’m curious as to who built them – for “built” they are – and to what purpose. I can think of several reasons. They are obviously magical artifacts, but a magic so far advanced…
Footpad is only mildly interested. He grumbles that since the Makers are gone (or seem to be – one can never be sure of such things) there’s no reason to stir them up with inquires. He may be right. Waking that kind of power without knowing its provenance is not just foolhardy – it’s dangerous. I will tread carefully.
In the meantime, there’s the Tavern, the Folk (there’s always something with them), and the Land. Relations with the Temple of the Seven Moons and High Priestess Utia have recently improved. (Different Magics, different focus) We both sense an approaching cloud. And we both value the welfare of our people above our differences.
I need now to tend to Footpad. He’s had trouble of late sustaining his fire. (Not enough chili, likely.)
I will add to this as seems appropriate.
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