Grandmother Root
Deep within the Golden Woods lives an ancient Fey creature known simply as Grandmother Root. She is a Rootwife, one of a rare kind of woodland spirit tied closely to old trees, deep soil, fungi and the countless small lives of the forest floor. By ordinary standards she is spectacularly ugly: hunched and broad, with long arms, enormous hands, crooked teeth, bark-like skin and tangled grey hair threaded with leaves, moss and twigs. Grandmother Root is perfectly aware of the effect her appearance has upon people. She finds it amusing.
Rootwives are spirits of growth, decay and renewal. They understand the forest not simply as trees and animals, but as a vast living system. Roots, soil, fungi, insects, fallen timber, streams and scavengers all matter to them. Grandmother Root can recognise diseased trees by touch, encourage damaged roots to recover and identify herbs and fungi which even experienced Rangers may not know. Wild animals move freely around her and show remarkably little fear. She does not consider them servants. They are neighbours. Grandmother Root has become particularly well known for one unexpected reason. She finds lost children. Whether she deliberately seeks them out or whether frightened children simply have a peculiar tendency to stumble into her path is uncertain. Their first reaction to her appearance is not always reassuring. Some scream. One child reportedly struck her with a stick. Grandmother Root nevertheless feeds them, treats their injuries, wraps them warmly if necessary and eventually returns them to a settlement or Ranger patrol. Her idea of reassurance is characteristically direct: “Stop crying. Nothing's eating you while I'm here.” Oddly enough, it usually works. Grandmother Root lives at Oldroot Hollow, a secluded part of the Golden Woods surrounding an enormous fallen oak. Her home is part cottage and part natural hollow beneath the great tree's roots. Herbs hang from the walls, baskets of mushrooms occupy every available surface and animals wander in and out with little concern for ordinary notions of ownership.
Oldroot Hollow is recognised as one of the Kindly Places of the Golden Woods. Visitors are welcome, although finding it can be difficult. Paths seem strangely reluctant to lead there unless somebody has a genuine reason for Grandmother Root possesses considerable knowledge of healing. Her methods differ from the divine magic of the Sisters of Anwyn, relying instead upon ancient Fey lore, herbs, fungi and a deep understanding of the natural world. She treats wounds, poisons and diseases affecting both people and animals, and occasionally provides rare ingredients to the House of Healing at Merilrond. She rarely asks for payment. She may, however, ask for a favour. Such requests are usually simple: plant acorns beside a particular stream, move an injured animal somewhere safer or tell woodcutters to avoid a nesting site. Ignoring such a request after accepting her help is considered extremely poor manners.
Grandmother Root and Dîmeril get along remarkably well. She has little interest in titles and simply calls her Dîmeril. On occasion she has called her “girl”, despite Dîmeril being considerably older than most people who would dare attempt it. Dîmeril allows this. Grandmother Root respects Dîmeril because she understands that protecting a forest does not mean making it tidy, harmless or convenient. Dîmeril, in turn, values the Rootwife's knowledge and appreciates having someone around who will tell her when she is wrong without the slightest concern for diplomacy. Grandmother Root is good. She is not harmless. She has great patience with children, animals and honest mistakes. Deliberate cruelty receives a very different response. Those who torture animals, burn woodland for amusement or destroy ancient trees without reason may discover that the hunched old Fey woman is considerably stronger than she looks. She rarely kills. She generally does not need to. There is a persistent story concerning a poacher who was found hanging naked and upside down from a tree, covered from head to toe in honey. Grandmother Root denies any involvement. Few believe her.
Grandmother Root is a useful reminder of one of the oldest lessons of the Golden Woods: Beauty says very little about character. Some Fey are breathtakingly beautiful and deeply dangerous. Grandmother Root looks like the monster from a particularly unpleasant children's story and will carry a frightened child for miles through the rain to return them safely home. Her own version of this lesson is considerably shorter: “Don't be an idiot.”
The Dancing Green
Hidden amongst the golden maples is a broad circle of unusually soft grass known as the Dancing Green. During daylight there is little to distinguish it from any particularly pleasant woodland clearing. Wildflowers grow around its edges, butterflies are unusually numerous and birds seem remarkably reluctant to land upon the grass itself. After sunset, matters become rather different. On certain nights, particularly beneath a bright moon, tiny lights begin appearing amongst the surrounding trees. Music follows soon afterwards, sometimes from pipes, fiddles and drums and sometimes apparently from no instrument at all. Then the dancing begins.
The Dancing Green is frequented by sprites, pixies and numerous other small Fey, some of whom appear to live nearby while others simply arrive for the festivities. Nobody seems to organise these gatherings. They simply happen. Tables appear beneath the trees laden with berries, tiny cakes, nuts, honey, fruit and extraordinarily good wine. Lanterns hang from branches where nobody remembers placing them. Mushrooms spring up in circles around the clearing, and the music frequently continues until sunrise. Mortals are welcome. Indeed, the Fey generally seem delighted when travellers join them. Visitors may eat, drink, dance and enjoy the music provided they behave themselves and remember that they are guests. There is no formal invitation. If the music is playing, you may enter. The small Fey are enthusiastic hosts and have very little sympathy for anyone claiming that they cannot dance. Pixies have been known to drag reluctant visitors onto the Green while sprites provide unsolicited instruction from nearby branches. The dancing itself appears harmless. Mostly. Those who remain until dawn frequently discover that their memories of the final few hours are somewhat confused. A traveller may awaken beneath a tree with flowers braided through their hair, their clothing decorated with ribbons, one boot inexplicably missing and no clear recollection of precisely why they agreed to marry a mushroom. The marriage is not considered legally binding. The mushroom's opinion has never been established.
Despite its frivolous reputation, the Dancing Green remains a Fey place, and ordinary rules of courtesy apply. Food and drink freely offered may be accepted. Gifts should be received graciously. Deliberately insulting a host is unwise, and attempting to steal from the revels is considerably more foolish. Promises require particular care. The Fey of the Green enjoy jokes, riddles and elaborate misunderstandings, but they take an explicitly given word surprisingly seriously. For this reason, experienced visitors have developed a useful rule: Dance freely. Promise cautiously. The Dancing Green is recognised as one of the Kindly Places of the Golden Woods. For all their mischief, its inhabitants are not malicious. They do not lure travellers there to harm them, and someone genuinely frightened, injured or lost will usually discover that the teasing stops remarkably quickly. The little Fey know the surrounding woodland extremely well. A lost child may find sprites guiding them towards a familiar path. An injured traveller may awaken to discover their wound cleaned and bandaged. Rangers caught far from shelter have occasionally been allowed to sleep beside the Green without being disturbed. Or, at least, without being disturbed very much.
Dîmeril has attended the revels on several occasions. This fact is widely known. Precisely what happened during those visits is not. Énglantine has been asked. Énglantine knows. Énglantine is not telling. Dîmeril consequently recommends the Dancing Green without reservation to travellers requiring shelter, assistance or directions. She is noticeably less enthusiastic when recommending the wine.
Mossbacks
Among the larger and more peculiar inhabitants of the Golden Woods are the creatures commonly known as Mossbacks. A Mossback resembles an alarming mixture of bear, tree and moss-covered boulder. An adult stands considerably taller than a human when upright and is immensely broad, with powerful forelimbs and great clawed hands. Its body is covered in coarse brown fur interspersed with patches of bark-like skin, moss, lichen and occasionally small plants. At first sight, they can be terrifying. This impression rarely survives acquaintance. Mossbacks are amongst the most peaceful Fey creatures of the Golden Woods.
Mossbacks possess remarkably uncomplicated ambitions. They like sleeping. They like eating. They particularly like berries. Much of a Mossback's existence consists of slowly wandering through the woods looking for food, followed by finding somewhere comfortable and going back to sleep. They can remain motionless for hours and sometimes days. Moss and small plants consequently grow naturally across their backs, making a sleeping Mossback remarkably difficult to distinguish from an overgrown rock or fallen tree. Birds occasionally build nests amongst this vegetation. The Mossbacks do not appear to mind. Some seem rather proud of it.
Despite their enormous size and formidable strength, Mossbacks are extremely reluctant to fight. They normally respond to aggression by lumbering away. Smaller creatures are treated with extraordinary care, and a Mossback will patiently alter its route rather than trample a nest, burrow or frightened animal. They are particularly gentle around children. This does not mean they are stupid. Mossbacks possess a slow but definite intelligence and understand both Sylvan and considerable amounts of Common, although their own speech is ponderous and usually limited to short sentences. A conversation with a Mossback can require patience. Asking the same question repeatedly does not make the answer arrive any faster.
Their best-known behaviour occurs when a Mossback encounters somebody who is badly injured. The creature will investigate, sniff the casualty thoroughly and, if satisfied that help is required, simply pick them up. Permission is not always sought. The injured traveller is then carried through the forest with extraordinary care. Mossbacks appear to possess an instinctive awareness of the Kindly Places. They have delivered injured travellers to Oldroot Hollow, Foxglove Glade and other places where aid might be found. On other occasions they have deposited casualties beside Ranger patrols or outside Merilrond. How they know where to go is uncertain. They simply do.
Mossbacks are frequent visitors to Oldroot Hollow. Grandmother Root treats their injuries, removes troublesome parasites and occasionally scrapes excessive growth from their backs. Mossbacks, in return, bring her mushrooms, berries and other things they apparently consider useful. The relationship seems affectionate. Grandmother Root nevertheless becomes extremely irritated when one falls asleep outside her doorway. Moving a sleeping Mossback is difficult. Even for Grandmother Root.
Peaceful should not be confused with defenceless. A fully grown Mossback possesses tremendous physical strength. Its claws are principally used for digging through roots and rotten timber, but they are quite capable of tearing apart something considerably more substantial. Threatening the Mossback itself will normally cause it to retreat. Threatening something it has decided to protect is another matter. Several Rangers have observed the curious transformation which occurs when one of these placid creatures becomes genuinely angry. The slow movements disappear. Fortunately, this is rare.
Nobody owns the Mossbacks, and Dîmeril has never attempted to make them guardians of the Golden Woods. They wander where they please. Nevertheless, their presence is welcomed. Rangers recognise their tracks, children are taught not to disturb sleeping ones, and berry bushes in areas frequented by Mossbacks are often deliberately left unpicked. They have become one of the quieter symbols of the Kindly Places and of the peculiar character of the Golden Woods themselves. A newcomer might reasonably be alarmed to discover an enormous moss-covered monster asleep beside a woodland path. The locals are more likely to lower their voices and walk around it. After all, it was there first.