Stories from RhyDin & The Rings

It started with a tower, obscured by befuddling mists and impenetrable by all save a scant handful.

It was set deep in the forests of Battlefield Park, maybe even a touch north of the district's true end but well before the edge of the wilds beyond. Few visited save for birds and bees and fawns and dryads. One might mistake it to be an old wizard's tower.

Maybe it was.

It seemed immune to the cold of winter, the biting wind, the drifting snow that seemed to bury the sleeping forest with the fall of leaves in autumn. Instead, lush greenery seemed to spread like an echo from the tower itself.

It was this way for almost two years. Mist and green, seldom seen by the sentient eye. Those that did witness it had little memory of the fact afterwards.

It was safe. It was home.

It was also terribly, horribly lonely.

As Spring toyed with the idea of coming to bless Rhy'Din with its arrival, weeks or maybe even months before, the mist shrouded tower too considered just how to chase away the loneliness of winter. High, high above it all, a pair of mismatched eyes looked out from a frosted window over the sleeping land with its white downy blanket and the bones of bare trees stretching up toward the sky as if praying for a new dawn, a new day, in which they could awaken once more.

The Wicked Wastes were just the same only the trees never woke up. Their death mask was eternal, gnarled knots and twisted roots expressing the anguish of life snuffed, stifled and disallowed to live again. Spring never came to the Wastes.

But it would come here. Maybe not today, but soon.

Until then...

Well, the princess in the tower tired of the drab days and cold winds. She tired of constantly looking over her shoulder. She was so... damned... tired.

This was no life.

January was always the worst month. December was tolerable because of the pretty lights that decorated the city. The skating rink and the ferris wheel in Old Temple helped too. February was a month of sweets and pink things and stuffed animals and cards from friends. January though... January had nothing of import. It was drab and gross and full of snow. Nothing grew, the days were short and only teased at getting longer. She longed to feel the warmth of summer, the sun on her skin, the smell of fresh herbs and blooming flowers.

If the land would not give it to her then she would make the land give her what she sought.

And so, on a dark January day, the mist of the tower spread. Little by little. Inch by inch. Foot by foot. With it, the snow withered away into slush and then mud, leaving shallow puddles all around the tower.

It spread more.

And more.

And more.

Until the lonely tower was surrounded by a copse of slowly awakening trees shivering with the realization of their early wake-up call and baby blades of grass peeking out of the dirt to see if it was truly safe to make their arrival. She could feel it all growing, could feel it when she pulled her hands away from the dirt in front of the tower on the day she had asked the land for its bounty. The land was all too keen on answering her call.

The Power it took... that too was a hard to ignore call. But as the Hollow took shape, Vaeluthil Whitevale, Lady of sweet things like Rosemary and Marigold and wicked things like Larkspur and Ivy, decided then and there that she would sooner answer those that came than give this up.

Breathing life into the hollow brought with it flowers and shrubs, flora and fauna, lining dirt and stone footpaths that traced winding courses through the area. It was by no means a single day project. Cael always said "Roam wasn't built in a day", whatever that meant, and so she took her time with it. A touch here, some polish there, the better part of a month passed before she was content to call it done. But when it was, she was ready to share it with those that were just as lost as she.

The lark's call echoed through the forest and city alike, through the veil and the lands of the Fair Folk to trill the tail of Eversummer Hollow, a home for those with no home, a piece of peace for those tired of war.

When February at last said hello, Eversummer Hollow answered in kind.

Minutes, hours, days, and weeks passed. The lark's call was answered to the Sidhe's expectation and then some.

Eversummer Hollow was hollow no more.

It was a summer forest grove for all intents and purposes and no short number of creatures had come to explore what it had to offer. It meant a disorienting trip through what they came to call the Mists of Confusion, but for those who made it through, they found a veritable paradise waiting for them. There seemed enough space for all who came with no ill intent and those who carried negative intentions often found the mists turned them away. Handy, wasn't it? For those who made it through, they could find a welcoming Inn, a small tavern, a trail of shops that made up an interesting market, and plenty of housing of all shapes and sizes, the doors to which were often fitted into things like stumps and trunks and natural crests in the dirt. These Faerie doors opened to any number of homes, seemingly fit for the tiniest of the land's creatures or even some of the larger ones. A centaur couple and their young colt lived next door to multi-generational home of brownies, on the other side of which was a "young" elven family who had fled the lands of Winter in search of a brighter future for their twin children. It all seemed so very... common. Normal. Welcoming.

Home.

The only rule seemed to be posted at the most common entries to the Hollow, burned into wooden signs that all said the same three words;

The Accords were truly the only rules that mattered to people like Vaeluthil and even then the signatories had trouble enforcing them in an autonomous region like Rhy'Din. It was part of why she liked it here and why she had built her life here. Freedom.

So why the Accorded confirmation of her new land?

It seemed like it might be to protect those within. That would be at least half right. But it was for selfish reasons too. See, the Accords include protocols for etiquette, hospitality, formal duels, and most importantly neutral ground. There is no spirit of the law, only its letter. After all, anyone who has ever dealt with the Fae knows that ambiguity is your downfall when dealing with them. So they covered things like the freedom of diplomatic messengers to complete their delivery free of harassment or death (so long as they don't instigate violence). It dictated etiquette around things like not drugging directly offered food or drink (though there were loopholes if you looked hard enough). The Accords laid out what happens if a member of the Accords was killed by another member or even if they wrong one another. Those duels made Rhy'Din's look like child's play.

But really, isn't that what they were?

The important part here though was that the Accords also afforded for the allowance of certain places being designated neutral territory. A whole slew of additional rules were in place for neutral ground, but the most relevant one at play when it came to Eversummer Hollow was that signatories were required not to start any conflict on the premises. Anyone who violated this was subject to harsh penalties up to and including death.

Strings had definitely been pulled to garner this designation, that much was no lie. But at the end of the day, Vael had a land all her own where she would never have to worry about Summer or Winter coming to disturb her peace.

Someday... someday it might prove a prison for the faerie, but for now... for now it would be home.