The sun is setting over the haven.
Though the day has been calm and golden.
A gentle warmth still lingers in the air.
Tonight marks the beginning of one of the most cherished traditions in the haven.
The Lantern War.
A time when the villagers light lanterns to celebrate the changing of the season.
When autumn begins to drift into winter.
You step out of your cottage.
Later,
The night may be crisp and cool,
But for now,
The last light of the setting sun is comforting and golden.
The little lane barred with long shadows.
The Lantern Ball.
Will begin in the evening,
Which is quiet tonight.
Everyone will take part,
But traditionally.
Each person follows the path alone.
This is a time of reflection.
A peaceful meditation on the beauty of the changing seasons.
The brightness of autumn.
And a reminder that winter is a time of rest and quietness.
Dusk is falling.
As you come to the beginning of the walk.
Ahead of you,
The first lantern glows softly.
And behind it.
In the field of the standing stones,
You can see another.
Flickering warmly in the faint breeze.
The light is mellow.
Making the world feel warmer,
Not physically,
But in a way that seems to wrap you in a comforting embrace.
The cool air is gentle.
And the quiet of the evening allows you to reflect.
Your thoughts as calm as the scene unfolding around you.
The lanterns stretch out ahead of you.
Guiding you through the meadow.
And past the eaves of this small wood.
You walk alone,
Though in the distance you can make out the faint figures of others on their own path,
Each absorbed in their quiet walk.
The shared silence creates a sense of connection.
Even though you are apart.
You breathe deeply,
Smelling the soft decay of the fall of the year,
Leaves,
It hurts.
Moss.
Water.
It's as if the land is gently letting go.
Drifting toward its winter sleep.
The gentle rustling of leaves in the night breeze.
Creates a natural harmony as you walk.
And you begin to feel that the lanterns are not the only source of light.
Further away toward the margin of the fairy wood.
You see faint glowing orbs appear.
At first,
You think they might be fireflies.
But there's something different about them.
Something almost ethereal.
It makes you wonder if perhaps the Fae of the Fairy Wood had a hand in lighting the way tonight.
The glow from these distant lights.
Adds an air of quiet mystery to the wall.
You can't quite be sure whether the lights are a part of the natural world or something more magical.
The lanterns guide you onward.
But those faint,
Far-off glimmers seem to beckon from beyond the meadows.
As if the forest itself is quietly watching.
Its presence woven into the evening.
You are quite comfortable with that.
You have walked within the fairy wood and seen the fae,
Something the old lady has said no one else from the haven has done.
You have seen also the Great White Stag on many occasions.
You pass through a small lamplit gate at the top of a field and across the lane into a Further on lies a small grove of trees.
The lanterns flicker against the twilight,
Casting long shadows on the path.
Picking out the smooth bark of the trees.
As you continue,
The path brings you to a small stone bridge over a stream this must be the stream that runs through the wood opposite your home The lanterns lined both sides of the bridge.
Their light reflected on the water below,
Creating a golden shimmer.
You pause for a moment,
Watching the warm play of light on the surface of the water the sound of the stream beneath you blends with the quiet rustle of the trees and you feel the calm of the moment settling deep within you you continue across the bridge the soft glow of the lanterns guiding you through the sleeping field and out again into the quiet lane near your own home.
This time the lanterns have been strung through the small wood You didn't see them when you left your home,
And you think that the Fae must indeed have placed them.
This path through the wood is so familiar to you.
That you could easily walk it in the dark.
But the lanterns offer their light to you as you follow the winding path.
Save for the murmur of the stream and the occasional soft fall of a twig where birds roost,
It is quiet.
In its own green glade.
The great oak seems to reach its mighty branches in recognition and welcome.
As you leave the wood,
The breeze now carries a scent of wood smoke.
You know that the end of the walk will be in the village.
Where a bonfire is lit.
You pass the standing stones.
And go through the gate into the village street.
The walk has felt timeless.
The lanterns illuminating each step.
Their gentle flicker calming your mind.
You think of the faint distant orbs you saw earlier,
Their mysterious presence adding as a sense of wonder to the evening.
And you look back.
They are still there.
At the edge of the fairy wood.
You are not certain.
But you think you see a gleam of white under the tree shadows.
The white stag observing.
The lanterns guide you down the village street into the small square near the shop.
The warm glow of the fire greets you as a few villagers sit quietly around it,
Sharing stories and enjoying the stillness of the night.
The lanterns and firelight create a cozy and inviting space.
And as you walk to a nearby bench.
The old lady raises a hand.
And comes to join you with a smile.
You sit down,
Feeling the peacefulness of the evening settle over you.
There is a sense of togetherness here.
Even in the quiet.
The villagers' low voices blend with the crackling fire.
The transition into winter feels like something shared with everyone in the haven.
A simple yet meaningful moment where the seasons shift gently.
And the village celebrates in its own quiet way.
The innkeeper has brought flasks of hot drinks,
Tea,
Coffee and hot chocolate and moves around the group offering them you take off your gloves and clasp the warmth of the mug,
The fragrant steam rising.
The drink is very welcome after your walk.
And you sip it,
Listening to the quiet conversations.
Gentle.
Peaceful village talk about weather.
And the farm animals.
Cooking and crafting.
And their pets.
There is something so safe and comfortable about it.
You sit for a while longer.
Watching the flicker of the lanterns and the firelight mingle.
When you have finished your drink the old lady suggests that you walk home together and you agree saying goodbye to everyone,
You both retrace your steps to follow the lantern path once more.
The walk home is peaceful.
The lanterns lighting the way just as they did before The night sky is clear.
Brilliant with stars.
And the air feels cool but soothing.
You and the old lady take your time.
Walking slowly.
Savouring the stillness of the night.
The mysterious distant light you saw earlier seemed to have faded now.
But the memory of them lingers.
You feel as though the Fae have quietly watched over the evening.
Guiding you with their light.
You follow the woodland path back.
Over the stream and onto the little lane where the lamplit glow gives way to the warm and welcoming light from your own windows.
Saying goodbye to the old lady,
Who briskly continues down the lane to her own cottage.
You step inside.
Closing the door behind you.
You take a moment to breathe in the warmth and familiarity of your home.
Then make your way upstairs to bed.
As you lie down.
The peacefulness of the land and water.
Remains with you.
You feel the calm of the evening wrapping around you.
You stretch and relax into the comfort of your clean sheets and covers,
And your limbs become loose and heavy.
Sleep comes on you softly as a cloud.
Descending as you think of the mellow path of the lanterns.
The cool night air.
The sense of autumn.
The distant lights beside the fairy wood.
And the companionship of the fire.
Relaxed and safe.
You gently drift into.
Sleep.
Sleep.
Sleep.
