Felhaven

"The Sleeping Twins stood tall and proud against the horizon, two white-capped peaks marking the start of a mountain chain. There was a lake just past the sprawling mass of trees below them, and a river running from the lake, and next to the river, nestled right between the Twins was the village of Felhaven. Ein knew it well, all of the tidy buildings with their snow-covered roofs, the well-worn dirt paths that snaked around them, the village square that lay in the middle of everything. Smoke rose in sleepy wisps as dawn’s first light crept across the valley."
Traditions
Founder's Eve A holiday celebrating the founding of the village. A festival is held in the village square, and there are often stories, dancing and games to be held.
"By the time they set foot into the village square, Founder’s Eve was well underway. The stalls were decorated in bright, vivid colours, yellows and rosey reds of blossoming flowers, the blue of summer skies, the greens and golds of the earth. Founder’s Eve traditionally coincided with the start of spring, and if Ein were to ignore the patches of snow and barren dirt on the ground, he might have almost believed that winter was gone and ended. The villagers roamed in a bustle of excitement, an eclectic jumble of shouts, murmurs, chatter and cheers, their faces lifted towards the sky, the shadows of hardship gone, if only for the day. Today was not a day to brood on the past, nor the future. Today was a present, a day of celebrations. Ein found himself at the mercy of Evaine and his sister as they dragged him all over the square, flitting from stall to stall as if they were Mistresses on Market Day. They bought some candied fruit and sat down before a trouper as he sang and played The Tragedy of Svalin and Sonata, his fingers dancing a myriad of melodies across his fingerboard. They passed a fortune-telling tent which Ein refused to enter—there was no such thing as clairvoyance, and he refused to waste a single coin on it. Evaine stopped at the stage where the Children of the Wind were performing The Twelve Deeds of Hektor and sat down to watch. Aren played the role of Hektor as naturally as if he’d been born into it, fighting off monsters, laughing, smiling, crying, weeping, singing his parts with a voice like honey. When the play finished with Hektor’s ascension to godhood, Aren found himself drowning in tokens and handkerchiefs and compliments on how handsome and strong he was. The Mistresses apparently still did not know of his true disposition. Evaine wanted to keep watching, but Cinnamin had grown hungry. They ate lunch next—flatbread rolls with roasted pigeon, a salad made of winter vegetables and Maisie’s secret sauce, all washed down with chilled apple cider fresh from Koth’s cellar. They found Bran at the archery contest that had been set up. Evaine goaded Ein into entering. The number of contenders fell quickly with the older Masters dropping out first, then the more experienced troupers and young Masters, until it was only Ein and Bran matching each other arrow for arrow. A small crowd had gathered when Ein missed a crucial shot by a matter of inches and bowed his head, defeated. The butcher’s son made no attempt to hide how pleased he was at the victory. Ein shrugged it off to a poor night’s sleep while Bran was swamped by the female troupers who’d been watching. “I guess the rumours about them knowing ‘ways to use the blade and bow’ from ‘ancient civilisations’ was nonsense, after all,” Evaine said. “Maybe we’re just that good,” Bran grinned, unsure of how to deal with all the attention. Once Ein had accepted his silver medal and new quiver, Bran joined them and they found themselves watching Balinor the magician pull hares out of his cap and flowers from his sleeves. Ein scratched his head at some of the tricks he saw; had it been any other day he would have dismissed them as sleight of hand—however, he’d seen Balinor pull out Rhinegold blades and Kingsblade rings the night before. He wouldn’t surprised if the man knew real magic. “Let’s head over there,” Bran whispered, pointing to an inconspicuous tent that had been erected a little way off the village square. “Garax said it’s the one place we should check out above all others.” Ein had no reason to refuse, so he complied. The stolid trouper at the entrance eyed them up and down and extended an open palm. “That’ll be three silvers,” he grunted. Ein raised an eyebrow. “Three silvers?” “Come on,” Bran urged. “Who knows when we’ll get another chance?” “That’s a week’s worth of meals, Bran. What’s even inside, anyway?” The trouper answered, and Ein’s eyebrows shot up despite himself. He argued half-heartedly with Bran, and then they both bartered the price down to two silvers. The two boys handed a silver each and were ushered through the flaps with a knowing wink. When they emerged, both Ein and Bran were red-faced and sweating despite the cold. The trouper at the entrance was grinning. “Never tell Evaine what we saw in there,” Bran said. “Or our parents, for that matter. Or anyone at all.” “Agreed,” Ein swallowed. He didn’t think he could look another woman in the eye for a while. And just like that, night came, and with it the annual Flower Dance."
The Flower Dance A ritual where all the unmarried men and women between the ages of 16 and 25 stand in a circle with flower hairpins/brooches and dance. If a couple like each other, they can exchange flowers and be married.
"Somewhere to the side, a band began to play—a conglomeration of high-pitched flutes and vibrant lutes, dancing fiddles and fingerboards and the steady rumbling of trumpets and drums. As the melody began, the young Mistresses emerged from one of the tents and streamed into the square in single file, dresses trailing gracefully behind them. They were painted and perfumed like dolls, heads held high, hair unbound in lustrous waves down their slender waists, and on each woman’s nose was a mask that covered the upper half of the face with holes for the eyes. The men formed a half-circle as each woman moved to find a partner. Ein found himself with a petite blonde in a red dress, one whose figure was vaguely familiar, and as the music settled into a steady rhythm, they began to dance. The first dance didn’t last long, perhaps a few minutes at most, a combination of steps, twists and twirls that Ein acted out with embarrassing ineptitude. The girl laughed every time he made a mistake, making him only more aware of all the people that were watching. Some of the other dancers were clearly more experienced and put on a show for all to see, but most of them were like Ein—boys fumbling their way into adulthood. When the music ended, the girl extended her hand towards Ein. Inside her palm was a ring with a five-petalled flower inscribed upon it, matching the one his mother and father both wore on the fourth finger of their left hand. Ein looked into the girl’s eyes and shook his head, murmuring an apology. The girl pocketed her ring and shrugged, moving clockwise along the circle to her next partner as the music started up once more."
Marriage and Braiding Men and women are expected to marry as soon as they come of age - 16 for boys and 14 for girls. Marriage is also a way to attain the assets of another family, though this is frowned upon and not openly admitted to.
A woman braids her hair when she is betrothed or married. If she breaks her wedding vow unreasonably, her braid is cut off and she is exiled from the village. Men who break their vows are shaved bald and exiled, though any marriage dispute must be passed through the village council to prevent unfairness.
Places of Interest
The Sleeping Twinn "The inn was the central news hub of the village; just about everything passed through the ears of Koth the innkeeper. If anyone knew what had happened at the Tamelyn homestead, it would be him."
"The building stood two storeys high and stretched the entire length of the square. Every time the wind brushed against it, shutters rattled and sent flakes of snow crumbling from the windowsills. A sign with the name “The Sleeping Twinn” swung on a hinge above the doorway, the once dark lettering faded to obscurity. Noise spilled through the cracks in the door—loud guffaws of men complaining about work, mug bottoms slamming against the table with the odd belch."

Industry & Trade

Butcher's, bakers, blacksmith, farms, inn, tannery, etc

History

"It was an old village, steeped in a history almost as deep as Faengard itself. Ein remembered old Garax telling the story when he’d been but a child, sitting around the fireplace with all the rest of the children. The legend spoke of a pair of simple farmers, the titular twins who travelled far and wide in search of a place to settle down. They stumbled across a small plot of land nestled between a lake, a forest and a chain of mountains—a natural fortress isolated from the rest of the world, an oasis that was difficult to reach from the outside and easily overlooked by unfamiliar eyes. Thus, Felhaven was founded, and when the twins died, two great mountains rose from their corpses to seal off the last remaining path to the village. The valley was named in their honour."

Natural Resources

Wood from forests, wildlife, crops from the farms

Type

Village

Population

A few hundred

Location under

The Sleeping Twins