Travelers would go out of their way to climb the perfect hill, stopping briefly in the meadow at the top to see its cavorting steward. And being wary of the darker patches, which were said to be the cause of sudden and prolonged symptoms of...a living death.
Greenmeadow Hill is one of the longest recognized landmarks on
Trispir, second only to the natural tower the island was named for. As the name implies, the hill is the landmark, but only because of the meadow at its top. The hill itself is pleasant enough to see from a distance, but is a haven of flying pests and at times dangerous creatures, especially if one strays from the path to the top. Then at the top, everything seems to fall away in the meadow, where a certain peace reigns. The meadow itself is pristine, excepting patches of what appear to be scorched earth, and these crawl with horrendous creatures, some of which could be seen on the way up the hill, and others that have yet to be seen anywhere outside of the clearing.
At almost any given time in the day or night, a particularly old looking representative of the
Lilledens dances and bounds through the green grass and flowers, his beard trailing behind him. His shrill, steady voice chants something barely discernible by human ears, yet undecipherable to the human intellect.
Some have reported seeing the old Lilleden sprinkling water from a pouch on the blackened patches, causing steam to come up from them, and a frightful writhing from their wriggly inhabitants. One such report mentioned an abundance of butterflies on his return visit the next day--it was unheard of to camp within the meadow.
The most noteworthy tale regarding this meadow, its steward, and its blemishes runs thus in summary:
When Nokari went before his people to prepare the island of Trispir, having worked upon it over the years to this end, he noticed something new: a mound about the size of his fist, flanking the river that ran from the tower to the forest. Suspicions raised, he resumed his final preparation and examination of the island, but kept a close eye on the mound. His suspicions were verified as the mound grew even in the course of a day, and the temperature about it was different, though only a little, from the surrounding ground. It was warm compared to the rest of the island. In itself this would be no concern, or even a benefit, yet Nokari knew what lay beneath the frosty surface of Vadra. The fires of life and its destruction, and those wayward spirits that tended them were expected to try and expand their domain from time to time.
This was no cause for fear to Nokari, yet the prospect of reminding lesser creatures of their rightful place and duty would likely involve a physical debate with Neilux, wayward god of the sun, and he hadn't time for that.
Going to the King of All, Nokari bowed his great head in the King's court, and made known his trouble. "King, my preparations for the people you have given me to shepherd are nearly ready, and as nearly thwarted by Neilux, your wayward servant. Shall I go directly to him? My people are nearly arrived, and the land will soon be overrun with beasts if the door is not closed before it opens."
The King looked kindly on Nokari. "I have seen your preparations and they are good. Take one of the Little Ones, an elder, most versed in my music, and let him tend to the eruption you would prevent. And let any who see him at his work remember my love for this world, that I will preserve it from those fires that warm it, yet would consume it if given leave."
"I will do as you have said, and may your name be ever hallowed in that place."
This is the explanation of the hill, and its meadow, and the Lilleden's place in it, that most hold to be true. Even alternate explanations resemble this truth in one point or another: The hill's origin is evil, and the meadow and its steward are actively holding that evil back from the world.
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