Lantern Mead is the open heart of the lane — a wide, gentle meadow where the grass is kept short by the constant passage of feet and the grazing of the meadow bunnies. It is where the lane meets itself: every path from the four regions ends here, and every evening begins here.
When the sun drops behind the ridge, Pip walks the ring of lanterns and coaxes the faerie fire alight in each one — bright and warm, but never hot, a steady glow that takes a careful, practiced touch. Few on the lane have the knack for it, and Pip is the best of them. Once lit, the mead glows gold and green and amber, bright enough to read by, and the folk gather.
A great shared meal is laid on long tables — bread from the hollow, honey from the brook-side hives, vegetables from every garden on the lane — and the music starts. Fiddles and pipes and a low drum, dancing that wears smooth the grass, and stories told round till the embers fade and the faerie fire burns low and silver in the small hours.
Folk of Lantern Mead
- Pip the Lantern-Keeper
- Roa
- Aldric
Living Here
- Meadow Bunnies
- Dragon-Kites
- Bandit
