In the ancient days of New-Camelot, back when it was known as Eutopos, the planet was home to only one kind of elf—the low-elves, we now call them.
Unlike the high-elves who, alongside their fellow witches and warlocks, immigrated from planet Earth, these low-elves are not the same height and build as your average Earthling. Rather, the native elves only reach roughly half the height of the immigrant elves. And instead of green hair and skin, these low-elves have heads of copper hair and faces full of freckles.
What the low-elves do share with the high-elves, however, (besides their long, pointy ears) is their connection to Earth—not the planet, but the Element of Magic.
Our story begins less than a fortnight after Hallow’s Eve, during the Frost Moon, with a young low-elf named Flora taking a long walk through what used to be called the Elven Forest. Flora and her family lived in the trunk of a large evergreen tree that stands right on the border of what we now know as Winter Whereabouts and the Greenlands. Of course back then there were no borders; the low-elves simply preferred the West Coast and the North, thanks to their dense woodlands. But to put it into our modern lens: on her walk, little Flora moved through the Winter Woods all the way into the Greenlandian Forest.
As she walked through the woods, she collected the toadstools that had popped up thanks to the late Autumn rainfall. She knew she had to forage as much as she could carry back home, for in these parts of the Elven Forest, with the Frost Moon, comes the first blanket of snow. Flora walked all the way down to the foot of Mount Sun, filling her bag with not just fungus, but lichen, moss, chestnuts and acorns—to elves, both high and low, these are all delicacies!
On her return trip, the woods had changed. Jack Frost, the first child of the Elffather, was there with her, not in his folkian form, but in spirit. Snow had started falling and was catching in her copper braids. Her little elven boots with their little pointed toes began leaving their signature elven tracks behind her. The further north Flora travelled, the more and more frost there was icing the branches of the evergreens, as though the trees were cakes of folkian sugar.
Flora was an elf, and therefore she had little trouble navigating this new terrain. However, as she moved through the trees, by and by, she suspected someone—or something—was following her.
She picked up the pace and tried to shake the feeling, but it only grew. And then she saw it—the very thing to justify her fear—footprints in the snow. Not little elven boot prints. Not the tracks of a bear, wolf or mountain lion. But large, folkian footprints.
Now remember: this was countless Suns before we Earthlings arrived on Planet Eutopos in our Quest for New-Camelot. At this time, the only folkians who regularly roamed through these woods were the tiny little low-elves.
Occasionally, an elf might have happened across a faerie—but only once the faerie had transfigured into their spritely form. The fae can effortlessly perform a glamour that renders them small enough to fit in the palm of one’s hand, and when they make the journey down from their castle in the clouds, this is the manner in which they do so. Therefore, the footprints were much, much too large to belong to a faerie.
Likewise, an elf might have happened across a gnome. This, however, was uncommon. While elves and gnomes are both creatures of Earth, gnomes greatly prefer the underground and only come up to steal treasure. (Living underground would most certainly not be healthy for an elf, high or low.) But even if a gnome was nearby, these footprints could not belong to a gnome, for gnomes are even smaller than elves, only reaching up to their midsections.
Deeper underground were the demonic beasts of the Underworld—goblins, hobgoblins and orcs—but they came up even less frequently than gnomes did. The footprints were too small for a goblin or hobgoblin, but they could have belonged to an orc, if the orc was on the smaller side. Still, this seemed unlikely, as demons of the Underworld only rise above ground when one starts working with Underworld Magic, and elves are not known for such pursuits!
There were the giants—not the oversized Earthling mages—but the monstrously large, God-like beings native to Eutopos. However, they required places where they could have solitude, not to mention space. They were almost never spotted in the forests, and instead took to the mountains, prairies, deserts and arctics. And besides, a giant’s footprints would have been much too large.
Then of course there were the ogres and trolls—the actual monsters of Eutopos. The footprints could have belonged to either one of these beasts—a small ogre or a large troll—and that was precisely the fate Flora feared! If it was an ogre, perhaps she stood a chance of outsmarting it, for ogres are very stupid—so stupid, in fact, that some scholars believe they ought not to be considered folkians at all. But if it was a troll, then surely the monster would try to outsmart her, for trolls are much more cunning.
Flora placed her basket of foraged forest foods down on the frosty forest floor. She turned around and said, “Who’s there? I know someone is there! Show yourself!”
And then out from in between the trees, it came. He came? Flora wasn’t sure. The creature appeared to be one part folkian and one part beast. He stood at least twice the size of Flora and was covered from head to toe in messy brown fur. The only places he wasn’t covered in fur were his hands, feet, and face. His hands and feet looked just as folkian as Flora’s, the only difference being the fact that he wasn’t wearing boots and mittens like she was. What was most startling of all, however, was how he had the face of a folkian.
Flora had never seen anything like this, although a few of her fellow elves had reported, at times, feeling watched in the forest. And it couldn’t have been a bear, wolf or mountain lion watching them, for those woodland creatures would have revealed themselves and greeted the elves in a friendly manner.
The creature smiled at Flora, flashing her a big toothy grin, and he waved.
Flora’s heart stopped. Without taking even a second to pick up her basket, she turned and ran through the woods, all the way home!
Once safely back in her house of tree, Flora slammed the door shut and bolted it. “Mother! Father! Fauna!” she called in between pants. “Come here quick! I just stumbled across the most bizarre beast in the forest!”
Her mother and father came down from the loft of their treehouse, but to Flora’s dismay, her sister did not follow their parents down the wooden ladder.
“Where’s Fauna?” Flora asked nervously.
“Like you, she went out into the woods,” her father answered.
“She wanted to see her familiars one last time before their long Winter’s nap,” her mother added.
“Well, Jack Frost has come,” Fauna informed them. “Soon the forest will be covered in snow. Fauna should come home now. We must send a familiar for her.”
“Fauna,” her father started, “your sister is as much a low-elf as you. She can survive the work of Jack Frost just fine. If anything, the cold weather is good for her immunity.”
“It’s not the cold I’m worried about,” Flora said—and she told her parents about the mysterious creature.
Her parents listened intently, all the while exchanging serious glances.
“This sounds like the work of the Earthfather,” her father then said.
“We should ask the Mother Moon about this,” her mother decided, and she went to brew a pot of moss tea.
In low-elven mythology, the story goes that the Mother Moon mated with two spirits: both Odin the Elffather, first creating Jack Frost and his Winters, and then all the elven race; and Pan the Earthfather, creating the woodland flora and fauna. While the low-elves feel most connected to their Elffather, Pan is something of an uncle to them.
Flora’s mother—Diantha was her name—was the best at divination. So while Flora and her father merely sipped their moss tea for pleasure, Diantha sipped hers intentionally, with her eyes closed, reaching out to the Mother of all.
When Diantha was finished her tea, she turned the cup upside down on its saucer, and then rotated it thrice clockwise. She lifted the cup, peered inside, and began her divination work…
*
All the while, little Fauna was out wandering the forest. She had moved into the great valley that stands between the West Coast Mountains and what we now call the Greenlandian Mountains. (Of course back then they were called the Elven Mountains.)
There she met with many of her familiars: deer, rabbits, squirrels, racoons and the like. In the northern Greenlands, it is common for the woodland creatures to go to sleep for Winter, seeing as Winter is many Moons longer up north. For Fauna, it was a joy to see her animal friends one last time before their long Winter’s nap.
This joy, however, was interrupted by a strange bird song. The bird itself was a mundane robin, but the song he sang was different. Being an elf, Fauna could make out the poetry of the bird, and he was telling her that she must head east…
I, Robin Redbreast
Know where you must head next
Eastward through the evergreens
Meet a creature not yet seen
Fauna knew better than to ignore the calls of birds, so she bid farewell to her animal friends, and she moved east, towards Mount Sun.
On her journey, the first snow began to fall, but the robin did not pivot and fly south. The bird kept singing his little song—Chirp! Chirp! Eastward through the evergreens! Chirp! Chirp!—and leading her precisely in that direction.
Now, you might be thinking that this robin was a familiar sent by her family. But, in truth, the bird was sent by the Earthfather himself—and Pan was leading her right to the very spot in which Flora had crossed paths with the half-folkian-half-beast! If Fauna’s sister had stayed in the forest just a little longer, the two girls would have both met the beast at the same time.
But by the time Fauna reached that fateful grove, Flora had already fled back home—so once more did a lone elven girl meet the mysterious creature.
Naturally, the creature had been very saddened by Flora’s running away, especially when he had been so friendly. But just moments later, when he saw another elf appear in the trees—this time not north, but west of him—he was filled with hope all over again.
She was identical to Flora too, what with her snow-laced copper braids, her freckle-laden face, her green tunic and matching tights, her little pointed boots, her little pointed cap, and her little pointed ears.
Just as he had to Flora, to Fauna he smiled and waved.
Because of their elven blood, both sisters were good with both plants and animals. However, Flora was more of a herbalist, while Fauna preferred Familiar Magic. And so, although Fauna too was afraid of the creature, she decided not to run away.
Instead, slowly, cautiously, she took steps through the snow, towards him.
*
Back in the treehouse, bits of moss and dirt were scattered all throughout Diantha’s terracotta teacup, creating clusters. And in these clusters were symbols, supposedly. Elven runes. Only low-elves can read these symbols—low-elves or those who the low-elves teach. But the low-elves are, rightfully, very selective about who they share their secrets with.
On the dirt floor, in the middle of the three elves’ circle, were two large crystals: one amethyst, to aid in their connection to the Mother Moon, and one jade, to aid in their connection to the Earthfather.
“Is this mysterious creature a threat to us?” Diantha asked the divine as she poked her eye into the teacup. She was a bit nervous because, for many Moons now, she had been receiving vague but unpleasant messages from the Cosmos—warnings that a long night was coming, a long night beyond the Winter season.
Slowly but surely, symbols revealed themselves to her… Curses of the Underworld! Here was Hagalaz and Nauthiz! Hagalaz—two vertical lines with a slanted, diagonal line connecting them—warned of chaos, crisis, and destruction. Nauthiz—a crooked cross—warned of distress and need, and indicated that a sacrifice would have to be made. So here was yet another omen of ill fortune! Once again the divine was sending warnings of a long night!
But by and by, Diantha eyed Berkana and Gebo. Berkana—two sideways triangles stacked on top of one another—represented motherhood, from the process of becoming pregnant, to giving birth, to the lifelong journey of raising a child. And Gebo—an ‘X’ like that of a treasure map—represented harmonious partnerships and mutually beneficial exchanges.
When the Mother Moon spoke directly to the mother elf, the message became crystal clear:
Rather suddenly, Diantha broke her concentration, opened her eyes to look at her family, and announced, “This creature—there are many of them—and they are called sasquatches. They mean us no harm, and actually, they want to help us.”
*
Fauna was just a few steps away from the sasquatch. As she drew closer, his smile grew wider. She was quite afraid. While her family now knew that this mysterious creature meant the elves no harm, to Fauna, he was still very much a mystery.
And yet she couldn’t bring herself to run away. She had to know him.
When she drew close enough, the sasquatch took her little hands into his large ones, and squeezed them gently. He then brought her hands to his lips and gave them a friendly kiss. And he bowed down before her, just as the bears, wolves and mountain lions did.
He couldn’t speak the folkian tongue. Nowadays, sasquatches can form a limited amount of folkian words, but only because of what resulted from this tale.
Fauna, however, could speak the woodland tongue, and she heard what he had to say…
My kind means your kind no harm, he told her as he stood back up. I am a sasquatch, a secret creature of the Elven Forest. We, like your familiars, are the children of the Earthfather. But we have always kept ourselves hidden, up until now.
Why have you kept hidden? Fauna asked him in the woodland tongue. And why are you revealing yourselves now?
The sasquatch had kind eyes. We’ve kept hidden because we simply prefer solitude. Like badgers, we don’t want to get swept up in the hustle and bustle of the forest. But I show myself now because, all too soon, Eutopos will face a great threat.
This startled Fauna. A great threat? Whatever do you mean?
It won’t happen in either of our lifetimes—but in a future Sun, to a future generation, it will happen. The Mother Moon warned us. This planet will face a threat otherwise unforeseen. The Mother wouldn’t tell us exactly what that threat will be. All she told us is that we must work alongside the elves.
The sasquatch placed a soft hand on Fauna’s shoulder. It is our job to protect you, you see. When this threat comes—because we sasquatches are so stealthy, because we stay hidden away so easily—we will be safe. But you elves… you will face an evil never before seen on Eutopos.
But how can you protect us? Fauna asked him.
There aren’t many of us, but if we work together, you can help us grow twice as strong.
And how can we do that?
With folkian sugar.
It is true that the sugar yielded not from honey and fruits, but from the harvesting and processing of the sugarcane, is much, much more powerful. And only certain kinds of folkians, such as low-elves, are capable of completing the process.
In New-Camelot—or rather, in Eutopos—the sugarcane grows naturally in the Tangleknot Jungle and the Deserted Desert. Although, in these modern times, Emperor Sola sees to it that there is a sugarcane farm at the south end of the Interior, and there he enslaves high-elves. In the ancient times of our story, however, the low-elves living in the most southern nook of the Elven Forest traded with the lizard folk of Tangleknot.
Elves, both high and low, are folkians. Sasquatches, on the other hand, are one part folkian and one part beast. Now, this isn’t to understate their intelligence, nor their strength. As shown in this story, they are exceptional at hiding. They are also great fighters. If you were up against a sasquatch, I am almost certain you would meet your demise—unless of course you outnumbered them or had some kind of magical aid.
Even back in these ancient times, when the sasquatch stood only twice the height of the low-elf, they were dangerous to practically any folkian who they felt threatened by—yes, even to ogres and trolls. The only exception might be a giant, for the giant’s size would give them an advantage. Then again, if the sasquatches outnumbered the giant, they might stand a chance.
And now, thanks to the folkian sugar of the low-elves, the sasquatch stands four times as tall as your average low-elf—so, naturally, they are twice as threatening as they once were.
The snow was falling harder now; little white flakes were catching themselves on and lining the sasquatch’s fur.
Best to get out of this storm, Fauna said in the woodland tongue—although both she and the sasquatch were unbothered by the cold. Really what it was was that she wanted to invite the sasquatch over to her family’s treehouse for moss tea, but she was too shy to ask this directly.
The sasquatch, however—being so intuitive, as sasquatches are—knew what her intentions were. After retrieving Flora’s basket of elven goodies from the frosty forest floor, he allowed Fauna to lead him all the way back to her little home.
*
Back in their house of tree, the three elves were just discussing how best to proceed. Low-elves, despite being so Earthy—despite being so, well, grounded—are very good at divination, as they have a special connection to the Mother Moon. For Diantha to see elven runes in her teacup, for her to hear the voice of the Goddess—this was not trivial. If this message had not been the Truth, it would not have come through at all. What they needed to do was, first, meet with this sasquatch, and then travel into the valley and meet with the elven king and queen; as this would be a change of life for not just their family, but for all the elves!
Because the Cosmos had Their hand in things, naturally, right in that moment the door to the treehouse opened wide. Fauna entered—“Mother! Father! Flora!”—and behind her came the sasquatch—although it was quite the struggle for him to squeeze through the treehouse’s tiny rounded door.
Fauna helped the sasquatch, pulling on his hairy arms until he was through. Once he was inside, the elf turned back to her family. It was then that she realised they were not at all shocked by the creature she had brought back with her, particularly not Flora.
The sasquatch smiled and waved at Flora once again, just as he had back in the forest, and he held her basket of forest goodies out to her.
This time Flora did reciprocate, smiling and waving, albeit a bit timidly, and she took the basket from him.
While Flora and Fauna’s mother and father weren’t surprised by the sasquatch, his presence still left them breathless. The creature was twice their size after all—about the size of your average Greenlandian bear in fact—and yet he had the hands, feet and face of a folkian.
The sasquatch joined them on the floor for moss tea, and the elves conversed with him. They, too, spoke the woodland tongue—all elves can, both high and low. Fauna, however, was the best with it, and the best with woodland creatures generally—just as Flora was the best with herbs—and just as Diantha was the best with divination. (For those curious about her father, Mabon was his name, and he was the best with cooking.) Fauna was the one to present the case, and when there were holes in their communication, she patched those up. As the conversation about raising the infantile sasquatches went on—‘squatchis’ they were called—by and by, Flora’s fears dissipated.
The conversation only confirmed to Diantha that this was what they—not merely their family, but all the elven race—must do. First thing in the morning, the elves and the sasquatch would travel into the valley and meet with the Elven king and queen.
Snow was falling heavily and, through the window of their treehouse, they could see just how dark of a blue the sky was. “Nightfall comes early this time of year,” Diantha said. “You best sleep here.”
Of course, the sasquatch would have been able to navigate the forest after dark, but he accepted the invitation anyway, as he thought it best to be polite. They ate a dinner of toadstools and potatoes, and then retired early. There wasn’t room for the sasquatch in the loft, so he slept on the common-room floor.
In the middle of the night, Fauna awoke and crept down from the loft. As she descended the ladder, it creaked. Not wanting to wake her family, she slowed and softened her movements.
Once safely on the floor of the treehouse, she found a place beside the sasquatch and, in the warmth of his fur, fell into a dreamless sleep.
*
In the morning, when Diantha saw her daughter tucked into the sasquatch’s fur, she said, “I’m glad you’ve made a new friend, Fauna.” And then, as Diantha moved her gaze out the window, a black look fell upon her face. “And the elven children of future Suns will be too, when the long night comes.”
Fauna, just waking up, blushed. Indeed, she felt connected with the sasquatch and was happy to have him as a companion.
As Flora poked her head out of the loft and noticed Fauna sitting beside the sasquatch on the dirt floor, she wrinkled her nose in envy. Was it really only yesterday that she ran away from him?
After a breakfast of tree bark with blackberry jam, acorns, chestnuts, and dried Sunflowers, the elves and the sasquatch set out for the valley immediately. The journey would be much longer than the one Fauna had taken yesterday, for they were heading much further west.
On their journey, they saw very few woodland creatures, for most of them had gone to sleep for Winter. Likewise, much of the plant-life was dead, although some hung on. The evergreens, for example, were a symbol of resilience, a symbol of the Eternal.
The sasquatch moved in such a way that he kept hidden, although Fauna knew he was right behind them. The sasquatch had felt this was best, for he worried how the other elves might treat him before the king and queen heard about Diantha’s premonition, before they heard his proposal. Low-elves are a peaceful sort, but not when they feel threatened.
The Elven Kingdom is not nearly as extravagant as the kingdoms of other races. While the merfolkian have a castle of coral, and while the fae have a castle in the clouds, the Elven king and queen simply live in the trunks of hollowed out trees, just like their commoners. This is because their culture values equality as much as it does a connection with Earth.
When the elves reached the largest evergreen that any of them had ever seen—about ten yards wide—they entered the little rounded door at the foot of the tree. The sasquatch, however, remained hidden in the woods, for the time being.
The Elven king and queen sat not on thrones, but on the floor by the fire. And they wore crowns made of boughs of evergreen, adorned with red flowers and berries.
Diantha, Mabon, Flora and Fauna joined them on the floor. Diantha hadn’t been alone in her dark premonitions for Eutopos; the queen had been receiving them too. Diantha proceeded to tell them about the sasquatch.
The queen exchanged a serious glance with her king. Through the Suns, they had heard various claims of wild folkians walking through the trees. But never had these wild folkians intentionally revealed themselves. Never had they introduced themselves.
The king then asked Fauna to bring the sasquatch in. Fauna did as she was asked, exiting the evergreen tree and then returning with the sasquatch. Once again, he struggled to fit through the little rounded door.
The eyes of both the king and the queen widened upon seeing the furry creature. In his woodland tongue, the sasquatch again made his case. The king and the queen listened intently.
When the queen responded, she too spoke in the woodland tongue: This will be a big change for all the elven race. No longer will we process the sugarcane only for ourselves, but for the infantile sasquatches. Each and every elven family will adopt a squatchi and raise them on folkian sugar, so they can grow up to be twice the size of the sasquatches who, discreetly, walk through these woods today. In turn, when a long night falls upon Eutopos, the fully-grown sasquatches will protect us.
And so it was and still is! From that point on, low-elves and sasquatches have been living in harmony with one another. The elves raise the squatchis—and when the squatchis are fully grown, the elves return them to the wild, where they can be with their own kind.
As told in this story, this service was initially provided in order to protect the low-elves from ‘Eutopos’s Long Night’. And seeing as the adult sasquatches now grow four times the height of your average low-elf, and twice the size of your average Earthling, they really were the best defence when the Earthlings came.
But of course, the Earthlings still prevailed in their siege of Eutopos and their making it New-Camelot. At the time of writing this, the low-elves now live on elven reserves. There they are trapped behind stone walls, while the rulers of both the Greenlands and Winter Whereabouts plot the destruction of the Elven Forest. In other words, the grand plan of the low-elves and sasquatches failed.
And yet low-elves still raise squatchis! While it is quite a lot of work to raise a squatchi, seeing as they do require an awful lot of baked goods, the low-elves do this work happily. Few things bring them more joy than watching a squatchi shove his face into a freshly baked pumpkin pie.
Now, you might be wondering what became of Flora and Fauna. While Flora married a low-elf from the valley named Alder, when Fauna became a woman grown, she married the sasquatch that she had stumbled across in the woods on that fateful day. It was a bit of a controversial marriage, for the sasquatch was just as much of a beast as he was a folkian—but then again, he was just as much folkian as he was beast, and him and the elf were very happy together.
They chose not to have children and instead made many familiars with the animals who roamed the woodlands. Some of the elves judged their marriage, but many of them saw it as a symbol of the powerful alliance they had forged.
Author’s note: This faerie tale serves as backstory for something that will be introduced in the third and final instalment of IV: Aurora and Luna, III: The Near Impossible Quest, which is due to be published in the Spring of 2025. Join my mailing list so you don’t miss its release.
Or, if you cannot wait, join the ‘Lunar Coven’, either on Patreon or on Substack, as I am releasing an early-bird edition of IV: Aurora and Luna to both.
And of course, grab your copies if I: The Misfit Princess and II: The Rebel Coven if you have not already.
Author’s note: Some scholars believe that the Elven king and queen first consulted their sacred Elven Stone before agreeing to ally with the sasquatches, while others, such as myself, do not believe this to be the case.
For one thing, like both Diantha and the sasquatch, the Elven queen had been receiving dark premonitions regarding the future of Eutopos. In fact, it is likely that she would have already used the Elven Stone to further understand these visions. The sasquatch’s claims would have only confirmed the Truth that she had already been made aware of.
And for another, low-elves live in harmony with the land. Perhaps this is hard for Earthlings to understand (and the scholars who believe that the low-elves first consulted their Elven Stone are almost always Earthlings!). Of course this was their downfall when the Earthlings arrived on Eutopos, but low-elves are very trusting. A forest creature visiting the Elven king and queen, asking them for their alliance—to the low-elves, back in these ancient times, before the Elven War—this would not have been seen as a threat, and therefore they would have felt no need to consult the Elven Stone.