Day 3: Juniper

Have I already mentioned how much I love fairy tales?

Juniper

Etana remembered being told as a child about an old witch named Granny Rumple who lived in the woods. She had caught glimpses of her, sometimes, as she played in the forest -- a shadowy figure, barely visible through the trees. But the witch was the only one Etana knew who might be able to help Moren. So she prepared a basket with food, and some of her fine threads, because it would not do to visit someone like the witch without bringing gifts. Then she set out on the path to the woods.

Soon the path split into two, with a withered oak standing at the join. Its branches stretched in both directions along the path. The right path was fair and well-trodden; Etana had followed it many times when searching for dye plants. The left path led to a darker part of the forest. She pulled a length of red thread from her basket, tied it to the leftmost branch of the oak, and set off down the left path. Twice more the path branched, and twice more she took the left, less-travelled path. Each time she tied a red thread to a branch, marking which path she had followed. She had heard enough tales of hapless fools who lost their way in the woods to take precautions. She tied the remaining thread to her left wrist, keeping it under her sleeve. Eventually, she reached a small, overgrown cottage with black smoke rising from the chimney.
She knocked softly on the door and waited. There was no answer. She knocked again, and called out. "Granny Rumple?" There was still no answer, but she thought she heard a rustling inside. She knocked once more. "Granny Rumple, I've brought you gifts." And the door opened. Granny Rumple was old, and wrinkled like a piece of fruit left to dry. She wore a cloak made entirely of patches, clutched tight around her. Her voice had a quality like dried leaves. "How kind of you to bring an old woman gifts. Come in then, child." She held the door and beckoned inwards.
The inside of the cottage was nothing that Etana had expected. It was clean, and the fireplace smelled pleasantly of spruce and baking bread. Granny Rumple led her to a table and pulled out a stool. There was a small pot with wilted flowers in the center of the table. "Now, what have you brought Granny Rumple?"
Etana set the basket on the table. She pulled out a small loaf of bread and some sheep cheese. "I baked this loaf this morning, for you. The cheese is from my family's sheep."
"Ahh, good, good! Shall we break bread then?"
Etana nodded, broke the loaf in two, and handed it to Granny Rumple, who snatched it eagerly and tore off a chunk. Etana then broke a lump off the cheese and gave it to the old woman. Before eating her own piece of bread, Etana muttered a short prayer over it.
Granny Rumple noticed, and smiled slyly. "A cautious one, are we?"
"I merely believe in giving thanks."
"Then I shan't stop you, my dear."
They ate in silence for a time. Granny Rumple finished her bread and cheese first, having wolfed them down. She rose. "Would you like some tea, my dear?"
"No thank you, Granny."
"Suit yourself." She poured tea from a kettle into a chipped mug and sat back down. The scent of the tea wafted towards Etana, and when it reached her, it was so pungent it made her eyes water. She blinked back tears and tried to pretend nothing had happened. Granny Rumple seemed unaware, or was perhaps pretending unawareness. "So what else do you have in your little basket, dearie?"
Etana drew out a skein of rich yellow thread. "I spun this with my own hands, and dyed it with herbs I picked."
Granny Rumple took the skein. "The touch of the sun is in it. You are skillful, girl. But I sense you have more you wish to offer me."
She nodded, and pulled out some dark brown thread. "This looks plain, but it has tints of green in it."
"The earth now, yes."
Now Etana drew out a skein of deep, blue-black, thread. "I dyed this skein a long time ago, but had no use for it at the time, and no-one willing to buy it. The color has not faded since then. I give it to you know."
Granny Rumple inhaled audibly as she took the thread. "Essence of night." She admired the skein for a while, and then put it down with the others and turned back to Etana. "Well, girl, you gave me these gifts with the expectation of something in return. Now what is it?"
"My love found a ring in these woods some days ago. Now he lies abed with a fever that has not broken, as if he were being consumed by flames from within. I wish to cure him."
"Ahhh, so you have come to save your love. I know what ails him, but there is nothing I can do."
"Nothing? But --"
Granny Rumple held a hand up to stop her. "I myself can do nothing for him, but I know one whom you can ask to help."
"Who?"
"The Lady of the Hills."
"The-- the Lady of the Hills?"
"The very same. I will give you a letter to carry to her which will explain the situation, and a token with which to pass through her lands safely." Granny Rumple smiled, a little nastily. "As long as you do not lose the token, she will not harm you."
"I thank you deeply, Granny."
"We shall see, my child." Granny Rumple gathered the threads, rose, found a pair of scissors, and snipped segments of each thread. "I need a fourth kind of thread for this token, child. Something of your heart."
Etana nodded, and unwound the red thread from her wrist. "I found the roots for this dye among thick thorns. My blood fell among them, nourishing them. When I next dug out the roots, I took more care and did not bleed. The dye from those roots lacked strength and faded quickly."
"You understand these matters well, child." Granny Rumple smiled, and took the thread. "And because I feel a sense of kinship with you, with all your dye lore, and because you have been kind to me, I will give you another piece of advice." She paused. "Even with my token, you will have difficulty reaching the Lady of the Hills. When you return to your village, you will find someone at the inn who can help you overcome the ordeals of your journey. You may not trust his words, but trust his actions, for there lies the truth."
"Thank you, Granny."
Etana watched as Granny Rumple braided and knotted the four strands together. Watching, she began to feel as if she were one of the strands, being twined with and supported by the elements. She lost track of the passing of time, until Granny Rumple tapped her on her shoulder, and she started awake.
"Here, child. This is the letter, with my mark on it." Granny Rumple handed Etana a creased, folded piece of paper, tied up with string. "And this is the token of safety." The old woman showed her a braided, knotted cord of four colors. "Hold out your wrist." Etana did so, and Granny Rumple tied the cord around it. "Never remove this, and never cut it."
"I understand."
"Very well, child. I wish you well on your journey." And she escorted Etana to the door.