Fauldon's Dream and the Karier of the Task
Chapter 20: Trissellah Faeries and the Tale of the Shrooblin

To that which pertains to the Shrooblin and their origin, our story actually goes way back before the Shrooblins and to when the Trissellah dwelled in the Darsel Woods prior to the Entanglement.

The Trissellah were a benevolent culture of faeries and such. With their glistening wings would they spur about the woods of old in fascination and splendor. Caretakers, they were, of the natures of those woods, their creatures, plants, and substance as a whole. Fluttering and flattering, the faery folk were gifted with the ability of Nutrient—a forgotten magic, capable of wielding nature’s growth, health, and livelihood. Thus, the faeries of Darsel Woods were known in mystery and wonder.

Then the Entanglement came. Also known as the Envinement, the Entanglement brought forth a force of nature not previously known by the Trissellah. But let us not get ahead of ourselves, for one must first be introduced to an essential character to understand the bringing about of the creatures called Shrooblin. This faery’s name was Wingless, for unlike her kind, she bore no magnificent wings, nor could she flutter about as her folk so often did. Rather, she was forced to dwell upon the ground and never leave it. While her kind flew high and twisted elegantly about the vast trees, Wingless would but walk in their wake, counting the roses and feeling the soil between her toes.

“Come with us and play,” her faery friends would tease as they reached for the veins of wateriness above. “Let us play another game a tag!” they would still go on to say.

But Wingless would never let it get to her, for she learned quickly how to deal with her difference. She had sought counsel from the Teachtress and had been bestowed a new confidence. The Teachtress had taught her where strength truly came from and what it meant to truly be a Trissellah. And when her friends would tease and ask her to play tag or watch the glow of streams above, she would ask them instead, “How about we count the stems of the Kripple Evergreen or dance on the roots belonging to the Web Oak?” Though many looked down upon Wingless, they respected the Teachtress for her guidance to the faery with no wings and saw her mature in other things. It was quickly noted that of all the nature faeries, she cared more than any for the nature of that which was bound to the soil and ground below.

Now, in the matter of Trissellah, there rules the Nature’s Prophet, a faery entrusted with foretelling the roots of the great trees and that which was to come. It was he who first caught wind of the Approach, the coming of the Entanglement. From the Roots of Old did he pull the wisdom about the Envinement’s snare and cold choking over a forest that knew not how to dwell with it.

And nor did he.

It was in light of the Approach that the faery folk fled to the leaves high above and to the outskirts of the Darsel Woods that they might survive the Entanglement as it stretched its clasp swiftly and tightly. It was during the Great Fleeing that none of the Trissellah accounted for Wingless, who could not fly as they did and found herself trapped by the very roots that sought to overtake the woods.

Wingless was left behind and left even more bound to the earth. She did not give herself up to the self-pity most would have succumbed to even to their doom. Instead, Wingless wielded her gift of caring to feel pity for the suffocating woods and the nature that dwelt within. She saw the Entanglement as but a foreign traveler seeking dwelling amidst a woods that it neither understood nor that understood it.

Reaching out with the same care she always had, the faery began tending to the trees, the plants, the shrubs, and the vines—her touch being a comfort to all that came into contact. It was then she formed an odd attachment to the many uses of the mushrooms that dwelled previously and those that now joined as a result of mingling with the vine. Becoming a master of mycology (that is, the study of fungi and mushrooms), she learned to harness their ability to nurture, heal, and adapt.

For the withering flower, there she would place a red speckled shroom to nourish the soil that it might be rejuvenated. For the dried bark of trees both large and small, she found the blue shroom to be capable of pulling moisture from the air and granting more hydration. To the decaying stump, a green mushroom to better replenish the ground about it to spur new life. Even to those critters that still dwelt, there were shrooms for the sick, the weak, the poisoned, and the old.

With the help of the many types of mushrooms and the constant discovery of more, Wingless was able to spread her influence across the forest, even to the point of unionizing the Entanglement with the nature of the woods before. For since the Trissellah were gifted in the magic of nutrient and growth, so did Wingless learn how to bend the vines to her will, causing paths where there were none and passages where none previously could pass. To the outskirts would she occasionally go, seeing a weary traveler in need of passing through her great forest. She became a guide and median to the forest and foreigners alike—her intent on preventing any conflict.

But it happened that one day, while tending to the Roots of Old where moss of the slickest texture did reside, she found herself befallen upon the slippery ledges which clung deep within their web of wisdom. With no wings to catch her, she fell hard to the cavern below, her face and spine hurt and stained the ground. In wake of her tears, discomfort, and despair did a shroom near her suddenly glow a magnificent blue and come to life so as to give aid to the one who had aided so many. But drawing near to her, it knew not what to do nor for sure what it was doing (for it had never moved of its own volition before, nor was it accustomed to coming to life—it was altogether a first for the mushroom).

Leaning into her sight, the Shroom did the best it could to care for the injuries Wingless had incurred. From its members, it grew many herbs and fungi to try as each failed to heal her wounds. Growing tired from its frivolous efforts, it plopped down beside where Wingless lay and offered the only comfort it knew left to give.

Companionship.

It was then that Wingless managed a smile to the Shroom she had witnessed to life and give its all in healing her. She admired the creature’s passion, gift, and companionship—for her greatest ally had tried to save her as she had saved the forest. Thus, they passed the time together, talking of the beauty that the woods held despite having fallen to its moss.

But the time came that her strength was fleeting, and she spoke to the shroom her last words: “I bid thee well, my cherished friend. In my leave, take care of this forest for me, for it needs much healing and guidance. Look after it, please, and keep those that seek passage from harming it. Be sure the Willow Pines do not mourn too much, nor the Web Oak grow too bold. Keep the vines from hindering the Kripple Evergreen and be sure the creatures that dwell are still looked after—even those that burrow deep holes and disrupt the Roots of Old. Care for these woods and for nature as a whole. Promise me, please.”

And bringing forth its greatest courage and effort did the Shrooblin reply: “It will be our purpose.”

With that, Wingless breathed her last into a new life that would nurture nature in her stead. It was then the Shrooblin were born into Shroobliness. It was then that the first Shrooblin stood upon its own two little feet and admired the hands that it now had and the task before it. In a great swell of emotion and joy (with a little remorse, of course, for the passing of the wingless Trissellah), the Shrooblin said aloud, growing fonder of its voice, “We will be little yous scattered abroad and tending to this forest as you have taught us so well to do. We will care for these woods and those beyond.”

And so the long line of Shrooblin came to be known as the watchers of the Darsel Woods and the surrounding growths. It happened that the first Shrooblin nurtured the Collective and set about the code to which all Shrooblin were bound thenceforth. The code was such:

A Shrooblin must perform its duty, regardless of feeling, that Wingless may be honored.

A Shrooblin is required to assist all travelers through the entangled woods that they may not stray or harm the nature bestowed to our kind.

A Shrooblin is not to disregard its lineage and obligation to care for and nurture the weak, the sick, and the dying.

And lastly, a Shrooblin is to never abandon heritage—keeping with the purpose given by Wingless, the Trissellah that brought life to a crippling hope.

Thus, from generation to generation, the master Shrooblin would find its heir and train up for itself a prodigy to carry on. Since their lives reached into many centuries, a prodigy was selected at the moment one became the master Shrooblin. In the case of times more present, two masters dwelt in Euphora, one looking over the Darsel Woods and the other over the resurrected Wiliswall. Being as all Shrooblin were considered family, Aerold and Earold were siblings regardless of choice. It just happened that Earold’s master, Pewtoe, neared retirement sooner than the master of Darsel Woods, being Felistah. Usually a Shrooblin takes two centuries to become accustomed to their territory and the tasks required of them. They must learn every bark, every root, every rodent, every bird, every leaf, every twig, until it becomes like the very pores of their membrane.

But all Shrooblin retire to their first state, a resting place that originally formed the Hills of Variley. It was with the resignation of Pewtoe that his lover, Felistah, would resign as well that they both may retire to the same soil and at the same time as lovers and long-time friends. Earold was anxious and ready to take responsibility, even though only a century had passed since his upbringing. Felistah, the master of the Darsel Woods, still had a good century left to go in her, and Aerold was rather reluctant to replace her, being as she wished no responsibility nor any interaction with others.

Regardless, Earold convinced the two masters that both he and his sibling, Aerold, were ready—even though Aerold boldly objected. And since the two masters of old desired the same, they listened to Earold over the voice of his sister. Hence, it came to pass that the obligation to the code set before them by the first master forced Aerold to comply, even if unwillingly, to the bestowment.

The grudge has lasted nearly a century since, for they still had not reached the general age of masterhood, thus still were not bound to raise up a prodigy—something Aerold despised having to do when the time came.

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