An acolyte of Medeina the forest goddess, sent to sow the seeds of a new forest, was given a sack by which to procure her bounty from the elfish gatherers and gleaners of the wilderness. She paid dearly, in emeralds and sapphires, but the creatures playfully weighted her sack down with a stray pebble of white granite, cheating her out of several gems.
But Medeina would bless the fruits therein before their casting, and the spells of the gods being powerful, they took firm and grew strong; not one seed failed and each, in its turn, gave birth to further generations of proud firs, and elms, and beeches, and oaks.
And so it was that trees grew, were fruitful, and fell making space for new growth, the cycle of life, until it came to the notice of the older trees that one amongst them was by far the elder of them all; one that none could recall its birth, nor any like it that was born and fell.
“What are you?”, enquired the winds, blowing through the boughs.
“All that I know is I was cast here a long time ago, when the earth was bare, with my brothers and sisters, now departed.”, replied the ancient one.
And so the forest revered their eldest one thereafter, clothing it in lustrous green ivy and harboured it from the creeping, mischievous ones from outside the forest. Though the whole forest thrives by deed of the god’s intent, it alone holds the force of the original blessing.