Your Fantasy Sleep Saga (Season 2 Episode 7)

A warm welcome to season two of this fantasy sleep saga,

Where you are the main character.

Throughout this bedtime story series,

You will spend autumn and winter in the rolling hills of your homeland,

Celebrating all of the festivities.

You will also delve into the deep dwarven kingdoms,

Embark on another adventure with the wizard and the ranger,

And visit an enchanted little village that is hidden away from the rest of the world.

Here,

There is magic,

Wonder,

And mystery waiting around every corner.

But first,

Let us take a moment to relax.

We will do a short,

Guided breathing pattern called 3-4-5.

This will allow you to slow down and relax,

Preparing your body and your mind for a wonderful,

Peaceful rest.

When you are ready,

Breathe in through the nose for three,

Hold for four,

And breathe out for five.

Let all of it go now,

Again that's in for three,

Hold for four,

And release,

Blowing away the thoughts of yesterday,

Today,

And tomorrow,

Again in for three.

Continue to breathe in this way in your own time,

And with each breath out,

Allow your body to sink just that bit deeper,

And gradually allow the breath to fall back into a natural rhythm.

Enjoy this new peace flowing through your body.

And now,

Let us continue our fantasy sleep saga,

And enjoy Season 2,

Episode 7,

The Hidden Village.

It is a cool,

Crisp,

Late afternoon.

The end of autumn is merging with early winter,

And you are strolling through a wide,

Open field,

Wrapped in a thick,

Warm cloak.

The sky is clear,

The sun is shining,

And there is a lovely,

Fresh breeze.

Beads of frost pepper the grass that crunches underneath your footsteps,

But your big,

Woolly boots keep your feet and your toes perfectly toasty.

Soft blue and gold hues blend in the sky,

And the light creates silhouettes of the huge trees that are dotted along the horizon.

The leaves have fallen now,

And you can see all the details of each tiny branch poking and weaving around each other.

You reach into your pocket and pull out an already opened letter that arrived not two days ago.

It is a letter from the Dwarven King,

Whom you met during the Halloween festival.

You have been officially invited to visit the King in his grand halls beneath the mountain,

But he does not expect you to travel the whole way by yourself.

At the end of the letter are detailed instructions guiding your way to a hidden village beyond a woodland grove,

Not too far from your homeland.

There,

You will meet your kingly escort before resting in the local tavern,

And tomorrow,

You will be taken by horse and cart to the deep Dwarven kingdom,

Along with a very special guest.

You stroll through a thicket of trees now,

And notice that the last light of the sun is fading,

And a new silver glow from the moon is greeting you,

And the stars above are revealing themselves.

As you walk,

You let your mind wander as you mull over your adventures so far,

Remembering all the people you have met,

The places you have visited already,

And of course,

Where you might be going next.

You conjure images of huge,

Unscalable mountains,

Capped with ice and snow,

And far beneath the ground,

A host of rather unruly dwarves are throwing a banquet,

Where feasting,

Singing,

And merriment can be enjoyed by all.

You pass over a small wooden bridge now,

Where a rich blue stream flows in slow motion,

And tiny moonbeams dazzle on the water.

Beautiful golden fish weave under the surface,

And this whole forest is alive with magic.

You shuffle through a thick hedgerow,

And suddenly find yourself coming to the end of the woodland,

And there you see it.

Shimmering under a huge silver spotlight are thick wooden walls,

Towering almost as high as the treetops behind you,

And the panels are wrapped in purple and green ivy.

Over the wall,

You see the thatched roofs of many buildings,

Each with their own crooked little chimney,

Puffing out a pure white smoke,

Creating a misty haze over the village.

The main gate stands before you now,

And on the door is a square hatch,

The perfect size for an inquisitive face to peep out of whenever a visitor should come knocking.

As you shuffle towards the door,

You notice a golden lantern has sparked to life just above your head,

And inside are two lovely fireflies,

Flickering with a charming glow.

You raise your hand to knock,

But before you can touch the wood,

The hatch opens,

And a pair of beady eyes start to investigate you.

You can hear a distant grumbling as the eyes look you up and down.

Suddenly,

The eyes disappear,

The wooden gate swings open,

And you are greeted by an elderly man in a leather cap,

Carrying his very own firefly lantern.

Good evening to you,

Traveller,

The old man says.

We've been told to keep an eye out for a wandering soul who looks just like you.

You're almost late.

Follow me,

And I'll take you to the tavern.

It's not very often we get kings visiting our little village,

So we mustn't keep him too much longer.

You follow behind the gatekeeper up a winding path through the bustling village.

Lined up on each side of you are rows upon rows of cottages and thick wooden beams crisscrossing unevenly.

Some are houses,

Others are stores selling homemade wares,

Trinkets,

Weapons,

And more.

There are market stalls built into the walls,

And even at this time of night,

Locals are selling fresh fruit and vegetables,

Herbs,

Potions,

And tinctures.

As well as all the essential goods for any weary traveler – small leather satchels,

Walking boots,

And water flasks to name a few.

The windows of the cottages are lit by soft candlelight,

And all together they radiate a lovely glow onto the street,

Turning this usually muddy dirt track road into a pathway of gold.

There is something familiar about this village.

You are sure you have never been here before,

And yet you cannot shake the feeling that you have in fact seen this place,

Somewhere in your dreams perhaps.

And this realization has a comforting effect on you,

One that makes you feel right at home,

As if this entire village has been waiting for your return.

You round a long,

Slow corner to the right,

And there,

Swinging in the moonlight,

Is the sign of the local tavern – three mugs of overflowing ale underneath a white horse rearing up with a golden tail and a golden mane.

Here we are,

The old man says,

He's waiting for you in the back room.

And with that,

He opens the tavern door,

And you shuffle inside.

You are met by a wave of warmth from a huge stone fire pit in the middle of the room.

You gaze around the tavern and take in all the patrons.

There are the usual barflies,

As there are in many of the taverns,

Slumped over a mug of ale and muttering slightly incoherently to each other about all the goings on in the world.

You spot a group of adventurers gathered round the fire,

Telling each other wild,

Embellished tales of battles long ago,

And of traveling to lands far and wide.

There are one or two suspicious people mingling around with their hoods firmly covering their faces,

Doing private dealings in the shadows.

And in one corner,

You see three incredibly tall women playing a very unusual card game,

Sipping enchanted-looking cocktails that bubble and fizz in different colors.

You walk through the tavern,

Tired and weary from your hike,

And make your way straight to the back room,

Where a soft orange glow flickers from within.

As you approach the door,

The Dwarven King steps out in front of you and places a hand on your shoulder.

Well,

I have to say I'm very impressed.

I told the wizard you'd never find your way here on your own,

That you'd probably get lost.

He bet that you'd be here if not slightly late.

He was right,

Of course,

And now I am one bag of gold short,

He adds with a chuckle.

You smile at the thought of reuniting with the wizard again,

But as you try to peek into the room beyond,

The dwarf quickly raises his hand.

He's not here yet,

My new friend.

He will be arriving tomorrow by horse and cart,

And from here,

We will all ride to the mountain.

You have shown me the courtesies and hospitality of your people,

And I look forward to returning the favor.

The Dwarven King leads you to a large armchair by a little log fire,

Where a pot of soup bubbles away.

As you sit,

The King scoops a ladle or two of soup into a wooden bowl and hands it to you.

There,

He says,

You've more than earned that.

Your room is just through that door and up the stairs.

Be sure to eat well and get some rest tonight.

We have a long journey tomorrow.

As you enjoy your fresh,

Hot soup and chat away with the dwarf,

You notice the kingly glow radiating from him.

Within the flickering firelight of the dark,

Crooked tavern,

He looks like an oil painting.

His long,

Dark hair is braided with beads of blue and green.

His beard is neatly trimmed with traces of silver among the charcoal black.

His dark blue tunic is accompanied by a silver belt that shimmers in the soft glow of the fire.

And every single finger has at least one ring.

Some are gold or silver,

And others have jewels of diamond,

Emerald,

Ruby,

And sapphire.

And as he speaks,

His heavy brow casts a shadow over his eyes,

Only adding to his mystery.

His aura is undeniable,

And simply being in his presence,

You instantly feel safe and protected.

Gradually,

Now,

You finish off your soup,

And you feel your eyes growing heavier as your blinks become slower.

Your whole body is relaxed,

And you are sinking deeper and deeper into the armchair.

You hear the king stand up,

And he gently takes the ball from your grip,

Whispering to you that it is time to rest now,

Friend.

Tomorrow,

You shall see the mountain,

My home.

And once we are inside,

You will feast by the firelight,

And sing songs of the dwarves,

And dance to your heart's content.

Our dear wizard arrives in the morning,

And we shall all ride together.

But for now,

It is time for you to rest.

You do not need to be told twice.

You slowly stand up,

Bidding the king a warm goodnight with a slight bow,

And you shuffle towards the staircase ahead.

You wind up the steps bit by bit,

And with each step,

Your legs grow heavier.

At last,

You reach the top,

Where only a single door awaits.

You push it open,

And move slowly into your own little bedroom.

The moonlight beams through your window,

And a soothing,

Sleepy symphony fills the air.

The bedroom is warmed up perfectly from the heat of the tavern below.

You shuffle off your cloak and your boots,

And flop down onto your bed.

Your body is heavy,

And your mind is clear.

The only thoughts you have are of adventure and magic,

As a quiet excitement fills your heart for tomorrow's journey.

You give yourself final permission to completely surrender to this enchanted world.

The moon and the stars are singing you to sleep,

And watching over you tonight.

It is safe for you to fall asleep and to drift into a peaceful slumber.

And somewhere,

Far off in another part of this land,

The mountain is waiting for you.