Coille, The Forest Keeper
In the heart of the Enchanted Forest, where snowflakes dance like whispers and the scent of pine hangs heavy in the air, there lives a young elf named Coille. Her name, derived from the Gaelic word for “wood” or “forest,” is a fitting tribute to her role as the guardian of this magical woodland.
Coille’s father had been the previous Keeper, a lineage stretching back centuries. He taught her the ancient ways—the songs to coax saplings into towering evergreens, the secrets of wreath-weaving, and the gentle touch needed to raise holly bushes that bore crimson berries like miniature ornaments.
Her father’s stories were her bedtime lullabies. He spoke of the forest’s pulse—the way it thrived on whispered wishes, the laughter of children, and the warmth of hearts gathered around hearths. Coille listened, wide-eyed, as he recounted how the first Keeper had planted the very first pine tree, its roots entwined with hope and dreams.
When her father’s time came to an end, Coille stepped into his shoes—or rather, his well-worn leather gloves. She is slight of build, her frame almost ethereal against the towering firs. Her large circular glasses perch on her nose, magnifying her view of the forest’s intricate patterns—the veins of leaves, the frost-kissed spiderwebs, and the constellations hidden within the bark.
Her chin is pointed, determined, and her strawberry blonde hair frames her face like a halo. Coille wears arm chaps, their leather softened by years of use, to protect her skin from the prickly branches. She moves through the forest with grace, tending to the evergreens, whispering encouragement to the saplings, and coaxing the holly bushes to bear their festive fruit.
But Coille’s greatest gift lay in her wreaths. Each one was a masterpiece—a symphony of pine needles, crimson berries, and delicate snowflakes. She wove in memories—the laughter of children building snowmen, the warmth of family gatherings, and the quiet wishes made by starlight. These wreaths adorned doors and mantels, spreading joy and anticipation throughout the nearby villages.
The forest responds to Coille’s care. The evergreens stand taller, their branches laden with snow. The holly bushes burst forth with berries, and the air shimmers with magic. Coille knows that her father watches over her, his spirit woven into the very fabric of the forest.
And so, as the holidays come closer, Coille tends to her duties. She listens to the wind’s secrets, sings the ancient songs, and marvels at the delicate frost patterns on her gloves. The Enchanted Forest thrives under her watchful eye, and each year, as the first snowflakes fell, Coille feels her heart swell with gratitude.
For she is more than a Keeper; she is a steward of wonder, a custodian of dreams. And, as she gazes through her large circular glasses at the moonlit boughs, she knows that the forest whispers its thanks—a soft rustle of needles, and a promise of magic yet to come.