There is a small village called Summersnow up near Bluedog Pass. A race of little people called the Badree Nym live there. They are a magical race with large pointed ears, fair skin, and freckled faces, with hair that ranges in color from pink to blue and even to black. A little old man abides there—no one knows his name—and every day he sits beneath a spreading oak, smoking his pipe and telling stories of his adventures. People—humans, mostly—come from far and wide to hear them. In certain seasons, even minstrels and bards can be found sitting at his knee and listening with rapt attention.

One day three human kings came to see the little old man, having heard of a tale that he had told about a wondrous magical sleeping princess and the horrible monster that guarded the enchanted castle where she lay.

The little old man was always happy to have someone new ask for his stories, and he told them all about the sleeping princess. She had long golden hair and skin as pale as milk. Her castle stood on a distant island, in a grove of Idyn trees that bloomed yearround and bore rainbow fruits like those that grew in the sun-god’s
garden. A giant’s stair carved from matchless jade led up to the castle gates. A feathered dragon laired in the courtyard, guarding his captive prize.

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