Previously...

The Old WoodBaronette Cordelia huffed as loudly as she could. It would be unbecoming of a noblewoman to show any form of weakness. This included explaining to the peasantry that she was anxious. "Nervous' and "hurried" were not words associated with a strong ruler.
Still, she wished that the caravan would resume, and soon. Cordelia was eager to reach Boundaria - lateness was not associated with a strong ruler, either.
The site of the breakdown was at least aesthetically pleasing. The forest was old, old wood; never before had these ancient trees been felled for lumber. The only sign of human presence was the dirt road that cut through, and even that could be easily lost. It was a dangerous place; not a kind place to outsiders, and certainly not a kind place to lost baronettes. No, she happily sat inside the carriage, eagerly awaiting her entourage to replace a broken axle. She sighed rather loudly.
It wasn't clear if her any of her three bodyguards had heard her exasperated sigh. She knocked twice

The story continues...

The Old Wood - Part 3    Rossem didn’t like castles. He liked visiting them, but he wouldn’t want to live in one. Mortal men had a habit of building them for function first, and form second. The aesthetics ended up being ‘tacked-on’, trying too hard to appear imposing or elegant. What was worse was that the functionality resulted in a thoroughly uncomfortable place to actually live. Long hallways were chilly. Courtyards were noisome. They were flammable. The elfhome was a stand against these principles. He had built a series of connected wooden structures throughout the treetops, connected with long vines, short walkways, and branches he had grown himself. Though he hadn’t had any visitors in a few decades, he had tried to be hospitable to any possible interlopers - the rubbery membrane that supported the walkways was inert, and not the cloying, seeking magic that would quickly restrain and encase anyone he deemed to be an intruder.