Lumme

If you turn left after the house of spring, past the winter gardens and up the winding road through the forest, walk around the rock in the middle of the path and down into the valley, you will reach a lake. Its shores are frozen, but the ice rarely covers it in its entirety, leaving a wide, watery mirror that reflects the crisp blue of the sky. The water is freezing cold, like everything else in these mountains, but the place is beautiful, quiet and big and anchored into reality like few things are hereabouts.

The lake is important, because it is a source of food. Not much grows in snowy mountains (the snow melts for three months a year, but that's not enough), and being able to fish keeps many a villager from starvation. The lake is important, and so is everything that lives in it. You must thank the lake for providing food and bless the fish for dying so that you may live. You must be mindful of where you step and leave the place as clean as you found it, or cleaner.

And if you see a shape in the water, something huge and dark and glowing in places, be sure to leave an offering of bread or butter, of fruit if you have any, or of fish if that is all you can spare. Be kind and respectful, and thank the shadow for its protection, for it is this creature that allows you to fish peacefully, undisturbed, in the waters of its lake.

Lumme is huge, lumbering, fat and blubbery, perfectly insulated against the icy cold. They move slow, and quiet, surprisingly hard to see against the murky darness of the water. They are blind, their vision lost long ago to unknown causes, but it doesn't seem to bother them much. They use the fine hairs on their face and body to sense minute change in the water around them, and are always dully aware of everything that happens in and around the lake, courtesy of sharing most of their magic with it.

Because Lumme is ancient, even by fae standards. They've been around for longer than anyone can remember, their magic irrevocably woven into the fabric of the world around them, bound into the lake and the surrounding area. They are trapped there, and their shape has shifted to match their environment. But they also have power there, a quiet, subdued, but immovable kind of magic. Very few fae dare to come near, and the ones who do know to behave themselves.
Lumme has a fondness for mortals, the way one would be fond of small, cute animals or weird bugs. They are ephemeral and fragile, and fun to observe. Anyone who comes to the lake is under Lumme's protection while they are there, provide they are polite and respectful, keep their trash to themselves, and occasionally bring small gifts, tokens of grattitude. Which… most people endeavour to do, because no one wants to suffer the wrath of age-old lake monsters, really.

• Lumme's markings, body plan and facial features are relatively variable, you don't have to get too hung up on the reference art.
• They are, however, always huge and fat. They have a lot of blubber for insulation. Think walrus or manatee.
• They have nubby little fingers at the end of their fins, between three and five. They are surprisingly dexterous and can manipulate very small and delicate objects.
• They are blind, their pupils are a milky white.