Landvættir

In the realm where silver waters weave, Landvættir guard, lest magic leave. With cloaks of mist, they stand unseen, guardians of the falls, serene. Their vigil keeps, through time and tide, the secrets that the waters hide. With every drop that dances free, a spell is cast, a charm to be. The cascade's hymn, a whispered lore, of ancient rites and mystic core. The Landvættir, in silence, bide, where elements of earth collide. In the waterfall's enchanting thrall, they cradle magic's tender call. For only they can truly tell, the power in the water's swell.