In days of yore, rosehip cordial was mooted as an elixir of eternal life in these parts. One of the stories the grandmothers are most keen on is that of the battle for possession of it. According to this, all the humanoid creatures in the county (including the pixies, elves, and so on) were once of one species –human. However, this changed when someone discovered the secret of eternal life. This person kept the secret within her or his community, but others soon wanted the potion. A bitter struggle ensued between those who had the elixir and those who did not. The latter became the ancestors of Gatshire’s present human population, while the former escaped to the caves and hills. In the upheaval the recipe was lost, possibly destroyed. Those who had had the chance to take it found that what it did was to slow down the ageing process and, apparently, prevent death, or at least delay it for an unprecedentedly long time. The most noticeable side effect was a gradual, and seemingly irreversible, shrinking of the body. Those who had been old men and women when they imbibed the mixture became gnomes and dwarves, those who had been children fairies and elves, and those who had been middle-aged goblins and pixies.

At one time, this legend was taken as the literal truth, and many people tried to recreate the drink. All they had to go on was a reference to something that appeared to be ‘the fruit of the rose’ in a runic ballad. So they tried making every possible concoction with rosehips in –boiled milk and rosehips; crushed woodlice and rosehips; mole’s blood and rosehips, whatever. Some speculated a magic ingredient had to be involved, so they added powdered unicorn horns (or, more often, some worthless chalk-based preparation they had purchased for vastly inflated prices from a dealer), mandragora roots, brimstone, etc. Others still wondered if it was the drinking vessel that was important; these fashioned themselves yew-wood bowls, badger-skull goblets, you name it. Sadly, most of these unfortunates found their cocktails to have precisely the opposite effect to that intended; pitifully few survived in the hobby for more than a decade. Even those who did last into old age were often severely damaged, mentally and physically. One went insane and died with the word ‘rosehip’ on his lips.