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In wesnotice, Delfador says to Conrad - "well, here we are at the Great Crossroads." Fantasy, what kind of genre for mentally retarded morons is this, damn it, everything there is "great." Mountains, seas, rivers, forests, crossroads.
Welcome to the Great Vegetable Gardens, Hero. Don't step onDo not disturb the eternal peace of the Ancient Turnip.
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Probably everything there is so pathetic that any somewhat substantial thing seems great, and any ancient one seems better. I can't seem to recall a great self-laying tablecloth or an ancient pond in Russian fairy tales. Because the Slavs are leading the way! What could be good about an old broken thing? Or great? Huh? Huh?! Only if you have a doormat mentality, then yes, it's worth inventing something incredibly cool that cannot exist, or that is irrevocably lost. And then play the second tune on the flute. If that's the case, then yes. But if not, then not! Why? Only for fools.
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It started so well, and then I went off on a tangent again. Oh well. No one died.