This room is small and the walls are covered in hand-embroidered tapestries in jewel tones: red, blue, green, topaz, purple. The windows are small and have stained glass in them instead of clear glass, in elaborate geometric patterns. All the bedding is hand-woven and the matress on which I am lying is soft . The pillow is filled with goose down. There is music playing from a stereo in the corner; there are bookshelves filled with books. It's just a little chilly.
The trees are huge. Bigger than redwoods. It's daytime, but there isn't much light down here; things are pleasantly twilit.
The path is a footworn track through the ground cover. Nothing's much bigger than a dandelion because it's so dark here. You have to be observant to follow the path, but as long as you pay attention it's not hard.
The water is a river, maybe 30 feet wide. It comes up to about calf height in the middle, because this is a ford. The bottom is small rocks, mostly, with some larger ones here and there. You can see the sun here, sparkling on the water.
A silver cup, with elaborate filigree on the sides to provide a good grip. It holds about a half pint of liquid.
The key is about 8 inches long, made of brass. The wards are very complex and the shaft has decorative detailing as well. There's a red velvet ribbon looped through the end, with several small silver bells sewn on . It's the key to the door of my room.