When the forest dwellers have gone to sleep and the last firefly has put out its light, the Stargazer gnome emerges from his little house beneath an old fir tree. He slowly unfolds his cloak — dark blue, almost black, embroidered with constellations. Ursa Major, Draco, Andromeda, Cepheus — all of them have found their places on that fabric, just as on a real star map. They say he embroidered it himself, on long winter evenings, checking against ancient charts and his own memory.
In the gnome's hands is a staff topped with a golden Moon. It helps him not to lose his way in the dark forest, though in truth the Stargazer never gets lost. He need only raise his head and see the starry sky. Every night he climbs his favourite hillock where the trees part and the sky opens, and begins his work. What exactly he does there for hours — no one in the forest quite knows. Some say he counts the stars. Others are certain he talks to them. The Stargazer himself does not elaborate — he only smiles mysteriously into his white fluffy beard.
He returns home at dawn, when the sky is only just beginning to lighten. He brews herbal tea, lays his staff by the door and falls asleep with a quiet smile — with that particular serenity that belongs only to those who know: the universe is vast, beautiful and entirely not accidental.
They say that if you place the Stargazer by your bed, he will watch over your sleep and bring calm, clear and very kind dreams. For all night he watches over the stars and knows exactly which dreams are the best ones.