Deep, deep in the woods, there is a house.
A house that looks like a windmill, but isn't a windmill.
Behind the house that isn't a windmill is a guesthouse, that isn't a guesthouse.
In the guesthouse-that-isn't-a-guesthouse lives a Russ.
Russes are rather silly fellows who makes things we need, but don't know we need.
They toil away in their little workshops, making odd things for fun, not worrying too much about whether they'll make much from it, because worrying would make the making less fun.