This is a story of two gnomes who followed a rumor about something strange at the top of a mountain. These two, Coventina and Orian, decided that this rumor was one to chase for it would become a great telling and story. They packed their bags, planning to make it to the lake of the alps in a day, gather what they needed and head back to civilization the following morning. If only they took this rumor a little more seriously.
“How many of these big stone steps were supposed to be until we got to the top?” Coventina asked while adjusting her giant backpack, hopping up another step made of stone. A shrug was all he offered as a reply. ‘82… 83…’ Orian thought to himself as they climbed. She shrugged back at his silence but assumed he was counting to himself as he usually would. The forest trail turned into a granite shelf that made them feel like goats. The path shifted again into a meadow following the clear water to giant waterfalls. ‘231… 232…’ As the number increased in Orian’s head, the steps started to crumble just a little bit more, showing signs of their age.
Soon the gnomes found themselves crawling across fallen logs that acted as the bridge across the river. Nearly making it over dry they both shared a laugh in knowing that the forest would soon be behind them and the peaks of these alps lay just ahead. Would these rumors hold any truth to them? Is it just an old tale that was made up in a tavern by some drunkard? They both supposed that either way the journey itself would be a story to share.
“606... 607... 608…” Orian spoke aloud as they shimmed up the crumbling stone that hung on to what was most likely stone steps ages back. “I knew you were counting!” She exclaimed as her backpack wobbled unsteadily with her exciting observation. “Er, I’m good!” She giggled, catching her balance on the rocks. Then it was there. Only a few times they lost the trail and wandered around, but they made it to the great lake in the alps. “Only a little further now.” He started and kept walking up the huge boulders. “What?” she asked with a frown. “Yeah, remember? It’s the higher lake we need, which is just one more cliff up and 22 stone steps to go. This lower one will give us nothing we came for.” He again shrugged, turned around, and started climbing a little further. After a couple of deep breaths, she found the energy and followed her husband up to find that higher lake.
“I’m so done with being a mountain goat, this is beautiful!” Coventina sat in her chair as Orian finished the last tie-downs on their camp and presented her with a sip of liquor from his flask. “Same, now I guess we wait and see what happens.” Not a moment later the clouds appeared with the rain. And then the noise. The deep, deafening, growls and echoing roars surrounded the gnomes.
They could do nothing but scramble into their tiny tent and listen. “It’s real? It’s really real? We need to get out of here, he sounds like he does *not* want us here!” Her eyes were wide with a terror she’s never shown Orian before. Shaking his head he tried to calm her down, “We can’t. We will be soaking wet, cold, the night is approaching and at least we have shelter for now. We need to just wait and see what happens. If he wants us dead we’d be dead running or not. And besides, at least we will die together?” He smiled and tried to laugh. It worked. She breathed in and told herself this is why they came. To listen.
The angry growls and intimidating roars soon seemed to change as the two listened. He wasn’t that angry, it was just how one would hear such a being speak. Fillagore. He shared his ancient name with the two little ones. They listened to his tales and stories of the alps for hours. Every time they tried to peek at his form they could just see shadows in the clouds when lightning would flash. Dark soon arrived and the loud tales from Fillagore in the sky ended.
The walk back down the mountain was filled with giggles as they knew they survived something not many would believe. The two gnomes knew the secret of this place, a secret they hoped more would come to find themselves. A couple of elves found themselves stuck on a river bed which the gnomes helped guide their way. Orian thought to warn them of the dragon above the peaks, but instead smiled and wished them luck assuming they would not believe gnomes survived such an encounter.
“I can almost taste the ale, let’s get going. We are just about to the bottom!” Coventina urged Orian on as he blissfully wandered down lost in thoughts and taking in the scenery just as slowly as he did on the way up. “You’re right I know! I’m just sad to leave… but a strong ale will be needed before we can share the venture.” He picked up the pace getting them to the tavern just in time for that drink and tale.
And that is the story of our hike in the Trinity Alps where we spoke with a dragon.
Our campsite at the Upper Lakes of Canyon Creek, Trinity Alps.
