Lerthar Canyon

"Are you sure, youngsters? I had promised you a single story, no more, and you have heard this one before." A figure of rock and stone sat below an enormous oak tree, staring at the group of little creatures in front of him. He tugged his beard of moss and vines and frowned.

A small girl made of twigs and leaves nodded vigorously. "Yes, Lerthar! It is the best story!"

The other children began squealing, agreeing in their young voices. Lerthar sighed his deep rumbling sigh. "Fine, but listen quietly!"

With a loud cheer, the children sat down, turning so silent that Lerthar could hear the rustling leaves above. 

-

"Long ago, when this world was young, and the moon was silver, I was born within the mother-mountain. She was as old as the world. The angry gods from below had pushed her up through the crust before even water came from the skies. With her came many children, and I was the smallest: only a hundred trees long and twenty wide.

As with all canyons, consciousness came slowly to me. My first thought was when a strange thing was blown into my borders by sister wind. Ah, I remember it so well! Confusion, exultance, curiosity! What was this object, so different from the hard grey rock and softly flowing sand? Brown, with green things attached that could bend and fold! Back then, I knew nothing of trees, leaves, or bark—only of stone, and sand, of the wind and the earth.

But I would learn.

As the branch decayed, a small acorn took root in the soil at the bottom of my canyon. Such a sight! Something peculiar, changing all the time with a speed faster than anything I had seen! It tried burrowing its small roots into my skin, but the rock was too hard, and it started wilting.

Was I to lose the only thing, not stone or sand this quick? No! With a thought, I moved aside rock, giving it free passage for its roots. None too soon, because the winter storms came and almost uprooted it. I sheltered it as best I could with boulders, and to my surprise, the small sapling survived and grew. 

Years passed by, fast for me, slow for the young tree. As it grew, birds soared through my skies, speaking to me off forests and creaks. Of plants and creatures that I had never seen! And of beings, foul and evil, that ate all, burned the rest and ravaged the rivers. I listened and learned, but never saw any of these monsters, even though I always asked, hungry for knowledge. 

Then came the first year that the tree bore nuts! Wondrous things, these nuts! Three small creatures, squirrels I would learn, soon arrived and nestled in the tree, eating the nuts. As they did not harm the tree, I let them be, and at a speed that I could hardly fathom, they multiplied. 

To my astonishment, the old ones withered and died, so fast I could barely believe it, while more were born. As the tree grew, so did the group of little beings. So many there were that it started troubling me. Would they harm my tree? Should I act? 

Before I could decide, a solitary creature came, small, but larger than the squirrels and fast. It ate the squirrels! Not all, but enough to stop my worry. A cougar it was, and it wandered away on many occasions, always to return. When the highest leaves of the tree grew to the edge of my rocky surface, it came with a mate, and they too multiplied. 

The seasons came and went, and young saplings, children of my beautiful tree, began spreading—slow, like their mother, but hardy. Under my watchful eye, they thrived. 

My once barren body soon became covered in green, and like the squirrels before them, birds and mice, foxes, and badgers found me. Again I heard stories of monsters, creatures that destroyed the wind and sullied the seas. 

Then came that fateful night. The midnight sky turned angry, red. Flashes and thunder, louder than the loudest storm echoed through mother-mountain. I watched in horror as parts of her began crumbling. My brothers, towering peaks that had stood there before my recollection shattered, stones and sand raining down. I felt the minds of the others around me vanish. One by one, they winked out, until only I remained, hidden away in the bosom of my now silent mother.

For many days and nights did the horrible storm last, the longest I have ever known, and when it stopped, the horrid ash followed. Black and thick, it fell without end, blanketing the lands and covering the trees. With all the effort I could muster, I formed a ledge that shielded part of the forest, but it wasn't enough. Trees and bushes wilted, and the small creatures died one after the other. 

Seasons long it lasted, winter arriving many times until the black rain stopped falling. Just a few of the creatures had survived, hidden in my beautiful tree. Only she had weathered the storm, the others falling one by one. 

With the ash, things grew again, and as they did, I found that something had changed, I had changed! With will and effort, I could create this form.

It took long, even for me, but eventually, I became green again. But not just I had changed, some of the trees were different, like me. They could learn and walk. They… are you!" Lerthar chuckled, staring at the small group of children.

"But Lerthar, what happened outside the mountains?" The small leaf girl spoke up in a squeal.

"I don't know, but now it is time to stop! When the moon turns blue, I will tell another story!" 

The children sighed but knew better than to ask him again. Rustling and rumbling, they rushed away. Alone, Lerthar stared sadly at the ridge above, the border of his being. 

"Who knows what happened outside... "