Legends – The Monksville Chronicles (3/124)

I
A Tale of Giants

Sit and listen, small giants,
for the endtimes have found us,
and I’ve one final story to tell.


Legends

In truth, legends never told the tale of the crescent moon valley; it’s just as well, as legends often lie to make the story they hold more interesting so it can be remembered. The truth of the matter is that the valley stood between the snowcapped mountain and the range of its brothers for just as long as the river flowing through it fell into the Wanaque Reservoir below, even longer perhaps – a bit of turkey or the egg, sure, but water must flow over land for it to drop and become a waterfall, so perhaps the valley was there first, after all. Perhaps the valley’s river created the Wanaque Res’. Perhaps we could have settled there all along.

All the giants in the tribe, from the gray-headed elders to the batch of small giants who had claimed their fifth cycle and still went on nameless, knew something was at the top of that waterfall, that something must provide the Wanaque with its water. No scouts were ever sent up to explore as the climb was too treacherous, so decreed the elders, and it shan’t have been made until doing so was necessary, but still they all knew something must be up there. The world cannot end with a tall crag of quartz and granite, it simply cannot. Besides, even with the drought the Wanaque still had some water, the lakebed was never fully reduced to hardpan. If not a river flowed atop that craggy monolith then surely a lake of some sort sat, else they’d have crossed over the Wanaque Desert rather than settling on the shores of the Res’.

Yes, all the tribesfolk knew there was something up there where the water sat before it fell, and the sight of the river (named the Wanaque River before the bonfire pit was even dug) from the plateau surprised none, not even the mighty wagoneers who had to make that treacherous climb twice. What did surprise the giant tribe, not just the exhausted wagoneers with palms a’leak with wineberry juice but the entire tribe, was the pair of foreign giants waiting for them in the middle of the valley where a split river rejoins and becomes one.


This has been the third subchapter of the first chapter of The Monksville Chronicles. Here is everything you need to know about it:

The Monksville Chronicles

I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.

The Hillside Commons has a Facebook page. Here’s that.

If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~

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