An Original Tale

By Cathy Lichty

High up in the mountains there lived a troll family; Skaktilr the father, Aszeja the mother and two young male trolls: Retilr and Jarkon. They lived in a cave and guarded a high pass between two peaks. The pass didn’t need guarding but the troll family had claimed the pass as their own and they would demand payment of a toll from any animals or humans who tried to go through the pass. For animals the payment was usually their lives and the troll’s cave was littered with the bones of animals who had had the misfortune of entering the pass. For humans, the trolls were usually content to scare the humans and laugh themselves silly watching the frightened humans go scampering down the path.

Skaktilr, Aszeja, and Retilr were all quite content with this life and often amused themselves spending an evening recalling the latest terrorizing episode with a human. But Jarkon was different. He was a disappointment to his mother and father. His brother Retilr delighted in tormenting him. Jarkon did not like scaring the humans and he never participated in eating the animals. Jarkon was a vegetarian, much to the disgust of his parents. He ate tree fungus, fiddle ferns, nuts and other things he found growing in the forest. When he encountered an animal heading to the pass he would try to shoo it away to save it from the fate his troll family would impose.

Jarkon tried to do the same for the humans. He was curious about the humans and would have liked to study them and even maybe get to know them. They seldom arrived alone but seemed to travel in pairs or small groups. He liked to hide and listen to them share their thoughts and sometimes, jokes. Jarkon thought the humans seemed nice. Jakon thought scaring the humans was mean.

One day Retilr had captured a squirrel as it was going though the pass. He had it in his hand and was shaking it in Jarkon’s face. “Here Jakon take it! Shake the life out of it! What’s the matter with you, what kind of troll are you? You are a disgrace!” Jarkon backed away in revulsion, his face burning. He looked up and spotted his parents standing on a ledge above the pass looking at him in disappointment and disgust. Jarkon turned and ran into the woods.

He didn’t know how far he ran or where he was when he finally collapsed shaking with exhaustion and sobbing. His family was ashamed of him; he didn’t belong with them; he wasn’t a troll like them. He was different.

Jarkon huddled under an overhanging ledge of rock for a long time, thinking about his life, trying to figure out what to do. He wasn’t going back, that was sure. Jarkon noticed fingers of pink begin to stretch into the eastern sky. The sun was coming up and he needed to find shelter. Trolls cannot be outside in strong daylight. Morning sun or evening sun is fine, even a cloudy day is not a problem. But strong midday sunlight can turn a troll to stone, all trolls know that. Jarkon had to find a cave or a hole to hide in. Since he had been sitting against a wall of rock he followed the wall hoping to find a cave. The fingers of light were stretching further and further into the sky. He had to find something soon or be turned to stone. His heart was thumping in his chest and he was panting when he felt a crack in the rock. He explored it up and down with his fingers. Toward the bottom of the wall the crack widened, not a lot, but just enough that Jarkon could wiggle into the crack. When he slid as far back into the crack as he could he suddenly found that it opened into a small cave. It was big enough to let him sit inside away from the sun’s rays. There was a small line of water dripping down one wall, enough to give him something to drink. This would do until evening.

When evening had come and the light had softened, Jarkon came out of the cave and began moving down the mountain watching for tree fungus, mushrooms and fiddle ferns to munch on. As he moved down the mountain he thought about his life, if he wasn’t a good troll and his family didn’t want him, what did his future hold.

Jarkon sat on a boulder munching a fiddle fern and watched two squirrels running along a branch and jumping from one tree to another. They were chasing each other through the trees. He smiled as he watched them. He liked the little forest creatures and enjoyed watching them play. Jarkon became aware of a smell in the air, a smell of smoke. He stood up and looked around for the smoke of a fire. Just down the mountain a bit to his right he saw a dark line of smoke rising into the air. His eye followed the line of smoke down and then he saw the flicker of a flame off and on through the trees. The flame wasn’t growing, it wasn’t moving. Ahh, it was a campfire. Jarkon knew that meant humans. Darkness was gathering as Jarkon silently made his way toward the campfire. When he could just make out the human voices, Jarkon stopped and climbed up onto a ledge of rock. He flattened out along the rock making himself almost disappear into the rock surface. He lay there quietly listening to the humans talk.

After a while the humans snuffed out the fire and crawled into their little tents zipping the flaps closed. Jarkon could not resist climbing down from his rock ledge and silently walking into their campground. He circled the campground and noted the sounds of deep breathing coming from the tents. He smiled to himself as he sat around the campfire, stirring the coals when he saw a flicker of flame that should not have been there.

In the morning when the campers awoke and began to make their breakfast and then to break camp, Jarkon was watching them from high up in a pine tree. He watched them set off, taking note of the direction they were headed. Then he found himself a cave to hide out in from the strong noon sunrays. Later he emerged from his cave and begin to track the hikers. He stayed with the hikers for the next two days, tracking them and spying on them at night. One night it rained hard and Jarkon had scratched a channel in the earth around the tents to direct water away from the tents and keep the campers dry. On the last night he listened to the campers express their sadness at having to leave the mountain in the morning and return to the valley and the world of people.

Jarkon was again perched high in a tall pine tree when the morning came. He watched the campers pack up and head down the mountain. He had enjoyed his time with them and he would miss them. Jarken climbed down and headed up the mountain. His spirits were high and his step was light. He couldn’t wait for evening to come when he could set about to find a new group of campers to track. Jarkon had found his purpose, he knew what he was going to do with his life. He wasn’t made to scare or terrorize humans; he was made to help them. He would spy on hikers and campers and find ways to help them, keep them safe. That was going to be his life work!

Jarkon has been doing just that for many years now. No one has reported actually seeing him but many campers and hikers have reported feeling his presence near them as they sit around the campfire at night. Some have reported finding lost items like hats or gloves lying in front of their tent in the morning. Or seeing their camp fire more thoroughly stamped out and scattered when they inspect their site in the morning. Once in a great while someone will even insist they heard chuckling coming from the top of a tall pine when a funny story has been told among the campers gathered around the fire.

So don’t expect to see him if you go hiking, but if you look around carefully you might find signs that he is around, watching over you.

Maybe a pretty rock placed just where it will catch your eye. Or maybe you will see your lost scarf waving from a branch as you head back down the path. Jarkon hopes you have enjoyed his forest and his mountain and will come back to visit again one day soon.

FINI