Valley of the Bell

There weren't always dragons in the Valley, though no one else remembers when. The small dragons have been around for as many generations as can be counted among the memories of the Elders. They are useful, playful, colorful and imaginative little creatures that make life living in this isolated crevice one of the highlights of every bright morning. Our valley is so deep and so long that there’s not a single tale left of anyone having come in from out there in over 30 generations. And only a few intrepid young fools with their playful little dragons in tow have ventured up to the edge just to get a peek at what lies beyond. They always come back exhausted and perplexed that all they can see is a vast flat wasteland in every direction; except for of course: the bell.

The bell. Seen many times over the past generations by those lucky enough to have crawled up a proper precipice at the right time of the year, and with good weather. Descriptions vary wildly. Yet there are some very consistent items that stand out. The bell sits nearabout 40 rows from the edge of the valley depending on exactly where you climb. The valley itself being roughly 1200 rows long and nearly 2/3 as wide. It seems no one can get beyond that wind carved valley edge because no matter how strong, stalwart or downright rotund the adventurers’; the winds howling across that flat slate will bowl you over as easily as a mini dragon is blown over by a breeze. So all you can do is stare into the wind as long as you can hold your place and wait until your eye engages the bell for the full long look that no one gets more than once. You can tell it’s a bell by the way it’s shaped and more conclusively the near-ever sounding deep rumbling tone that plods along the flatness to your ears. Finally regaling your aural palette with a satisfying, yet unremarkable rumble that worms its way from eardrum to toe and back in an ever-so-slow shiver of advance through your spine. But if you’ve been keen enough to listen below the rumble and get just that mere bit closer you can hear the bells’ keening in the wind in this singing or maybe sighing around the edges of the song…of that bell.

Klytan the elder was having one of his daily visits to our lone winemaker in the valley and harkening upon the virtues of the current vintage which I believe to be about an hour old at the time. Klytan was never much concerned about the vintage but rather just the expounding its virtues (or none) to any listening opponents however it might actually taste. Klytan was one of my teachers and as a result he had a small dragon of his own which was rather dowdy looking, much like his owner and not offended at being offered a drink of wine or anything else you could produce when asked in Plight. Plight means the small dragon was N’earveil. Supposedly N’earveil was one of the earliest writings discovered by many of our ancestors as it paraded along looking for mice and kcribies and other bugs that it might devour in its morning repast. Lore tells us that there have not always been dragons in and about our valley. (How the lore know I have no idea) But the lore was not very clear about the size and the shape and the demeanor of the early beasties. So, many centuries ago when our ancestors stumbled quite literally into this crevasse of the valley, we discovered much to our delight and at the relief of a great many who had envisioned large, dumb and rude great animals eating whatever dragons might fancy on any given morn; which would thus produce a land that was scorched by the heat and roar and flame! Diverging rudely back to my original thought, the great relief was that these small dragons; about the length of your arm and perhaps as around as your thigh, were friendly, playful, quite intelligent and seemingly as excited to seize upon us as we were them. The impression was clearly that they had no one to play with, save the ever-zipping mini-dragons; and were thus there by themselves. We of course were the strangers and it was nice to find a friendly face even if it was attached to a scaly, sometimes twitchy often drooly and bereft of manners, yet always smiling; so they all tend to stay hovering just around the site so they are able to look you eye to eye,… just. Very polite if you ask me.

However, and much to the relief of the Elders and the delight of the youngers; the wee-est among us found a rather delightful if not playful set of small dragons living in the valley much like puppies gone astray. Instantly in the open arms of kiddies licking any leftover edible smears and any other whathaveyou off their faces and hands; it was a mere days before everyone; even the most curmudgeonly Elder had at least one small dragon about the house. Or at least so goes the lore.

I am not sure how many generations had lived in our valley in fact I believe that at this point it had not even been given a name other than our valley which seemed to be rather succinct and descriptive and served very well for quite some time. Seeing as there were no other establishments that we were aware of within any kind of walking distance, just calling it “Our Valley” seemed homey and right. But the number of generations that have up until the time that I was born and had started attending school at age three, is a bit confused. My mother, who was a lovely and endearing lady who could coax things from a kitchen that’ll make your mouth water as soon as you spit them out politely…School was/is a period decided upon that I should start early so that she could prepare for the coming bundle of joy that would arrive in a few months being my erstwhile brother or sister.

Collectively we were starting to fill the valley up rather well. And why not? We had dragons for entertainment and fun. Some of them could either be trained to do simple chores like fetch or take the mail to the neighboring office without chewing it; uses were abounding and everyone was trying to teach their small dragon the latest fad. On their long dragon walk-abouts a man would toss a small ball to his or her small dragon until they hovered next to the neighbors windows and create a lavish show of affection that a person could not see through said window for days to come. But it was proof that your love for dragons is in no way proportional to the amount of loving and affection one displays, especially the smaller the dragon (or the child) happens to be.

So as the lore says, they have not always been dragons in our valley but who’s to say for sure? But if I know my teacher and I do believe that I unfortunately do, there’ll be much more to say about that in the very near future. Whether anyone is listening or not is yet to be determined…