Laugavegur, A Hinterland Journey

Chapter 19 - Valley of the Ancients

The stars shone brightly that evening and wisps of green light danced in the sky. However, sleep proved fitful for Tokki, who battled bad dreams most of the night. When morning finally came, Tokki was grim and stoic. But with his usual efficiency, he set about packing up their camp and preparing their rucksacks for travel. Veld had disappeared, but he was prone to such absences as he occasionally searched out his own food sources. Skari was slow in rising. He grumbled and moaned as he moved about, but his face had flushed out the pallor that had shown so weary on him the day before. Anja took the extra moment to visit Ratatoskr one last time. The stone figure stood stark against the white mist swirling behind it. Though she believed Skari's story of her parents, Anja could not shake the feeling that there was still something that the seer was withholding, and she wished desperately that Ratatoskr would awaken so she could get further answers. Pray as she might, the squirrel continued to stare off to the horizon, unmoved and unanswering. Anja sighed and placed a few birch cones around the squirrel to feed him on his journey to the afterlife.

By the time Anja returned, Tokki and Skari were cinched up and ready to walk.

"To the south!" called out Skari with renewed vigor. "The Bottomlands shall provide us respite and much needed supplies."

"The Bottomlands?" asked Tokki. Long ago they had outstripped the extent of his geographical comprehension.

"Yes, it is a camp nestled in a valley near the base of Miredale Mountain. It is populated mostly by reindeer herders and scavengers. The scavengers raid the dragon nesting grounds for teeth, scales, and treasure. Dragons are notorious hoarders. If there is a dragon's egg to be had anywhere in the Folkland, it will likely be in there."

Anja and Tokki fell into line behind Skari as he climbed the ridge separating Swan Lake from the adjacent valley.

"Who steals from a dragon? It seems exceedingly foolhardy," observed Tokki as they walked.

"Foolhardy, yes, but incredibly lucrative. You would not believe the hoards these dragons acquire through their years. Just remember though, it is not the treasure we are interested in, just an egg. These raiders are ready traders but will take a most unfavorable view of us should they think us competitors for their gold."

***

Skari crested a ridge and for the first time, they were able to gaze down a long, straight valley toward the base of Miredale Mountain. Skari sucked in a breath. "Wow, I have heard of it, but I have never seen it."

"Seen what?" asked Tokki as he crested the ridge a moment later.

"The Valley of the Ancients..."

Tokki looked up and stood awestruck. Anja blinked, twice. Flanking either side of the lowland valley stood enormous statues carved out of the surrounding mountains. They rose to a height of several hundred feet, gazing down with unseeing eyes. Some were so tall that their heads were lost in the low hanging clouds. A few of the statues Tokki recognized from the stories that Arden would tell about the Dwarven gods. At the near end of the valley was the great Dwarf, Nordi, the world resting on his broad shoulders. Further down the valley, Nordi's brothers, Westri and Austri, stood facing one another while the final brother Sudri was likely lost in the mist at the southern end of the valley. Gods that Anja knew well stood alongside the Dwarven gods as though they were all part of the same great pantheon. The mighty cow Auðumbla was curled up on the west side of the valley with Buri and Ymir seated on thrones either side of her. Odin, Villi, and Ve loomed from the east side of the valley with lesser gods and beasts filling the gaps between them. It was clear that some of the carvings were new, for their lines were crisp, their features stark and sure. Others were in various states of decay; moss encroaching on their faces, limbs and appendages lost in the battle with time. For an unfortunate few, all that remained was the suggestion of a torso emanating from a slope of loose rubble.