The Black Mountain – A Tale of Courage and Unity

CHAPTER ONE: THE STONE DWARFS

Long, long ago, nestled in the shadows of the Black Mountain, there were two dwarven villages. One was home to the Red Dwarfs—strong, fast, and fierce. The other was home to the Blue Dwarfs—wise, clever, and gentle. Though their villages sat close together, their worlds rarely touched. The Red Dwarfs dwelled in a single grand wooden hall with a steep iron roof, while the Blue Dwarfs lived in cozy white-stone cottages scattered around the serene Mysterious Lake.

Each village had its own ruler. King Kronig of the Reds was tall and lean, with wild black hair and eyebrows so bushy they nearly touched. His glare could silence a storm. He ruled with an iron will and a fierce temper. In contrast, King Mar-Thoon of the Blues was round and warm-hearted. He wore a flowing red cape and had a smooth bald head that sparkled under sun and moon alike. His carefully brushed silver beard rested atop his plump belly, and he was known for his kindness and wisdom.

Kronig had a daughter named Clia—a bright, golden-haired girl with sparkling blue eyes and a cheerful heart. Mar-Thoon had a son, Kreggs—a brave boy, smart and nimble, known throughout the land for his prowess in hunting rhinoceros beetles and once even defeating a toxic mantis in fierce combat.

Yet despite the innocence of the children, the two villages had long been at odds. The ancient dispute stemmed from two things: who owned the Black Mountain and who had rightful claim to the Old Forest. Both believed their ancestors were born from stones that rolled down the mountain—stones that, after lying in the Old Forest for a hundred years under moss, dew, sun, and spiderweb, would awaken as dwarfs.

No one had ever reached the mountaintop. Kronig had tried more than once, only to return empty-handed. Some stones, before becoming dwarfs, vanished into the depths of the Mysterious Lake, never to be seen again.

Legends told that King Mar-Thoon was formed from a smooth, sun-warmed cobblestone, and Kronig from a jagged shard of black rock. Mar-Thoon married Khloe, a mischievous fairy from a mountain spring. Kronig’s wife, Flea, was the serene spirit of a magical meadow.

One morning, both villages gathered at the lake’s edge to draw water. Clia skipped toward the shore, laughing, but tripped on a rock. Her pail tumbled into the lake.

“My pail!” she cried. “Someone, please help me!”

Suddenly, the water churned. Slimy, brown-green tentacles surged upward and snatched the pail. Panic spread like wildfire—dwarfs screamed and ran, but Clia, lifting her skirt, stepped into the water, trying to retrieve it. The muddy lakebed caused her to slip, and she fell in.

Just then, Kronig leapt toward her, reaching her first. He pulled Clia to safety with one mighty thrust, but the tentacles latched onto him and dragged him into the depths.

“Use the sword! Strike it!” shouted Mar-Thoon, rushing to help his rival.

Kronig slashed wildly, but one tentacle coiled around his throat like a serpent, choking him. More tentacles dragged him deeper. Mar-Thoon stumbled over a tree root, dropping his sword, which sank into the lake.

Everyone froze in terror. The monster beneath the lake—Ramshtoore, an ancient creature with eight hairy legs like a spider and four grasping tentacles—had claimed yet another victim. Every month, Ramshtoore claimed a life.

Despite their rivalry, both villages feared Ramshtoore. The lake was their only water source. They had no choice but to face it daily. Years ago, the monster had devoured Kronig’s father, Bellad, ending a brutal war between the Red and Blue Dwarfs. Since then, they had coexisted in reluctant peace.

Now, Kronig was gone.

Clia wept inconsolably, and Kreggs stood by her side, trying to comfort her. The entire community felt the loss deeply.

A meeting was called on the Magic Meadow beneath a circle of giant toadstools. There, dwarfs debated for hours. Voices rose, tempers flared. But at last, they reached a decision.

Two heroes—one from each village—would venture into the lake and slay Ramshtoore. From the Reds, Clia’s cousin Klienthal volunteered. From the Blues, Kreggs stepped forward. Clia begged to join them, but the elders forbade it. Angry and heartbroken, she vowed to find her own way.

The dwarfs prepared an ancient secret weapon: a boat made of mica from the Black Mountain—light, unbreakable, and nearly invisible underwater. It had air supplies, basalt swords, spears, and even a cannon loaded with “killing darts.” Fireflies for light and helmets for diving were added.

That night, Mar-Thoon helped Klienthal and Kreggs launch the boat.

But Clia had already snuck aboard.

CHAPTER TWO: INTO THE DEEP

Inside the dim cabin, as the fireflies flickered to life, the boys gasped—Clia was curled up in a corner.

“You’re in big trouble,” Klienthal growled.
“No time for scolding,” Kreggs said. “Clia, stay behind us at all times.”

As they descended into the abyss, darkness pressed against the windows. The fireflies’ soft blue-green glow barely lit the silty waters.

Strange creatures passed by—giant pink snakes slithering into the muck, monstrous green fish gliding overhead, even the glowing Cwiklies, tiny bird-like creatures that thrived on sunlight but hid in the lake at night. One by one, they floated past scenes of eerie beauty.

Then, the boat hit bottom.

They released the fireflies. A faint glow revealed a massive black stone. As the boat neared, the stone shifted. A hidden abyss opened, and the boat slid into it. The trio was knocked unconscious.

When they awoke, they were in a lush, underground valley lit with greenish light. Yellow grass and blue bushes surrounded them. Two grey butterflies perched on a warm stone. As the children approached, the butterflies fluttered away, as if beckoning.

The trio followed them into a dark forest.

Suddenly—danger. A swarm of giant mantises charged.

Kreggs stood his ground.
“Run!” he shouted.
Clia refused.
“I’ll fight too!” she said defiantly.

As they prepared to fight, Clia was snatched from behind. Arrows whistled from the trees, scattering the mantises. The trio awoke in a high treehouse surrounded by pale-skinned, yellow-haired dwarfs.

Their leader, King Ghil Thoon, welcomed them.

“You are our brothers from the surface,” he said. “You fell into our land—Sin-La—a kingdom now ruled by the Invisible Dragon.”

He explained how the dragon forced them to offer children in tribute and brought deadly servants: mantises, giant toads, and red ants. The dragon lived deep in a cavern and could only be seen in mirrors.

“Then we’ll forge mirror shields,” declared Clia.

The dwarfs worked tirelessly. In two days, they crafted three magical armors: gold for Kreggs, silver for Klienthal, and white-platinum with diamond dust for Clia. Mirror shields and enchanted swords were also prepared.

A plan was drawn. They would trap the dragon using mirrors and enter the cave with fireflies and stealth.

CHAPTER THREE: THE INVISIBLE DRAGON

The next morning, Clia, Kreggs, Klienthal, and a golden butterfly named Bambos crept into the dragon’s lair. Total darkness. Complete silence.

Suddenly, a mirror reflected the dragon’s monstrous head: crooked fangs, three glowing red eyes, and bluish-black scales.

“Welcome, Clia, Kreggs, Klienthal… and Bambos,” came the dragon’s voice.

“You have no family,” Bambos growled. “You devoured them for questioning your cruelty!”

“So be it,” said the dragon, fading from view.

Then silence. Then dread. The dragon was hunting.

Clia, thinking quickly, hurled her dagger at the mirror. It shattered.

The fireflies flared—and the dragon was visible at last.

Kreggs struck with a dart. Klienthal pinned the beast’s paw. But the dragon’s tail lashed out, knocking them unconscious.

Clia lay still.

Then Bambos flew to her, whispering:
“The Mirror of Evil is broken. You must kill him—now!”

“But if I do… you’ll die too,” Clia whispered.

“I’m his brother. Once I ruled this land. But the mirror corrupted him. Save our people, Clia.”

With trembling hands, Clia found her dagger. She stood, chanted the dwarven spell—
“Roorr-gabbrro-abheim!”—and drove the blade deep into the dragon’s throat.

A thunderous roar shook the cavern. The dragon vanished. Bambos shimmered into a radiant butterfly of light.

Dwarfs rushed in, rescued the trio, and carried them to safety.

Outside, the sun returned. Birds sang. Even a fat hippo in a top hat danced in joy.

Suddenly, the mica boat returned from the sky—bringing reinforcements from the surface. The dwarfs rejoiced.

They later built a floating ferry that connected the pale, red, and blue dwarfs. They even reached the summit of the Black Mountain and found a mysterious Stone Book revealing ancient truths: the red dwarfs came from the forest, blue from the lake, and pale from the underground.

But those stories are for another time.

🧠 Moral of the Story:

True strength lies in unity, courage, and compassion—even when darkness threatens to divide.