The Viewers' Views

20250829

Written for the "Kev's Odyssey" series.

The mountain had been an important religious site for both dwarves and trolls in the area since time immemorial. They each had their own name for it, steeped in symbolism and rich tradition, but since both names translated to “Great View” that’s what humans called the mountain.
And, while some humans laughed at this name (quite as if their species hadn’t come up with it), others saw it as a good sales pitch. Which the dwarves and trolls were happy about, it being that maintaining religious sites wasn’t free, and they were only conducting rites a few times a month.
So - as long as you adhered to the “visiting dates” clearly signposted at the entries - you were welcome to climb the mountain. And politely encouraged to spend money in various ways.
On the dwarf side of the mountain, you ascended via a set of zig-zagging stone stairs. Or, if you wished, you could pay a small fee to be shuttled to the top in a comfortably fitted cart, repurposed from the system used to transport materials. At each “elbow” was a plaza with seating, a water tap, and a stall offering refreshments. (And, tucked discretely away from the rest, latrines.)
On the troll side… there was a shop at the foot offering climbing materials. And a stall at the top where, if you’d rented equipment, you could hand it in and get your deposit back.
The system worked very well for everyone.
“What I don’t understand,” the dwarf Bjorn mused to his troll friend Bram, “is why anyone chooses your side. No offence, but it’s so much more work. You haven’t even put proper trails in.”
“Mm.” Bram tilted his head, rough brow furrowing, as he sought words. “Is… because… climbing gives better view.”
“Eh? But the view’s the same. Both sides lead to the same top.”
“Hmmm…” Bram shook his head and frowned. “View… hmh. View maybe same, but… viewer different.”
Bjorn scratched his beard, trying to understand. He couldn’t.
And when a dwarf can’t understand something, they test it. So the friends agreed to climb each other’s side of the mountain the next day. They’d meet at the top, share a good luncheon while admiring the view, and figure out if the route they’d taken had made a difference.
Marb was surprised to see Bjorn at the troll shop, particularly early in the morning and wearing a rucksack and his Serious Boots. But once he explained she was immediately approving and helpful, and he was able to rent an appropriately sized walking stick and such (all at employee rates, a longstanding agreement between the races which was rarely called in by dwarves).
Away Bjorn strode up the mountain.
Well, he started out striding, the initial slope being gentle and well-trodden. Before long he was having to plant his walking stick firmly at each step and place his boots with care, as the ground became increasingly steep and rocky.
It was so very different to climbing steps. On the other side, each step was the same. One foot in front of the other in a steady, thoughtless rhythm. Whereas here walking required his full attention.
There was no clear indication of how far you’d come, either. No turns to mark another tier complete, no benches reminding you to take a break. He was flagging badly before he realised he needed to stop for a bit, and firmly resolved to monitor himself better.
Plonking himself down on the first flat spot, shivering as the coarse stone eagerly drank warmth from his behind, he sipped at his flask of tea.
Hm. There was another difference - all he had here was what he’d brought. Thankfully he’d known to pack for the climb, and Marb had kindly filled in whatever he’d missed, but knowing that he had what he should need wasn’t as comforting as there being a stall offering everything, if he just managed another ten minutes of steps.
As his gaze turned downwards, towards the shop at the foot, he discovered another difference - on this side you could see where you’d been. The tiers of steps were packed closely together; they had to be, to get you to the top in comfortably shallow lines. So the only place you got a good view was at the turns, looking out over mountainside untrodden.
Here, he could pick out his rough path along, all the way to the foot. That was the gorse bush he hadn’t seen until it nipped at his cloak, there was that beautiful purple tree he’d paused under to admire sunlight dancing through it, that was the creek he’d followed along, listening to frogs sing in the misty morning air…
Amazing how many memories were in that wavering invisible line.
Bjorn chomped on a “climber’s bar”, made a mental note to tell Marb it was indeed much tastier than it looked, and continued on his trek.
The stones changed colour as he ascended, strata laid out before his eyes. He encountered wildlife at every turn, not just the birds and squirrels which flocked to the plazas but deer and foxes and all, also changing with the altitude. Every time he decided to rest he spotted both familiar and new points of interest below. A few he almost went back to investigate, but Bram would be waiting. And he sorely wanted lunch.
Sure enough the troll was settled comfortably on a bench at the top, clearly having been there a while.
“Hoi!” Bjorn called, weaker than he’d meant, and gladly handed his gear in to go collapse with his friend.
Bram nodded welcome. “Stairs easy. Much breath for talk, many people to talk to. Snacks, drinks, yum. View not as good, though.”
“No. No, it really isn’t.” Bjorn’s gaze across the horizon was coloured by his glow of accomplishment and the peace of the mountainside steeped into his soul. “You were right. I wouldn’t want to take that side every day, but… goodness. What a view.”

Prompt was “Climb”.