The Dwarves of Wolves Gorge
Once upon a time, a small group of dwarves lived in the Wolves Gorge, half an hour from Ferrette, in the countless caves they had carved in the rock, between the cliffs of the Heidenflue River, deeply sunk in the mountain. They would live there in pairs, husband and wife, both very small and in perfect harmony, and had always enjoyed eternal youth, the unique brightness of their eyes shining like stars in the sky. When the time of haymaking and harvest came, they would usually show up from their caves in the hills, in a colourful crowd, bringing their tools made of shining silver, ligning up with the reapers, making the windrows fall regularly at their passage. They would attend both happy and sorrowful events, always offering to both young and old precious gifts before parting. People certainly knew how to express their gratitude towards their small patrons.
Yet, there was something quite unpleasant, for the dwarves’ dresses were so long that they would touch the ground, always hiding their feet. Soon, a few young girls could not restrain their curiosity anymore. One day before sunrise, they walked up the Wolves Gorge and spread fine sand on the large rocky plateau in front of them. They were thinking the dwarves would necessarily leave their footprints in the sand during their early morning stroll, and that they would then learn the truth. They hid in the bushes to observe. As soon as the sun rose on the rocky gate of the cave, the mountain dwarves hopped out and walked on the rocky plateau towards the forest. The young girls then noticed that the dwarves had left goat hoof printsin the sand. They laughed out so loud that the dwarves heard them and walked back to the caves with long faces. Since that day, they have never showed themselves ever again.