The Hilldwellers And The Glow of Dragonfire | Cozy Fantasy Story For Sleep

Hey, Jeffrey here, and welcome back to Nightfalls. I want to say a huge thank you to subscribers. you really do get the best of nightfalls and your support means the world. Recently, I found myself in a situation where I was flooded with anxiety. My heart rate quickened, my breath became shallow, and I was soon stuck in a white knuckle catch-22. I'm sharing this as I discovered that a way to escape that feeling was by focusing on some of the stories that I share with you, Slowing my breathing, relaxing my body, and you know what? The white knuckle ride was soon over. Phew. Tonight's story comes from one of our most calming series, The Hill Dwellers. This evening we're returning to the peaceful hills of Green County and the cozy burrow of Fern and Cary Bramblebur. It's been a while since the Hill Dweller pair last stepped out of their pastoral home, But now, with small children around the hearth, and a dwarf knocking on the door, another opportunity has come to do what hill dwellers are least likely to do, and step out on an adventure. Before we begin, here's the quick ad break that keeps this free content possible. To go ad free, subscribe via the link in the show notes. For a lot of us, making time to take care of our mental health isn't always straightforward. For me, therapy has been part of that. And one thing I've learned is that even after you decide to ask for help, finding care that's affordable and fits into your life can still be difficult. It can sometimes feel like choosing between getting the right support and being able to afford it, which shouldn't be how mental health care works. That's one of the reasons Rula exists. Rula is a healthcare company that helps you find in-network therapy that fits your budget and works with your insurance. Without the endless searching or confusing fine print. They work with over 100 insurance plans, which means many people pay around $15 a session. And depending on your coverage, it could even be zero. And instead of sitting on a wait list for months, you can often find a licensed therapist accepting new clients as soon as tomorrow. What I also appreciate is that Rula doesn't just match you and disappear. they stay involved, checking in along the way to make sure your care continues to work for you. Thousands of people are already using Rula to get affordable, high-quality therapy that's actually covered by insurance. Visit rula.com forward slash nightfalls to get started. After you sign up, you'll be asked how you heard about them. Please support our show and let them know we sent you. That's rula.com slash nightfalls. You deserve mental health care that works with you, not against your budget. A moment with Murphy is a little quiet space in the middle of all the noise. I'm Kerry from Murphy Sketches and each week I sit down for real heart-led conversations about the things that truly shape us as parents. Children's mental health, IVF, EHCPs, neonatal care and more. Each episode is a breather for you and a chance for guests to share what truly matters to them. You'll hear bits of my poetry woven in two. If you're looking for a moment to yourself, this is it. Follow A Moment With Murphy wherever you get your podcasts. All right, now back to Night Falls. Picture a hilly landscape, where soft green grass covers the earth like a blanket. The skies are blue, the day is clear, and the sun is golden. But here and there, hints of autumn appear. a russet flash of leaves, a hint of silvery chill on the wind, a bush filled with ripening blackberries, and the promise that comes with every turn of the seasons, a promise of possibility and change. Of course, in Green County the seasons may change, but some things remain constant. For example, on closer inspection of those rolling green hills, a keen observer would notice dozens of brightly painted doors set into the hillside. Behind these doors were the burrows of hill-dwellers who had lived contentedly here for as far back as any of them could remember. One of these doors, the shiny green door, led to the burrow of Fern and Cary Bramblebur. Fern and Cary have been married for five years now. Their homely burrow is lined with the same heaving bookshelves, furnished with the same copper pots and pans and patchwork quilts and leather armchairs as it was when they were married. There have been some additions to the space too. Three, to be exact. For Fern and Carrie are no longer just husband and wife. They are also mother and father to three delightful little hill dwellers. Their eldest, Daisy, had recently turned four. She possessed her mother's curious nature and her father's love of growing things. She could often be found in the garden, chattering away to the flowers as if they were her friends, or helping fur tend to the vegetable patch with her own tiny watering can. The twins, Bramble and Clover, had just celebrated their second birthday. Bramble was adventurous beyond his years, always eager to explore every corner of the burrow and every inch of the surrounding hillside. Clover, meanwhile, was a quiet, thoughtful child who preferred to sit and observe the world around her, with large, solemn eyes that seemed to take in everything. On this particular morning in late summer, the Bramblebur household was experiencing what Carrie had come to think of as one of those mornings. Bramble had somehow managed to get himself thoroughly covered in blackberry juice while helping Fern with the end-of-summer preserves. Clover had developed a sudden and passionate attachment to a particular blue-handled spoon, a blue-handled spoon that could not currently be located, and refused to eat her porridge with any other utensil. And Daisy had announced, with all the authority of her four years, that she absolutely could not get dressed because her favorite yellow dress was too wrinkled and needed to be perfectly smooth before she could possibly wear it. By the time the children were finally fed, dressed, and settled into a relatively peaceful state, both Fern and Carrie were feeling frazzled. They sat at their kitchen table, sharing a much-needed pot of chamomile tea, while the children played quietly in the next room. A glance passed between them, and both of them understood what it was meant to say, that they both loved their life and their family and couldn't bear for things to be any different than they were right now. But that also, maybe, perhaps, wouldn't it be nice if the two of them could have a little break? There was a rapping at the door of their burrow. Carrie sighed and Fern heaved himself out of his chair to open the door. A visitor, probably Mrs. Muckbuckle, wanting to know what the brambleburs were planning on bringing to this year's harvest feast, was the last thing they needed this morning, however well-meaning. Carrie heard Fern's footsteps on the way back into the burrow kitchen. Another set of footsteps accompanied him. It had to be Mrs. Muckbuckle. Carrie was about to tell Mrs. Muckbuckle that she would bring a brambleberry pie to the harvest feast, but she would have no time to prepare her famous pickled pumpkin. When she looked up and saw, standing beside Fern, not Mrs. Muckbuckle, but a heavyset bearded man who could only be a dwarf of some kind. He was, like all dwarves, strong and stocky, but there was a certain air of elegance about him too. He wore robes that sparkled with embedded crystals, and his beard was braided with threads that glowed softly in the morning dimness. After Fern had supplied him with a freshly brewed cup of chamomile, the dwarf introduced himself as Gleam Tender Prism. emissary of the Moonstone clans, a tribe of dwarves that lived in crystal caves deep below the Middle Countries. He explained that he and his fellow dwarves had been trying to contact Fern and Carrie for some time, through the magical dragon scale that Carrie had been gifted after she had met a dragon on an adventure up the Redioke River. The dwarf guessed that Fern and Carrie had probably been wondering about the strange lights and noises the dragon scale, which they used as a paperweight in their shared study, had been making these past three weeks. Fern and Carrie looked at each other. Strange lights. Strange noises. is. Carrie rushed into the study and returned with the dragon scale in her hands. She and Fern inspected it closely and saw that Gleamtender had been telling the truth. The dragon scale was behaving most unusually. Instead of its customary gentle glow, it was flickering rapidly between different colors. First deep blue, then forest green, then warm amber, then back to blue again. The pattern repeated over and over, as if it were trying to tell them something urgent. In fact, the scale was trying to tell them something urgent. Gleamtender asked the pair to look even more closely at the scale. At first, all Carrie and Fern could see were the shimmering, flickering colours. But then, as their eyes adjusted, they began to make out a scene. Together, they peered at vast underground chambers carved from crystalline rock, with stalactites hanging like chandeliers from their ceilings all illuminated by a silvery glow And then they saw these caverns growing dark their silver lights dimming one by one Carrie apologized to Gleamtender. The truth was, she and Fern had been so busy with Daisy, bramble and clover, with making meals and soothing tears and telling stories and doing pile upon pile upon pile of laundry on the banks of the Redeoke River, that they simply hadn't noticed the dragon scale's strange behavior. Gleamtender chuckled. He had four children himself, he told them, and he understood perfectly well how Carrie and Fern might have missed their signals. That was why he had come to pay them a call in person. Gleamtender finished his tea and sat his cup down and began to explain why exactly he was here. He told Fern and Carrie that the crystal caverns that provided light for the Moonstone clan's underground realm were failing. They had glowed steadily. for centuries, but now they were beginning to flicker and grow unsteady. The moonstone dwarves could repair them, but not without one important element. Dragonfire. It was the only fire hot enough to reforge the crystals. But the moonstone dwarves had lost contact with the surface world generations ago, and they had no way to communicate with dragons or negotiate for their help. In desperation, the dwarves had cast a sword spell in the ancient forge which stood at the heart of their caverns, calling out to the dragons that lived above them. Instead, though, the spell had activated the dragon scale that lived in the Brambleburr's study. Fern was sorry to hear that the spell had misfired, but Gleamtender put a warm, heavy hand on Fern's shoulder. The dwarves were of the opinion that the spell had worked perfectly, he said. They believed that Carrie and Fern were just the right people to make contact with the dragon who had given Carrie her scale and persuaded to lend some of its dragon fire to the dwarves. They would have to journey out of Green County, of course, and Gleamtender knew that the hill-dwellers had a reputation for being the most stubborn sorts of homebodies. But, he added with a smile, word had travelled even as far down as the Moonstone Caverns that two sturdy-hearted hill-dwellers had proven themselves exceptions to that rule. Fern remembered his journey into the forest with Aldrich Stormwind, how amazed he had been at the size of the trees and the way the air crackled with magic, and the sense he'd had that the world stretched far beyond what he could have imagined in his burrow in the hillside. Carrie thought longingly of the adventure she'd had travelling to the source of the Riediog River and befriending the dragon who had built a nest there She remembered how free and independent she had felt how alive with possibility the world had seemed But both looked into the living room where Bramble was busy pulling books from shelves Clover was drawing a detailed picture of a toadstool on the wall, and Daisy had taken every jar of jam from the preserve's cupboard in an effort to make herself a sandwich. They hoped the dwarves of Moonstone Caverns would find some dragonfire soon, they explained, and they really were honoured to be asked to help. But they couldn't just leave their three children behind and run off to track down a dragon. and they certainly couldn't take their children with them. At this, Gleamtender stood and strode into the living room. Clover was immediately transfixed by his sparkling beard and bramble by his sword. Gleamtender scooped them both up, and, singing a soothing dwarven song, made his way to the kitchen table, where he used his sword with surprising finesse to whip up a tower of brambleberry sandwiches. Somehow, he even managed to clean the crayoned toadstool off the wall and return the books, in alphabetical order no less, to their places on the shelves. He had four children of his own, he reminded Fern and Carrie, and he was known throughout the Moonstone Caverns for having a way with the littlest dwarves. "'He would be delighted,' he said, "'if Fern and Carrie would permit him to care for their three children.' "'So it was decided. "'Fern and Carrie would go on an adventure, "'not the first adventure for either of them, "'but certainly their first adventure together.' "'The next morning dawned, crisp and clear, the way autumn mornings always dawned in Hill County. Fern and Carrie woke early, partially from excitement and partially from the sounds of gleam tender already bustling about in their kitchen, preparing what smelled like the most elaborate breakfast that had ever been cooked in their burrow. When they emerged from their bedroom, they found the dwarf surrounded by all three children who were watching in fascination. as he flipped pancakes using his sword. Bramble was pointing excitedly at the blade while asking what appeared to be earnest questions about its various uses. Clover sat quietly braiding tiny flowers into Gleamtender's beard, while Daisy carefully took notes in her little notebook about the dwarf's cooking techniques. Gleamtender had prepared what he explained were pancakes made to the Moonstone clan's secret recipe. No matter how many times Carrie asked where that hint of honey flavour came from, or how he had made them so fluffy, Gleamtender would not reveal what was in them. As they ate, Carrie found herself studying the dragon scale more carefully than she had in months. In the morning light, she could see that its patterns had grown more complex, showing not just the familiar swirls of colour, but actual images of the dragon she had befriended years ago. The scenes within the scale showed a rocky outcrop overlooking a mountain lake, indicating that the dragon had moved since their last meeting and made a new nest higher up in the hills, somewhere with more space. Fern peered over her shoulder at the images flickering across the scale's surface, trying to determine their destination. Carrie closed her eyes and held the scale carefully in both hands, concentrating hard. Gradually, she began to sense direction and distance, as if the scale were a compass pointing toward its origin. The pool was northward, past the old oak grove, beyond the shepherd's meadows, up into the rocky country where the streams ran cold and fast. Gleamtender nodded approvingly when Carrie shared her findings. The moonstone dwarves had always maintained that dragon scales were among the finest magical instruments for finding one's way. He had no doubt the scale would guide them true. After breakfast, they made their final preparations. Carrie packed their travelling satchel with bread and cheese, dried fruit and a flask of cool water. Fern added a small pouch of seeds from their garden, thinking that dragons might appreciate gifts from the earth. Gleamtender, meanwhile, produced a crystal container from his pack, a beautiful vessel that would hold dragon fire safely for the journey back to the caverns. The children were surprisingly calm about their parents' departure. Gleam Tender had spent the previous evening telling them stories about the crystal caverns, complete with descriptions of underground gardens where luminescent mushrooms grew in careful patterns and workshops where dwarves shaped light itself into tools. The children were almost as excited about their upcoming adventure with their temporary guardian as their parents were about their quest. Daisy pressed a piece of paper into Carrie's hand, with a carefully written question about how long dragon eggs took to hatch, a matter that had been troubling her since she had first heard the story of Carrie's adventure. Bramble contributed his second best climbing rope to their expedition supplies. Even quiet clover had a contribution. She pressed a small flower from their garden into Carrie's hand. clearly intending it as a present for the dragon. At first, the journey took them along familiar paths, trails that Fern and Carrie had walked together countless times. They went past the meadow where they had been married, beyond the mill where the Riedeoak River turned the Great Wheel, and up into the hills where sheep grazed in fields bordered by old stone walls. They talked easily, remembering their midsummer wedding party in the meadows, making plans to take the children swimming in the Reedy Oak River next summer, laughing about the time one of old Mr. Muckbuckle's sheep got loose from the field and ended up in their garden, chewing on dandelions. But as they climbed higher, the landscape became less familiar and more wild. Fern and Carrie fell quiet and took in their surroundings. Here the paths were narrower and steeper, winding between outcrops of weathered stone and groves of trees that seemed older and more mysterious than those in the tamed countryside below. The air grew thinner and cleaner, carrying scents of pine and snowmelt, and something else that Fern couldn quite identify something that tasted of high places and wide skies By midday, they had reached a county that neither of them had ever seen before. Mountains rose ahead of them in rolling waves of blue and grey, their peaks dusted with early snow. Fern and Carrie stopped to rest beside a stream that tumbled down from the mountains. They sipped its clear, cold water and shared a simple lunch, cobbled together from the provisions in their packs. But though the food was plain and though they were drinking water, not the nettle wine that hill-dwellers were so fond of, neither of them could ever remember enjoying a meal so much. They ate and talked and laughed, and after the meal was over, they stayed together in comfortable silence, listening to the rippling of the water and the gentle shushing of the wind. Fern and Carrie could have stayed like this all day, simply enjoying each other's presence, in a way that felt both fresh and familiar. But they did have an adventure to finish after all, so they cleared away their lunch things and Carrie held up the dragon scale and studied the images flowing across its surface. They showed the dragon moving around her nest, arranging stones and tidying the area around her rocky home with care. It was as though she were preparing for guests, thought Carrie. She and Fern must be getting very close to the dragon's nest. The final approach to the nest took them up a steep, winding path that had been carved by running water over many seasons. It led to a natural amphitheater formed by curved rock walls, with a clear mountain lake at its center and a series of caves opening onto rocky ledges above the water. The dragon was waiting for them on the largest of these ledges, and Carrie was struck by how much she had grown in the six years since their last meeting. She was magnificent now, easily twice the size she had been, with scales that caught the afternoon light and threw it back in patterns of gold and green and deep blue. The dragon listened carefully, as Carrie explained about the fading magic in the crystal caverns. When she understood what was needed, the dragon's eyes grew warm with sympathy. Carrie produced Gleamtender's crystal container from their pack. The dragon reared back her head and breathed a stream of flame toward the container. A blast of heat was overwhelming. Carrie and Fern felt as if they were standing next to a forge. The forest around them was singed and smoking. Worse still, the container was empty. The dragon had stopped her flame as soon as she realized that its heat would overpower her friends. So Carrie and Fern had nothing to take back to Gleamtender. Fern was looking about him. It was true that the dragon's flame had singed the forest. For that matter, it had also singed his eyebrows. But the flame had not simply been destructive. He touched Carrie's elbow and pointed to where new flowers and vines were blooming in ashen patches of the forest. They were growing with incredible speed, unfurling leaves and petals. These fire-forged plants and flowers were crystalline and jewel-bright. Carrie agreed that they were beautiful, but she didn't understand why Fern was so interested in them until he rummaged through their pack and pulled out the small pouch of seeds he had brought as a gift for the dragon. Instead of offering them to her, he began arranging them in a careful circle on the forest floor. Then he placed the crystal container inside the seeds. Once he and Carrie were at a safe distance, he nodded at the dragon to show that she should try to breathe flame again. The dragon unleashed another flame. The seeds began to sprout immediately, growing into a ring of glowing green vines, studded with shining flowers that curved up and over the container like a protective dome. When the flame finally stopped, the container was full of silver-blue fire that pulsed like a living heartbeat. Holding the container carefully, Carrie thanked the dragon. Then she and Fern began their journey home, down the mountain, along the stream, and finally back to familiar sights of meadows and rolling hills. When they arrived back at their burrow, they found Gleamtender sitting by the fire with all three children gathered around him, listening to what sounded like the most exciting story any of them had ever heard. When he looked up and saw the container and the white-blue flame that danced inside it, he thanked Fern and Carrie sincerely. But both felt as though they should be thanking him. The time they had spent together was a rare and precious gift, and their time away had only made their simple life at home in Green County feel even sweeter than it had before. Gleam Tender said goodbye to the Bramble Bars. Before leaving, he made good on his promise to fern and carry. Whenever they needed time for adventures, they had only to send word, and he would happily care for their children. Fern and Carrie knew they would call on Gleamtender soon, but not too soon, because right now, surrounded by their laughing, talkative children, nestled by a flickering fire and with a pot of chamomile tea brewing on the kitchen table, They weren't in any hurry to leave their own little burrow for a good long while. We'll leave our story there for tonight. I hope you enjoyed our time with Fern and Carrie. They always make me feel so peaceful. Sleep well, sweet dreams. Amen. Amen. Thank you. Thank you. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. h det det det . . Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Amen. Amen. Thank you. Amen. Amen. Thank you. Thank you. Amen. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Amen. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.