The fairy tale was inspired by a walking seminar (February 2025) through the mythical landscape of Istria. It emerged from reflections on the region’s symbols, stories, and natural features, woven into a new narrative blending heritage-making and imagination.
I once joined a “walking seminar” group eager to explore, observe, research, experience and describe the paths that lead through narrative traditions. One of our goals was to write an essay structured like a magical fairy tale. Together, we ventured into the mythical Park of Rodik, renowned for its legendary richness. Popular, scholarly and scientific articles and books all attest to this, as do artistic representations in the form of stone sculptures and geomantic drawings of mythical beings. Some sensitive individuals claim to be able to perceive these beings through visual manifestations of energy. Situated on an elevation at the junction of the Karst and Brkini regions, the park lies on the slopes of Ajdovščina and Čuk, above the village of Rodik. A modern museum in this place presents the mysteries passed down through generations, preparing visitors for an immersive journey through the mythical landscape along forest paths.
Our journey through oral tradition began in the museum. Guided by the park’s conceptual creator and a researcher, we explored mythical representations through the lens of science — the “dullest” perspective — as well as art and folklore. “The question is, how much of the supernatural is merely an invented scientific concept that fits the definition of the extraordinary from the perspective of a single scientific reality?” The experiential setup of the exhibits, featuring visual and auditory effects alongside concise yet informative explanations on artistic panels, enriched our guide’s explanations. “Locations with a higher density of stories suggest an increased likelihood of archaeological remains from ancient peoples.” Regarding the park’s concept, our guide emphasised that they had no intention of creating Disneyland, but instead collaborated with the local community, adhering to the principle of minimal and respectful intervention in the space. Personally, I gained an important insight from the museum visit: to experience the mythical, one must open their subtle senses and allow the space itself to speak, perhaps providing an answer to humanity’s eternal question — what lies beyond death?
We set off along a wide forest road, climbing up the shaded side of the slope. The January chill drove our hands deep into our coat pockets. A thin mist lingered in the valley, but above the bare treetops, the sky was a deepening shade of blue, as if descending to drape itself over the cold winter branches. After about fifteen minutes, we reached a gentler slope and stopped at an upright sandstone block inscribed with the name Čuk. “This plateaued peak, called Čuk,” our guide said, pointing above the logging road, “is linked to numerous stories. The hill is said to be full of water, and a lintver—a dragon-like serpent and ruler of thunder and lightning—is said to reside in the lake. Evidence suggesting that this is a pre-Christian cult site includes an artificial embankment of limestone blocks around the lake. This material is foreign to the area, meaning that considerable human effort would have been required for its construction. Sudden storms frequently form here, a phenomenon linked to its location between the sea and the mainland. People avoided this place. If the lintver sees a human, woe betide them! This is why the lintver is depicted without eyes in the stone sculpture on the plateau. We enter his world through this threshold,” she said, gesturing towards a stone ledge embedded in the flysch ground beside the stone block inscribed with Čuk. “We will learn more about the lintver in a few moments when we examine the site up close. But first, I will say a few words about the ancient burial ground, whose remains archaeologists discovered on the lower side of the path…” As she spoke, I searched for a glimpse of the lintver sculpture, wondering if it was already in sight.
A short path, only about thirty steps long, led from beyond the stone threshold up a gentle slope to a sunlit plateau. The intensity of the blue sky was breathtaking, in stark contrast to the black lines of tall, slender tree trunks reaching towards the heavens. “Magical!” I thought, longing to step into the sunlight and listen to our guide. I took a few steps forward. But the moment I crossed the stone threshold—!
—I was suddenly engulfed in blinding light accompanied by a deafening thunderclap. An immense energy surged through me as if an explosion had ripped through my body. I stood frozen to the spot.
When I had recovered from the shock, I realised that I had apparently survived a lightning strike. My eyes gradually adjusted to the daylight. Still paralysed by fear, I looked around. The space glowed in vivid, dreamlike colours. The forest was gone. Instead, solitary majestic trees were scattered along the hillside, pastures stretched across gentle slopes and small fields covered the flatter areas. Right before me were towering, vibrant green ferns. Their unfurled fronds, with their spiralling young shoots extending like the necks of birds, resembled a dense flock of fantastical creatures. A mysterious force pulled me forward. I waded through the lush growth and soon emerged into a clearing.
Before me was a mirror image of what I had seen before the lightning had struck: the blue sky below and the thin black trees stretching downwards. “Water!” I thought, crouching down to touch the surface. “Don’t!” a voice warned. I looked around, but there was no one there. “If you touch the water, it will pull you in and the lintver will devour you. He will soon sense that a human has entered his realm!” The voice came from a mighty tree standing in a meadow near the strange lake. “Hide on the shady side of my trunk,” it urged. “When my shadow reaches the water, drink a sip of the shadowed water. Take a few drops with you and then run — run as fast as you can to the walled city on that distant hill. Hurry! My shadow is almost touching the water!”
I quickly took out an empty bottle from my backpack, dipped it briefly into the shadowed part of the lake and took a sip. “Run! The Lintver is rising from the depths! Don’t look back, or you are doomed!” the tree called out. A surge of energy filled me and I ran with enormous strides across ferns, pastures and meadows towards the distant city. I felt a splash behind me, then the beating of massive wings, and soon the hot breath of the beast on my neck. I leapt through the city’s wide-open gates just in time.
“Thank you, tree, for your help!” I gasped, collapsing behind the city walls. Was this all a dream? Where was my group? Where on earth was I? Questions swirled through my confused mind as I gazed at the cobbled road leading past gardens to the houses of the strange town.
“You are in Ajdovščina, the City of Giants.” I looked up. The words came from a black raven perched on the wall, watching me closely.
I set off towards the bustling town. There were shops, taverns, workshops, street singers, market vendors and beggars. I observed their clothing and footwear and listened intently to their language, which I could not understand. No one paid any attention to me — was I invisible? At this thought, I spun around to see my shadow in the midday sun. But there was none.
I hurried towards the smoke rising in the distance — there must be a forge there. Sure enough, I quickly found a piece of ironstone on the ground and tucked it into my pocket. Then, I rushed to find the city gates.
Where to now? I wondered, scanning the landscape as the sun neared the horizon. Suddenly, the black raven appeared once more, circling above me and saying, “Your invisibility will soon wear off, so hurry down into the forest before the Ajdi see you. Then keep walking straight ahead until you reach the tavern at the edge of the kingdom. You can rest there for a while, but beware! The innkeeper will be kind and offer you food, drink, and free lodging. But you must only ask for a piece of bread and a glass of water. Drink the water in the tavern, keep the bread in your pocket, pay with the iron stone, and leave quickly. Follow the path towards the brightest star, no matter how tempting the soft bed may seem.”
By the time I stepped out of the forest, night had fallen. A dimly lit tavern, crowded with people, stood in a clearing. The loud chatter was audible even from outside. I went in and walked straight to the bar, asking for a glass of water and a piece of bread.
“Come in, traveller!” the innkeeper said kindly. “We also have lodging.” It’s already past midnight. You should rest up and leave in the morning; you must be tired and hungry.”
“No, no, I must go now,” I replied, quickly drinking the water, putting the bread in my pocket, and placing the iron stone on the counter.
The inn fell silent in an instant. The guests and the innkeeper stared at me, but I swiftly stepped out into the night, my legs barely able to carry me.
What now? It was as dark as a cave outside, and I couldn’t see the path. Then I remembered the instructions: to follow the brightest light back into the forest. Strangely, the forest was not dark, but oddly illuminated.
After a few steps, I heard a voice say, “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you!” I turned around and saw a large, shaggy bear emerge from the bushes. Then the beast spoke.
“Give me the piece of bread you bought with the ironstone at the tavern.”
I reached into my pocket and handed it to him.
“I have waited three hundred years for this bread to break my curse. But no living soul ever passes by that tavern. The innkeeper and the devils disguised as men trick every traveller into sleeping in a soft yet short bed. When the traveller dozes off, they cut off as much of their body as extends beyond the bed at the head and foot ends. Then they take everything he owns, including his soul. But you paid with an iron Ajd stone, which frightened them enough to let you go.”
The bear swallowed the bread and said, “At first light, I will turn into a giant again. You helped me, so I will help you. The journey will be perilous, as the path to your world leads through the realm of Kobilja Glava. At this hour of the night, the witch’s spirits tear anyone who crosses their path to pieces. They are especially ruthless towards those who have fern seeds in their shoes or can understand the language of animals. Give me a sip of the shadow water of the Lintver so that I may be faster and stronger. Together, we will cross this dreadful land invisibly. Stuff moss into your ears and keep your eyes tightly shut throughout the journey, because what you might hear or see in the realm of the Kobilja glava could destroy you, even in your own world.”
I climbed onto the bear’s back, plugged my ears, held on tightly to his fur and closed my eyes. We plunged into the night. Soon, I could feel the shaking, pulling, tugging and pinching. Were we in the air or on the ground? Upside down or right side up? I clung even tighter to the bear’s coat and pressed my eyelids shut.
Then, we stopped.
I opened my eyes and unplugged my ears.
“We are safe,” he said. “This is the kingdom of the Serpent Queen, and your world is very near. Take some of my fur and lie beneath this tree, which will protect you through the night as though you were one of its forest creatures. I must take a long journey home. At first light, I will become a giant once more and may not remember that we were friends. Farewell, and thank you.”
Then he disappeared into the night.
“Thank you!” I called after him, stuffing a tuft of bear fur into my pocket. Then I curled up beneath the tree and fell into a deep sleep.
When I opened my eyes again, it was daylight and the sun was high in the sky. Lying on my back, I traced the tall, slender tree trunks with my gaze as their bare branches stretched towards the vivid blue sky. The sky itself looked like a view through geometric shapes, peering down through the branches towards the earth. An odd sensation of deep peace and serenity washed over me.
I took a deep breath. The air was cold. I realised I was lying on damp, bare ground. I sat up, feeling confused, and scanned my surroundings. Behind me, I saw a stone slab carved with the image of a coiled serpent wearing a crown.
“Walking seminar,” I remembered.
Where was the group? What was I doing here?
I jumped up and hurriedly followed a path to a larger road. Memories of the previous day flashed through my mind. What if three hundred years had passed on Earth in the meantime? I ran towards the village, feeling increasingly anxious as I approached the houses and streets. There was no one outside, so I turned towards the village bell tower.
“Inn at Linč,” I said, stepping inside. My heart was pounding. The entire group was there, removing their coats and placing their backpacks on the chairs around the set table. They were chatting with the waiter as if they had just arrived. No one said a word when I joined them, but I was relieved. Nothing had happened. It was just my vivid imagination.
I reached into my pocket for a tissue to wipe the sweat from my forehead. My fingers touched a tuft of coarse fur.
