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Just outside the village of Tukhlia, not far from the waterfall and in the center of an expansive plain, stood a huge linden tree. No one seemed to remember when it was planted nor when it grew to its deeply rooted giant proportions. The Tukholian settlement was not a very ancient one and the trees which grew in the valley were far younger, comparatively, than this immense linden. Therefore it was not surprising that the people of the community venerated it regarding it as a hoary witness of antiquity and the beginning of the history of their valley.

The Tukholians believed that this ancient linden was the gift of their everlasting benefactor, the king of the giants, who had planted it in the valley with his own hands, as a sign of his victory over Morsanna.

In some rocky recess beneath the roots of the giant linden a spring found its source and bubbled forth to wander away, merrily babbling along its pebbly path to join the mountain stream.

Here the people gathered in folk-mote, directed by their elders, to freely participate in the general deliberation and administration of all their affairs of local self-government.

The linden was encompassed by a wide, flat meadow. In rows facing the east, stood smooth, square blocks of stone, reserved seats for the elders of the community, the heads of its