The elders always speak of a time when dragons ruled the lands. “Now,” they tell, “there is only one left; a lonely dragon whose scales are the color goldenrod. It lives alone up there on the mountain, and will eat all who trespass. There was once a time when soldiers came to destroy it, but none of them ever returned.”
She now looked down from her perch, at the lonely village below. Longing for a time when her family and friends were alive. Yes, they ate all the sheep, but that seemed no reason to kill the entire dragon population. It wasn’t their fault the entire flock had just wandered into the hungry, waiting jaws of her family. All of her neighbors had either been killed off, or fled to a place the humans called Norway.
Gently she spread her wings and soared around the mountain. The caves all lay empty except the one at the peak; the one where three large eggs lay. Blue, green and red eggs that sat, warmed by a fire she had had made, and waited to awake. Her mate had been the last to be killed by the shiny ones, and her babes would remain fatherless.
The human children were playing on the lower half of Vor. Remembering times when the village children would scale Haust to enjoy hours of riding and playing with the dragons, a growl that might have been a chuckle escaped from deep within her long neck. She landed with a gentle thud in the snow that never left the peak, and leisurely made her way to the deepest part of her cave. Even for a dragon whose eye sight was better than that of a human, it was dark. A light suddenly came into view.
A gentle blue flame was blazing, surrounded by the three carefully placed eggs. She lovingly nudged each. They were her babies. She lay down nearby and began eating a deer she had earlier caught. Suddenly, the green egg fell over. She abandoned her meal and pounced over beside it. CRACK!
The small baby wiggled around until it had rolled off of its back and stood up. He opened his eyes and gazed up at his gigantic mother. She leaned over and brushed her snout against his. They both growled with joy. The others quickly followed in the green dragon’s lead, first the blue egg, then the red. The girls curiously looked at their mother and elder brother. The goldenrod dragon was happier then she had been in a very long time. She was no longer alone.
That night, she dreamt of her babies. They were adults and had each found their own cave on the other peak, Vor. All had mates and eggs. She was alone on her mountain, but never for long. Her family would soon repopulate the empty caverns of each mountain. She woke from her dream to find the three play-fighting by the fire. It warmed her fiery core to see her family. She stood, stretched, and then began to slowly drag her feet out of the cave. The three young dragons followed. First the green, then the blue, then the red. She looked back at them and let out a quick, low growl, telling them not to follow. They turned around and quietly sat down by the fire.
As she exited the cave, her warm breath created a mist in front of her face. She knew winter was fast approaching. Holding her wings close to her body, she leapt from the ground and dove half way down the mountain side. She quickly snapped opened her wings and soared over the town, a loud roar escaping from her mouth. The children below marveled at her reflective scales; the adults stood still, stricken with fear.
Word of the dragons’ return was quickly spread throughout Snjór, reaching the elders in no time. The entire population had gathered in the elders’ large hut, and a fierce argument broke out. A great fire blazed in the middle, and each elder sat in a large chair on a platform. Some people thought the dragon should be killed; others, left alone. Many even suggested relocating the town. Then, one elder stood and yelled for silence, and all were quiet.
She was the oldest in the town and extremely beautiful for her age. Her long silver hair rested gently on her shoulders, and her twinkling blue eyes rested on the curious children. A voice as loud as hers seemed odd coming out of such a small, frail old woman. Then she spoke.
“I do not understand why all of you must argue over this. The elders remember a time when the dragons were friendly and populated both mountains. The children would play with them, they would defend our home, and they never ate any of our sheep or goats. Even now, with this dragon’s return, have any flock gone missing? They hunt the wild animals that thrive outside of our valleys.
“One day, the shepherd fell asleep and the sheep went to the top of Haust. They thought that we had sent the flock for them to eat, or they never would have harmed even the small or sick. My best friend was a dragon called Kappinn, the warrior. Her purple scales shone like no other. She was strong and willing to fight to defend our people. She was one of the first to be killed.
“Let us give this dragon a chance. In three days time, if any sheep, goat, or child goes missing, it is our enemy, if not, it is our ally.” Long after she sat a silence was kept. Slowly the people began to return to their homes, fields, and shops. The children, however, remained, begging for stories of the dragons. For hours the elders told tales of when they were children, growing up alongside the great dragon race.
The village was strangely quiet. She had successfully completed her hunt, killing two female deer for her family. Now, she was flying back home, again over the village, and noticed no movement. It was as if Snjór had been abandoned by its people. She landed, careful not to crush the meat, and waltzed inside. Her babies all noticed their mother then the food; first the green, then the blue, then the red. Their mouths watered with anticipation, and each squawked with their own beautiful voices. Her teeth shown, perhaps in a smile, and she dropped the meal by her feet.
The green one got up first and galloped over to the carcasses. He opened his jaw as wide as he could and dug right into his first meal of meat. Still only a day old, he was about a fourth of the size of the deer in front of him. He was larger than the girls, and seemed to have taken lead of their little gang. His tongue tingled at the taste of raw meat and blood, and a purr of sorts was erupting from his throat.
Strongest of the three was the blue baby. She stood and followed her brother over to the dead animals. She gently shoved him over so that she could have some food as well. She stood slightly but noticeably closer to ground than he; however, she had much greater muscle structure. It was obvious in that she had an easier time ripping the tough meat off her rapidly cooling meal.
It took her awhile, but the small, red dragon stood and danced over to her elder siblings. She was far more cautious than the others. Gently she nudged the meat, sniffed it, and then licked to make sure it was okay. She looked at her mother to be sure it was safe. The goldenrod dragon nodded, and the red babe, now filled with enthusiasm, began devouring her meal. In comparison with the green and blue, she was by far the smallest. She was also less adventurous. However, it seemed she was the wisest of the three.
Their mother watched them eat. After awhile she, too, ate her breakfast. The fire began to die down, so she exhaled a warm blue flame, and it blazed back to life. She would have to go in search of more wood soon.
A small girl stood in the middle of the village and looked up at the frosty mountain. Her mind spun with the tales the elders had told her and the other children about the marvels of the dragons. She though of how the silver-haired elder had been friends with a dragon, and wondered if she, too, could have a dragon as a friend.
She was not alone; many of the other children had talked of scaling the mountain to befriend the dragons. However, all of them knew it was too dangerous a journey at night, so they all spent their night dreaming of flying on the backs of dragons and seeing the world from above as if they had the eyes of birds.
“Come, my child.” The silver-haired elder extended her hand to the girl. “The night is cold, and will grow colder yet.”
The little smiled up at the elder. “Amma, will you tell me more tales of the dragons?’
“Not this night,” The elder chuckled. “Let us go home, my child. You need your rest...”
Together, the two walked hand-in-hand to a hut near the edge of the village. A bright yellow fire crackled in the hearth. A young woman waited anxiously as the elder put the girl to bed. They waited until she was asleep to start speaking.
“Mother, I would appreciate it if you did not fill her head with such nonsense!”
“Silence your mouth if it intends to speak of things that you do not understand. Everything that was told to that child today was truth.”
“But if she comes across a dragon -
“Then bless her and the creature she befriends!” Without another word, the two went to bed, and the town fell into the dark sleep of an Icelandic night.
The green dragon stretched as the morning rays of sunlight brushed across the mountain side. He had grown restless waiting for his mother and sisters to awake. Nothing filled his mind more than thoughts of spreading his wings and soaring across the sky like his mother. He looked down upon the small village blow, wondering what sorts of creatures lived there and why his mother would not let any of them go to see. He wished he could soar like his curiosity.
Behind him there was a gentle crunch in the fresh snow that had fallen while they slept. He turned his head to see his mother basking in the suns warmth. She lazily made her way to her son’s side, looking down at him curiously. Breaking her gaze, he looked back down at the little huts below with deep breath that might have been a sigh. His mother knew what he was thinking and she wished they could fly down to meet the people below. She knew, however, that they would all be killed.
The girls wandered out of the cave shortly after and took their places on either side of their brother. She looked at each of them in turn, then decided. After gently nudging each of them she spread her great wings and waited for them to follow suit. The slightly confused dragons spread their wings, and watched in awe as their mother plunged into the valley below. A few seconds later, she reappeared in front of them, flapping her powerful wings.
It suddenly hit them like lightening. Joyfully, they all began flapping their wings. It took a very long time before they finally hovered just above the ground. They flew around attempting to get the hand of their new skill. A growl of pleasure escaped from their mother’s throat. She turned her head to look down at the village. Then she decided.
The entire village gathered in awe as the four majestic dragons soared over the valley. The grey-haired elder and her grandchild stood in the snow and smiled at the creatures. Elsewhere in the village, people grabbed weapons and prepared to attack.
With a gently thud the largest dragon, the golden-rod, landed and look at the people cautiously. The three small ones followed; first the green, then the blue, then the red. People gathered ready to attack and ready to befriend. The silver-haired elder stepped forward, and spoke. “You....I know you, dragon! Verndari...the child of my dearest friend...”
She was so surprised that no one had heard her. Verndari let out a loud roar, making no move towards the villagers. That did not stop them from preparing to strike. Then, the small girl, the grand-daughter of the silver-haired elder, stepped forward and walked towards the four dragons without fear.
Author’s note: I had so many ideas for endings that I just couldn’t pick one...so I left the ending up to the readers’ minds, whether a happy ending, or a tragic one. The best thing about this whole story, to me, is that it’s based on a poem I wrote-
For deep within it hides
Three young-ling dragons fast asleep
Who’ve yet to see the skies
No harm befalls her new born babes
None pass with armor gleaming
She thinks about them constanly
Protects them in their dreaming
He scales the color goldenrod
Theirs blue, green and red
He so strong and theirs so weak
She stands - they lie in bed
The day will come when their wings spread,
They leave their mother’s care
But if they need her once again
She will be right there.
Each, someday, will guard their caves
With young-lings deep inside
But for now, under mother’s wings,
They sleep and dream and hide.
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