It's raining.
It has been raining for what seems like days on end. It’s difficult to do anything when it rains, but this is especially true for a dragon. The excess weight from the water and the low visibility made it impossible to fly, and I don’t have to remind you that the whole fire-breathing thing? Much less effective when there’s water everywhere.
But I can get past the flying and the fire. The real problem with rain is what happened to my cousin Gerald during the Incident at King’s Run.
There are only a few very important rules given to fledgling dragons, the foremost of which is “never engage anyone or anything in combat during a rain storm.” I might be exaggerating. It really depends on who your instructor is in primary school. If you get one from the previous generation, he or she may tell you that the first and foremost rule is “always protect your gold and other shiny things.” Of course it’s quite easy to rebut such an argument by opening our history books and looking up Smaug in the index, but most of the time they’ll dismiss it with a scoff and continue ranting about treasure. Anyhow, back to the rain…
The odds become stacked against you. It’s hard enough to fight a dwarf or an elf in broad daylight with no wind. They’re so small and they can sneak up on you. Fighting knights has always been a bit easier. For some reason they find it necessary to prance around and announce their presence as if that somehow increases their odds of winning in a fight. I suppose I’ll never quite understand humans.
Still, though, they seem almost as motivated by treasure as dragons are. We’re told in school they have no claim to any of our treasure, but I’m not sure how this is true, given that I’m pretty sure my ancestors stole most of our hordes from the humans (I think I read that in a book one time, but then someone told me that was revisionist history, and I’ve never heard anything good about revisionist dragons). So maybe they have a claim, maybe they don’t. Either way, we still get humans coming to challenge us all the time.
When the sun rose that fateful day over King’s Run, my cousin Gerald was resting comfortably until he heard a noise that sounded like thunder. Unfortunately, upon leaving his cave to investigate, he found himself face-to-face with a group of knights. I suppose we’ll never know whether Gerald heard actual thunder or just the hooves of the horses as they charged his cave, but either way, there was a storm, and yes, it was raining. Needless to say, it didn’t end well for Gerald. He lost his treasure and a few of his scales. He was forced to retreat back to another mountain, where he was demoted to the gold polishing unit. Now, he’s the cautionary tale every time one of my teachers mentioned rain.
I don’t know if it makes me less of a dragon, but I actually like rain. I like the way it feels when it runs down my scales. I enjoy the extra challenge of flying in the rain. If we weren’t meant to fly in the rain, why do we have transparent eyelids? I occasionally will sneak out into the rain just to feel it for a while. I know it’s a big risk, but risks have rewards sometimes, right?
Today is different, though. No time to indulge myself. I’ve been left in charge of a small horde that belongs to my family while my parents go to a Diamonds and Emeralds conference. I’m a little apprehensive, because ever since King’s Run, the humans know about our rain weakness. So now they get extra bold during storms. Fortunately, our horde is well-hidden. We take pride in our hiding spots. Again, all it takes is a flip through our history books to see what happens when dragons hide their treasure in high-profile locations.
So all I have to do is sit here until my parents return. Not difficult. Then it thunders. Or, at least I think it’s thunder. This must be how Gerald felt. Should I look outside? What if it is hoof beats? I haven’t seen many humans in my few years as a dragon, but they fascinate me. I want to know if they’re anything like what our books say.
Slowly, I raise my head out of the cave entrance, careful to keep myself in the shadows. I feel raindrops, and it’s a wonderful feeling. I could stay here in it forever. But no. I’m here to see if there are any knights approaching. I scan the horizon, but the rain is making it difficult to see. I move further out of the cave to get a better look. Then I see him. A boy on a horse. No armor, no weapons. He’s just there, a few yards away. I freeze. Did he see me? It doesn’t take long for an answer to that question because a bolt of lighting streaks across the sky, illuminating everything around me.
If you’ve never seen a dragon, you wouldn’t know, but our scales are nothing short of magnificent. They reflect light in a way that no other organic material can. Ordinarily, this makes for a grand display. But not when you’re trying to keep a low profile. Now I’m sure the boy has seen me. He hops off of his horse and begins walking toward me. Why isn’t he afraid? He’s clearly just seen me, a dragon. Does he know about the rain? Am I suddenly not intimidating? What should I do? I need to protect the treasure. I don’t know what humans are taught in school, but I’m sure by now they know that where there is a dragon, there is treasure. Suddenly, the thunder crashes. The boy is startled, but so is his horse. He turns to see his horse galloping away.
I could just let it go. The boy will eventually find his way home. After all, he’s distracted now. He won’t be investigating the bright flash of brilliant red he just saw from inside a cave. But instead, he just sits down on the ground in the pouring rain. His shoulders are hunched over. He looks devastated. I suppose that’s how I would feel if I was far from home and couldn’t fly. So I made what was probably one of the most ill-advised decisions in my entire life. I did what no dragon is ever supposed to do. I spread my wings and took off flying over the head of a small human into a raging thunderstorm.
Years later, when I recount this story to my pupils at the Dragonscale Academy for Fledglings, I always take a dramatic pause here. The young dragons are always eager to know what happens next, spurring me on with wide eyes. I could lose my job for telling the rest of the story as it actually happened. But I tell them anyway. I tell them that I scooped up the boy’s horse in my talons, being careful not to injure it (this is much harder than one would think, given that our claws are designed to tear things apart, not gently carry things as I’ve heard that eagles can do). I tell them that I flew back through the crashing thunder and pouring rain and set the horse down in front of the sobbing boy. I stood with my wings spread wide (to keep the horse from running again), and for the first time in my life, I was face to face with a human being.
I’ll never forget the boy’s response. He wiped the tears (or perhaps rain) from his face, stood up, and slowly approached me. With seemingly no fear, he stretched out his hand toward my nose. I let him touch me, and it was a strange feeling. He simply looked at me, nodded, and got on his horse and rode away into the storm.
I never tell my pupils this, but I did encounter this boy again, several years later. I was on a scout patrol, flying high above the land, when I caught the smell of his horse again. The memory rushed over me like it had just been formed. From what I could hear, he never became a knight. He was known simply as a Ranger of the North, who from what I could tell, was making great strides toward peace and prosperity for his people. Never has he returned seeking out our treasure.
I tell this story because I want our young to know that humans aren’t all bad. I hope they gain that moral from the story, despite what they hear from their other teachers. But there’s another moral, one that I personally enjoy even more: for dragons, rain can most certainly be a good thing.
This story is inspired by my love for fantasy. All references to The Lord of the Rings canon are simply a tribute to the world J.R.R. Tolkien created. This work is entirely original.
This is an entry into @playfulfoodie's Marvelous Tales #13 Contest
All images are courtesy of the free image depository on Pixabay.
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