An Arrival of Dragons

There weren’t always dragons in the valley.

They arrived suddenly, one fine summer day, quite without warning. Just one, at first. A small, yellow creature, hardly bigger than the tom cat that hissed as it darted away behind the bales of hay in the barn. The cat glared from the dark, its golden eyes gleaming portentously.

The villagers thought it was a lizard at first. It was quite affectionate, and seemed to love being scratched under its chin and stroked along the scaly ridge that ran the length of its back and tail. The village children adored it, and everything was fine, until one day it coughed and burnt off both of the blacksmith’s boy’s eyebrows.

After that, things changed. The parents didn’t want their children playing with something that they feared could permanently scar their little darlings’ chubby faces. So the dragon was left alone. It tried to get the children’s attention, following them around, flicking out its little blue tongue, but the adults dragged them away. It was difficult to tell how this affected the dragon, but I am quite sure it seemed lonely.

That was when the second dragon appeared.

This one was bigger, about the size of a sheep, and a brilliant emerald green colour. After the incident with the blacksmith’s boy, the children had no desire to go near this one, and this dragon didn’t seem to care. It did seek out the little yellow dragon, taking it under its wing both literally and figuratively. It curled protectively around the smaller dragon and spat small flames at anyone who came too near.

As time passed, more and more of the dragons appeared throughout the village. They didn’t seem to congregate anywhere – rather, they settled in pockets all over, little groups of three or four. They didn’t seem to do anything – they only gathered close to one another. They came in all shapes and sizes, although the largest was only the size of a small cow. They were all the colours of the rainbow, and were really rather beautiful.

Of course, there was consternation among the village inhabitants. The villagers, being the narrow-minded humans that they were, did not see the beauty in the dragons. They did not see that the flowers in the village were blooming more vividly than they ever had before. They did not see that their crops were growing twice as fast and twice as large than they had done even during the best and most bountiful seasons. They did not see that no-one in the village had fallen ill with so much as a runny nose since the dragons arrived.

They only saw the threat. They saw the flames that flickered in the night when they were trying to sleep, the flames that they feared would burn their houses and barns. They saw the large teeth and wickedly sharp claws that they feared would gouge holes in their property and their skin. And they saw that the dragons kept increasing in number.

The village elders called a meeting. They did not know how much the dragons understood of the human tongue, so this meeting was held under cover of darkness, by candlelight, with hushed voices and covered faces. And, at this meeting, they came to a decision.

The next morning, most of the adult villagers appeared from their houses bearing all kinds of farm tools. Pitchforks, shovels, hoes, rakes, axes, and shears. They advanced on the dragons, intending to drive them out of the village for good.

Strangely, the dragons did nothing. They did not attempt to defend themselves. They did not breathe fire at the villagers that came closer and closer, not even the emerald-green dragon that was still wrapped jealously around the small yellow dragon that had first come to the village all those moons ago. Only the yellow dragon moved, hiding its eyes in the thick scaly skin of the green dragon.

And then darkness fell across the land.

The villagers stopped what they were doing as a great shadow covered them all, bringing with it such a chill as had never been felt before during the height of summer. As one, they looked up.

The blue dragon had appeared.

It seemed to hover above the village, its great wings spread to their full immense span, floating on the thermal air currents. It did nothing for the longest of moments, barely moving in the air save for the slight quiver of its wings as they adjusted to the rising updrafts.

And then it began to descend.

The villagers watched in horror as the huge shape above them began to glide slowly downwards, getting closer and closer, covering their homes and gardens with its massive bulk. For a moment, everyone seemed to freeze.

And then they ran.

With shouts, cries, and screams, the villagers grabbed their children, their elderly relatives, and what few belongings they could carry, and they ran. They ran to the only place they knew to be safe other than the village – the mountains that surrounded the valley. They ran in all directions, desperate to be out from under the crushing weight of the great beast.

With an incredible cracking and thundering of falling masonry, the blue dragon settled on the largest building in the very centre of the village, its wings just slightly outstretched. It seemed to be midnight in the village again, such was the depth of the darkness created by its presence.

No-one was killed in the unplanned evacuation. But, since that day, the villagers have never returned. They live among the caves in the mountains, looking out over their former homes. The dragons are still there, and they mutter about them, and curse their existence from around their campfires. Occasionally, someone will boast about what they will do to drive the dragons out, usually to impress their friends, or perhaps a potential romantic conquest. But no-one has ever actually been bold enough to attempt anything.

Until one day…