An Exceptional Experience

MY KIND are not often ones to dwell on past experiences. When one has lived as long as I, and as much, memory will tend towards simplification: isolated incidents may be remembered as one and the same, just as the experiences of one occasion may be recalled with no relation one from the other. Thus, the unremarkable will be forgotten, while the relevant will be edited beyond recognition, upon each biased recollection. Few events are ever remembered just as they were, and yet, dare I say, one might, on rare occasion, stumble upon a moment so exceptional an imprint is left beyond the limits of mere memory —where Time will inevitably taint it. Some experiences are of an essence so solemn, they take root beyond the loose footings of the mind, in the self, where they can remain indefinitely.

Back then, I was not as touched by life lived as I am now. Indeed, a long path remained ahead of me. I was not newly born, by any means, though neither was I terribly far from being so. I had reached an age of functionality, and life for me was an endless array of first steps. Though I'd grown, there was still much growth to be had. All of which meant, I now notice, the conditions were perfect, if not required, for events to unfold the way they did.

I cannot, try as I might, recall the sequence of events that led to my being there. I remember the colour green in large amounts; tree bough giving way to tree bough in what must have been some sort of journey through a wood. Water also comes to mind in relation to this memory; some sort of flowing water must have accompanied me, as is often the case when traversing woods. More than anything I remember a sense of not knowing my exact destination, and a distinct lack of worry, as if it wasn't my concern to know where I was going.

A fair amount of travel, then no more. Whether or not this was my intended destination, my memory cannot yield. The tree boughs here gave way to an open space, fairly broad—though, should I return there as I am now, its size would likely feel proportionally lesser, as is often the case when one revisits places they've come upon in their younger years. Regardless, while memory's vision fades with pertaining to the journey there, it has never been as crystal clear as with the glade I was now on.

There was a stillness in the night I cannot forget. Silence, however, was not its cause: forest nights possess no shortage of sounds to frighten the cautious and delight the curious. The trees around both towered above and closed around the glade —similar, in effect, to the rounded roof of a cathedral, or a well-built theatre. The ground, soft but not muddy, gave way to a rocky stream that cut across the circle of trees, glistening, as it ran, with the silver rays of a crescent moon that hovered above. There was no ritual site in here, no place of worship, no cryptic monument, and yet, I felt like I had entered a place of peace and clarity, like I was now in the presence of some entity, holy or otherwise, that, although unseen by me, was watching intently.

As I gazed around, aware yet unaware of the uniqueness of the moment I had stumbled upon, I spotted the creature. It lay on the opposite side of the stream, immersed, seemingly, in its surroundings, just as I was. I knew what it was instantly —such a creature is not to go unnoticed among my kind; it is well known that, whenever there is an encounter between individuals of our races, battle, blood and bitter death will ensue.

And yet, there was something strange about this one, some inefable quality, which brought not battle-readiness to my system but curious attraction. Was it its size, perhaps? Did it not look as threatening as folklore would have it look? Perhaps. Its hide —was hide an accurate term?— was not the mighty armour often described by those who have seen it in battle. I was then not aware of but the most basic of feelings: I dealt mostly in satisfaction and fear, or lack thereof. Still, looking at this creature, which was supposedly my mighty enemy, I was neither unsatisfied nor afraid.

I approached. It met my gaze. We both froze. I thought I saw in its eyes a reflection of my own, a look of puzzled serenity. As we approached each other, as much as we could, the rocky stream still between us —not that it would have proved an uncross-able barrier—, I was shaken by the sheer abnormality of this encounter. This was not what happened. Our peoples loathed each other. One was the greedy hoarder, the fearsome beast that must be stopped; the other was the hero, mighty vanquisher, retriever of stolen treasures. One was the unknown invader, the disturber of peaceful slumber; the other was the just defender, rising to the challenge of a lesser foe, eliminating the foolish that would approach.

It made a noise. Was that laughter? A snarl? A warning grunt? Was it, by any chance, speech? I could not tell, but it was unlike any notion I had of its kind. Some tension followed this noise, then back to silence and mutual admiration we went. It did not look defensive, and I had not been threatened, so I felt safe to approach it. Honouring, in a way, the delicacy of the moment, I chose to step across the log of a fallen tree that lay, like a bridge, between the two banks. The creature, to my surprise, appeared to follow suit, and so we approached each other, tentatively walking forward until we met on the middle point, each of us focused on keeping balance.

I don't think there has ever been a human and a dragon on such conditions ever before. There was no violence, no contest here to be had. I wanted nothing from it, it nothing from me. Snout and face almost touched each other, to such extent that the air that left one set of nostrils went into the other. What must it be thinking in this moment? Was there any thought on its head? Perhaps it was young, like me; it certainly looked smaller than expected. Even if it wasn't thought that ruled its mind, I am sure this moment must be now burnt upon its recollections, just as vibrant as it persists on mine.

We remained like that, it and me, the creature staring into my eyes just as much as I was fixated upon its own. What world-changing developments could have stemmed from this moment! Oh, the sheer possibility! Surely, if a human could interact with a dragon with such civility, such a peaceful disposition, if my eyes could be so close to this creature's, and both looks be empty of resentment, then it stood to reason that this could also be the case on a larger scale! Could this log we both stood upon be both symbol and evidence that our races could stand fast on common ground? Was there a world, perchance, where side by side we stood, dragon and human, and peace existed, and both kinds joined forces against common foes? Could this one moment be the start of such a world? Oh, had I had, back then, all these musings on my head, what good might have been wrought, indeed!

Sudden motion. The creature had moved, or perhaps I had, and it had reacted. The log shifted beneath us, and alarm was as quickly upon me as I could see it draw upon the creature's complexion. My body tensed, and so did the creature's. As both of us readied for defense, or for attack, our stances quickly shifted. And the log broke. I retreated to my side of the creek, as did the creature. From afar we stared at each other, the moment now lost, upon a mutual doubt of character. Still my eyes were fixed on the creature's, and its gaze met my own. Clumsily footed, it walked —or rather, crawled— away from me, and I, in sad acknowledgement, walked in the opposite direction. No friendship gained, no peace approached, no world shifted. Back to its kind it went, and back to my kind I did.

I have not come upon this creature again —though, I suppose I'd have little way of knowing if I had. Much has passed since then; growth and battles, wealth and loss. About as many of my kind have been lost to the creature's kind, as have been killed of the creature's kind by my own —a number I have contributed to, and I'm certain the creature has, as well. Such is the way with humans and dragons, always has been, always will be.

Always, dare I say, with but one exception. For I now see wherein lies the true value of this moment: that the goings-on of two races so mighty yet so unyieldingly opposed, and a truth as irrevocable as the rivalry between man and dragon, could shift, could stop, for but an instant of possibility. How fortuitous, indeed! To be present in the single instance, in all known history, where the rules of nature of dragon and man were challenged, where truth could have been changed, where the world could have been changed! To have come face to face with such a creature and experienced pure neutrality, with a hint, even, of mutual understanding! And to have all that burned forever in the well of memory!

Alas, I have not gathered much wealth in my lifetime —one could say, after catching a glimpse of my so-called bountiful hoard of gold and treasures, that it fails to live up to the expectations often set upon my kind. And yet, for possessing in my memory, and being able to call upon, amid ages past and battles fought, the vivid recollection of this moment, this one exceptional experience, I can safely and in all authority call myself, among all that have ever lived, the wealthiest of all dragons.