Dragonberry Surprise

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. They only visited in the summer months when the dragonberry trees bore fruit. But even a few months of dragons were too much for Fridolin.

I hope I don’t run into dragons this morning, he thought, as he walked along the trail that led from his family’s inn down into the Valley. Summer’s first sun had just crested the horizon and birds were singing cheerfully to each other. Squirrels scurried through the canopy above. It would be a shame to ruin such a beautiful morning with dragons.

Fridolin Klasi was not afraid of dragons. True, he had hidden under his bed for an hour the first time he saw one fly into town, but that had been almost four years ago. Now, at thirteen he already knew more about dragons than most humans learned in a lifetime. For example, it was never wise to look a dragon in the eye. (This had been learned the hard way.)

It’s not that the boy hated dragons. He actually found them very intriguing and even counted a few of them among his friends.

The problem with dragons was that they were horrible guests. With very few exceptions, dragons were arrogant, demanding slobs. Poor, Fridolin would be stuck catering to their demands and cleaning up after them all summer long.

School had just let out for the summer and Fridolin had a large list of chores to accomplish in preparation for the arrival of the dragons. This morning’s first task was to harvest some dragonberries and bring them to the inn.

As the path wound deeper between the oaks, shadows played across the ground. The youth adjusted the pack slung across his back as his mind wandered. He thought about what he would do if there were no such thing as dragonberries. Duties at the inn would always exist, dragonberries or no. Without the berries, however, there would be no dragons to drain all his time. Perhaps he would go on an adventure or simply do nothing.

Speaking of ‘nothing,’ realized Fridolin, that’s precisely what’s happening now.

Stepping into the shadows beneath a huge oak, he paused and listened intently.

The Valley was deathly silent.

The boy’s stomach sank. Teeming with wildlife, only one thing made everything in The Valley go completely still.

Dragons!

Most likely just a curious dragon that came to see if the advertisements were true before deciding to book a stay at the inn. It happened occasionally.

Fridolin stepped out of the shadows and renewed his descent. Surprising a dragon was never a good idea so he figured he’d whistle a tune as he continued down the path. Before he could think of a song something caught his attention.

What’s that smell? Is there a campfire down there?

Wisps of smoke could be seen rising from the Valley floor. Someone is burning the trees!

Before he realized it, Fridolin was running toward the smoke as fast as he could. He didn’t have a plan, but at least that wasn’t stopping him from taking action. He’d been guilty of letting his emotions paralyze him in the past and it didn’t take long for emotion to kick in.

What am I doing? I don’t even have a plan.

He fought to control the panic that was building in him. Fear is a natural response, he reminded himself. The trick is to channel it into something useful.

Fridolin focused on the rhythm of his feet against the path. He imagined the panic flowing out through his legs and feet and entering the ground. His breathing became a means to exhale fear and draw in courage. The small medallion with the image of a dragon he wore underneath his tunic swayed gently against his chest with each step. Remembering his mentor who had given him the medallion always gave him strength. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he was no longer panicking.

*****

“These can’t be dragonberries. The color is all wrong.”

“Well, the shape is right - long and skinny with a light curve. But you’re right, Jaff, they should be gold, not green. This place is a scam!”

Two young dragons were skeptically looking around, taking in everything. The more they saw, the less they liked.

“Look here, Bord!” said the larger of the two. A dark green dragon the size of a covered wagon. “What do these signs say? Your Human is better than mine.”

“They say, 'Dragonberries are green until ripe. Berries will turn golden when they are ripe. Please only eat ripe berries.'”

“That’s all they say?”

“That’s the gist of it. This place is a tourist trap, Jaff. Bunch of humans trying to rip off unsuspecting dragons,” the smaller dragon surmised. Pale blue, with dark red spots along his spine, he was only half the size of his green companion.

“I think a dragon should be the one who decides if dragonberries are any good, don’t you Bord?”

Without even waiting for a reply, Jaff chomped a mouthful of dragonberries. He turned to Bord and smiled as he began to chew. Green juice dripped from his toothy maw. Suddenly, a look of shock took over his face. He violently spat out a sticky mess and started to gag.

“Hey! What are you playing at?” yelled the smaller dragon who had been standing in front of Jaff and was now covered in half-chewed dragonberry slime. “Why’d you puke on me?”

Without warning, flames shot out of the green dragon’s throat, just missing Bord's head and singeing a nearby tree.

“Sorry mate!” exclaimed Jaff. “Those were so nasty I couldn’t get rid of them fast enough. They were worse than that bloated, dead cow we found a couple months back. Had to belch a quick flame to burn the taste out of my mouth.”

“Careful, dragon! First you coat me in nasty berry slime and then you almost start a forest fire.”

The green dragon eyed the tree next to his slime-covered friend. Scorch marks were evident on the upper trunk and in some of the branches. One bunch of berries had taken a blast of flame head-on. He moved closer to get a better look.

Strange, thought Jaff. Those berries smell sweeter than the others. I wonder…

He let loose a short burst of flame, targeting the berries that had already been singed.

“What are you doing!” cried Bord. “You’re going to burn down the entire-”

Both dragons stood in silence, as dying flames revealed what had once been a slightly charred bunch of green berries was now a crispy bunch of golden berries. Many of them had split open lengthwise to emit a sweet aroma neither dragon had ever smelled before but immediately needed to taste.

“Dragonberries…” they both whispered in awe. Then Jaff shoved the entire bunch in his mouth, his previous experience with the berries entirely forgotten.

Bord quickly jumped out of the way to avoid being vomited on should something go wrong. However, the sounds of ecstasy coming from his friend proved that his fears were in vain.

“You must try some!” the green dragon exclaimed after finishing the bunch. “Those were heavenly!”

“‘Heavenly?’ I didn’t think that word was in your vocabulary. Are you sure those are safe to eat?”

“It’s the only word to describe these berries. They’re definitely safe. Come on, let’s make more!”

Soon, both friends were cooking and eating berries. It quickly became a challenge: Who could reach the highest bunch without flying (Jaff), who could fit the most berries in his mouth at once (Jaff), and who could cook a bunch the fastest (Jaff.)

Both dragons had just begun to feel more than uncomfortably stuffed when Jaff decided the contests weren’t quite over.

“Let’s see who can cook the most bunches in one breath,” he challenged. “Doesn’t necessarily have to be a constant flame, just needs to be all in the same breath.”

“I don’t know, Jaff. I’m pretty full and it’s a long flight home.”

“Oh, come on now. Do you want to go first or last? You can fly if you want.” He knew Bord was an agile flier.

“First, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Bord picked an area in the grove with several dragonberry trees close together and took several deep breaths. He launched into the air and carefully shot bursts of flame at his targets as he wove between them. When he landed 18 bunches of berries smoldered in the branches.

“My turn!” shouted the larger dragon as he leaped skyward. He flew deeper into the forest, towards the tallest dragonberry tree he saw.

The green dragon had decided that one continuous flame would be his best shot. He started at the top and worked his way down in a spiral. He was certain he could get to every bunch.

Bord realized what his friend was planning and immediately had doubts. He not only didn’t think that Jaff could get to every bunch on the huge tree in one breath, but he also didn’t see how it could be done without setting the entire tree ablaze.

The light blue dragon was right to doubt his friend.

*****

As Fridolin neared the dragonberries a dark plume of smoke rose from the center of the grove. His greatest fears realized, he swallowed against the fear and kept running.

Upon reaching the grove he saw clear evidence of dragons. Footprints covered the ground all over the grove. He quickly scanned the sky and saw two specks disappearing to the east.

Cowards! You’re chickens, not dragons! he silently chided.

Now that any threat from dragon was gone it was time to assess what else was happening.

The dragonberry grove contained trees of varying sizes, with the smaller trees closest to the perimeter. Many of the trees had scorch marks. The most severe burning had occurred where berries had once hung from their branches. Near the center, one tree dwarfed the others in all aspects. It was taller, thicker, had more branches, and produced the biggest, tastiest berries. One other thing set it apart. The tree was completely engulfed in flames.

Fridolin watched in horror as the tree burned. This was his favorite tree. The tree his grandfather had planted as a seedling. The tree that had given life to the grove. The tree that he had climbed a hundred times. The tree that he had told his secrets to.

The boy was ravaged by the emotions that swirled within him. Anger at the dragons that set the tree ablaze raged within him. Sadness from losing a friend threatened to drown him. Fear that his family may lose their way of life if all the trees were to burn began to crush him.

I’m losing control.

‘If you don’t control your emotions they will take control of you,’ he remembered. Something his mentor had told him many times.

He felt something warm within his tunic.

He pulled out his medallion. It was warm to the touch and had a faint glow about the edges.

It’s reacting to the fire!

Fridolin wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew that he wasn’t going to let his emotions control him.

He held the medallion before him and started walking towards the burning tree. The intensity of the flames seemed to decrease a bit.

Seeing this gave the boy hope. He raised the medallion high in the air and continued to walk toward the tree.

“Go away!” he screamed at the fire.

The medallion pulsed once in his hands as he felt something scream out from the fire.

I must stop the fire. I must control it.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and imagined the fire dying down like a campfire after many stories have been told. He held the image in his mind and slowly opened his eyes.

The flames slowly retreated until they had gathered to just one branch. The berries of that branch exploded in unison, their juices and flesh consumed in the inferno.

I need to cleanse the branch. I must make it ready.

He wasn’t sure what he was getting the branch ready for or why it needed to be done, he only understood that it must be done.

Fridolin had seen carpenters use tools to shape wood before. The way they could turn a piece of wood into fine cabinetry or furniture was almost magic. This is what he would do, using the fire as his tool.

He closed his eyes again and reached out through the medallion feeling for the heat of the fire. Next, he felt for the branch. Surprisingly, it responded to him. It felt trapped inside the tree.

“I will free you,” whispered Fridolin.

The boy now understood what he must do. Eyes still closed, he again reached out through the medallion. He nudged the fire this way and that. As he did so, nubs where berry branches had once been attached were turned to ash and fell away. Slowly, the outer layers of the branch melted away.

Once the branch had shrunk to the width of his arm, he intensified the heat. He recalled seeing blacksmiths temper steel to make it stronger. This was a similar process.

It’s ready. He felt that it was so.

Fridolin opened his eyes and couldn’t believe what he saw. Sticking out from the side of the scorched dragonberry tree was a black staff.

The boy reached up and removed the staff. It slipped out from the trunk with little resistance.

As he examined the staff, he wondered at its perfection. Black and smooth as polished obsidian, yet it had no reflection. It almost seemed to absorb light. It fit the description of the wizard staffs he had heard in many stories.

But this couldn’t be a wizard staff. It was missing a talisman. Instead, there was a round opening at the end of the staff.

It couldn’t be! Could it?

Fridolin slowly reached beneath his tunic and removed his mentor’s medallion from its chain. It once again felt warm in his hand. He held it next to the staff to compare it to the opening.

They were the same size.

Careful to line up the dragon head perfectly, the boy pressed the medallion into the staff. The staff pulsed with a dull black glow then went dark.

The boy gasped in amazement. His mentor had once said that Fridolin would one day leave his family’s inn and make a difference in the world. The words had seemed so impossible at the time. Now they seemed like a commission.

Fridolin wasn’t sure what was in store for him, but he knew it was not going to be easy. He suspected that it may even be worse than dealing with arrogant guests and mucking out dragon rooms.