Fierce Little Fidum

“There weren't always dragons in the Valley.” Tagba had heard her Grandmother’s stories many times throughout her life. Grandmother was telling them now to the newest great-grandchild, Albert, as Tagba served tea and cake after lunch.

Patrice, Albert’s mother, smiled and accepted her cup, “Thanks Tagba. Your wings are growing nicely!”

Tagba blushed and nodded. “Thanks,” she said proudly. Wings started sprouting at puberty, and developed full strength at adulthood, but Tagba was almost able to fly already.

Smiling and drinking her tea, Patrice turned back to Carella Ferox and Albert.

“The dragons arrived when I was a little girl. I lived with my family on a farm beside the river. My Uncle Ed and his sons Elias, James and Donal had been miners, working inside the mountains, bringing out gold and silver and iron to smelt, as well as gems. We all lived on the farm together. Uncle Ed had a Smithy where he smelted ore, making tools and other things and selling some in nearby towns. It was a life of hard work, but also a life of our own making.” Carella's eyes sparkled with the happiness of her memories. Grandmother's stories about her family were full of joy, laughter, love, and ordinariness. Enjoying freedom together under the sun.

“Before the dragons came, the Valley was peaceful farmland along both sides of the river. Families had houses and barns, sheep and cattle, dogs, cats, horses, chickens, ducks, hives of bees and fields of crops.”

“When the dragons came the animals were eaten, the fields and homes burned. Families scrambled up the mountains to the other side, pausing in horror to look back at the smouldering that had been their homes. That first day, as they fled, the families planned to go back when the dragons left.”

“They haven't left yet. The families found refuge amongst the people on the mountainside, and the people on the plains before the sea. All of them lived in constant fear that the dragons would follow there too, but that fear lessened with each day they stayed in the Valley.”

“The dragons found the caves and mining tunnels and made them their home. They lay in the sun beside the river in the soft grass and what remained of crops growing wild. People weren't sure what they were eating. Perhaps the sheep and cattle were also growing wild, the dragons’ personal flock?”

“In the first few days, groups of men armed with tree branches and farming equipment had attempted to drive the dragons away. Their fiery breath quickly sent them back with less than they came with. Scorched and dispirited, the men reported that the dragons seemed to be acting like a family. The legends say dragons are solitary cave dwellers hoarding gold and jewels. Perhaps legends told by people who had fled leaving gold and jewels. We simple farmers had left something far more valuable: our farms. Home. Livelihood. Family security. Our way of life. Of course, since many of the families had included miners and smiths, we had also left behind jewels and gold. There were more urgent things to carry, like children, and tools.”

“My mother had been wearing her wedding ring, diamond earrings and ruby necklace for a wedding we were going to attend the day the dragons came. We were dressed in our finery, not farm clothes.”

“Always a silver lining to every cloud,” Grandmother said, ruefully. “Mother had her jewellery when we ran. Mother and I were wearing dancing slippers and dresses, not work boots and leggings, which made running and climbing the mountain to escape much harder.” She shook her head, remembering how hard it had been.

“But those earrings helped to buy us a house on this side of the mountain! My Uncle Ed was such a fine craftsman, the jewels he chose and the way he cut and set them were unmatched in the whole region, and much sought after. Thank goodness!” She always laughed at that part.

Then came the sadness remembering her father being the first to die, waving his hoe, trying to chase away the dragons as though they were birds. A dragon breathed white hot and Carella’s father had burned to a crisp as he stood, a charcoal statue, one arm outstretched, the other holding his charcoal hoe to the sky. Carella’s cousin Donal bravely fought the dragons so that the family could run.

“Strong as an Ox, he was. Mined his whole life from the age of 8. Couldn’t wait to join his Dad and brothers every day in the mines, learning what they knew, trying to impress everyone with his feats of strength.” Again, she would laugh here, “Legs like tree trunks, arms like branches, and a body as solid as the stone walls.” Carella told this same story often. She always shed a tear at this point, remembering the survivor’s guilt and the horrors she had witnessed, still burned in her brain.

“He had to fight them because my slippery shoes slowed me down. I couldn’t run fast enough and the dragons were coming. My mother and I held hands and ran as fast as we could. I carried my brother, and mother carried her big cooking pot full of precious tools and things she knew we would need. Mother could have flown by herself but she couldn’t carry us, and she couldn’t leave us.” The tears ran down her cheeks, her eyes closed against the pain, but unable to shut out the memory of what she saw. Carella almost whispered “The smell of his flesh burning was a terrible thing. Still Donal grabbed the dragon’s claw as it swooped and he kept moving, a blur of flame striking at the dragon, probably with his burning fists, roaring in rage, as the dragon flew away trying to shake him off.”

Carella paused as her breath shuddered in her throat and larger tears squeezed through her lashes. Taking a deep breath and opening her eyes, Carella recovered herself, pulling her kerchief from her sleeve and cleaning her face.

“Cousin Donal died saving all of us and we are very grateful. We make our lives full to honour his sacrifice”

Life in their new village had been hard. Mother’s earrings had indeed helped the family buy a house. The earrings bought a field from Farmer Obnixus, which had been pasture at the edge of his farm. Her uncle, remaining cousins, brother and later their families worked hard as labourers on his farm and others.

The extended family crowded together in their ramshackle house, rooms added over time. The timber they cut and dragged from the forest themselves, stacking it to dry, trimming it, putting it in place and hardening it with smoke from the fire they used for warmth and cooking. Working their days on farms, and taking turns to have a day off and build their home was hard work. One of the men was always at the house with the women and children. No-one knew if the dragons would come here, and there was always work to be done in the house and garden.

Carella grew into a beautiful and skilled young woman, and married Farmer Obnixus’ only son, Anthony. He was handsome, strong, kind and protective of Carella from the moment he met her. Carella got on well with his sisters, and they all enjoyed the confidences and reciprocal care of young women with much in common who became best friends.

Once married, Carella moved into the Obnixus family’s big, well-established house full of wonderful things. She was much more comfortable there, but felt guilty that her own mother and family still lived in the small house at the end of the farm. The family was relieved that she, the only girl in the family, was happily married to a man of means.

When her Mother, Tris, became frail with age, Carella brought her into the big house. Her father-in-law had passed on by then, the hard life of a farmer taking its toll. Her mother-in-law and mother managed to cooperate most of the time. Her mother-in-law was prideful that she was matriarch of the home and farm, wearing the diamond earrings for every celebration, and her much easier life had given her better health and strength. Yet, it was her mother-in-law who passed first, of a sudden pain in her chest, and the diamond earrings came back to Carella. Carella’s mother lasted another ten years resting in comfort, being visited by her great-grandchildren, occasionally cooking preserves, tending the vegetable garden, and mending clothes. Carella was very grateful for her company and her wisdom.

Carella’s happy marriage and prosperity kept her healthy and strong. She’d had 7 children without really meaning to, and both sets of grandparents had helped to raise them. Her only real sadness was that her youngest daughter, Ingrid, had died giving birth to Tagba. Carella took in baby Tagba and raised her. Carella was still strong, but her very active life had worn out her joints, and she mostly used a wheelchair. She stayed home most of the time, teaching Tagba history, values and skills, as they tended the garden, cooked for the family and farm workers, sewed clothes and kept the house a hive of healthy family activity.

Tagba’s father Adiari Fidum kept living with his parents when Tagba went to live with Carella. but he ate dinner with the family every night, spending time with his precious daughter and reading her a story in bed, before going home to sleep. When Tagba was 4, he married again. Although his new wife could not help but love her husband’s adorable girl, Tagba wanted to stay with Carella. Adiari and his wife visited her, and Tagba sometimes stayed with her father’s family.

As a maiden of 14 Tagba could go and visit her father by herself, her strong young legs easily walking the few miles to his Smithy a few miles on the other side of the village, or his father’s farm. Sometimes she even tried flying, but her wings weren’t ready yet.

Adiari’s father was a rope-maker. He grew the hemp on a small farm, and had built a Rope Walk along the length of the property. Here he and his workers twisted the fibres into even, strong rope. He had wanted Adiari to join him and his brother David in making rope, but it was too repetitious for Adiari. He wanted to be a Blacksmith, and had convinced a local Smithy to take him as Apprentice. A muscular young man, Adiari enjoyed swinging the hammer and every other stage of working metal. Instead, one of Tagba’s uncles, George, and older cousin, Alex, worked for Adiari’s father, making rope. This led to Adiari meeting Carella’s Uncle Ed. Such was Adiari’s determination and charm that he convinced Uncle Ed to give him additional lessons in fine jewellery making. This connection was how he and Ingrid had met, and a lovely couple they had made. Lively, happy, talented, beautiful people. Tagba was their only child, as strong and determined as her father and as beautiful and clever as her mother.

Tagba had plenty of older cousins, now adults. As children, they would often let her tag along on adventures. Tagba loved learning from them, and building her muscles. She remembered the example of Cousin Donal: working from a young age made you strong enough to fight a dragon! Tagba seized every opportunity to learn skills, to help with farm and housework, to grow stronger and smarter. She didn’t ever tell anyone that she was preparing to fight a dragon. Her tiny heart was fierce, and grew fiercer as she grew older, taller, stronger and quicker.

There was always so much to do, and so many members of her family to do it with! Still, she also managed to take herself on solo adventures, like climbing a tree and watching parent birds feed their babies, and finding a half-starved dog that no-one in the area seemed to own, but which instantly became Tagba’s devoted companion. She named him Donal. Carella was a little shocked at this, then roared with laughter. “We’d better feed him up then, if he’s to look like a Donal!”

It was Donal’s whine that interrupted Carella’s storytelling now. He had gone to the window, anxiously watching the sky, his whole body trembling, feet fidgeting. Tagba put down the plate she was passing to Albert’s mother. “What’s up boy?”

Donal gave a single sharp bark, and turned to look at her pleadingly. Tagba moved to the window, curious but with fear rising. Carella didn’t need to look. “Dragons!” She exclaimed. “That’s what our dog did too! Quickly, everyone, into the forest!” She handed Albert to his mother, who rose, grabbed him and was out of the room in an instant, the various mothers and children who were visiting bustling together into the cover of the trees.

As Tagba went to push Carella’s wheelchair after them, she laid her hand on her arm.

"No dear. I need my necklace."

Tagba blinked, nodded, and ran to fetch it from the jewellery box upstairs. She grabbed the diamond earrings too. She tried to hand them to Carella, who took the necklace but told her:

“The earrings are yours now.”

Tagba wanted to protest, but there was no time. “I’ll keep them safe,” she thought, wrapping them in a napkin, and shoving them into her deepest pocket.

Again Tagba started to push the chair out the back. “No dear. Take me to the front garden.” Tagba paused, starting to realise Carella’s plan.

“No! I’ll take you to the forest with the others, then I’ll go to the front garden.”

Carella smiled proudly, yet sadly. “Another time, dear. Today it’s my turn.”

Tagba started crying, but she knew that arguing with her Grandmother was pointless, and time was precious. She quickly turned the chair and pushed it out the front of the house, down the ramp and into the beautiful front garden, full of flowers and fruit trees, and a safe grassy place for generations of babies to play. Donal had tried to follow as Tagba had darted about the house, and was relieved to have a path to follow now. His tail was held stiffly, his whole body and all his senses alert.

“Further, dear, out to the road.”

Tears blurring her vision, Tagba rushed Carella as far as possible from the family in the forest.

Carella was clutching Tris’s ruby necklace in her lap. She turned a determined expression to Tagba as they reached the road.

“Now give me a kiss, dear. You’re a credit to this family.” Tagba couldn’t stop her sobs as she hugged Grandmother in her chair, knowing she was about to lose her forever.

“Now you run back! The others will need your clear head.”

Tagba and Donal ran back only a short way, sheltering under some fruit trees, to see what would happen. She held Donal’s collar, warning him to be silent.

Two dragons flew from the direction of the Valley. One flew overhead into the Village, the other came to the house and landed on the roof, its wings outstretched for balance.

Carella did not seem her years as she stood from her chair, unfolded her wings and waved her arm, the ruby and gold glinting in the afternoon sun. “Over here you ugly lizard!” she cried, in a voice louder than Tagba had ever heard her use.

The dragon on the house snorted as it looked at Carella, tipping its head sideways and noticing the glittering necklace. Its huge leathery wings unfurled and lifted it into the air, the flapping causing wind. It flew effortlessly to Carella and snatched her in a claw. Donal broke away from Tagba, heedless of her pleading, barking fiercely and jumping at the dragon. The dragon incinerated him without missing a beat of its wings, then flew high above everything, back to the Valley. A cry of anguish escaped unbidden from Tagba, as she sobbed open-mouthed where she stood.

The roaring of a dragon over the village caught Tagba's attention. She could see it moving back this way. Sometimes it roared before it spewed flame, other times the roaring continued while the flame poured down, incinerating everything it touched. From the village it flew over her extended family’s cottage, setting it aflame. This house was next.

The forest was not yet alight. Father and Uncle Ed had a mine in the forest. Today that mineshaft would be the only safe place.

She ran into the forest, her wings adding propulsion, and found the group not far from the house. Patrice was soothing Albert, who was fretting. Molly was holding the hand of her 12 year old son Jack, and trying to coax a wailing girl away from the body of her mother.

“What happened?” asked Tagba

“She was carrying Anita and turned to look when the dragon landed on the house. She must have tripped on something because she fell backwards and hit her head on this rock.” Molly pointed to the patch of blood on the ground.

Anita was not more than 5 years old, crying and shaking her mother. Tagba scooped her up, still wailing, and ran further into the forest. She set the child down and held her shoulders. “Take a deep breath,” she said firmly, and the child paused her cries long enough to take a shuddering breath, before releasing it as coughing and sobbing.

“OK,” Tagba continued soothingly, “The dragons are still burning everything. We have to get to a safe place. We have to work together, and we have to be quiet.”

“What about Mummy?” Anita started crying again.

“We have to go without Mummy, and we can all cry later, but first we need to go.”

Anita understood. She swallowed her tears, glanced at Jack and grabbed Molly’s hand, looking up at her for reassurance. Molly was shaking and pale, but determined and reassuring.

Remembering they had just a few minutes before their house burned, Tagba asked: “Jack, can you help me with some things?”

“Of course!” He looked at Molly, who nodded and released his hand.

“Open the chicken coop door so they can escape, then meet me in the kitchen!”

Jack nodded and they ran from the forest.

Tagba pulled a tarpaulin from a cart in the yard and dropped it at the kitchen door, then ran inside and collected a bag, which she stuffed with food from the kitchen. She dropped this at the kitchen door and ran to the bedrooms where she gathered as many blankets as she could carry. She arrived back at the kitchen to see Molly loading Jack with the bag she had packed, plus another.

“Patrice has Anita,” she said without stopping, “I thought you could use some more hands.”

Tagba smiled gratefully and passed the blankets to Molly, saying “You and Jack take these to the forest. I’ll just be a moment longer.” She watched them leave and took a breath. A moment to think. A moment in her house for probably the last time.

Remembering that Tris had fled with jewellery and tools, Tagba grabbed a large pot and put cooking utensils into it. Then she stuffed the tarpaulin under one arm, clutched the pot in the other and ran for the forest.

“Let’s go!” Tagba led the way into the forest with the others following.

A dragon passed overhead, roaring, but didn’t burn the forest. They all stopped, frozen and silent, even Albert, until it flew past. “That was a bit too close!” It wasn't long before they reached the mine, but it felt like an eternity.

It was covered with a wooden door that Uncle Ed had made, set on an angle into a small hill in the forest. Tagba lifted it and went inside, placing the things she had brought near the door with neatly stored mining tools, and indicated the others should do the same. She ushered the family into a space like a low-ceilinged room cut into the hillside and lit one of the thoughtfully placed lanterns at the entrance. She passed the lantern to Patrice and closed the door tightly behind them, noting that there was still daylight showing, so there was air. She collected a second lantern, and passed it to Molly, along with matches. “Don’t light it now,” she cautioned, “this is for later. Follow me.”

This remnant of a family cautiously walked along the well-kept sloping tunnel, leading deeper into the cool earth.

“How far is it?” asked Anita tremulously.

“Far enough to keep us safe from the dragons.” Tagba replied.

“Can you hold this lantern?” Molly asked Anita.

Anita nodded solemnly, and once she had hold of it, Molly picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. Jack followed close behind.

It took only about ten minutes to reach a much larger cavern hollowed from the rock. The marks of tools were evident in the walls and floor. The floor was littered unevenly with almost sand-like small particles, softening it slightly. Still they continued. “We might as well go all the way in,” Tagba said. “I don’t think it’s much further.”

Tagba wondered how many people had been mining here: they must have cut and moved quite a large amount of rock over the years!

Either Tagba hadn’t noticed before, or more tunnels had been cut since her visit. She stopped to consider, as Patrice held the lantern as high as she could.

“Not the first one,” Tagba mused aloud, and they passed one on either side. She stopped at the third pair of branches, and tried to imagine where in the forest they were. As they stood silently, Jack piped up “I hear water running!” Tagba nodded agreement. Without words, they all turned into the tunnel on the right, where the faint sound seemed to be coming from. This tunnel was much longer than Tagba remembered, and the sound of water grew louder as they walked. They came to a wider cavern, with an underground rivulet running along the back. The roof was out of sight. There were wooden cupboards along one wall, and a workbench with a trough which drained into a small trench leading to the rivulet. Patrice set the lantern down on the bench.

There were 4 chairs and a table, all rough-hewn from tree trunks, probably with axes. Functional and sturdy, but “quickly” made. Clearly some people had spent time here.

“What a good thing our family never really gave up mining!” Tagba commented aloud, the others echoing her relieved laughter. “I guess this is where they washed off their finds. I’ll dig a hole for our toilet in that trench, since it flows to the downstream end of the rivulet. The rivulet is flowing quite fast, so water from the trough would effectively flush the contents into it to be carried away. We can collect clean water at the upstream end.”

“Good idea.” Molly and Patrice both nodded.

“I think the rest area should be away from the water,” Molly pointed to the empty area away from the bench, close to the tunnel they had come through. Molly lit the second lantern and she and Jack went back to fetch things and lay out the tarpaulin. Patrice and Anita sat at the table and talked while Albert slept on her shoulder.

Tagba found a bucket in the cupboard and filled it at the inlet end of the rivulet, and put it on the bench next to the trough. Then she took a spade and followed the drainage trench, widening a section close to the rivulet to be their toilet.

Patrice found wooden cups and plates, as well as a sharp knife in the cupboard. She rinsed a cup and tested the water for drinking. It seemed clean. She rinsed the rest of the items and made sure everyone had a drink. Patrice and Anita had unpacked some bread and cheese onto the table, and everyone ate.

Tagba made sure they all had a visit to their new toilet, which she flushed for them, refilling the bucket with clean water from the “inlet” end of the rivulet, and put it on the bench. Patrice helped Anita, so she didn’t fall in.

Then Tagba left Molly in charge, and climbed the sloping tunnel upwards. “I hope I can bring some more people back with me,” Tagba thought. In the entry room, she extinguished her lantern and put it in the cupboard. She carefully opened the door and looked around before stepping out into sunlight brighter than she remembered. She got her bearings and ran towards the village. She wanted to find her father and his parents. She hoped they were safe inside the forest as she pressed on to the Village.

What she found was carnage and flame. Buildings were still burning. The air was acrid with smoke and smells of burned hair and flesh, as well as wood, cloth and paint. Tagba put her arm across her face, using her sleeve and elbow as some protection, and pressed on. Eventually, she reached Adiari’s Smithy on the outskirts of town. It was built of rock and made for heat, so it was singed, but still standing. Her father wasn’t there, but neither were any burned bodies.

Tagba’s grandparent’s farm was smouldering, the house a mound of collapsed coals still aflame. There were some scattered lumps that might have been charred bodies. Tagba didn’t want to find out. None of them were big enough to be her father. She hoped, but not believed, that the people of her grandparents farm had fled to the forest in time.

The next farm had the river running through it. Tagba followed the river, hoping some people had sheltered there. They had, but the dragon had found them. Charred bundles lay in a group near the water’s edge.

When Tagba reached the Village again she saw a stone building that seemed untouched amidst those burning around it. She knocked at the door and went inside. It was empty, so she took blankets from the beds, using one to wrap the food from the cupboards. Laden with these things she checked the sky and waddled back to the others.

At the mine, she relit the lantern and hurried down the tunnel. The family leaped up to greet her.

“I found more food and blankets!” Tagba told them.

Molly helped her unpack everything into the cupboards, and shook out the blankets. “Well done!” she commented.

Molly said “The beds on the tarp are ready for us to lie down and have a rest. There were 12 blankets, so I’ve made 4 beds with a blanket under and two on top. Would you be able to share a bed, Anita & Tagba?”

Tagba nodded and looked at Anita, who ran to her side and hugged Tagba’s leg. Tagba smiled down at her reassuringly and ruffled her hair. “We’re going to be OK,” she said.

“Let’s put out the lanterns to save fuel.” suggested Patrice, putting matches next to the lantern on the bench, as she did so. Molly put her lantern beside her bed. Once everyone was settled, she put it out.

They were all pleased to lie down and rest, comforted somewhat by feeling safe, and by each other’s company. After a few minutes of darkness, some glow-worms started to show on the roof of the cavern. “This place must have already been a cave!” Tagba murmured, “Look at the glow worms on the roof!”

Amid the appreciative sounds, Anita squealed with delight and clapped her hands.

Tagba smiled to herself. There are still good things in the world.

She was torn between the urgency of wanting to do more: rescue more people, find them food to survive, and the bone-weariness of realising she was safe for the moment and could rest. Should rest, if she was going to continue to lead this rag-tag group of her family.

Adrenalin still coursing, Tagba’s mind wandered while she rested her body, she wondered where her father was. She wondered about the people in the village, and the rest of the family at the other house. She rubbed her eyes and massaged her temples. Tears slid down her cheeks into her ears as she lay, the realisation of all she had lost today starting to settle on her. She let them fall for a while, feeling the grief, taking deep shuddering breaths as quietly as she could. She heard others sniffling too.

Anita snuggled against Tagba and her breathing slowed.

Despite the many traumas of the day, they were safe and fed, and now warmer.

Tagba remembered Grandmother’s sacrifice. Images from Grandmother’s stories flitted through Tagba’s mind, chased by events of today.

The stories of their family were part of what made Tagba who she was. Her relationships with family had taught her everything she knew. Tagba’s family line was not just her father’s: Fidum, she was also a Ferox and an Obnixus. She was dependable, fierce, determined!

She gritted her teeth. She had lost everything, but she was still here. This group was all that remained. They would survive for those who didn’t.