The Ogre, The Hand and The Dragon

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

In fact, they visited so rarely they were considered myth by the children of the village. Often they would outfit the chosen kid with sticks and bark, mimicking the great talons and claws of the beasts, whilst the others ran and screamed. They fled into the long grass and farmlands, to the distaste of the farmers, awaiting their hunter with baited breath and uncontainable giggles of anticipation.

She smiled as she watched them from her hut on the ridge, catching the sight of Hephestus heading towards them, ready to scold the group for trampling his Appleberri crop. He was a man with a strong will, a strong back and even stronger love for nature and growth, especially since his son left for the Dragonlands. She had always admired his stern but gentle manner and had often sought his advice growing up. As a child he taught her which fruits were safe to eat and, when she was older, which seeds to sneak into a friend’s stew when they stole the last of her dandelion wine. Jeyna never touched stew again after suffering a week of trying to pass the quickly growing seeds.

Hephestus was surprisingly stealthy as he snuck up on the group, she remembered hearing his rampant shouts and stomping from when she was the one hiding. They’d always known exactly where he was and were able to run around him out of sight, adding a new element to the game; Avoid the Ogre. No doubt after years of playing the game of dragons he had learned a trick or two and was now approaching with the quietness of a hunting big cat.

The children sat shushing each other and peering through the crops for the Dragon. When suddenly, an Ogre pounced on them out of nowhere, roaring and swinging its arms. The children screamed and ran, rushing out of the Appleberri’s and into the open, where the dragon was awaiting them. With a great roar it tackled one of the children and wrestled them to the ground. After a few minutes of rolling around the dragon was victorious, and again, roared it’s proclamation of victory for the entire village to hear. This was swiftly followed the disapproving looks of two elderly villagers who were previously enjoying their afternoon nap.

As the dragon ran into the long grass, she lost track of the hunt and turned her attention to the valley. The sun was low in the sky, casting a bright orange glow across the fields and casting dramatic shadows from the wooden huts and fences within the village. A light and welcome breeze also swayed through grasses and lightly brushed the hair upon her forearm. It had felt strange to have an afternoon free to sit in peace, but she had enjoyed it thoroughly, opening her sense to the elements and taking in the last of her home.

A glint in the distance caught her eye as her destiny approached. She saw the long, curved horns sticking through the tall grass and felt a jolt of excitement.

“So they are real”, she whispered to herself.

She had awaited this moment since she undertook the trial of tooth and claw. She was the first to pass this trail in over 6 generations, and also the youngest, being only 16. Though the villagers were in shock when she returned, she had always known this was her destiny. Her mother had been the epitome of grace, strength and control, whilst her father was adept in speed, style and efficiency. She had been born to join the approaching horns and she damn well knew it.

She grabbed her pack full of fruits, bread, pans, clothes and blankets. She made sure to check her father’s ring was still attached to his hand and wrapped it carefully in wet rags, as she had been instructed to do by the shaman. She regretted having to carry it, but it did bring her some comfort to know her father was going with her.

The trek down the village felt different to normal, it was slower and more deliberate. She was used to storming down at sunrise, ready to jump into the stream and wash before her day of training. She almost felt like turning back and jumping into bed before the sunset, but the thought of the coming months steadied her uncertainty and she continued, one boot at a time.

She nodded to the nodding off couple who had resumed their comfortable afternoon. She waved at Hephestus, who gave her a pleasant wave back, though she could see the concern and worry on his face. Deep down they both knew she would be ok, but she would greatly miss his company.

‘When I get back, I’ll take him to Longview peak and show him the lands beyond ours’, she thought as she continued down the path, ‘If I ever get back’. She had only visited the long view peak twice, once with her mother and once with her father. She remembered being speechless on her second visit as her father had shown her how to read the landscape, transforming it from a pretty view into thousands of opportunities for exploration. ‘Hephestus could use some hope for an escape.’

She finally met the end of the trail through her village when she encountered a noble warrior, clad in large wooden horns, carrying a might weapon and sturdy shield. The warrior raced past her and into the long grass. Having a bit more time on her hands and enjoying the distraction from her fate, she followed him, eager to see the unfolding events. The warrior found their way into the clearing, where his foe stood.

A fierce Dragon, the tallest for miles around at three and a half feet tall, who had just stopped chewing on an unfortunate villager. The warrior raised his weapon and charged with a fierce battle cry, matched by the dragons’. They both broke their weapons upon the other, falling to the ground as just another couple of branches. To the surprise of the other villagers peering through the tall grass, the warrior over powered the Dragon, and pinned it to the ground. The Dragon relented with another great roar and fell lifeless to the ground as the warrior cheered and motioned for the villagers to come out of hiding.

She had played the game of dragons many times, but had never seen a warrior like this. The children celebrated for a small while and as they started back to the village, the Dragon cried out behind them, “Don’t forget me!”

The child brushed off the dirt and removed the makeshift bark armour before running off into the grass. She smiled, remembering her days as the Dragon for though she hadn’t faced a brave warrior, she had always won the game. A troubled thought crossed her mind, ‘Is this a bad omen for my journey?’, though she brushed it off as part of her nervous energy and made her way back out of the tall grass.

Stood at the precipice of adventure, she waited for the distant horns. They had arrived quicker than she had expected, though she was glad, as her anxious excitement was starting to amplify. Then she saw them. They stepped out of the tallgrass, magnificent armour, so detailed and intricate, dazzling her with reflections of the sun’s orange glow.

She stood tall and shouted, “Do you dare to approach the village of Carenthian? Home to Desha and Grembar, the flames of the long forgotten.” The figures stopped and the man at the helm of the group considered her for a short while and then, in a deep growling voice responded, “We are the Dragons of Scoria, and we have come for our hatchling. To whom am I speaking?”

She mustered her courage and, staring directly in his eyes, she breathed a jet of pale green fire into the air above them.

“I am Keleena!” she shouted, “I am the Dragon of Carenthian, and I am ready to defend my home!”. She took the stance her father had taught her and readied for battle when she felt a small movement in her bag. She risked a small glance and saw the imprint of a thumbs up pushing through the fabric. She couldn’t help but smile. Even in death, he was her biggest supporter, and today she would do him proud.

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, but life was a lot more interesting when there were.