Lessons from the Dragons: A Fable

            Drakon the dragon and his mate, Ehecatl, had been waiting for what seemed like centuries for this day.  The dragons had names picked out for every green-and-gold egg that gleamed warmly out of the soft bed Ehecatl had created for her eggs.  Ehecatl and Drakon had both been tending to the eggs for months, waiting patiently for them to mature to be ready for hatching.  And now they were – warm, brightly glowing with energy, and some were even moving slightly as if quivering in anticipation themselves.  As the pair expected the eggs to hatch today, they were busy preparing for their new little dragons.  Warm towels and fresh baby mice were made ready for each of the nine egg-lings.  Soft beds were prepared for them as no doubt they would be tired from breaking out of their shells. 

            Crick, criiiick, crick.  Drakon and Ehecatl each caught their breath in their throats and their eyes burned into one another’s as they recognized the first sounds of one of their babies breaking free.  Silver smoke curled out of Drakon’s jaws as he grinned excitedly at his mate.  One of the eggs, the one they called Pachua, had a hairline fracture in its side and was wiggling around in some strange, hypnotic dance in its spot on the bed. Just as a small, grey claw emerged from the first egg, a second egg began to dance – and then a third and fourth almost simultaneously.  Soon, the nest was filling up with baby dragons, each as beautiful and alluring as the next.  Ehecatl was tossing her head with pride as her seventh baby, Tatsuya, broke free and immediately spread his purple wings wide – rushing at one of the pinkies that lie there ready for the hatchlings. 

Drakon was tending to Pachua and the second born Coaxoch as the eighth egg finally whirled, fell to its side, and a tiny orange tail poked through the bottom of the egg.  The baby was stuck in the egg, pushing its hindquarters into the base of the egg, unable to break it open any farther.  Ehecatl swooped upon the egg and helped the creature get free.  This baby they called Tanis, and she was an intriguing shade of red, with green and gold highlights.  The poor baby was shaking and frightened by his inability to break free of his shell, and Ehecatl quickly took him and placed a warm cloth over his back.  Drakon breathed deeply, satisfied that his baby was safe.

“The nine of you are so beautiful!” exclaimed Ehecatl as she nuzzled her babies.  It was then Drakon noticed the ninth egg still sat, unmoving in the nest.  Drakon sucked in a deep breath and went over to the silent egg.  Its surface was smooth, and seemed cool to the touch.  Ehecatl noticed Drakon and the unmoving egg, and she paced back and forth, breath puffing before her with worry like a train approaching on the horizon.  Drakon tenderly picked up the egg and rubbed its surface, and blew a shot of smoke near to the egg to warm it up slightly.  No response came from the egg.  It stared at the pair and they stared back, and the room grew silent as the hatchlings felt their mother’s mood change.  A soft rumble escaped from Ehecatl’s throat as she bent over the egg that would not hatch.  Large, silver tears leaked from her sapphire eyes as she mourned the loss of the ninth egg – the one they would have called Ladon.  The hatchlings gathered around as Drakon nuzzled Ehecatl in a gesture of comfort. 

“And that is your first lesson ever, my babies,” Ehecatl regarded her young, “Never count your dragon eggs before they are hatched.”  The new dragons looked up at their mother, their round eyes wet with feeling for their parent’s painful loss – for the loss of their sibling.  Before they settled in for the night as a family, Ehecatl and Drakon buried the un-hatched egg in a mossy spot near their cave, and marked it with a large stone.  Even today, one can go to the stone and meditate on the lessons mankind has learned from the dragons.     

Gwendolyn and Fairfax: A Fable

Gwendolyn had just about enough.  As if it weren’t bad enough that she was the weakest, most emotional Elf in the Reds – now everyone in the village (it seemed, anyway) had turned to hear her family yelling at her about her appearance.

            “You look like a troll!” her mother proclaimed, sniffing at Gwen’s unkempt hair and tattered clothes.  “Why don’t you ever wear the nice things your sister makes for you?”  Gwen sighed and looked down at her ensemble.  She didn’t think it was so bad.  Besides, she didn’t care to wear the clothes her sister made, they were far too sparkly and fancy for her tastes.  A tear threatened to leap from her eye as she looked around at all the staring faces.  Some of the other elves her age whispered and laughed.  Before the tear could escape, Gwen turned and ran as fast as she could into the redwoods.  She wouldn’t give the entire village the satisfaction of watching her cry. 

            Deep in the woods, Gwen leaned against a tree and let loose.  She could taste and smell the salt of her tears as they streamed down her face, streaking it with dirt that had accumulated on her as she ran.  She was so wrapped up in her emotions she failed to sense at all that someone else was leaning against the same tree on the opposite side.  She slumped down, letting her limbs fall free, and her hand fell against something warm.

            “Hey! Wha-“ Gwen started, scrambling to her feet.  The warmth she felt was another hand, which Gwen discovered quickly, belonged to a freckle-faced fairy.  Gwen sucked in cold air and shivered when she glimpsed the tell-tale wings.  Elves and fairies were notoriously at odds with each other, and her mother was consistently warning her to stay away from the entirety of the race. 

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the fairy said, looking at the ground.  Her face, Gwen noticed, was also streaked with tears and dirt. 

            “It’s OK” Gwen replied, stepping back from the fairy slightly.  Her mother’s warnings were flooding her head – fairies are tricksters, fairies are trouble, fairies are never serious and only care to play pranks and cause mischief.  The elfin race Gwen belonged to prided themselves on their fierceness and intelligence – and had absolutely no time for fairy hi-jinks.  Gwen’s mother’s warnings filled her thoughts, and she started to turn away to find another tree to lean on.  But something stopped her.  After all, her mother spent a large amount of time yelling at her about all her ‘faults’ – maybe she was wrong about the fairies, too.  She regarded the girl shyly.

            “What’s your name?” she asked, wiping the tears from her face lest the girl think lowly of her emotions. 

            “I’m Fairfax,” the fairy replied, wiping her own face quickly with the back of her hand.  “And you are?”

            “I’m Gwendolyn,” she stated, and then after a moment added: “Are you alright?” indicating the tear-streaked face of the fairy.

            Fairfax sighed, and struggled to smile.  “Not exactly…I’ve been forced out of my village in search of Anardana.  The village ran out, and because they think of me as the weakest link, they sent me to look for it.”  She was almost in tears again as she recalled the harshness in her father’s voice when he sent her out to search for the rare spice. 
“I’ve been searching for three days and have yet to find anything.  I’m a total failure!” and with that, Fairfax’s face crumpled and her tears began flowing freely once more.

            Gwendolyn’s own face brightened as she heard what was troubling her new acquaintance. 

            “Well, I live in the Reds, just a mile or so from here – and our village is brimming with wild pomegranates!  I’m sure you could find some Anardana that would please your family there.  Would you like to come take a look?”

            Fairfax’s eyes widened and her wings fluttered, causing a cloud of glitter to surround the pair. 

“Oh, I’d just love that!”

“I know what its like to feel outcast and alone,” Gwen said, turning in the direction of her village.  “I’d be happy to help.  Come on.” 

The two crunched their way through the red woods and talked lightly with each other about their lives.  When they reached the village, Gwen’s mother nearly jumped out of her own skin at the sight of her daughter laughing with one of those kind.  

“GWENDOLYN!” she shouted.  “What are you doing with that….that…fairy!!”  Her voice couldn’t have been more contemptuous.  Fairfax turned bright red and began to inch away from her new friend.  But Gwen gently placed a hand on the fairy’s shoulder, and turned to her mother.

“Mom, I’d like you to meet Fairfax.  She lives a few miles from here, and seems to be in need of some Anardana.  Since we have so many pomegranates around the village, I thought we could help her.”

Her mother jeered, “Absolutely not!  What have I told you about their kind?  Get her out of here before she causes trouble in the village!”

“No, mom.”  Gwen stood her ground.

“What did you just say to me?”

            “I said no.  I told her I would help her, and I will.  She won’t hurt anyone here.  She is nice.  And you don’t know everything, you prejudiced troll!” she emphasized the last part, and turned defiantly from her mother toward the gardens.  “C’mon Fairfax, lets go get your Anardana.”

            Fairfax gathered enough Anardana to last her village for several months.  When she left, she was sure to thank the village elders and Gwendolyn for their help.  The village elders held their breath, anticipating a lavish prank from the fairy.  But nothing happened.  Not even so much as a rock overturned or a hair out of place after Fairfax’s visit.  And she continued to visit Gwendolyn.  After a while, the elves and fairies of the Reds grew to know and enjoy each others company from time to time.  All because of the two most outcast children of their villages – the prejudices between the two races (at least in this area) were softened, and the two girls never had to feel lonely or displaced from their societies again.