Balance of Mind and Heart

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

When the small village of Clovemoore was first founded, nestled between the two beautiful mountains Hixladle and Nyborne, there was not a single beast in sight. The stream that cut through the lush green ferns and grasses in the Valley provided the people with all the water they could want, and the livestock of the town had plenty of sweet flowers and grass to graze on.

Then, the dragons came.

They gave no warning, they were just there. Appeared, one day, in the mountains, guarding their hordes of precious jewels and gold. They killed the livestock for their own food, and soon some of the town was going to bed hungry. The dragons would fly down to drink from the stream, trampling the light grasses and tainting the water with the sulfur that poured from their maws. Now the dwindling livestock had less food of their own, and the water would make the townspeople sick if not collected from farther upstream.

Many brave men and boys from the village boasted tales of confronting the beasts, that they alone would be the ones to slay the terrors and bring back the scaly hide to be made into armor. But every time they set out to climb one of the two mountains - Nyborne, usually, the dragons seemed to favor it - they could hardly make it past the first few yards of steep incline. They would either stumble and roll back the way they came, or give up and walk back down in shame.

The women and girls of the village tried as well, at least, those of them who felt like showing up their male counterparts. But even though they dressed like the boys, in pants that wouldn't rip and tangle like skirts, in buttoned shirts with pockets for useful things, they still couldn't reach the dragons. Over and over, they would fall down the cliffs of the mountains, hurt themselves and turn back, give up when they found they couldn't climb any further.

One girl watched it all. Watched from the sidelines as her friends climbed the mountains, alone and together, pulling each other along until something stopped them in their tracks. She studied their movements, watched with curiosity at the way they worked. They only stopped when they figured they were done, she noticed. It was never because of the dragons they so eagerly wished to destroy. She knew the dragons were harming the fragile ecosystem of the Valley, of course, but if they were such a problem, why was it that no one could reach them?

Her father, a wise man who had traveled to the Valley and settled there from a land far away from their secluded town, knew the answer. He explained it to his daughter, facing her in the field outside their home, as they watched over their remaining cows. He told her it wasn't the dragons that stopped their fellow townspeople from climbing to the caves at the top, they were bad for the Valley, but they had no way to stop the people. The people who climbed up were falling and retreating because though they bragged and they boasted, and they told fantasies of slaying the beasts, they were not strong enough in the mind or the heart.

"When the mind is strong, it powers the heart. When the heart is strong, it fuels the body. You cannot use one unless you have strength in the other."

His daughter, a young child and stubborn, despite her quiet nature around others, did not understand. She thought it was simply because they couldn't, because they did not have the physical ability.

"That's part of it too. But understand, what makes the body run? The heart. The heart is fueled by the mind. Their minds tell them they cannot pass further than they have gone, so they give up. So they fall."

The girl wanted to show them what mistakes they had made, she wanted to get to the top and slay the dragons that were harming her home. Her father agreed to train her so that she could make it up there. He warned her it would take a long time, and a lot of effort. She didn't mind, she responded.

Every day, her father took her out and they would run, jump over rocks, and climb up smaller cliffs at the edge of Hixladle. Every day the girl would study the dragons, making careful notes on their appearances, so she would know which ones to drive off. Every day, for months, they did this.

There were times when the girl grew impatient, when she shouted at her father and refused to do something. I can't do it, she would shout, hands clenched into fists as she would scream at her father for holding her back, when all the others got to climb as far as they could, regardless if they reached the top. The father never yelled back.

Listen to me, he would say. Listen, the only way for you to do what they do, but better, is for you to do this, over and over again. You may not enjoy it, it may be hard, you may feel as though you cannot do it. But it will be worth it. You will get to the top, my daughter, I can promise you that, I will promise you that. Your efforts will not be without a reward.

So the girl wiped the sweat and tears of exhaustion from her eyes, and began again. She worked, and worked, eventually, she began to see. She could run faster, she could lift herself up onto cliffs easier, she could jump farther. At last, her father decided she was ready, and provided her with a sword.

Strapping the blade to her back, the girl set out through Clovemoore, attracting attention from the rest of the townspeople. They followed her to the foot of Nyborne, watching as she started her ascent. They whispered among themselves, placing bets. Surely she wouldn't make it any farther than the rest of them had, right?

But the girl did. She lifted herself over cliff after cliff, clinging to the rocks of the mountain and using the crags as footholds. The crowd watched in awe below her, her father standing aside, watching with pride as he observed.

At last, she had made it. The girl made it to the first cave. She stood outside the cave, withdrawing the journal in which she had made all her notes. Peeking in, she saw no signs of a dragon, but she did see eggs, lying on the floor of the cave, tucked in nests. She made another note and moved on.

The next cave did in fact have a dragon. But it wasn't one of the ones that she had noted always came down to the stream and ate the livestock. Further examination revealed this dragon seemed to like eating the gemstones and gold it hoarded. She made a note and moved on.

The third cave held the dragon she sought. It was a family, and their cave was littered with the bones of livestock. She stepped forward into the cave, noting how the older dragons guarded the young. The girl withdrew her sword, then dropped it. As the metal clattered to the ground, the dragons stared at her, unsure. One small one slunk forwards, hissed at the metal sword, then nosed at her. The girl knelt before the mighty dragons, and spoke aloud to them.

"Great beasts of sky and flame, I do not come to harm you. I only ask if you may stop destroying our home. I know you like the mountains on which to gather and lay your eggs. But your sulfuric breath is tainting the water from which we drink, and those of you who are carnivorous eat the livestock we raise to eat ourselves. I do not wish to kill you, nor to ask you to leave. I ask if you may allow us to live in balance."

Now, not many people know this, but dragons can speak. Their voices are as gravelly as the rocks they dwell on, but hold all the force of the fire they spit. The girl had heard from her father that dragons hold the power of speech, but she did not expect she would be worthy of hearing such words.

Yet still, the biggest dragon rose, and made his claims. His voice reverberated around the echoing cave. "Tiny one of earth and water, we do not harm you. We do not mean to take your home from you. We migrate here, once each century, and stay to raise our young. It is you who intrude upon us. Balance is something you speak of, but how can there be between to types so different?"

The girl paused to consider.

"We are not so different. We both wish to raise our young without fear of them being taken away. We both want to be able to eat so we do not starve. We both want to be able to drink clean water. We both wish to live in this Valley without fear of danger. There is dragon in us, and human in you, though we may not look the same. We are the heart, and you are the mind. There is a chance for balance."

The dragon was slow to answer, but when he did it was not with words. He lifted the forgotton sword with a claw, and held it out to his fellow dragons. The smaller dragons reached out claws and began to etch into the metal. When they stepped back from the blade, the dragon blew a gentle stream of flames out onto the blade, to preserve the scratchings. The flames reached out and scorched the girl's hair, but she made no effort to stop them.

The big dragon held the sword out to her, and she accepted by holding her palms out flat, letting the beast move close enough to place the sword in her hands. She stared down at the carvings the dragons had made. It was a swirling design of a dragon, curling over on itself and surrounded by flames. A human rode on it's back, it's own fires joining the dragon's.

"Take this down, and a single egg from the hatchery." The dragon rumbled. "Tell your townspeople we will allow for time to replenish your waters and livestock. When they are ready, we will take what we need and no more, from specific pastures and sections of the river. Rear the dragon as your own, and we will allow your children to come and play with us. When time comes for us to leave, they may follow or stay, it is their choice."

The girl nodded, she understood. She bowed to the merciful dragons, thanking them for their time and gracious offer. She then made her way back down, stopping before the cave of eggs. She stepped inside, and picked a single egg from the crowd, holding it close as she made her descent.

When she reached the village, she showed her fellow townspeople the sword carvings, showed them the egg. She told them of the deal she had made with the dragons, and though it was not in the deal she wished to split the river, to make a stream for the dragons and a stream for themselves.

Then, she walked to her father, the egg left with the children and the animal caretakers of the village. It would be safe with them until she could return for it. She let the sword hang at her side, too precious now to allow to fall, and simply enveloped her father in a hug. He hugged her just as tight, and told her he was proud. She looked up at him with bright eyes.

"You were right, it turns out." she said to him with a smile. "We needed both heart and mind."

All would be well in the valley... until the egg began to crack.