The Dragon & the Blacksmith

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He meets the lady of his dreams.
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Ygraine
Ygraine
60 Followers

"I'm getting too old to be rushing up mountains." The big man stopped and wiped his brow with a rag from his apron pocket. In his haste to meet the Lady, he had forgotten to take it off before leaving the forge.

A bird of prey hovered lazily overhead, calling into the wind. The blacksmith looked around searching for a landmark to point him on his way.

"Pass by the two-fingered rock," she said, her voice a faint echo in his mind as he strained to catch sight of her wheeling and dipping over the highest peak. "Then come to the summer meadow".

He gulped and nodded, gathering all his courage to say, "There is a grotto I would show you, with a pool." He heard familiar laughter tinged with amusement tingle down his spine.

"Very well. I shall wait for you. " Her laughter was tinged with sadness, making him ache to comfort her.

He loved her, man and boy, ever since he chanced upon her while gathering gulls eggs. It seemed quite natural to his seven-year old mind when the shimmering dragon turned her deep blue eyes upon him and answered his questions politely. He raced home to tell his mother about his new friend, but when the chance came, he held his tongue, sensing the disbelief that would follow. This friendship was too precious to be sullied in any way.

So he kept silent all these years. At first, he searched for her amongst the rocky crags, seeking inaccessible places where she might rest; but all in vain. Sometimes he caught her reflection in the horse trough, soaring high above the village and he called to her, bellowing her name until his throat was raw, but she did not answer. Passers-by thought him touched with madness and would have shunned him, had not the blacksmith taken him in.

To be chosen by the blacksmith was a message in itself; he was singled out for a way of life not followed by all. As he grew tall and his frame larger from sheer hard work, the blacksmith taught him to call the dragon in a different way. He learned to listen to the rhythmic hiss of the bellows stoking the fire until the flames leaped and danced above the coals. Then he found he could weave the flames into a shape that called to her and she would answer.

The smith passed beside the rocks and walked slowly into the summer pasture. The grass was still short from grazing sheep. Shepherds had taken them down to the lower fields a few days before, the nights were drawing in and frost hung on the thin mountain air.

The pasture stretched before him like an endless lawn, dotted with colour from late flowering plants. All around, the mountains towered above him. The sun drew pigments from the rocks like so many splashes in a child's painting. They reminded him of the small offerings displayed on his kitchen walls at home, crafted by his youngest son.

"I am here," he called, his eyes searching the crags for the familiar white figure.

"I have lit candles for us." Her voice sounded close by, but still he could not find her. Then, suddenly, she sat up from the rock where she was lying and came towards him.

This was no dragon, but a woman of medium height, her white hair tumbling down her back like spray from a waterfall. The blacksmith could only stand and gape.

"I only walk with those I trust and rarely then," she explained, sensing his wonder at her human shape.

"This place has always been special to me," the blacksmith told her, " but you have turned it into something wonderful. "

The DragonLady's eyes flickered, but she seemed distracted by her new form.

"I have seen white clouds scudding across the sky as I waited for you and felt grass beneath my fingers, even though I know my body is not there, only my mind. Are you really here in this world of mine? "

"I am here, " the blacksmith said, slowly taking her hand in his. He raised it to his lips and gently kissed it.

The DragonLady smiled and suddenly the valley was flooded with golden, afternoon light.

"It is good not to be alone for a while, " she whispered. " Such courtesy is a rare gift indeed."

"For this time, for as long as you have need, I am thine, M'lady." he said fervently; then, growing bold. "May I hold you? Just for a moment?"

She inclined her head. "If you wish; such a touch is a gift in itself."

The blacksmith opened his arms and she came to him. He wrapped her round with both his arms and cloak, treasuring her warmth and presence.

There was silence for a moment, "A broad shoulder is a comfort indeed."

"'Tis yours for the asking," the blacksmith replied.

The DragonLady shivered. "I feel the power of the land within me, growing and yet slowing now as days draw shorter. Shadows from the trees grow longer as I sit in the sun."

The smith looked up and saw that the sun had sunk below the mountains. The air was quickly growing chill. "'It's almost time to sleep, M'lady."

She sighed. "Aye, as always, I steal time from myself; but, there are hidden benefits if the magic can be woven a little tighter, "

"Aye, it can be woven, but the price could be high," He hoped his voice did not reveal his inner turmoil. Was this what she wanted from him - to draw down the moon and wake the magic within her?

"I feel very calm, very peaceful."

The blacksmith looked at her, his uncertainty gone. She called him and he had come to her. There was no need of questions between them. He took her hand again and led her into the grotto with its flickering candles and towards the pool. They stood together quietly near the edge.

"The waters are green and dark. I cannot see my reflection. Can you see beyond the surface?"

The blacksmith passed his hand through the water and the candle flames rose. Outside, the moon had risen and silver light shone through the crystal, causing their reflections to flicker across the ripples.

The DragonLady gasped. "It's beautiful! How deep is it?"

"We can test the waters... if you wish..." the blacksmith told her.

"They call to me."

"Then I shall go with you, so not to lose you to them. May I?"

The DragonLady nodded. "I dare not go alone. I feel the need to immerse myself within them and to breath under them which I fear would not be a wise thing to do in this body."

The blacksmith held his breath as she spoke. Was this the longing he heard in her voice, that she no longer wished to breathe the air of the world, but to seek oblivion in the dark green waters? He resolved he would not let her harm herself while he was with her. Magic was one thing, but her safety was paramount.

The DragonLady looked down at her clothes. "How is one to be attired for this pool?"

"There is no need for these." He reached for the clasp holding the flimsy gauze in place, looking into her eyes for permission. The DragonLady nodded. He undid the clasp and let her garments fall where they might. He hardly dared look upon her flawless body, but when he raised his eyes, she stood, tall and proud, forever beyond his mortal grasp. Fumbling, the blacksmith released his broochpin and spread his cloak upon the ground. Then he removed his clothes and stood before her, offering himself to her sight.

The DragonLady covered his hand with hers, searching his face for unanswered questions. Her eyes had lost their dragon glow and looked more human.

"There is more to this than just testing the waters, isn't there, Tholo?" He could not speak, but merely nodded, wondering what she was about to do.

"There is air within the grotto and water waits for us within the pool. Candles flame around the edges and we are within the earth. This is a sacred time. I have long felt it, but with this act I take to myself your friendship. I do not know what I can offer you, but what I have is yours."

The blacksmith's voice choked in his throat. That she should know his name, after all these years was almost too much. He embraced her quickly, then lead her to the still waters. She clutched his hand tightly, fear of the unknown making her shiver.

He eased himself into the water, thankful that his feet quickly found the bottom. "Come, M'lady, " he encouraged her, "The water is blood warm and still, smooth as satin. See how the rock has formed a natural shelf for us to sit upon."

She dipped an elegant toe into the water. After a few moments, she sat down on the edge of the pool and slid into the pool. A delighted smile came over her face as the waters covered her. She felt it tingle against every pore, the ripples caressing her in an unexpected way.

The blacksmith wished he'd brought something with him to offer her refreshment. She must have caught his thought, for when he looked again beyond the candles, there stood a golden flagon and two goblets. He reached over and poured the steaming wine, offering one to the DragonLady as she sat on the ledge watching him.

"Thank you," she said, savouring the wine. "I can smell special herbs and spices. I hope it pleases you?"

The blacksmith nodded, almost knocking his goblet over in his enthusiasm. The wine held memories of summer harvests and winter rituals, evocative moments when the land and he had been one.

Slowly, she sipped her wine, smiling as she shared his feelings. In one fluid movement, she placed the goblet on the ground and let her body float in the water. The blacksmith acted swiftly, catching hold of her so that her head could not sink beneath.

"I will allow no harm to come to thee, whilst thou stays with me." he whispered firmly in her ear. "I will gently wrap my arms around you, to ensure your safety."

Her laughter sent a tingle down his spine. "You have anchored me, Tholo. You are very shrewd, for the call of the waters still rings in my ears." She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. The blacksmith began to hum, a strange and haunting melody rose to his throat unbidden. He felt the notes easing his companion, while echoes reverberated throughout the grotto then passed into the night air beyond.

The DragonLady closed her eyes, aware of his presence beside her. Despite the warmth of the pool, she felt heat rising from his body, soaking through her tired bones and easing them. He had always been different, this one, eager to know her for herself, rather than for what she could grant him. It was a long time since she allowed herself to feel protected in this way and she curled up gratefully against him.

The blacksmith looked down at her peaceful face and was content.

Much later, she asked, "What would you have the water show me?"

"Your heart's desire fulfilled," he replied without thinking.

"You are a wise man."

"I am but a man..."

"You are a good and kind man, my friend." The DragonLady scooped up some water and poured it gently over his chest as if anointing his heart with precious oil.

He ached to embrace her, to show her the love he held for her. As if hearing his unspoken request, the DragonLady wound her arms around his neck and nuzzled him gently. He looked deep into her eyes and found her holding his gaze, searching for something deep within him. He opened his soul to her. She smiled a wistful smile and breathed the lightest kiss upon his cheek. The blacksmith reached up and wiped the single tear from her cheek with his hand, mingling it with the water.

"You touch me deeply," she whispered, "with your kindness and solicitude."

"As you do me..."

The DragonLady sighed and he held her closer.

"I have missed you so," he told her. "I worried." His concern pounded with the beating of his heart and he could feel her breath, warm and scented upon his cheek.

"Forgive me." Her voice was but a murmur in his ear. "I did not wish to worry you."

"You are forgiven," he held her to him as if he would never let her go.

Smiling, she rubbed her cheek against his, reaching through the roughness of his beard to the softness below. The blacksmith turned his head and kissed her, softly, shyly. She moved towards him, stretching her body so that it floated out into the water. He reached up, clasping her wrists firmly, but gently. He was not going to lose her now.

She rolled onto her back and rested her head once more on his shoulder. She let her eyelids close, almost missing the kiss he planted on her hair. High above, in the world, the moon shone straight down into the grotto as if granting them her blessing.

"I can feel the light of the moon on me," she murmured, "burning brightly and yet cool upon my skin." The blacksmith shuddered. One moment longer and she would draw the moon into herself and him with it. Much as he loved her, he did not wish to share her fate, to soar amongst the clouds, all seeing, all knowing, yet so alone. In his mind he heard the laughter of his children, saw his wife turn from her cooking to smile at them. He could not leave them. His was a world of common things, of food and warmth and love. He could not give this Lady what she wished. Better end it now, before it was too late for both of them.

"Come, M'lady. It's time to leave the water now. "

She took a deep breath releasing it slowly, regretfully. "Yes, you are the wise one. The candles burn ever lower and sleep claims me."

He helped her up out of the water and she shook herself of the pool's droplets. "Come to my cloak," he murmered, "I will anoint you and help you on your journey to the land of dreams."

She laid herself down in front of him. The blacksmith felt in one of the hidden pockets of his cloak and took out a small, silver flask. He poured the aromatic oil into his hand and began to massage her. It was a service he offered all those who came to him for their last initiation, the Great Rite, to comfort them in any moment of doubt, showing he honoured them and cared enough to take their fears away. The God granted him many things and a sense of compassion was one.

He watched her relax under the magic of his fingers, knowing their time together would soon be over. He took his shirt, and rolled it into a pillow for her head. She thanked him and he was able to give her a gentle smile. Then he stretched out beside her, leaning on an elbow and gazed at her.

She stretched each limb lazily and rolled on her side, curling up against him

"Let me hold you," he begged her, "that I may protect you as you sleep. Rest well and within Her arms find dreams worth keeping in your heart."

"I will..." she murmured. "Blessed be, my friend."

He listened as her breathing slowed and soon she slept. The candles flickered and even though he tried to see her face and feel her body within his arms, sleep claimed him too.

When he awoke, she was gone, a single white dragon scale resting upon the darkness of his cloak where the DragonLady lay.

Ygraine
Ygraine
60 Followers
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6 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
Anony in London of 04 is an idiot

No closure??? He has a wife and kids, they're friends, she has a responsibility dictated by fate. They shared their moment, but it was all they could have. That's the point. Love unrequitted is still love, and maybe the truest form of all...maybe Anonymous in london, posting in 2004 needs to learn to read and not *ahem* skim.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 18 years ago
Great

So what if there's no sex in it. It's a beautiful story, well written like all of your stories. Thank you for allowing me to enjoy your graceful writing style and excellent stories.

Landrious1Landrious1about 19 years ago
A poignant tale told in a truly masterful style!

This story is full of depth and beauty that is far too seldom seen on this site. The details of their feelings for one another are truly lovely in the telling! This shall be a favorite of mine for a long time to come.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 20 years ago
I disagree

I think the story ends the way it has to. And it is clear to me that they both know it has to be that way, even though they might wish for things to be different. Wonderful story

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 20 years ago
Too much Y and not enough Grain

The story is enjoyable but though well written the script lacks closure.

The ending should b edited to close the episode and indicate the path.

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