Growing the Farm

I have found that it is much more difficult to walk the furrows of a heavily watered field. It is too early to see any sprouts, but the water has come in plentiful this month, and all the fields are getting well watered.

This evening after supper I sat with Diana and talked for a while. She really has a kind heart, but she really misses Dale. She is worried about Kib growing up without a father. The hired hands have not been any kind of a father figure to him, and in fact often act younger than he does.

We also talked about her plans to cut more fields. It seems like her desire to grow the farm has pretty much run its course. She now makes a comfortable living, and can go into town when she wants. I broached the idea of clearing and selling new acreage, but she was pretty skeptical. She is not sure she want to share her watering hole. She is probably wise. That would introduce some difficult water squabbles.

Children on the Move

One of the blacksmith's boys, Soltair, stopped by today. He said that Loomis has sent two of his kids in the direction of the capitol, but no one knew why, and Loomis won't even talk about it. Soltair also said that his father had asked him to go to the capitol, and keep his ears out for any word being passed around about the Greenhollow road.

Before he left I gave him a note, and told him to deliver it to the king or one of his sons only. I also told him that if he had trouble to tell them that Anarion sent him. I only explained that Anarion is the name that I went by when I stayed in Darkan. Any other tidings the king may want he will have to seek out himself.

The Swamp Returns

I have decided to try a dawn and dusk approach to the druidic rite. I can walk down every other furrow in the field in about an hour. I make a small pretense of weeding so the other hands don't get too creeped out with the druid stuff, as they call it. They think I am absurd taking care of the field the way I do, and I don't even know if it will have any effect. But I'm in it for a season, and we'll see.

The water in the pasture is rising, and we are starting to be able to drain some of it into the planted fields through a rather well thought out series of tiny canals. I asked Diana about the watering technique, and she credited the drainage ditches to Dale before he died.

She also explained that water rises each month as the moon waxes and recedes as it wanes. She also explained that each month it rises a little higher as we approach the solstices and the equinoxes. So even in the driest years there is some water available every third month.

Sunday Cleanup

There were a lot of bandages and bruises at the services today. Most of the men kept quiet during the services, then went over to the inn to help with what repairs could be made to the furniture. There were a lot of downcast eyes and a lot of apologies, and a general feeling of camaraderie as everyone scattered back to their homes.

I was able to catch the blacksmith and the innkeeper for a few minutes alone. We were all very concerned about Loomis' demeanor, and anxious to prevent whatever plans he was making, but we were extremely worried about the road being closed down, and the economic impact that would have on the town.

The blacksmith said that one of his sons still worked out at Loomis' farm and would personally go for a visit. He also agreed to send one of his sons to the castle to keep his ear to the ground. If the entire region is going to avoid the Greenhollow road we need to know about it.

Beyond that, we didn't settle on any specific plans other than to keep our eyes and ears open.

Loomis Looses One of Nine

Planting done, and Sunday services tomorrow means that tonight is a party at the inn. The other hands agreed to drag me along to their weekly ritual of spending most of the weeks' earnings on drinking games that no one remembers. I suppose that is why they continue to do it week after week. Needless to say I did not 'indulge' as much as they did.

I was just about to leave dragging my comrads with me when I heard a conversation that went something like this:

"Dragons!" said a voice that I didn't recognize. "What the..."

At this point several other voices shushed the speaker and stuffed him into a chair. The man stared across the table at none other than Loomis of the giant bats.

Over the next few minutes I worked my way to where I could the conversation.

"You mean to tell me..." said the man who had blasted the previous exclamation, "...that there are dragons living just up the hill from this town right now!? And you are okay with that!?"

"No. no. ------- no." said Loomis. "I mean yes, there are ------- dragons living over in the cliffs, but no, we are not just ------- sitting here ------- being ------- okay with it. I have a ----- ------ -------- plan, and just need a couple extra long lengths of ------ rope."

"So! You want me to give you ten crowns worth of rope that my wife and daughters spent all winter making, so you can go get it burned up chasing dragons!? Why would I do something that stupid?"

"Well first of all I am not ------- going to get them burned up. The dragons ain't old enough to blow -------- flame" said a very self-important and proud-of-his-knowledge farmer Loomis.

"Absolutely not. And I'll tell you another thing." the mans voice began to grow louder as he began to grind his teeth in rage and his face began to turn red. "I promise you that if you don't take care of your -------- -------- -------- dragon problem, you will not see another caravan this side of the tower road."

The last words came out more of a growl than actual words, but the entire party of travellers stood up, and went straight to the inn keeper. As far as I could tell they cancelled their rooms and set out for home that very minute.

I would have thought the nights excitement was over when Loomis was suddenly flat on his back from a right hook that came out of nowhere. With men scrambling in every direction, I dove straight into the chest of the man that had landed the punch in an attempt to avert an all out brawl.

As you can imagine I was a bit shocked when I just bounced of the man, and landed on my knees at his feet. It was the blacksmith, and he pinned poor Loomis to the ground and just started yelling into his face...

"Are you TRYING to drive people out of town!?" there was some sputtering from the floor. "What did you think you were doing; trying to steal from our guests, and senselessly scaring them with stories of dragons that have not even been seen except as distant shadows over the waste? You just lost Jarick three nights lodging, lost me the job of shoeing four horses, and cost Merik a full load of supplies. All of which were already ordered. And to top it all off, those men are going to alert everyone in the region. This road will be shut down entirely if we can't calm them down before they get out of town."

At this point he began to raise his fist preparing a devastating blow. Have you ever seen the arm of a blacksmith? Wow!

"If I EVER hear you speak the word DRAGON again I swear I'll bash you into jelly and feed you to them myself!!!"

Fearing for poor Loomis's life I lept at the blacksmith, but was too late. Lucky for Loomis, the fist slammed through the floorboards less than an inch from his head, and the blacksmith stood up and stamped out.

Everyone in the inn stood in absolute silence as he left. Then a few whispers grew quickly into a riot as the whole town either rushed Loomis or rushed to stop them. In all my years I have not seen a tavern erupt so quickly into a brawl.

I did what I could to drag my fellow farm hands from the inn, but we all ended up pretty scuffed up before we burst into the night air. There was no sign of the travellers, and we were in no condition to go looking. We didn't even say a word all the way back to our bunks.

Hot, Tired, and Locked in a Box

This week has been absolutely exhausting. Apparently 'sale' means drive a train up to the store, and tell your underpaid child labor to unload it. And not just drag it into the warehouse, but stack it. Can you believe that, stacking couches. Next week promises to be just as exciting as we unstack them, move them to the showroom, and then deliver them to everyone in town who thinks it is so great that a father can teach his son how to work. Somehow, that doesn't feel like a 'Thank you for carrying our new living room in."

Then to top that, today turns out to be two parties. So twice my house has filled with giggling silly ladies cooing over bowls and knives and face-wash. Meanwhile the 'great guy' who gave up his game night gets to stay in his tiny little bedroom all Saturday. And believe it or not our cooler is not keeping up with the the hot air from the parties.

Summer :(

My life feels like a mindless monotony. I haven't seen Trish for over a week. There hasn't even been so much as a light on over at her house, and her family was not at church on Sunday. Probably a family vacation.

I work for my dad down at the shop every day except Sundays, but I never seem to make any money. I wonder if my dad wasn't my boss if I would actually be able to make a real paycheck instead of 'saving for college'. On the bright side, my dad let me hire Jack, one of my friends, to help load and unload furniture. It is a lot better than that old Mr. Alfred. I am not even sure he can speak English. It's not that I have anything against Eastern Europeans or immigrants in general, but he is so boring. He could at least laugh at my stupid faces when we lift something heavy.

Oh, ya. And to top it off, I have to cancel my game this Saturday because one of my Mom's Mary Kay ladies can't find a place to have her party. So, of course 'we' volunteered to cancel MY game night. It's weeks like this I almost wish I was back in school.

Planting

My second day of planting went much like my first. And my third was similar. It looks like we should finish planting about a week into my new employment. My biggest challenge is to control my singing. I am finding that my voice fares much better if I try not to sing much, but just maintain a quite hum. If I do fall silent for any length of time, I notice the seeds seem to loose some of their vigor. So humming it is.

I have also taken to walking the field on my way to bed, when my voice can manage it. It seems to give the seeds one last jolt before I retire, and then it requires less awakening in the morning.

I don't know if the other hands, Diana, and Kib really think there is any value to the druidic blessings, but no one seems bothered by it. Diana did ask me about it, but was not really interested. In fact, I am not even sure if this is going to do any more than age my voice a few extra years, but it is worth a try, and it keeps my mind occupied while my hands do the planting.

Druid's Blessing

My first day on the farm. Kind of exciting.

The bunkhouse where the hands sleep is on one side of the loft in the barn. It is not insulated and pretty drafty, but there are plenty of blankets to keep out the early spring chill. There are four hands, including myself. The other three are local boys that are looking to make a little money for a couple years before getting married or running off to the castle. They are good workers and trustworthy, but they lack some discipline. It was probably after midnight when they finally shut down their dice game and quieted down.

I figure their late night probably helped me slip past them just before dawn. I have been anxious to engage some druidic rites I learned. Since today we start planting the east field, this will be the perfect opportunity. Before anyone was awake I took the seed bag out to the field to prepare for planting and to initiate the rite.

The rite begins just before planting the seeds with an awakening ritual. So, dragging my rusty brain back to the forest druids camp, I forced myself to remember how to do it. I began the druidic awakening chant and began to run my hands through the seeds to get a feel for them. As I did this I reached deeper and deeper into the bag until I was churning and stirring the bag getting every seed moving. After a couple minutes I shifted from chanting to a soft humming melody.

It was amazing. I could actually feel the life in the seeds stirring. It was almost like watching a room full of people awake to a scrumptious smell after a long winter's night. I could feel them turn their awareness toward me as they became anxious for the chance to sprout.

I continued to drift from humming to singing and back until I heard the bell for breakfast. I was almost sad to tie the bag and walk away. It was like saying goodbye to some friends after a fun party. But the sun was peeking over the mountains and I was anxious to see what Diana could do with some eggs and flour.

Breakfast was great. We had hotcakes and eggs cooked in bacon dripping and some fresh milk. With my belly full of such a magnificent feast, I felt well paid before the days work even began.

The other hands ribbed me a bit about taking the seeds out to the field already. Something about a sheep begging to be sheared. It was all good fun, and I let it pass as just the new guy anxious to show his new employer he was ready to go.

I taught the other guys some of the druidic melodies, but pretty quickly, they all got distracted with the planting and left the 'noise making', as they called it, to me. They were all pretty quick, and I struggled to keep up even with their occasional games clodding each other and general foolishness.

As I sang and released seeds into the ground, they felt like a young swimmer making his first cliff dive. I shared an electric excitement and strange trepidation with the seeds as they launched into their great adventures. A couple times the other hands mentioned being shocked by the seeds or like the seeds were buzzing, but they wrote it off as nonsense and proceeded to pepper the poor commenter with dirt clods.

Kib and Diana brought some jerky and dried fruit out for lunch, and Kib stayed to help plant for the rest of the day. He wasn't interested in druidic 'gurgling', but he was a good worker. By the time the sun began slipping behind the trees, my hands were absolutely numb and my voice was completely gone, but my mind was electrified and I couldn't wait for another day of the same.

Dinner was goat steak and some wild tea-like concoction that was supposed to help overworked vocal chords. With no ability to talk after dinner I just retired to a night of absolutely uninterrupted blissful sleep.

Summer Plans

It looks like I am going to spend the summer here in Greenhollow. Diana and Kib are going to have more than their hands full bringing in their crop, and I am not entirely certain how well the town will settle after the news of dragons in the area.

Besides, I am kind of excited about settling down a little. Fighting weeds and runaway chickens sounds like a great vacation from constant travel. The winds of the Brass Waste can really wear a person down, and the thought of diving right back into court politics is never an exciting prospect.

I think, though, that my real reason for staying is the cooking, or maybe it's the cook. Diana has the touch of a master's hand on the stove, and that's not just the weeks of hard bread and dried meats talking.

Sounding the Warning

What a whirlwind. It turns out that the blacksmith in town has six sons old enough to ride a horse, and amongst them and their friends, we had twenty riders out spreading the word by half past morning. By the time the sun reached midday, the town was buzzing with anticipation and chatter.  As the sun began to slide behind the western mountains, there were no empty chairs in the inn and the entire main street of town was clogged with wagons.

I spent most of the day explaining the situation to the blacksmith and a few prominent members of town. It wasn't too hard to help them understand that young dragons this far afield are not going to start killing people. Even at this young age the dragons would know that anything more than an occasional herd animal would lead to a flood of dragon hunters and treasure thieves.

As the sun began to set we got a couple wagons together to make a stage.  They were arranged to face an empty field where the throngs began to gather, speculate, and spread panic. Before the crowd got too imaginative in their declarations of doom and gloom the blacksmith began to explain what he had learned about dragons.

"... NO! NO! Mr. Panicky Potato..."

He really said that.

"Your kids and your potatoes are safe from dragon spells, and the dragons will certainly not burn your house down. They are far too young to risk being swarmed by treasure hunters and angry potato farmers."

"Our friend here," gesturing toward me, "has seen them, and they are very young. They will hunt at night and stay as far from the farm houses as possible."

"What we need to do is just be aware, and keep our animals in the barn at night."

At that point there was very large foul-mouthed man that stood up and began blasting the blacksmith.

"What the -------- do you know about dragons, Daris the ---------- Doop!? You're not even smart enough to figure out where ------- babies come from to stem the tide... and who is this -------- stranger anyway. He may be the one taking our -------- animals just to scare us into running back to the ------ palace so he can take our ---------- property."

At this point, the man seemed to be winding himself up for some kind of eruption. I was about to jump up on the wagon and save the blacksmith when he countered with an amazingly swift response.

"First of all, Loomis, aren't you the brilliant mind that has my tidal wave of progeny patrolling your farm looking for 'giant bats'? And aren't you the one whats been telling people that they should run for the castle? So, why don't you just sit back down and let our visitor explain how he knows what he claims, and the proper way to protect our selves from your 'giant bats'."

He spat the last words out with unmistakable sarcasm, completely deflating the pitiful man. By the time I could get up beside the blacksmith, 'Loomis' had shriveled into a stump of a man under a barrage of glares. I could barely hold back a smile.

By the time Loomis crawled back out of his hole, I had explained what I had seen, and what I knew. I explained that the dragons were no more dangerous than the wolves that occasionally prowled the area, and that the wolves were probably the ones taking most of the farm animals anyway. I explained that the young dragons are actually very vulnerable and would do their best to hide from the locals unless the locals went out hunting them.

I also cautioned them that if they decided to go dragon hunting they had better be ready for a war, because the dragons could really stir up mischief when angered.

For the most part the locals seemed to take the news well. And although they will probably be pretty jumpy for a few months, I really think they will have little or no trouble from the 'giant bats'.

Diana's Farm

This morning I traveled north back up the Greenhollow road to a small track that went east into the forest.  The road led through some pretty thick forest for about two miles before it opened onto a beautiful farm.  The farm was nothing like the swamp I had left my friends in.

As I emerged from the woods, the road ran about a hundred yards to where it branched, one fork turning right and leading into a large two story barn, and the other gradually turning left where it passed in front of a farmhouse and then continued north into the woods.

To my immediate left was a swampy field that was surrounded by a wood-rail fence.  To my right were about ten acres of fields that had been cleared from the woods.  There were several fields, each growing something different, beginning were I had emerged from the wood and continuing on my right behind the barn and beyond the farm house.

As I approached the farm house I noticed a woman leaning over a well midway between the house and the barn.  It was a grand meeting as I gave Diana a hug, and was introduced to her son and the farm-hands.

I helped her and her son with the days work, and we sat down to a magnificent feast.  We talked about her husband who died of a fever, and about their struggles to carve the farm out of the forest.  She told me how the area grew rapidly once the king began stationing guards at the west tower, and then especially after the south road was finished.

As we talked I noticed that the years seemed to weigh heavily on her until I realized that I have been gone for almost twenty years.  It was a realization that really made me feel old, and somewhat sad that I seemed to have nothing to show for my time.  Where she now had a magnificent farm, a son, and community, I only had stories, and specks of wisdom gleaned from numerous years of adventures and travels.  It was really rewarding, though, to see them enthralled by my stories of far off places, and mystical creatures; of magic, and heroes, princes and princesses.  It helped me feel like the life I had chosen was not an entire waste.  I did, after all, have friends almost everywhere I went.

After her son, Kib, had gone to bed I told her of the dragons that I had seen in the area.  She said that there had been rumors of missing cattle and sheep, but no one had thought that there might actually be a dragon in the area.  We decided the entire region needed to be warned, and planned to head into town to explain the situation to everybody.

Greenhollow

It turns out that Dale and Diana prompted the founding of a growing village. I was surprised to find a well maintained road leading south from the main road. I followed it wondering if it lead past my friends place, but instead found a town that the locals named Greenhollow.

I decided to scope out the town and see if someone could point me to my friends' place, and ended up getting a room for the night. The Inn is really nice for a place this far from any cities. It was constructed well, and has several rooms for travelers.

From what I was able to gather from the locals, this road has become one of the major roads in the kingdom. As I understand it, the road leads south through Greenhollow and then bends west toward the South Fortress, Halemin Gap, and then on to Dusara. It sounds like farmers from this area and many further north have found great success selling their goods in Dusara, and Dusara's craftsmen are eager to sell their wares in return.

Other than the Inn there is a storehouse, a mercantile, a blacksmith, a soldier barracks, and about 10 or 15 houses here in the town itself. There is probably another 30 to 50 farms within a days ride, and, from the sounds of it, the farms pretty much reach from here to the White mountains in the north, and in clusters all the way to the Darkan palace east of here.

I did learn that Dale died a few years ago, but Diana still maintains a thriving farm north east of town. I should be able to get there in a couple hours tomorrow morning.

A Farm on the Edge

I was finally able to dump the last of the sand from my shoes this morning as I began my treck across the plateau. The trees began as mostly pine, but have given way to more hardwood trees. I was really surprised at how the road has almost entirely disappeared, but it was nice to walk on grass and pine needles rather than sand dunes.

I am still a few miles from the farm of my friends, but I'll tell you a little about it and them before we arrive.

I met Diana when I first came to Darkan from the east. She was a pretty little lass that didn't speak much, but was firm when she spoke. We courted a little while I worked with the king on some matters of state. It was a lovely summer full of short trips, surveying, and lots of planning meetings.

It turns out that she also met another friend of mine that summer, and he won her heart. They had a harvest wedding and spent most of the winter cloistered away at his fathers hunting cabin up in the mountains.

When the snow melted away it was time for me to continue west. They arrived from the cabin only the day before I was to leave. Since they were headed west to find some farmland we hitched our wagons together and had a couple great days climbing into the hills west of the city.

We found a wonderful spot of land off the beaten way.  It had a spring right in the middle of a grand clearing in the woods that would be perfect for a house and a small field to get the farm started.  Once we found the site, I spent a couple weeks helping them build a temporary hut to live in and exploring the surrounding area.

It was during those weeks that we discovered their clearing was actually a shallow swamp during parts of the year, and had a good laugh as we dragged their little hut up out of the ankle deep mud.

I haven't seen them since I was here last so I am hoping things have turned out nicely for them. I can almost hear them laughing again.

Cedar Flats

Today I finally left the Brass Wastes. What a nightmare. You remember that brood of young dragons that I was telling you? Well... it would seem that they have become teenagers, so to speak, and man are they making a mess out there. I was expecting mischief passing through the Sun Flare mountains, but they have become a plague all the way to the Goblin Ridge. I even noticed a couple of them making a den in the cliffs below the west tower (which seems to have been abandoned some time ago).

I should reach some of the outlying farms of Darkan tomorrow. I have some old friends that used to live near here. I'll have to warn them to keep an eye out for dragon mischief.

Well, stay tuned. Tomorrow I'll introduce you to Dale and Dianna.

Who is Thomas Jones

Thomas Jones is an adolescent just getting his teenage legs under him. He lives with his parents and younger siblings at the end of a short street in a small but nice neighborhood in a small town in America.

There is nothing really distinctive about him. He has a handful of friends that he hangs out with. They like Star Wars, Nintendo games, and girls. They like hiking and camping, but not yard work. They are usually good kids, but sometimes fall prey to the vices of rudeness and arrogance to the younger kids.

You would probably not be able to pick Thomas out of a crowd at the mall, but you can't miss him when he is telling stories to a group of kids back here in the real world.

Who is the Storyteller

I thought tonight might be a great opportunity to introduce myself in a little more direct way. I have been called by a great many names, but the one that is most truly me is 'storyteller'.

I acquired the name from the kids. You see, I have traveled a lot over the years, and the children, bless their hearts, only remember me as the man who tells stories. I try to be a little theatrical to entertain the kids, and I guess they remember me for that. I love to see their eyes light up when I tell grand adventures, and I love to see their hearts moved at the sacrifices of noble heroes. It really is a win-win.

I have also found stories to be a great way to connect with people that you meet. Whether it is for a few minutes, hours, or even years. Through the stories that people tell, you can see them the way they want to see themselves. People tend to remember the things that they want to remember, and it is by hearing the things that they most identify with that you can see into their souls. And when they open themselves up to you they yearn for you to give something back. So... stories, I hear, and I share stories. Therefore, I am the Storyteller.

I guess I will also be your guide to my world. I hope you will come along.

Church

I saw Trish again today. It looks like she is going to be going to the same church that I go to. It our main worship service her family likes to sit clear up at the front, and she is attending the younger sunday school class, but saw her a couple times in the hall, and while I was getting into the car before church.

I wish my parents would invite her family to dinner or something, but then my mom would probably start trying to set me up with her, and that would just be humiliating.

Maybe I'll see her at school next year.

The Princess Next Door

I am so excited. I just spent the last few hours helping some new neighbors move in across the street. My dad is always doing that kind of thing, but he usually doesn't drag me along, but... I suppose they are one of our closest neighbors... AND... they have a daughter that is very cute.

They call her Trish, and she is probably about 11 or 12 and sooooo cute. Even in her grubbys with her hair just pulled back in a pony-tail and no make-up she is one of the cutest girls I have ever met.

She spent most of the time directing boxes into the right rooms while me, my dad, and her dad moved all the heavy stuff. Every time I carried something into the house my heart would skip a beat hoping she would be there to tell me where to go.

She didn't talk much, mostly just pointed, but she actually touched my arm as I carried a doll-house into her bedroom. She acted like it was her most prized possession, but it seemed to be only one of a thousand princess things that collected in her room as we emptied their moving truck.

It is going to be sooooo cool to have the cutest girl in the school living right across the street.

Unicorns

There are a lot of rumors and myths about unicorns out there. I wanted to take a minute, and clear up some stuff. Unicorns are often thought of as master of the forest or keepers of the forest, but they are none of these. They are not particularly intimidating physical specimens, and they are particularly interested in preventing hurt to the forests in which they live.

Unicorns are more acurately described as an incarnation of the will of the forrest. It is true that they have great power to heal the hurts of a forest, whether that is by fire, disease, or destruction. They are much like a bodies immune system with ability to heal itself, and counter diseases and the like, but there is no preventative consideration. It is like the very concept of intentionally harming the forest is inconceivable. So, the idea of preventing intentional harm is equally inconceivable.

Communication:
Unicorns communicate empathically. Whether it is with forest creatures, trees, humans, or even their own kind. The only audible sounds they make are things like pursing the lips, or shaking their mane, or sometimes a slight disturbance of the forest floor as they walk.

Movement:
Some people have said that unicors can magically teleport from place to place. This is just a myth. They move like any other creature. They can run pretty fast, and are amazingly quiet, but they must run or walk from place to place.

To outsiders they seem to be everywhere at once, but in reality they share the conciousness of the entire firest, and simply watch or anticipate our movements from what the forest sees or feels.

Physical Appearance:
The general appearance of a unicorn has, for the most part, been protrayed accurately. The adults are all snow white in color with white manes to match. They can get dirty like any physical being, but will always wash in the purest of streams to get clean. The young are sometimes born with a pink or brownish tint to their coat, but that fades quickly to a pure white.

Communities:
Unicorns do live in relatively stable and stationary communities. These communities are generally near the center of the forest in which they live, and often high in the mountains. They will live near a pure spring of water, and small lake when possible.

If you or I happen to stumble upon one of these communities we will probably not have any idea as the unicorns will retreat from view, and leave no disturbance to the area in which they live. If we were to be so barbaric as to establish a community in one of these valleys, the unicorns would simply leave, and find another place to live. Sadly, the most common way to destroy a forest is to chase the unicorns out leaving the forest without its greatest source of healing.

Dragons

Everybody loves dragons. They are the quintessential super boss, ultimate evil, and greatest ally. If a dragon can't do it, ain't nobody can, right? They physically dominate in every arena, and they are most powerful super sorcerers. They are the smartest, and the fastest. They fly, they change shape, they charm humans, they destroy civilizations, they hoard mountains of gold, jewels, and magic items.

Heck, whats not to love?

Well, dragons are all of that, but they do have a tragic flaw that will be their downfall every time. They are narcissistic, egomaniacal loners. For those of you that don't follow Criminal Minds, that means they are only interested in themselves. They have an ego that is limited only by their imagination. Everyone and everything else is put on the planet for them to use, abuse, or discard.

"Now, hold on." you might say. "There are good dragons. There are even altruistic dragons that are willing to sacrifice themselves for a good cause." ...and that is true. After all look at Pete's Dragon. He was only there to help, right? He really loved Pete. ...and what about the dragons in Eragon. They seem to truly care about their riders.

I have to admit that from my limited experience with Eragon, that those dragons may be an exception. But don't be fooled, that is, after all, a fantasy world that may not actually exist.

Putting the few exceptions aside, lets think about dragons for a minute. It is easy to see that the evil dragons such as Smaug are only out for themselves, but what about the ones that protect kingdoms, and even act as mounts for great heroes?

Well here's the skinny. Dragons will always act in their own best interest. There are times that their wills can be bent to obey a rider or a master, but that will never be by their own choice unless there is something in it for them. (I suspect that the dragons of Eragon's world are controlled by some ancient magic that is far greater than themselves. We'll have to keep an eye on that.) Anyway, when you find exceptions to this rule you will also find that something or someone stronger has taken control, or they are playing submissive to accomplish their own ends.

You will also find dragons that act as guardians or counselors. Maybe they are doing it to repay a debt, or to show loyalty to a person or a cause, or just to help out, but you can be sure that they are getting something out of it. Often they will do this to stay in touch with what is happening, or to create opportunities to show off.

This egomaniacal behavior is also the root of their isolationism. They cannot stand to have another grand-stander constantly around them. The competition for top ego will drive them apart eventually.

I met a noble seeming dragon once that was a loyal advisor and protector for a dynasty of kings. His reputation was immaculate, and his actions were honorable. Along the way we was basically worshiped by the kingdom, but I learned that his real motive was to get into the cave a lady dragon. He spent almost 200 years serving this family to prove his integrity to a lady dragon. Now I am not saying that he did anything wrong, or cruel, or immoral. I am just pointing out that a dragon will always have his or her own agenda, and even if you think you know what that is, it may be only a small part of the plan.

It turns out that this dragon couple was very happy for several hundred years, and produced a large brood of young dragons. As I understand it, the dragon that had served the royal family was proving that he could be subservient for a long period of time. The she-dragon was eventually convinced, and they spent several millenia living together, and ruling an ever growing brood until the male dragon could no longer play the subservient role. They split control of the brood, and went their own ways.

Another aspect of dragons is their ambition. It is pretty uncommon for dragons to exist in communities for any length of time, but it does happen occasionally. As far as I can tell this is always in militaristic societies where the egos are only kept in check by the ambition to rule the roost. Much like wolves.

You will also find that these societies are constantly shedding rebels. These dragons are often the weak dragons that realize they have no chance to become the dominant leader, so they leave looking for other paths of glory and conquest.  But there are occasionally those that have a good chance of taking control that simply don't have the patience to wait until they are strong enough. These will generally leave to seek a faster way to gain power, and plan to return and take control.

The Adventure Begins

Finally my mom has done something right. For my 13th birthday, she got me an iPad and an internet connection. I know she probably won it from Mary Kay or Avon, but she actually gave it to me this time.

So, here I am. I figure writing a blog will be the best way for me to actually publish some of my writings. I am so excited.

Stay tuned, and I'll try to dump my brain on here as fast as I can.