THE LIBRARY DRAGON


	Once upon a time, there was a dragon who lived all
alone in a cave by the sea. He had lived there a very long
time. Centuries before the kings and queens with their princes
and princesses and fairy godmothers and spells and curses
and all the usual entanglements had arrived and built their
castles, the dragon had alighted on his lonely strip of seashore
and thought to himself: this place is mine.
	When the first villages had arisen, and heroes had
come to seek him out, the dragon had made it clear that he
wished to be left alone. The dragon had no interest in human
affairs, not even in the standard dragonly activities of
marauding, pillaging, terrorizing, or kidnapping. The villages
grew into prosperous cities, free of the usual mayhem. Slowly,
the civic leaders began to realize that the reason there were
no ogres, griffins, or goblin hordes laying waste to the city
was because such monsters feared the dragon. Immediately, a
"Save the Dragon" campaign was launched, and the flood of
heroes seeking to do battle with the dragon slowed to a
trickle, then stopped altogether. Eventually, after many years,
the people forgot him entirely. The dragon was indifferent.
	Other dragons avoided his territory as well, for he
was among the most terrible and fearsome of his kind, a long
elegant nightmare of ebony scales and obsidian claws. The
others of his kind prudently left him well alone. The dragon
didn’t care.
	He knew he was the richest dragon in the world.
	All dragons keep hoards. They love the taste and
smell and texture of great wealth. The items of a hoard are
collected carefully, whether found, stolen, or bartered for
with the coin of services or hostages. Some amass jewels,
some gold, and others magical items, but every dragon,
regardless of size, age, or rank in the dragon hierarchy,
maintains a hoard.
	This dragon who lived by the sea was no exception.
He had lived for many years, and he had spent them adding to
his wealth. He sought his treasures with a devotion few of his
kin could match, flying all over the world until he was
wing-weary and aching. However, no weariness could live in
him beyond the moment he carefully set one of his prizes into
its proper place. He would see his magnificent hoard that
much closer to completion, and the fierce joy of possession
would burn in him like the fire he breathed. He would look
upon the shelves, carefully angled to protect their contents
from the damp cave air, and lovingly arrange his hoarded
treasures according to subject and author.
	The dragon hoarded books. More extensive
than any human library, his hoard filled an enormous cave
complex with bookshelves, containing everything from
ancient Egyptian scrolls rescued from the very embers of the
great library at Alexandria, to dime romance novels stolen
from dumpsters. Instead of jewels and gold, the dragon had
thousands upon thousands of universes at the tips of his
talons, each volume a different experience, a different way of
looking at the world. The dragon loved them all. He was
alone, but with so much knowledge for the taking, he was
never lonely. And so he lived, content and forgotten, in his
cave by the sea.
	
	Which is why, one overcast morning, he was so
astonished to be awakened by the sound of someone crying.
He raised his head sharply, scattering dust from his shoulders,
and listened. This was genuine, all-out _weeping_. It was the
sound of someone’s raw soul being dragged over a harrow.
	Of more concern to the dragon, however, was the fact
that the person making the noise was inside his cave. He
would have to deal with it.
	The dragon stood, stretching himself by degrees.
Walking carefully, so as to prevent his scales from rustling
against each other, he made his way to the surface.
	His claws settled comfortably in the shallow ruts he
had worn in the stone over the centuries. He was intimately
familiar with every centimeter of his home, and was able to
move almost silently. The awareness of a stranger in his cave
was all the more intolerable for the familiarity with his
surroundings, and the dragon felt the first stirrings of
indignation and outrage he had experienced for decades. He
gritted his teeth as the tip of his tail started to twitch.
	The lamentation continued unabated as the dragon
neared the outermost portion of his caves. With eyes adapted
to the darkness, the dragon could make out a figure sitting
uncomfortably against the uneven stone wall just inside the
entrance. He squinted. A human, wearing a long gown almost
perfectly unsuitable for a seaside hike, and a peculiar head
covering consisting of a tall cone with a few gauzy tassels
coming off its top, was weeping as though her heart would
break. The dragon’s heart sank. "Oh, _no_," he muttered.
"Not a _princess_ . . ."
	The princess - for that was what she unmistakably
was - scrambled awkwardly to her feet, wiping her nose
inelegantly on her sleeve. "Who’s there?" she said, sharply,
and sniffled. "I say! Who’s there?"
	"Er," said the dragon, momentarily at a loss for
words. He continued, trying for a tone of righteous
indignation: "Do you not know whose cave this is?"
	The princess sniffled again. "I didn’t think anyone
lived here," she said, indifferently.
	The dragon was affronted. "This place is mine," he
said, angrily, "and I do not care for trespassers. Or visitors."
The princess made no response. The dragon reared his head
back, and aimed a small fireball at her feet, close enough to
singe the hem of her skirt. "This is _my_ home, and all I ask is 
to be left in peace in it! GET OUT!" he roared.
	The princess emitted an unmaidenly squawk of terror
and turned to run. The dragon followed her outside, meaning
to catch her up and apologize, but her heavy skirts were not
suited to any pace faster than a mincing walk and she fell. The
dragon was almost on top of her before he could halt his momentum. 
He backed up quickly, and then the princess did something utterly 
astonishing.
	She threw herself at the dragon’s feet. "All
right," she sobbed. "Eat me, then! Even being eaten by a
dragon would be better than . . . better than . . ." The
princess’s voice trailed off into incoherence.
	"Oh, my," said the dragon. She leaned against him,
crying for all she was worth. He draped a wing over her,
unsure of what else to do. After a few moments, the tears
stopped, or at least slowed. The princess looked up at him.
The dragon melted. "Tell me what’s wrong," he said. And she
did.
	The princess told him about her life as the eldest child
of a very rich king, about her responsibility to the crown, and
about the tedium of life in the royal court. Mostly, though,
she talked about her engagement to the son of a distant king.
She described her fiancé as boring, dull, uninteresting in every
way. Her father had said the lucky prince was of a "steady,
solid character", which meant that he would be more than
willing to do as he was told, and would proudly and earnestly
fulfill his duties as king. "He is unimaginative, barely 
intelligent enough to walk and whistle at the same time, and he 
will do exactly what my father tells him to do," she concluded. 
"Which means I will never, ever leave the kingdom, because no
adventure is worth risking the Queen; and my duties as
Queen will encompass the difficult task of turning out
children until I produce a male heir, and after that is
accomplished, I will occupy myself with the ladies of the
court, gossipping until the chatter drives me 
insane!" She paused. "That’s the life I have to look forward
to, and I DON’T WANT IT. And if you don’t eat me,
Dragon, I will throw myself over that cliff yonder."
	The dragon blinked. "Well," he said, "what is it you
would do if you didn't have to marry this prince?"
	The princess sighed. "Oh, I dreamed of so many
things. Traveling to distant cities with the merchants, sailing
the oceans with the navy . . . all sorts of wonderful,
adventurous things. I even thought I would rule the kingdom
after my father. . . ." She sighed again. "I don’t know if I
believed the stories I told myself or not, any more. But I
desperately wanted to believe them."
	"I’ve seen the world," the dragon offered. "It isn’t
really all that wonderful. One city looks much like any other
city. Forests and trees and mountains are still the same
wherever you go. And" - he gestured with his wing - "the
other side of that ocean looks very much like this side."
	"I know," said the princess, "but I would have liked
to decide that for myself."
	There was a pause. "So is that why you came here?
You were going to jump off the cliff?"
	 The princess shrugged. "I was going to try to think of
a reason not to."
	The dragon pondered this for a while. "Well," he
began, tentatively, "I might have . . ."
	"DRAGON, HO!"
	"Thunderation," said the dragon to himself.
	A knight in shining armor came galloping over the hill
on a splendid white war-horse. The charger was reined to a
halt quite some distance from the dragon and princess.
Silhouetted against the morning sky, it rose up on its hind
legs as its rider held his sword aloft, to deliver the muffled
challenge: "Stand forth, marauding beast, and do battle for
the fair princess!"
	"That’s my fiancé," said the princess.
	"Is he always that melodramatic?" rumbled the dragon
under his breath.
	"Yes!" said the princess, emphatically.
	"Answer the challenge, dragon!" shouted the prince,
from behind his helm.
	"Bother," muttered the dragon. "Look," the dragon
called to the prince, "you seem to be under the impression
that I somehow am holding the damsel against her will; I
assure you that we are merely having a friendly chat, and she
is free to go when she likes. So kindly allow us to continue
our conversation. Thank you, and good day."
	The prince considered. He clearly wasn’t prepared to
deal with this tactic. He scratched his helmet with his
gauntlet, looking rather silly. Eventually, he seemed to reach
a conclusion, and held up his sword again. "Ah-HA! You
cannot deceive me so easily, lying creature! I swear on my blade
to rid this peaceful kingdom of your presence!" With that,
he urged his horse, who was clearly having second thoughts,
toward the dragon.
	“Damn and blast,” said the dragon, flexing his talons.
“You get out of the way,” he said to the princess, but she had
already taken cover behind a boulder at the cliff edge.
	The dragon spread his wings, throwing a magnificent
shadow behind him, and rose up on his hind legs. His long
black body gleamed as the sunlight struck his dusty scales. He
eyed the charging knight with mild annoyance, took careful
aim, and spat a lance of fire directly in front of the galloping
horse.
	The war-horse came to a stop so suddenly that its
rider was nearly pitched off. The dragon roared, a deep,
angry sound that started deep within the dragon’s chest and
was honed to sharp thunder as it passed his jaws. Before the
sound had ended, the horse had made a quick decision and
was bearing its cursing rider straight back to the castle. The
muffled “Whoa! Hey! Whoa! Stop! Bloody . . .” receded into
the distance.
	With a foreclaw, the dragon smoothed his ruffled
hackles back into place. He trotted over to the boulder the
princess was hiding behind, and snaked his head around it.
“He’s gone,” the dragon said, gently.
	The princess uncovered her ears. “That was the most
splendid thing I’ve ever seen, the way you scared off that
horse! . . . I mean, I was afraid someone was going to get
killed, but you chased them off without a fight! One would
almost begin to suspect that you aren’t . . . very . . .
ferocious. . . .
	The dragon rolled his eyes in embarrassment. “Shhh,”
he said, “don’t tell anyone.”
	The princess smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of betraying a
dragon as noble as yourself.”
	The dragon smiled back.
	“So, what were you saying, before the interruption?”
asked the princess, climbing up to sit on the rock at the
dragon’s eye level.
	“What? Oh, yes. I might have something that will make being
'stuck' here less onerous. . . . ”
	The princess raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Like what?”
	The dragon grinned. “I’ll show you.” With that, he
turned and flowed into the mouth of his cave.
	The princess waited.
	The dragon returned, gingerly carrying an armload of books and 
scrolls. He hobbled up to the princess, and proudly deposited them in 
the lap of the princess.
	She gasped. “_Look_ at all these . . .” She stared at
the wealth in front of her. “I couldn’t read all this in a month!”
	“And there’s thousands more where that came from,”
said the dragon. “I’ve been collecting them for centuries.”
	“This is amazing,” said the princess. “I’ve never heard
of a dragon who hoarded books.”
	“That’s why,” said the dragon, pulling out a large,
heavy, flat volume, “I’m lending you this.” 
	The princess opened the first page and read the title.
“’Being a Record of the Journeys and History of the Library
Dragon’ . . . this is your journal?”
	“It is. Admittedly, some parts of it are fairly boring,
but the maps are all accurate as a flying creature can make
them, and there’s quite a bit on dragons and . . . ghark!” The
dragon broke off in mid-sentence as the princess threw her
arms around his neck.
	“I wish I’d come here before this,” said the princess.
“To think I could have met you years ago.”
	Dragons do not blush. But this one made a very
earnest effort as the princess reached up to kiss him.
	“DRAGON! HO!” The dragon sighed and lifted his
head up out of the princess’s reach as he turned to face the
intruder.
	The knight in no-longer-quite-so-shiny armor looked
much the worse for wear. He had obviously been tossed off
his horse - of which there was no sign, since it had wisely
galloped back to the palace. The knight faced the dragon
on foot, with his sword and battered shield held ready.
“Dragon!” he shouted, even more muffled now that his
helmet had been nudged partly around to the side, “stand
forth and do battle!” The prince began to advance.
	The dragon looked down his toothy snout at the
determined knight. “You _must_ be joking,” he said.
	The prince squinted up at the dragon through his
misaligned visor. “I came to fight a dragon, and that’s what
I’m going to do! You can’t kidnap princesses and expect to
get away with it, you know!”
	The princess stormed over to her fiancé and kicked
him in the shin. “Ow,” she said. Wrenching his helmet around
to face her, she stood up on tiptoe and glared at him. “You
lummox, there’s no reason to fight! You’re just wasting
everyone’s time . . .”
	“. . . unhand me, woman . . .”
	“. . . and patience with your silly theatrics! Now go
home and let me finish my conversation with this dragon,
who has more sense in his talon than you have under that 
stupid hat!”
	“Helm,” offered the dragon.
	“Whatever!”
	The prince tried to jerk himself free. “The foul beast
has enchanted you!” he said, making several extravagant
demon-warding signs.
	“No, you idiotic . . .” said the princess, but that was
as far as she got before the prince’s wild gesturing knocked
her backwards. For one heart-stopping instant, she stood
upright at the edge of the cliff, a horrified expression on her
face, and then she toppled over into the water.
	The prince and the dragon stared at each other in
shock. The dragon spoke first. “Well, rescue her! That’s what
you’re here for, isn’t it?”
	The prince shrugged, polishing his visor. “Can’t
swim,” he said, without looking up.
	The dragon looked over the edge. “Damn and blast,”
he said, and raising his wings with a single, graceful motion,
he swept himself up and over. His elegant black form poured
itself into a deep dive.
	He felt the shock of the icy water even through his
scaly armor. It took him a moment to orient himself, then he
clawed his way to the surface.
	The dragon scanned the water for the princess quickly
before a shore wave threw him back under. He fought the
currents, hoping the princess would have the sense to stay
away from the shoreline.
	He caught a glimpse of something white, floating near
the surface, as a wave slammed him into a submerged rock.
He heard as well as felt a scaly plate on his side shatter with
the impact, and floated for an instant, stunned. 
	He thrashed his way toward the princess, who threw
herself onto his back. Her waterlogged dress had entangled
her legs and was pulling her down. The dragon went under
for an instant before a quick slash of his tail sent them both to
the cliff. The dragon set his talons into their familiar holds in the
rock, and hauled them to safety.
	Heaving himself onto solid ground, he immediately
collapsed, panting. The princess coughed and leaned against
him, shivering, as the prince walked over to them.
	“I shall now vanquish the dragon!” he declared,
drawing his sword. The exhausted dragon rolled his eyes worriedly,
unable to lift a claw to defend himself.
	The princess, however, could.	
	As the prince raised his sword to kill the dragon, the
princess deliberately moved into the way.
	“Hey, would you show a little courtesy? I’m tryin’ to
kill a dragon here,” said the prince in annoyance.
	The princess glared. “Are you crazy? This dragon just
saved my life, while you sat up here and played with your
armor! This dragon is more courteous, intelligent, honorable,
and handsome than you’ll ever be! You can go home and tell
my father that I’ll marry this dragon before I marry you!” She
spat in his face with alarming accuracy.
	The prince was so astonished that he dropped his
sword. She kicked it over the cliff. There was a lonesome
splash.
	“But that’s my . . .” the prince began. 
	The recovering dragon lifted his head and roared at
the prince, little flames flickering around his sharp teeth. “GO
HOME!” The dragon roared again, and the prince took off
running.
	After he was out of sight, the princess put her hand on
the dragon’s neck. “You’re the most wonderful person I’ve
ever met, even if you are a dragon,” she said.
	The dragon lowered his head. “You’re not half bad
yourself, even if you’re _not_ a dragon.”
	The princess laughed and kissed him on the end of his
snout.
	The dragon blinked.
	The dragon blinked again.
	The dragon stared.
	“What?” said the princess, in a much deeper voice
than she expected.
	The dragon stepped back. “You’re . . . you’re a . . .
you’re beautiful,” he said, finally.
	The princess looked down along her scarlet snout,
then at her crimson talons. Wondering, she looked over her
shoulder at the dramatic sweep of her vermilion wings and
the armored carmine scales of her back. “Wow,” she said at
last.
	The red dragoness sprang into the air, throwing a rush
of sand over the black dragon. She hovered on her new
wings. “Come on,” she said. “Show me the other side of the
ocean.”
	She turned, climbing swiftly and joyously into the
dazzling sky, as the Library Dragon launched himself after
her.
			
			THE END 
[© 2000, Erin M. Schmidt.]