Dragon Heart

Upon a mountain top, high above the clouds, where the enormous peaks of stone are powdered in the cold, heavy snow, there lies a cave lit ever so carefully by the flame of the unconquerable beast. The lair not layered with gold, nor with metal or bones. Not full of the smell of sulfur nor bodies of lost adventures that wandered a little too close. Not any of these awfully crude, smelly things. None at all. Rather, this is the lair of a creature who cares not for violence or blood, but more for the finer things in life. There is a wine cellar with the most peculiar flavors within the wooden framework made of a dark Boreal Oak, crafted by only the finest dwarves and goblins. On the same floor, there is a cheese room, with wheels big enough to feed a village for months. A layer down, in the most humid part of the frivolous cave, dwell his cigars, kept in peak condition, as the massive chamber acts as a humidor. Although it is said he doesn’t keep gold layered among the floor of his Cave, he has halls among halls with glass casings housing the finest of jewels: Rubies, Sapphire, Amber, and Jade. In the foyer, massive quartz crystals jut out from the floors, carved into a fountain of a divine presence. 

A stranger knocks at the massive Boreal door. The gentle thud of a large creature can be heard from the door. The lithe figure clad in rags backs away in anticipation of the coming. A hollow, low creak emits from the brass hinges and the door swings open to the face of a dark red dragon, smiling warmly down at the visitor. “What brings you to my humble abode, little one?” he bellows.

The young stranger looks up from beneath her cowl revealing the delicate features of a young female face and smiles brightly as she stretches her arms out. “I was on a quest to hug a dragon,” she says.

The great beast releases a hearty laugh and crouches down to be within the small child’s reach.“You came to the right dragon my child,” he says as he stretches his fragile arms out to embrace the small child.

They come together and the child can feel the safe warmth of the dragon’s chest pressing against hers, the breathing and the heartbeat. They feel as though they are one. They part and the great beast looks down at her.

“Where do you live my child? I can get someone to fly you home,” he asks warmly.

She slowly gazes down and begins to cry. The Dragon embraces her with another long, caring hug, wrapping them up in his withered wings, shielding her from the unforgiving cold.

“Do not cry my child, join me by the fire and tell me your story,” he says, beckoning to the warmth and safety of the hearth. “Here your stomach and heart will be full, and your mind at peace,” he says with a sparkle in his eye, hiding the sadness beneath. 

The immense dragon moves away from the doorway and waves his aged claw, inviting the young stranger in. The child takes a deep breath, wipes the tears from her eyes and walks into the massive chamber, the deep red carpet concealing the cold stone beneath, accents of gold placed among the massive dark wood furnishings. A roaring fire resides within the hearth, the crackling of pine and logs bounces about the room, mixing with the trickling of the quartz fountain. On the mantle, there lie amulets of jade, jewels adorned with gold plating and smooth granite stones, perfectly spherical. In front of the fire, there is a single chair, red velvet cushions placed delicately upon the masterful carpentry. The dragon gestures to the chair and the girl wipes the tears from her eyes and finds her way to the seat. As she sits down the dragon lies down upon the floor, his tail stretching from one end of the room to the other, curling around the perimeter. 

“Now,” he says in a soft tone, “What is your story little one?”