The Garden's End (MLM)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

                The story of the dragon and his Dragonlord went like this:

'The dragon Balanor had been born as a human, as most dragons were. Balanor had white and gold scales along his arms, legs, and chest. His nails were sharp and the colour of blood, his eyes were the colours of living flames. He was the most beautiful child to ever have existed, and the dragons expected great things from him.

'However, Balanor had turned out to be a disappointment to all those around him for, try as he might, he could not change into his dragon form. As he grew, he watched his family fly the skies and breathe fire among the clouds, wishing he could join them. But he could not. He could not grow as a dragon, and he could not grow as a man, for his scales and claws and eyes revealed his identity to humans. For years, Balanor was lost in between two worlds, unable to truly ever be part of either.

'Balanor was dismissed by his father as a weakling for his deficiencies, so he ran away. He'd wanted to hide, to find a cave and stay there for all of eternity, to live where no dragon or man could ever hurt him again. He ventured long and far, and found a forest in which neither man nor dragon had ever been seen to live; the Haunted Woods.

'"A dangerous place, that is!" people and dragons warned alike. "Not a soul could survive in there!" But Balanor, you see, had lived so many punishments at the cruel claws of his father, so much abuse at the hands of fearful mortals, that he could not find it in him to fear what lay in the forest. On the contrary, he welcomed it. If anything in there wanted to claim his life, it would be free to have it, for Balanor did not think any life was worth such troubles.

'Balanor had expected wolves, ogres, unspeakable monsters that lurked in the shadows, and, unable to so much as create a fire or swing a sword, he was defenceless. Yet the need for weapons did not come. It did not come when Balanor found the small creek of fresh water in the very heart of the woods, nor did it come when deer and birds revealed themselves during a hunt, nor did it come when Balanor nested in a dark cavern for the night, wide and empty with nothing but the sound of the water running past in the crevice between the rocks.

'No. But the need for it came when Balanor had woken that next morning to the tip of an arrow pointed at his throat. The weapon, he noticed, carried a strange symbol in its blade that he could not make out. All he knew was that it was aimed to end his life in the blink of an eye. Balanor hissed, expecting to be surrounded by a flock of mortal men, eager to kill whatever they thought he was. Instead, Balanor looked up and met one pair of gold eyes.

'"You're a dragon, aren't you?" asked the strange man, his narrowed eyes considering Balanor's own, the gold scales peeking around his throat, his claws. Balanor had been so startled at the sight of such a face, such beauty, that he could not answer until the man asked again. The tip of his arrow pressed closer to Balanor's throat and Balanor growled.

'"But you can't be a dragon, can you?" said the strange man. "You're in danger, yet you've yet to transform."

'Balanor did not answer, he could not. The thought of his shame, his own beauty which had turned meaningless at his incompetence, constricted his throat. He thought once again of death, how much simpler things would be if he could stop fighting, once and for all.

'He closed his eyes. And waited. "If you're going to kill me," he said. "Do it now."

'The stranger said nothing a moment, then, "Are you dying?"

'"No," said Balanor. "But I ought to be."

'"Then what's wrong with you?"

'"Why does that matter to you?!" growled Balanor. "Are you or are you not going to kill me?"