Nothing for Nothing

by Hannah Provost The Blue Dragon was just as old as six of the seven seas and the Young Tree in Old Garden, but he still enjoyed his jam and toast. Every day he enjoys his jam and toast. He was alone today, like many days, and he sat at his tree stump, carefully spreading the jam onto his bread with an extended claw, the toast having just been nicely browned by a leaping tendril of re from his snout. It was nicely made toast, he allowed himself to admit, but the thought made him sad, and his paws sank to the wood stump. His eyes wandered across the well-used book of fairytales at his feet and then to the sky to watch white smoke curl up from his nose. The Blue Dragon was lonely, but the serene quality of his eyes, his curved and nearly knotted horns, and his glimmering scales suggested to the world a magnicence that could only be above loneliness. The Blue Dragon stuffed the piece of bread into his maw and sliced another piece from the loaf. It was blueberry jam today. Yesterday it had been raspberry. Suddenly, and suddenly for any dragon is ten times slower than any movement you have made, the Blue Dragon shifted on his haunches, his ears perking up the slightest bit as he noticed a black raven circling nearer and nearer. Over the hill appeared a silver man; a small gure following hurriedly behind him. The silver man glinted in the sunlight; the glare would have hurt the eyes of any normal creature. He was carrying a shield in one hand, his sword strapped to his hip, and a white tea pot in

the other hand. The little thing running after him had tea cups piled precariously in his arms, looking just as if at any moment, they all could topple from his hands. The Blue Dragons eyes settled peacefully into a squint. Maybe he wouldnt be enjoying his jam alone after all.

It took a while for the silver man to reach the Blue Dragon, but the Blue Dragon watched patiently, noting that the man favored one leg over the other, that his beard was just as long and white as his own had always appeared to him, and that the form scurrying behind the silver man was a little boy, his clothes too big for his body, his cap a tad too big for his head. The Blue Dragon liked the little boy immediately. When they arrived, the loaf of bread was on a blue plate and a knife was in the jam jar. The Lord Baron Albert (for that was the silver mans name, he speedily informed the Blue Dragon) set the tea pot on the stump and then went about introducing himself, doing much self-petting and spluttering as he did, the little boy setting the cups he held jumbled in his arms in their proper places. When the Lord Baron Albert had spluttered quite enough, the Blue Dragon asked him to sit down. The raven settled into the boys shoulder as he carefully served the steaming tea. The Blue Dragon had said but few words, and a silence had nally fallen in his patch of wooded hill. He looked at the white haired Albert, his silver armor making it hard for him to sit any other way but awkwardly, with bent knees jutting out, and elbows getting in the way of taking his tea. The Blue Dragon nally asked him his purpose.

Id like a piece of wisdom, the Lord Baron murmured, coloring slightly and looking deep into his tea. I had heard that blue dragons were the dragons best at giving advice. The Blue Dragons eyes smiled as he spread jam, properly this time with a knife, on his slice of toast. The Lord Baron watched the smoke curling from the dragons nostrils warily. The boys big eyes followed the Blue Dragons careful movements with awe. What type of advice, bearded one? The dragon, his voice rumbling and deep, asked. I need to know how to save the King from death. The silence which followed was deep. The boy began to rock back and forth on the ground, now glancing between the faces of the knight and the Blue Dragon. At last the Blue Dragon spoke, his voice so low the little boy did not know anyone was speaking at rst. I thought the King and his men had long ago forsaken the help of dragons. The Lord Baron rubbed his nose. Um, well, you see And why would you come to me? You surely must have thought of the Black Dragon? The Dragon of Death? Well, we did, Great Dragon but the knight was interrupted. What is the boys name?

Gladden, the Lord Baron said, surprised. The Blue Dragon stared steadily at the boy, and Gladden stared steadily back, but they were interrupted by a squeaky cough from the Baron. You see Great Dragon, blue dragons are said to be the Dragons of Life; and we do not want death, we want life. You are a Dragon of Life, are you not? The Blue Dragon answered by stuffing the bread into his mouth, and looking over at the boy again. The King is not a good man. The bearded one here only comes with his own fate in mind. Should I help him little one? The boy stared at the Blue Dragon, incredulous. His mouth popped slightly open, but he nodded, quickly glancing down at his feet. Suddenly, and this truly was suddenly, for on occasion a dragon can move fast when they feel like it, the Blue Dragon swept everything off the stump that acted as a table. Except instead of everything crashing to the ground, it appeared neatly stacked next to the boy. The Barons eyes were wide, but the Blue Dragon paid him no attention.

With a claw, the Blue Dragon quickly drew a map in the wood surface. Study it carefully. It will lead you to the herbs whose crushed leaves will save your King. But be weary of using it for your own ends. There is only enough for one man; not enough for your old war wound too.

The Baron, wide eyed, glanced down at the map again. It vanished before his eyes. He quickly got up, bowing stiffly. GladdenGladden! he said, his voice urging. Get the things. Bearded One, the Blue Dragon said, halting the movement around him. I have a question for the little one. He directed his gaze to Gladden. You cannot talk? Gladden nodded, his hands beginning to tie his clothes into knots. Would you like to stay with me, little one? And learn the ways of dragons? Gladden nodded again, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Hey there! the Baron interrupted, puffing his chest out furiously. He is mine. You cannot just be taking what is mine! And you cannot just be taking what is mine, the Blue Dragon said calmly. It is the little ones choice. Besides, you treat him as if he were nothing, so it would be nothing to lose him, surely? The Baron swore he saw a blue eyebrow raised at him questioningly. His response was lost in his mustache. A puff of smoke spurted from the Blue Dragons nostrils as he chuckled. And I had thought you had dealt with dragons before. The silver man backed away hastily, grabbing his shield as he passed. He left the tea pot behind. Gladden and the Blue Dragon looked at each other.

After a while, Gladden tapped the wood stump and lifted a brow. On the back of his shield, my boy. Gladden nodded again, and seemed to want to laugh, the corners of his eyes turning up merrily. Now lets see what we can do about your voice, rumbled the Blue Dragon.