The Legend of Soaring Swallow: A Dragon’s Tale
“Ernieee, …Ernest Lee Penchant, you have been in that bath long enough,” called Grandfather. “It’s time for bed. Come out now and maybe I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”
“Yes, Grandfather,” answered the young boy.
As Grandfather helped him dress for bed, Ernest asked, “So what bedtime story will you tell me tonight?”
“Well, which one do you want to hear? Chanticleer and Pertelote? Joseph and His Magic Dreamcoat? Paladin, the Bravest Knight? Princess Poppy? Which one?”
“No, Grandfather. I like those stories, but I’ve heard them many times before. Don’t you have any new stories for me?”
“Oh, I’m sure that I can think of something for you.
“Say, why do you take so much time in the bath? Each night you are in the tub so long that you always come out with wrinkled toes and fingers.”
“That’s easy. Bath time is the best time of the day. It’s my favorite. The water feels so good and makes my skin feel fresh, and I smell clean and fresh when I’m done. I get to play with my tub toys too, and I like to splash and make waves in the water.”
Grandfather chuckled, “Yes, your Mother often complains that you leave the bathroom floor flooded with water.”
“Yes sir, perhaps I do. But do you know what? Besides you, Mother and Father, water is my best friend in the whole world. I love the water!”
“I suppose that’s why you spend much of the day swimming in our stream and pond instead of doing your chores.”
A little guiltily, Ernest Lee admitted, “Yes, Grandfather. I’m sorry I make a mess in the bath and I play too much instead of doing my chores, but I just love the water so much. It is my best friend.”
Grandfather agreed, “Yes, water is a wonderful thing. And here in this valley, we have Soaring Swallow to thank for it.”
Ernest Lee was puzzled. “Soaring Swallow?” he asked. “What’s Soaring Swallow?”
This time Grandfather laughed aloud, “My boy, Soaring Swallow is not a what, Soaring Swallow is a who.
“Soaring Swallow is a mighty dragon. Local legend states that it was Soaring Swallow who brought water to our valley long ago. The tale says it is Soaring Swallow who made our valley. To this day, he makes sure that we always have water in our valley so that we can grow our crops and live.
“Have you never heard ‘The Legend of Soaring Swallow’?”
“No, Sir. I have not. Can that be my bedtime story?”
Grandfather smiled, “Yes, that is a good one. I know you will like it.”
Once the boy was abed, Grandfather began his tale.
“The Legend of Soaring Swallow,” he said. Then he stopped. He was obviously thinking about something.
Ernest was suddenly doubtful. “Grandfather, is this a real story, or are you just making it up now in your head?”
“Oh no. Believe me, it is a real story. But first I must ask you a few questions.”
Grandfather continued, “Young Ernest Lee, do you know what makes a valley to be a valley instead of a plain?”
“Why yes sir, a valley is made by the mountains around it. A plain has no mountains. It is just wide and open. Maybe a plain has a forest, I’m not sure about that. At least, that’s what I think.”
“That’s correct.” He paused for only a moment, “Have you ever noticed the shape of the valley where we live on our farm and where our valley’s village is located?”
“Of course, the mountains go around the valley on three sides, sort of. On one side, the mountains go much farther than on the other. It reminds me of a fishhook or the letter J.
“But they are not very high mountains.”
Grandfather said, “No they are not very high, but they are high enough. Soaring Swallow made them just so. You’ll understand when I finish our tale.”
Young Ernest Lee smiled at his cleverness and said, “I think that if I had named our valley and town, I would call them “J Valley and Fishhook Town.
Grandfather laughed. “Those are very clever names,” he said.
He then asked, “But what is the name of our town and valley?”
Proudly, Ernest answered, “That’s easy. The town and valley are called Dragon’s Den.”
“That’s correct, and how did these get their names?”
“That I don’t know.”
Grandfather explained, “Well, you’ll know when I finish our story.”
Grandfather could see that Ernest Lee was confused, and he began again.
************
“The Legend of Soaring Swallow.”
Grandfather began, “Once upon a time, ….”
Young Ernest Lee interrupted, “Oh, this will be a good story. For every truly good story begins with, ‘Once upon a time.’”
Grandfather smiled, and he continued.
Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was no valley here. And there were no mountains here, no mountains anywhere near here. Here was just a vast, wide plain with a small stream running through it. The plain was mostly covered in forests. Not many people lived here. There were a few small farms, and the village was very tiny.
In fact, the village was hardly a village at all. There were only a few shops: a blacksmith, a butcher, a tanner of leather, a carpenter, and an inn-keeper for travelers. But there were very few travelers. The villagers and the farmers were somewhat poor. Nevertheless, the people did have one thing of value. They had a dragon who lived in the forests of the plains. His name was Soaring Swallow.
Ernest Lee said, “Grandfather, weren’t the people scared? Dragons are big, powerful and dangerous.”
“Ah yes,” agreed Grandfather. “At first, they were afraid when they discovered that a dragon lived in the nearby forests, because they too had always heard that dragons are big, powerful and dangerous. And I believe that most dragons are that way. But they soon discovered that this dragon was different, …very different.”
“I will explain. Rather, my tale will explain. Shall I continue?”
And Ernest shook his head, “Yes sir, please continue.”
When the people discovered that a huge dragon was living in their forests, they were afraid. But their fears were put to rest at the May Day Festival that year. Although it was long ago, the people then celebrated May Day Festival much as we do today.
On the morning of the first Day in May, the people of the village and the farmers of the plains gathered in the town square for a celebration of the coming of Spring with its fine weather. The crops had been planted in their fields, and they could all relax and enjoy themselves for the day. Everyone was there.
There was music and dancing. A May Pole had been put up in the center of Town Square. It was hung with bright colored ribbons and the children danced and laughed around it. So did some of the grown-ups. Many tales were told; some tales were true, and some were perhaps not so true. There was laughter and happiness. And of course, there was food and drink.
The people had plenty of vegetables, berries, and fruit to eat, but not much meat to share because very few of them raised fowl. And they’d all been too busy planting the fields for summer. They hadn’t had time to hunt in the nearby forests. There wasn’t nearly enough meat for everyone. Still, they were all friends and had decided to share what they could.
By mid-morning, everyone had gathered near the May Pole in the town square. In the bright morning sunshine, the celebrations were begun, and the food was being prepared for their noontide to evening feast.
Suddenly, the bright sunshine vanished, and the people found themselves and the entire town square in dark shadow. They looked up at the sky, afraid that they would see dark rainclouds, which might ruin the festival they had planned. But there were no rainclouds. What they saw instead drove a deeper, unexpected fear into their hearts.
For between them and the sun they could clearly see the silhouette of the great dragon of their forests. His huge size blotted out the sun, casting them all in his darkening shadow.
They heard his cry. His voice was the screech of a great eagle, only much louder and fiercer. Then indeed, it did begin to rain, raindrops of blood.
Quite naturally, the people were afraid, very afraid. Many wanted to run. Many wanted to scream in terror. But no one moved, and no one made a sound. That’s how afraid they were.
The dragon screeched again, soared away from the sun ever higher into the sky. He then turned, swooping back toward the village in a terrifying power dive.
Just as he reached the edge of the village, the dragon spread his vast wings to stop his flight. He hovered there gently for a few moments. He said, “Good morning. Happy May Day Festival to you all. I have brought a few gifts for your noontide to evening feast.”
He opened his mighty claws and from his talons there fell the carcasses of many animals.
The dragon then landed softly, just at the edge of the village; but he was so huge that his long neck stretched his head directly over the town square to overlook the people. That is, if he bent his neck just right, folding it twice, left and right like an adder that is ready to strike. Of course, he didn’t strike, despite the peoples’ fears of him.
Instead he said, “I have been watching you carefully, listening carefully to your conversations as you planned this festival. Oh, I can hear everything you say, each utterance, even your whispers in the night. For I seldom sleep, and my auditory faculties are quite acute.”
Wanting to impress his new acquaintances, he had chosen to speak to them rather formally.
“From these observations, I surmised that you have all you need to host a fine festival on this day, lacking one thing. You have not procured enough meats for you all. That is, you have not raised enough in your own meager farmyards, nor garnered enough wild game from my nearby forests.
“Ooops, please forgive my faux pas. I mean, our nearby forests, for I certainly feel obliged to share the forests freely among us all.
“Therefore, I now beg of you to accept these modest offerings as my contribution to your May Day’s feast.
“There are two cattle that I took from distant lands during the night.
“To add variety to your table fare, I have also brought some wild boar and a few forest deer. I apologize that I have brought only three mountain goats. They are rather difficult to snatch from the steep cliffsides. They present quite a challenge. I suppose that is because of my size and their deftness.”
The dragon fell silent, awaiting some reply. But the people were too surprised, too in awe to say anything in response. Frankly, many were still too plain scared to do anything but stare at him with their mouths agape.
After a few minutes of silent staring by all, Maid Marie stepped forward. She was the prettiest maiden in the region, if not the prettiest in all the kingdom.
She was very nervous. Her body and voice trembled as she asked, “So, does this mean that you’re not going to eat us?
“I mean, you say that you have brought us meat as a gift for our feast. For that generous act we wish to thank you. Yet all our stories have taught us that dragons are terrible creatures who eat people by the dozens. How do we know that you are not just feeding us now to fatten us up for your own breakfast tomorrow?”
Upon hearing her words, the dragon raised his head high and he let out a mighty laugh. Well, it didn’t really sound like a laugh as we know a laugh to sound. It was a dragon’s laugh of screeching howls. But it was still a laugh.
Lowering his head near her, he said, “My pretty Maid Marie, I have no intention of eating you, nor any other here. You are my friends. At least, I want you to be my friends. Friendship is better; don’t you think so?”
Pretty Maid Marie hesitated, studying the dragon’s face closely as it drew so near to her. She was no longer afraid nor nervous.
“Yes, I can see in your eyes that you are smiling and that you are a kind, friendly dragon—unlike any other dragon that I have heard of in stories.
“Surely, you are not actually smiling, for you are a dragon and dragons cannot smile with their mouths. But you can smile with your eyes. You are doing it now. Smiling with your eyes that is.”
“And now do you and the others accept my gifts? Will you accept my friendship as well?” asked the dragon.
“Well, I cannot speak for the others, but I most certainly welcome you into my heart as a friend.”
Maid Marie could see that the dragon’s eyes smiled even brighter and wider as he said, “Then you will surely need some more firewood to cook these meats I have brought for you this day. While I am gone, your butcher and his assistants can prepare for your feast. There is plenty enough now for all in attendance.”
As he soared away, the Maiden Marie shouted to him, “Thank you, Mr. Dragon. There is enough to feed us all throughout the winter.”
Indeed, there was.
The dragon swiftly flew off into the sky, returning an hour later with bundles of firewood in his talons. As the butcher and his helpers prepared the food for the feast and the people resumed their celebration, they had heard the dragon at work in the forests–breaking and snapping trees and branches into perfectly sized firewood.
In his generosity, the dragon returned with more firewood than was needed, placing it near to the cooking hearths. He then landed to the applause of the people in the village square, bowed his head, wished everyone, “Happy May Day Holiday,” and he turned to leave.
Maid Marie’s voice stopped him.
“Wait, Mr. Dragon, please don’t leave yet. Won’t you join our festival?”
He replied, “Thank you, but this is a celebration for people. Dragons are not welcome.”
The Maiden quickly said, “Oh, but Mr. Dragon, you are welcome to join us in our feast. In fact, I would like that. Do join me, …as my personal guest I mean.”
The dragon’s voice seemed coy as he asked, “Is this a date?”
Laughing, Maid Marie said, “No sir, Mr. Dragon. We can only ever be friends. Don’t be silly.”
“Thank you, it is not my place here today. I will return soon as your friend, I promise.”
And soon, they did become friends. Maid Marie and the dragon spent many hours together. Mostly they just talked, but once the dragon took her for a ride through the sky so that she could see the village, the farms and the forests as he often sees them. They only did this one time because being so high in the sky scared the Maiden too much, especially while hanging onto the back of a dragon.
During their frequent conversations, Maid Marie learned many things about the dragon. And she shared his words with the others.
She learned that the dragon was thousands of years old. Although she thought he looked much younger. He had learned to speak her language by secretly listening to the conversations of the first families who came to his forests. He learned much more listening to people in other towns and cities including the king’s courtiers in his castle.
Most curious to her was this.
The dragon was kind. He liked people, not to eat them as some other dragons did. Instead, he liked people because they are friendly and kind—for the most part. And he admired the way they helped one another.
Thus, long ago he decided to be more like these people whom he admired. He moved away from the lands where the others of his kind did terrorize humans. He admitted that their behavior made him feel somewhat ashamed of his kind. He had come to these forests because he wanted to live alone in peace.
Soon afterward, people began to settle in the plains. They cleared bits of his forests to make fields for planting and growing their crops. The trees they cut were used to build their homes. The village appeared. These things made the dragon happy because he was no longer alone.
Despite his admiration and his joy, he knew he had to hide from these neighbors. For he knew that humans are afraid of dragons, and he didn’t want to scare them away. For more than six hundred years, he kept his presence in the forests secret. But he was very lonely.
On that morning of the May Day Festival, he decided to take a chance at making friends with the people. He knew he could help them with their celebration, and he was very happy he had succeeded.
One day, Maid Marie said, “Mr. Dragon, we are all very glad you helped us that day and you are now our friend.”
The other villagers who were listening nearby agreed.
“But you need a name. We can’t just keep calling you Mr. Dragon. May I ask, what is your name?”
“My name? Why, …I haven’t got name. Perhaps I had one long ago, but I have lived so long alone that I’m afraid I have forgotten.”
“I know,” said young Jack Little who was standing beside. “We will call you Soaring Swallow. For when you soar high in the sky, you look like a swallow.”
“Oh, it is a splendid name,” said the dragon. “I will be called Soaring Swallow.”
From that day to this, the dragon of our valley is still known by the name Soaring Swallow.
Ernest Lee spoke out, “But wait, …Grandfather. Soaring Swallow? That’s like the little bird. But the Soaring Swallow in this story is a giant dragon. Dragons have thick serpent scales. Why was he called by a little bird’s name if he was a big dragon with serpent scales?
“And you still have not told about the mountains and how those old plains and forests were turned into our valley of today.”
“I have told you, Ernest Lee, our Soaring Swallow was a very different dragon from the rest.
“Yes, he did have thick scales, and he mostly looked like a dragon. But his wings and his tail were covered in feathers, like a bird. Surely, these were very big feathers for he was a dragon. Nevertheless, they were feathers. With his feathered wings and his long, forked tail of feathers, he did look like a soaring swallow as he flew across the sky.
“It is a splendid name for him.”
“And what about the mountains? Where do they come in?” asked Ernest impatiently.
Grandfather responded, “That is the next part of our tale. Shall I continue?”
“Yes sir, please continue.”
It was only a few years later when a terrible drought struck the entire kingdom. For reasons no one knows, the weather turned quite abnormal. The seasons seemed to stop. It was warm all year round. Rainstorms became rare. For two full winters, no snow fell on the mountains to the north and on those to the west. As a result, ponds and lakes, streams and rivers began to shrink, and many went dry.
Farmers continued to till and plant their lands, but with so little water, many crops failed. The people grew as thirsty as their withered crops. Soaring Swallow could plainly see that his friends were suffering.
Seeing their plight, one day Soaring Swallow went to visit his best friend.
“Maid Marie, I have watched your people suffer far too long now in this drought. I would like to help them.”
“Yes, Soaring Swallow. The entire kingdom is suffering. I have heard that in some places, people are even dying from lack of water. The situation is bad.
“Once again, our crops are planted, but if there is no water soon, our crops may fail. We will not have enough food to eat. Perhaps some of us will also die. Yet, what can you do to help us? What can anyone do?”
“I’m afraid I cannot save the entire kingdom, but I think I can save you and my friends hereabout. I have a plan. I can bring you and your people all the water you will ever need.”
Excitedly, Maid Marie jumped with joy, “Oh, can you really do this for us? Can you really bring us water and save us?”
“Yes, I can, but it will not be easy.”
“Oh, Soaring Swallow, this is wonderful news. You truly are my best friend. Thank you, thank you so much. You have made me very happy.”
“I am happy that you are happy, my best friend.”
Then Maid Marie looked more carefully at him. He had said he was happy, but she could see no smile of happiness in his eyes.
“Soaring Swallow, I know what you say is true, for you will never lie to me. Your words say you are happy for me. Yet, your eyes, …your eyes tell me you are sad. You are very sad. Why? How can you be happy and sad at the same time?”
The dragon explained, “I am happy for you and for the people here, but I am sad for myself. I am sad for Soaring Swallow.
“Maiden Marie, you are my best friend, and I can bring you water, enough for everyone here and for all of their farms. But to do so, I can never see you again.”
She stood still, too shocked by this news to move or to say anything.
Soaring Swallow continued.
“Deep beneath these forests is a large and mighty river. I can hear it and have traced the path of its flow. It travels in a straight line before turning back, as if to close itself into a circle. Instead, it becomes an underground waterfall and empties itself into a huge lake that is joined to the sea many miles away.
“With my acute hearing, I have found a point where I can dig deeper than the river’s flow and I can push it all upwards: the bedrock, the river, and the lands above. This will create mountains in the plains, and the river will flow much closer to the surface. I will follow the river underground and do this as far as I can, until the river leads to the waterfall that leads to the lake that leads to the sea.
“By pushing up just right, I can assure that the river underground reaches the surface on hillsides around your new valley. You and your people will have your water—all the water you need.”
“Oh, Soaring Swallow, can you really do this and save us?” she asked.
“Yes, I will gladly do this for you. Your new valley will have water.”
“This is such wonderful news and you are such a wonderful friend. How can I ever thank you?”
“You cannot because this also means we will never meet again.
“Once a dragon goes underground and digs his mountain cave, it forever becomes his home. The sun’s rays become deadly to him. Afterward, in sunlight he will perish.
“Humans may not know this, but all dragons do. That is why dragons are nocturnal and avoid digging a dragon hole of their own. Instead, dragons find an existing cave or a dark tree tunnel as I have found in our forests.”
With tears in her eyes, the pretty Maid Marie stepped forward to kiss Soaring Swallow once upon his cheek.
“Now I have thanked you,” she whispered.
With smiling eyes, the dragon said, “I must leave you now. I must go underground.”
And those were his last words to her.
Soaring Swallow flew higher than ever into the sky, turned, and came screeching down in his most dreadful power dive. He crashed into the ground. The earth shook for many miles around.
Within a few hours, a valley had been formed by the new fishhook mountains surrounding it and fresh water flowed from the hillsides.
And they all lived happily ever after.
The End
************
“Oh Grandfather, that is a good story. But did you have to give it the traditional corny ending?”
“Now, Ernest Lee, you liked the traditional corny beginning so why not the traditional corny ending?”
“Yes sir. You’re right, it is still the best way to begin and to end.
“Is this a true story?”
“Well, it is a legend, and every legend is based at least a little in truth. If you need further proof, just remember this town and valley are named Dragon’s Den.”
After thinking for a moment, Ernest asked, “Then can we go see the entrance to Soaring Swallow’s cave tomorrow? I want to bring him an offering. I want to thank him for giving us water.”
“No, there is no entrance to his cave. Soaring Swallow made sure there would be none.
“The last thing the Maiden Marie saw of her friend was the tip of his tail. As he drove deeper underground, he made certain to flick his feathered swallow tail to close the entrance with stone.
“However, you can still give him your thanks. We will take your offering to the old abbey at the foot of our fishhook mountains. It is said the church was built upon the very site where the dragon plunged into the earth.
“It is getting late, Ernest Lee. You have had your bath and your bedtime story. It is now time to sleep. Good night, sleep tight.”
“Good night, Grandfather and I thank you for such a fine new tale.”
With his lantern, Grandfather was leaving the room and just about to close the door behind him when the boy spoke.
“Grandfather, may I have a glass of dragon’s water to drink before I go to sleep? Please, sir?
“Soaring Swallow is my new best friend.”
Global English Tutor - Paul Cuadrado 