Another story from the Village, this time Ember and Grumpy get to have a chat. – The Scrivener

WORDS IN A WINTER NIGHT

The winter had been mild until the great snowstorm came just before spring. June had worried about Grumpy then and insisted on venturing down the snow-packed road to his little house. Of course, her parents wouldn’t have allowed her to go, except that there was a powerful dragon willing to escort her. And Ember wouldn’t allow her to go alone under any circumstance.

June’s worries were for naught. Grumpy’s harvest had been good and his root cellar was still well provisioned. Grumpy had already decided the barn could be turned into firewood if needed so there was to be no shortage of heat, either. Now, June slept rolled in blankets before his fireplace. And Ember and Grumpy sat to one side, making small talk before sleep.

“So, now that you have a whole village of humans to live with, what do you think of us humans?”

“Humans are like children in many ways.”

“Children? Do you never think of us as equals?”

“You’ve misunderstood. Let me try to clarify. We are strong individually. Humans are strong together. Dragons seldom work in groups but humans do so all the time. Just as children play together, adult humans seem to like working together. And there’s another thing.

“Humans are curious about everything, like children, and even poke into the very nature of Nature. Dragons usually only get so interested if there is a particular problem that must be solved. So, humans collect all kinds of useless information, like a drifter filling up a bag of ‘possibles’. But when a problem comes up, they rummage around in that bag and usually find something that works.”

“I’m not sure… did that answer the question?”

“We will never be equals because we are so unalike. Humans have a saying, about soup and nuts, yes? Both are pleasant and healthful to humans but so completely different that it makes little sense to try to decide if one is more perfect than the other. They both contribute to a good life but in different ways.”

“I think I see now. We’re not equal… because we’re just too different.”

“We’re more like complementary.”

“What about the past? Do dragons hold resentment for the way we tried to extinguish them everywhere?

“Some do. Most do not.”

“But we were killing you all.”

“So? We were eating you all.”

“But don’t dragons have long memories?”

“I said before that humans were like children. Here is another example. Children harm each other and hold grudges and often seek revenge… to ‘get even.’ If you lived as long as dragons you’d be different. If dragons kept scores and grudges against dragons who offended us, in the long lives of dragons eventually we’d all be hating each other permanently. We learn to let go of what we can’t undo.”

“You forget about the past?”

“No, not forget. Let go. The past cannot be changed. It can be lied about, so that it appears to be different, but there is an objective reality about it, too. It is what it was. Past wrongs can never be made right again for that reason. Often the best thing one can do is recognize it and then as much as possible live as though it doesn’t matter and go about making a future that’s better. A human prophet said something about each day bringing enough trouble within it already.”

“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

“That’s the one.”

“It’s wisdom but not all of us humans live that way. People outside of family-like communities, like ours, are afraid of your kind. They’re afraid of dragons taking over if there were more of you. And we villagers are helping dragons to thrive.”

“First, if I may correct something. This is not a family-like community. These are my families, now. My people. To me, there’s nothing imitation-like about it.”

“I apologize.”

“Second… there will always be vast hoards of humans cooperating and delving into mysteries we ignore. So, we could never snatch the world from all of you, when you’re all working together. But together, humans and dragons can do things that are impossible separately. Besides, we don’t have enough time left.”

“Wait… what do you mean not enough time left?”

“There is yet another reason dragons won’t challenge humans to be masters the world. We cannot exist where mana is gone. Mana, in case you didn’t know, is incorporated into a world when it is formed. Like water, there’s a finite amount imbued at the world’s formation. When it runs out, there will be no more. So, you see, dragons and all magical creatures have a limited time on Earth. Humanity will go on long, long after we’ve turned to fictional legends and myths. Humans are helping save us from extinction this once. But unless humans and dragons working together can discover how to manufacture mana or import it from the gulfs of space, this will only be a temporary reprieve.”