The Secret of the well
Once in a place not too far away from here, but in a time so very long ago that houses had not been built nor roads laid, lived a hermit. His shelter was built from the hazel in the forest that surrounded him and he drew his water from a well by the side of a hill.
Every day he rose before the sun, for prayer is better than sleep, and washed in the cold water before breaking his fast with bread and apples, or whatever else the season had in store. This being finished he went to the highest point in the forest and facing east sat and thought. The crest of his hill broke free from even the tallest of trees and he could see the undulating forest of green tops stretching out to the horizon in every direction.
One day, which was much the same as any other day, except for the fact that the hermit had breakfasted on wild strawberries for it was spring time, the sky was as blue and clear as only a spring morning can be. On such a day the hermit was looking to the risen sun when he saw a dark mass moving in the far distance, somewhat above the tree tops but not to high in the azure sky.
As he watched it snaked its way, like a curling black mist, slowly growing in form, till the hermit recognised what he saw. A Dragon. Wreathed in dark smokes and foul fumes. The beating of its spread wings shaking the trees like a gale in its passing. The breeze brought its warning in the unmistakable smell of burning combined with that not quite understood hint of Dragon.
The hermit's nose flared and he involuntarily drew back, for once the taste of dragon has entered the body the unfortunate owner of the nose will never get rid of it. This is balanced by the fact that not a great many of those who have smelled Dragon have come away to tell the tail. Most were toasted to a crisp a short while later.
Now it is a little known fact about Dragons, that they are very lazy fliers. No Dragon likes to fly over woodland as there are so few places, such as a nice bare hilltop, to stop and grab a few days sleep, just a relentless mass of spiky branches, and who knows what those trees hid. Dragons don't like trees at all, which is fine because the trees don't care much for Dragons, what with all that flame and burning. As it was this Dragon was particularly tired as he had just eaten a small farm and had been flying for five hours on a heavy stomach. He had been watching the hilltop for some time and had been upset over the fact that it was occupied. Dragons have very good eyesight and well before the hermit had ever thought about dragons the Dragon had seem him. A hermit on a hillside was something that made him slow down. The last time he had met a hermit he had fought long and hard and come off worse. The staff that the man carried had flashed and shone with the same forces that held the dragon together and even now he bore the scorch marks down the side of his left wing. So he slowed his mad rush and began to circle around the hill.
"I think I better try to talk with this man first," said the dragon to himself. For he was counting on mesmerising the man with a glance. Once people have looked into a Dragons eye they see something that captivates them and binds them to his will. So he flew slowly towards the hilltop trying to look as unthreatening as possible. This was not at all possible given the horror of his shape and by the time the Dragon had reached the hilltop the hermit had disappeared. "Drat and bother." Said the Dragon, "Now there is a bee loose in the woods." By bee he meant, of course, the hermit, as he had not wanted to admit to himself how much this be had worried him.
"Oh, hermit of the Silver wood over whose edges I have crossed but three hours ago," said the Dragon. "Hear me for I bring you a tale of your destiny from the edge of the green and the back of the winds." He paused with his ears up listening to the forest for any sound from the man but all he heard was a sudden stampede of a boar, which cracked twigs and rustled dead leaves. Even so he turned and let out a spit of fire catching the oak and silver fur and setting both alight. But the hermit had not been fooled by the first ploy. He knew that dragons could read your destiny as soon as they saw you, but he also knew that dragons a very clever and tricky and he would not benefit from this exchange. So he stayed hidden in the Well by the hut, but his heart was sorely tempted to know his own future.
"Oh hermit of the green glade," said the Dragon, "answer me for I bring you a the great gift of vision, to enter those places you have vainly striven to reach, I will grant them to you." For Dragons travel quite freely between this world and the world of fairy. He paused again with his ears up listening to the forest for any sound from the man but all he heard was a sudden rising of some grouse from their cover on the slope of the hill. Even so he turned his fiery breath on them and the hermits shelter, which was unfortunately directly behind on the forests edge, burst into flame. The hermit, despite having been singed a little by the flame said nothing and held his breath, for though he wanted more than anything to be given the key to the mysteries he knew that given by a Dragon they would prove to be fatal.
"Oh hermit of the coppiced hazel and the full blown apple," said the Dragon, who was by now wildly frustrated by the lack of results. "Speak to me, for I know a spell to let you speak to the trees, if you show yourself you have my word that I will do you no harm and I will give this knowledge to you." And he stared piercingly at the glade where the smoking remains of the hut smouldered. At that moment a butterfly landed on the well and spread its wings in the sun. The Dragon, who never missed a thing, threw a huge tongue of flame at the well. The briars that had concealed the Hermit flared briefly and turned to ash and the hermit, who had picked up his staff, was revealed face to snout with the dragon on the hill.
"Good day to you, skulker of the bramble," said the Dragon, and if dragons could
smile this one would have had a grin that went from ear to ear. "I see you now, know
how generous I am. Have you any words for me before I toast you like the boar and
the hazel and the briar." The hermit was shaking so badly that he almost dropped
his staff. Never-
"Oh worm of the earth, fire form and changeling, I have words for you. Hear me, I ask you to give me the gifts that you have offered for I desire them. I will bind you to this with your word, given freely, that you will do me no harm."
The Dragon let out a call that shook the trees and sent a column of fire up into the midday sun. A Dragon's word is a powerful thing for it is the stuff of which they are made and the dragon was angry with himself at having so needlessly given this assurance. "Do you seek to bargain with me, mortal? I who have watched the young earth grown up and have been old before your sort was ever made. Very well, look into my eyes and I will grant you what I offered." He stretched out his long neck until his eyes, each the larger than the hermit was tall, stared not six feet away. The hermit was rooted to the ground and unable to move, he seemed to be falling into a wide tunnel out of which he heard the magical tones of the dragon's voice. "Your destiny is in wood till the thraldom is released by one born of the moon, and for her you will weep and suffer yet never have, oh hermit." Then the dragon drew himself upright and towering above the glade said, "As for talking with the trees and travelling to fairy, you are to become as like a tree for all trees live not here but in fairy," And he cast this spell.
"By the briar, by the stream
Where oak and ash and chestnut gleam
By the dark heart of the willow tree
Take your form for ever be, dig roots
Drink deep, forget this world
Go back to sleep"
And the hermit's feet grew into the earth and he became rooted into the well. Branches appeared from his body and on the branches leaves, until there was nothing to say where he had been but a alder tree in full blossom. Satisfied the Dragon curled around the hill side, put his head on his claws and with a sigh and a belch of smoke happily closed his eyes. Two days later he was gone, travelling on into the west to finish whatever dragon like mission he had started out on.
Twelve seasons passed, twelve times the apple dropped onto the Forest floor and the fresh leaves of spring dressed the naked branches. Watered by the well and sheltered in the glade the alder grew strong and as it did so it made a bower arched over with entwined branches, a tunnel of green that led to the fresh spring waters.
That, that the hermit had seen in the pale shadows of the dragon's eyes, became one with the waters of the well, and for those who drank from it, it became a part of them too. Should you chance by, you will recognise the alder, and guided by its bower in the full season of blossom, may find the spring. But beware for the Dragon's spell of changing still lingers and in the twilight or under a particularly strong moon it can creep out into the souls of those of you who may linger there.