belemud and the groundling

Belemud was hunting for rabbits from the ground, alone. He usually hunted from the ground because his wings, while powerful, weren’t fully grown yet. He usually hunted alone because on any given day he’d been in a quarrel, and was informed to take some time to himself. That particular day was no exception. Belemud was concealed in some bushes and had just locked in on a fat, juicy rabbit, sure to be slow and stupid, when he saw the human Hatchling.

Well, not quite Hatchling anymore. The human was very young, but was wobbling around on two legs with reasonable confidence. Belemud tilted his magnificent head, and the rabbit, who was not as stupid as he looked, darted away. 

Belemud ignored the rabbit. The Hatchling was closer to a Groundling, in between a newly hatched dragon and the more mature juvenile he was. It was unable to fly, and looked very slow and dirty.

Belemud looked down at his coloring admiringly. He was a brilliant blue, with green and yellow tones streaking down his body. He could fly. He could hunt. This human Groundling had a lumpy body and dirty scales that were all the same color. 

The Groundling still hadn’t seen Belemud, and was tugging on a bush with both hands, tiny hands the size of riverbed pebbles. Belemud snorted. How the Groundling expected to get anything done with hands that small…

As the Groundling got free a green branch filled with berries, Belemud realized they weren’t TastyBerries or SweetBerries or even NotQuiteReadyButStillGoodBerries. They were dark blue, the SickDeathBerries!

He took a step forward, hearts pounding, then paused. The Groundling was nothing to him, and surely it wouldn’t actually try to eat them, it wasn’t that stupid–

The Groundling opened its mouth.

Belemud crashed out of the bushes in a panic, and at the sight of him, brightly colored and as big as half a tree, the Groundling fell over and began to wail.

Belemud quickly swiped a claw at the branch and sent it flying away from the Groundling. How could it not know that they were bad? This wasn’t some joke played on unsuspecting NestMates. It could have died! Thank the MotherDragon he had been there in time!

Belemud made sure the branch was far enough away, and stood between the human Groundling and the bush, wondering what instinct made him care at all.

The Groundling was still crying, a thin reedy sound with no real force behind it. Belemud tilted his head. How could it expect its FirstMother to hear it if it was crying so quietly? Or a SecondMother or SecondFather? Belemud guessed that human Hatchlings and Groundlings must be quieter than dragon ones. Maybe all humans were. They usually kept to their nests, their GroupOfNests at the borders of the forests and away from the AncestorCaves. This was the first time he had ever seen one up close.

It was much smaller than him, barely reaching the first joint of his leg if it stood up. It was all one color, and the scales were smooth without any cracks in them. Its face was very flat, and nothing like the majestic slope of Belemud’s nose and the crown of his head. Which was still coming in, but FirstFather’s crown was glorious and the whole tribe knew it, and Belemud was very excited for his to form.

The top of the Groundling’s head was just round, and looked soft, but Belemud decided it was better not get too close until it stopped screaming.

As Belemud sat back on his haunches and waited with PatientStill, the Groundling slowly stopped with the noise, and its red face took great gulping breaths. Belemud hoped the Groundling would not see him as a threat. But it had been grabbing at the SickDeathBerries, so Belemud wasn’t sure how good it was at finding threats.

The Groundling sat up and stared at Belemud. Finally, something Belemud could recognize! The Groundling’s stare was very impressive, and reached far past Belemud. Perhaps there was some intelligence in there after all.

Belemud slowly reached out one claw, careful to keep the sharp point downward. The Groundling gurgled like FlowOfWater and grasped it with both hands. If Belemud moved his claw, the Groundling moved with it, and soon they were playing together like two Hatchlings in the dirt. 

But the Groundling turned out to be much more fragile than a dragon, and Belemud had to be very careful not to be rough, because its scales could be torn even more easily than his.

As the Groundling patted along his back, his tightly folded wings, Belemud was glad for the first time that he had not shed his SoftScales, that his HardTrueScales had not come through. The Groundling’s scales looked even softer than his, and its hands tickled. Belemud stayed very still so he wouldn’t startle the human.

The two played together, and Belemud was reminded of how he used to play with Second and ThirdSisters, his OtherBrothers, when they were Hatchlings. How long had it been?

The Groundling interrupted his thoughts. The Groundling had a talent for that, Belemud was learning. It was whimpering a little, a soft sound much closer to Belmud’s song than the crying from earlier. It was looking at the SickDeathBerries again, but didn’t get close. 

Belemud realized that the Groundling might be hungry.

How often did humans eat? Was it different between Grown and Hatchlings? Belemud knew his FirstMother and FirstFather ate very very occasionally. Usually at DragonMoon when they had FireFeast and FireSong. Perhaps the Groundling needed to eat, but Belemud didn’t know what it wanted, other than what would kill it. A design flaw in humans, to be sure.

It was starting to get dark, but Belemud didn’t want to leave the Groundling behind. Surely it would eat the SickDeathBerries without him standing guard, and it was so small any other predator could easily eat it. Belemud didn’t want the Groundling to be eaten.

He could take the Groundling to the nearest GroupOfNests, but he didn’t want to return it when it was hungry, and it might be the wrong GroupOfNests and that might matter very much to humans. Belemud wished he had paid more attention to the Elders when he was a Groundling.

FirstMother would know what to do.

Belemud waited until the Groundling was standing, and slowly took it in his claws. The Groundling was babbling flat sounds, but Belemud wanted to move faster than its tiny legs could go. Before he could think too much more on it, he unfolded his soft wings and launched into the sky.

The Groundling weighed more than a rabbit, and Belemud was soon very tired. But the AncestorCaves were close, and the beat of his wings muffled the sounds the Groundling was probably making.

The AncestorCaves were soon in view, the collection of caves at the base of SlidingIceMountains. Some of the Elders lived in cracks and hollows further up, but families with Hatchlings to consider mostly lived at the bottom. 

Belemud made sure to land as gracefully as possible, partly because the Groundling was so frustratingly fragile, but also because many dragons had gathered to see why he had returned so late.

FirstMother was there. Even though his egg had come from her, and all Hatchlings thought this about their FirstMother, Belemud thought she was the most magnificent dragon who had ever lived. She was a deep, deep red, larger than many of the younger males, and was considered a great source of wisdom for many mountains across the lands.

Yes, FirstMother would know what to do.

“What have you brought back to the AncestorCaves?” sang SecondMother. She was forest green, and she was FirstMother to his favorite Hatchling playmate, SecondBrother.

Belemud didn’t answer, because he released the rumpled Groundling, and it did a sort of roll in the dirt. It took much too long to stand back up again.

FirstMother considered the Groundling. No other dragon sang, and they waited for her. Belemud grew a little nervous.

“Why have you brought this human child back?” FirstMother sang. Her song was rumbling and rich, and the sound of his Hatchling years made Belemud settle. He looked up at her. She did not seem angry at him anymore, only calm and curious. He did not know the word child but figured it was about the Groundling. Again, he wished he had paid more attention to the Elders.

“It was in the forest, all alone. Far enough away from a GroupOfNests that it did not wander on its own, and was probably forgotten by its ManyMothers or ManyFathers. It was nearing Night, and I did not want to bring it back to the wrong Nest, for that might be against human SongPatternRulesforLiving.”

Belemud sang no more. FirstMother did not like wasted breath. The Groundling was not too frightened of the other dragons, all the colors and sizes and black and gold and silver, but it still clung to Belemud’s large hind leg. It pulled at his SoftScales and he winced.

“Bring it back to OurNest, and we will consider what to do,” FirstMother sang. She motioned a wing at SecondMother and FirstFather, and the four of them walked back to Belemud’s nest. 

Belemud walked much slower, because the Groundling did not move fast. After a few minutes, Belemud scooped it up with one claw, and was relieved when it gurgled instead of screamed.

In their nest, FirstMother had already made a little fire with her breath. SecondMother and FirstFather were curled on either side of her, and they watched as Belemud set the Groundling down.

It did a wobbling run straight for the fire, and Belemud steered it away. What curious things, young humans. Always going straight for danger.

“I am curious, Belemud. Why did you bring the human child here?” FirstMother sang.

“Why do you ask again?” Belemud sang back, confused. 

“You do not show much curiosity, young one. This is not bad, I am merely surprised that you have taken time with this child and cared for its safety.”

Belemud again steered the Groundling away from the fire. He was upset at the words, but did not know why.

“It was so unlike me,” he sang. “It needed help.”

FirstFather snorted, and the fire rose higher. SecondMother’s tail slipped out of her curled form, and the Groundling made a sound like laughter, and the note was singing, a dragon’s song. It chased SecondMother’s tail, and gleefully fell on it, wrapping itself around it.

“Where did you find it? Be precise,” FirstMother sang.

“Near a patch of SickDeathBerries, on the other side of FlowOfWater. Several WingBeats from a human GroupOfNests to the north, and it was all alone. I could smell other humans, very faint, but they were long gone. Was it an accident? Why would human FirstMothers leave a Groundling all alone?”

FirstMother sang a low, low note, and Belemud noticed FirstFather and SecondMother joined in, humming lowly. It was a sad sound, disapproval mixed with the face of hope falling away.

“What is it?” he sang.

“The humans have old beliefs about dragons, as OldGods and Other, and there are things they think they must do, must give to us, their own–” SecondMother began.

“But that is what you will learn when you get your HardTrueScales, after you shed your SoftScales,” FirstMother interrupted. “Do you know the word sacrifice?”

“No,” Belemud sang.

“Then you must wait for such knowledge.”

“Why?” Belemud sang, impatient.

“Dragons live far, far longer than humans,” FirstFather sang. “Growing your knowledge slowly is as important as growing your scales slowly. Be waiting with PatientStill, feel the forest ground under your claws, and you will be ready soon.”

“I wait for so much. When I shed my scales, will I know this and your TrueNames as well?” Belemud asked.

“Yes,” FirstMother sang. “And caring for this human child is a good beginning. Well done, Belemud. I will give it food, and in the morning we will take it to another village.”

Belemud didn’t ask why they had to take the Groundling somewhere else. He wondered if its FirstMother missed it. There was much he didn’t know about humans. Or any of the other species in the land, he realized. The gaps in his knowledge suddenly loomed wide, and he was ashamed.

SecondMother and FirstFather settled into sleep, and FirstMother gave the Groundling SweetBerries and bits of rabbit she first put into the fire. Belemud tried a piece, and found the taste to be much worse for being in the fire.

The Groundling’s eyes began to close, and it burrowed into Belemud’s side, tucking its face into his SoftScales. Belemud circled his neck and tail around the Groundling to prevent it from reaching the dying fire in the night. He could feel its little breathing, and a wave of strong feeling took him by surprise. 

The coals of the fire turned orange, then red, then slipped into black, and the Groundling and the dragon fell asleep.

In the morning, FirstMother woke him with a nudge. Belemud blinked his eyes open, surprised. For a moment, he didn’t know why he was in his nest, couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept there instead of out at the edge of the forest. Then a stirring near his belly reminded him.

Belemud folded his wings, untucked his tail, and the Groundling appeared, sleepy-eyed and yawning. Belemud found that dragons and humans yawned the same.

“Should we feed it again?” Belemud asked.

“Better to get an early start,” FirstMother replied. “Are you ready to fly?”

His wings were a little sore from the effort of yesterday, but he didn’t want FirstMother to think him weak, and he wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

FirstMother’s claws were much larger than his, and the Groundling fit comfortably. It was getting used to dragons, and didn’t make a sound.

FirstMother launched into the air more gently than she ordinarily would, and Belemud followed her through the air, and up and over the SlidingIceMountains. 

Only five years ago, Belemud wouldn’t have been able to fly so high. But now, at the more mature age of eighty-five, he managed just fine. 

Even so, he plotted his course carefully, making sure to keep FirstMother and the Groundling in sight, and watching the air patterns. He tried to remember the lessons from the Elders, and winced at how much faster FirstMother was going, how much more efficiently she glided through the sky. He resolved to ask for more lessons when they returned. He wanted to be able to fly and carry a Groundling when needed.

They made their descent, and the Groundling shrieked with delight. The clouds left water glistening on their scales, and Belemud admired the sparkling red of his FirstMother. The Groundling’s head, barely visible through her claws, was soaked. Belemud twisted in the air to make the Groundling laugh.

They landed just outside another human GroupOfNests, and Belemud turned to FirstMother. She set the Groundling down.

“Walk with him to the edge of where the forest meets the clearing. Wait with him until a Mother or Father comes out. Be PatientStill to show you mean them no harm,” she sang.

FirstMother’s song must have been heard in the GroupOfNests, because Belemud had only waited a few moments when what must have been a Mother came out. She was wrapped in something pale and approached cautiously. 

Belemud waited with his best PatientStill. The Groundling saw the Mother and toddled toward her, but then halfway to her stopped. It looked at Belemud. It looked back at the human Mother.

The Mother took the last few steps quickly and scooped up the Groundling, who began to cry. The sound wasn’t as offensive as it had been yesterday. The Mother stared at Belemud, and he recognized the far-off stare that he thought had been particular to the Groundling. There was something in there, something intelligent and More. He waited, and the Mother said something in her flat language, and began walking back to the GroupOfNests with the Groundling. 

“Goodbye,” Belemud sang. 

The Mother began weeping. It was close to dragon song, and it told Belemud she understood something, even if he did not. He caught one last glimpse of the Groundling before it disappeared with the Mother.

Belemud was glad there was someone to keep him from fire and SickDeathBerries. He was sad it wouldn’t be him.

He joined FirstMother in the forest.

“They do not fear us quite the same as the others. The ones on this side of the SlidingIceMountains,” she sang. There was satisfaction and the smallest hint of worry in her song. She started to sing, and stopped. Belemud thought there was no hesitation possible in FirstMother, but he saw it. 

“The child will be safe,” she sang finally. There was More, just as there had been More in the human Mother. He would find it in time, even if he had to track it down himself. But he suspected the Elders would be a good place to start. If they would have him again.

“What do you feel?” FirstMother asked.

“Sadness,” Belemud sang. “But gladness. They fly together and sing together and eat at the fire. I will miss the Groundling. Goodbye, Groundling.”

“Then let us return.”

They took to the sky, the last echoes of their song sweeping the ground outside the human village. And Belemud didn’t notice it, but as they flew away, a single blue scale, soft as goose down, fluttered on the wind.