"I'm getting too old to be rushing up mountains." The big man stopped and wiped his brow with a rag from his apron pocket. In his haste to meet the Lady, he had forgotten to take it off before leaving the forge.
A bird of prey hovered lazily overhead, calling into the wind. The blacksmith looked around searching for a landmark to point him on his way.
"Pass by the two-fingered rock," she said, her voice a faint echo in his mind as he strained to catch sight of her wheeling and dipping over the highest peak. "Then come to the summer meadow".
He gulped and nodded, gathering all his courage to say, "There is a grotto I would show you, with a pool." He heard familiar laughter tinged with amusement tingle down his spine.
"Very well. I shall wait for you. " Her laughter was tinged with sadness, making him ache to comfort her.
He loved her, man and boy, ever since he chanced upon her while gathering gulls eggs. It seemed quite natural to his seven-year old mind when the shimmering dragon turned her deep blue eyes upon him and answered his questions politely. He raced home to tell his mother about his new friend, but when the chance came, he held his tongue, sensing the disbelief that would follow. This friendship was too precious to be sullied in any way.
So he kept silent all these years. At first, he searched for her amongst the rocky crags, seeking inaccessible places where she might rest; but all in vain. Sometimes he caught her reflection in the horse trough, soaring high above the village and he called to her, bellowing her name until his throat was raw, but she did not answer. Passers-by thought him touched with madness and would have shunned him, had not the blacksmith taken him in.
To be chosen by the blacksmith was a message in itself; he was singled out for a way of life not followed by all. As he grew tall and his frame larger from sheer hard work, the blacksmith taught him to call the dragon in a different way. He learned to listen to the rhythmic hiss of the bellows stoking the fire until the flames leaped and danced above the coals. Then he found he could weave the flames into a shape that called to her and she would answer.
The smith passed beside the rocks and walked slowly into the summer pasture. The grass was still short from grazing sheep. Shepherds had taken them down to the lower fields a few days before, the nights were drawing in and frost hung on the thin mountain air.
The pasture stretched before him like an endless lawn, dotted with colour from late flowering plants. All around, the mountains towered above him. The sun drew pigments from the rocks like so many splashes in a child's painting. They reminded him of the small offerings displayed on his kitchen walls at home, crafted by his youngest son.
"I am here," he called, his eyes searching the crags for the familiar white figure.
"I have lit candles for us." Her voice sounded close by, but still he could not find her. Then, suddenly, she sat up from the rock where she was lying and came towards him.
This was no dragon, but a woman of medium height, her white hair tumbling down her back like spray from a waterfall. The blacksmith could only stand and gape.
"I only walk with those I trust and rarely then," she explained, sensing his wonder at her human shape.
"This place has always been special to me," the blacksmith told her, " but you have turned it into something wonderful. "
The DragonLady's eyes flickered, but she seemed distracted by her new form.
"I have seen white clouds scudding across the sky as I waited for you and felt grass beneath my fingers, even though I know my body is not there, only my mind. Are you really here in this world of mine? "
"I am here, " the blacksmith said, slowly taking her hand in his. He raised it to his lips and gently kissed it.
The DragonLady smiled and suddenly the valley was flooded with golden, afternoon light.
"It is good not to be alone for a while, " she whispered. " Such courtesy is a rare gift indeed."
"For this time, for as long as you have need, I am thine, M'lady." he said fervently; then, growing bold. "May I hold you? Just for a moment?"
She inclined her head. "If you wish; such a touch is a gift in itself."
The blacksmith opened his arms and she came to him. He wrapped her round with both his arms and cloak, treasuring her warmth and presence.
There was silence for a moment, "A broad shoulder is a comfort indeed."
"'Tis yours for the asking," the blacksmith replied.
The DragonLady shivered. "I feel the power of the land within me, growing and yet slowing now as days draw shorter. Shadows from the trees grow longer as I sit in the sun."
