The Christmas Dragon (Story)

© 1993, 1996, 2003, 2008

Who knows the story of the Epiphany? You know, the story of the magi who trekked across the vast, dry desert to bring gifts to the infant Jesus? And we remember the three gifts they brought – gold, frankincense and myrrh. But what if I told you those were NOT the three gifts they bore with them when they started out on their long journey across the sands…

This is the story about the gift of gold that was presented to the newborn Christ.

* * *

Our story begins way back in a time when dragons still freely roamed throughout lands and flew in the skies over Eastern Europe. There was a small village nestled on the banks of a small river at the bottom of a deep valley. The river’s source was this large, clear lake higher in the mountains where a natural dike held back the water and let only a small amount trickle gently down into the valley below.

On this particular day, a young – and rather bored – blue dragon was bent on mischief. He decided to tear down the dike to see how many villagers could scramble out of the path of the impending flash-flood – much like a child who dams a curbside rivulet and then removes the twigs and mud to see how many ants would be swept away.

Unknown to the blue dragon, there was an older golden dragon higher on the mountaintop observing him. The young dragon latched onto the dike with his claws and pulled away large chunks of earth, opening the way to the rush of water.

The older dragon sadly shook his huge scaled head, opened his golden wings to the bright afternoon sunlight and dove into crisp mountain air. Within a heartbeat, he was atop a small hill that rose beside the river above the village. Two graceful bounds brought him to the foot of the hill opposite the river, where the dragon planted his foreclaws into the hillside. He began to push the whole hill toward the river. The river waters started to gurgle louder as the surface quickly reached the limits of the river’s banks. The hill would not budge; even for a mighty dragon, this was an unlikely feat of strength. A dull roar thundered up the valley – growing louder by the second. The dragon strained all the muscles in his body as he tried to will the stone beneath the dirt and tree-cover to move.

His sharp hearing then caught the terrified shouts and cries from the village downriver. The golden dragon cast his eyes heavenward in a silent plea. At once, strength beyond his experience filled his muscles, and with a desperate roar tearing from his throat, he cracked the bedrock and thrust the small hill into the river’s path below. A large crash thundered along the valley as dirt, rock and tree tumbled into the churning brown water below. Moments later a deafening roar reverberated up the valley as the main body of the flash flood collided with the newly-made dam.

The sudden strength quickly left the golden dragon as he unfurled his wings to take flight. Leaping into the air, he spied the young blue dragon hurtling toward him, seething in anger.

“Why have you done this?” the blue dragon roared, flinging a claw in the direction of the water rising safely behind the new dam.

The golden dragon sighed. He looked at the younger dragon with pity in his great golden orbs and replied, “If you truly wish to know, follow me.”

With a majestic sweep of his wings, the late afternoon sunlight sparkling golden on his sides, the older dragon flew gracefully toward a ledge high on a mountaintop.

Perplexed, the younger dragon followed silently behind him.

At the ledge, the golden dragon perched on the bare rocks and surveyed the valley and village far below. When the blue dragon landed lightly beside him, the older dragon turned his golden gaze to him and said, “Furl your wings and listen to my tale.”

+++ +++ +++

“When I was a young dragon, centuries ago, I lived in the desert far southeast from here. One night, I awoke to discover this brilliant light shinning down into the cave I used as my weir. Moving to the cave’s entrance, I discovered the most remarkable stellar light shining down from the heavens. Curious, as I was in those days, I spread my wings and flew out into the clear star-speckled desert sky.

“During this flight, I witnessed a small band of travelers crossing the desert sands. They kept glancing skyward. At first, I believed they heard the wind from my wings, but they always looked toward the same bright star; a star that even outshone the moon’s glow.

“Careful not to be seen, I swept closer to observe them better. These were men, wealthy by their standards, and far from home by their appearance and dress. They plodded along on their camels, sure in their path across the dry land.

“My curiosity rose a notch and keeping downwind of their mounts, I landed and quietly approached them. ‘Where are you heading so far from your home?’ I asked them in what I hoped was their language.

“Recognition lit in their eyes at hearing my words, though they and their camels shied away from my luminous gaze. ‘We are going to see the king whose star we have seen in the far east,’ one replied, sweeping his arm toward the bright star.

“‘We are bringing gifts to present to him,’ another added as he gestured to the parcels tied to their mounts. My nose detected the frankincense and myrrh, and I could see the shapes of scrolls and books.

“This perplexed me somewhat. ‘Why would you travel so far from home, through cold desert nights and dry desert days on such a long journey to give away your treasures to a newborn child? What will you get in return?’

“This question seemed to puzzle them and they spoke briefly among themselves. Then one turned back to me and replied, ‘These are gifts, not trade goods; we expect nothing in return.’

“‘Nothing!?!’ said I. ‘After you spend all your time, resources and efforts to trek across the desert with treasures to give to a babe you’ve never seen? You expect NOTHING in return?’

“Another of the men paused in thought a moment, perhaps trying to understand my perspective. At last he answered, ‘We may receive the new king’s blessings, His Grace.’

“‘Grace?’ I felt my eyes sparkle in sheer curiosity at this. ‘What is Grace?’

“‘It is the greatest treasure of all,’ came the reply.

“I pondered these words for several moments, my tail trashing through the dry air as it does when I’m deep in new thoughts. Then I wanted to confirm my thoughts. I said to them, ‘Let me see if I understand you. If you give your treasures to this newborn king – the one whose star you follow – he will give you this Grace?’

“‘We believe it to be so,’ one stated as the others nodded in agreement.

“I considered this a moment more and asked, ‘If I too part with my treasure and give it to this child king, could I also receive this Grace?’

“The men paused again to confer among themselves and one replied, ‘We believe there is that possibility as well, though we never considered it a gift your kind ever needed, noble dragon.’

“I rose up on my haunches and responded, ‘If this Grace is truly the greatest gift of all, it is something my kind would also desire to posses. I unfurled my wings ready to take flight and asked, ‘Where can I find this newborn king?’

“One pointed skyward and instructed, ‘Follow the brightest star until it shines straight down upon the dwelling where He is. The child will be found inside.’

“I thanked them and permitted the men and the camels to continue on their journey. When they were a safe distance, I leapt into the star-filled sky. In a few wingstrokes, I was back at my weir where I gathered all the gold I possessed. For surely if this Grace was indeed the greatest treasure of them all, it was worth all that I possessed. With my young arms so burdened, I launched myself skyward. Quickly I overtook the men and their slow-moving camels and continued toward our mutual destination far ahead of them.

“Checking the star’s location often, I found myself approaching a small walled town the humans called Bethlehem. But as I started to descend toward the town, the brilliant starlight sparkled like diamonds along my golden hide. The soldiers on the wall saw my descent and shouted the alarm. As spears, rocks and arrows began to hurtle toward me, I dodged and maneuvered around the missiles. All too quickly, it became obvious that I would have to leave or slaughter the city’s defenders. I decided this quest was not worth the fight. Perhaps this new king did not want dragonkind to have this Grace, I thought sadly.

“As I arced over the town to return to the desert, I felt a gentle tug at the fabric of my very inner self. The newborn king knew I was there. But I could not present my own gifts to Him. I sadly shook my head and winged away from the soldiers and their walled town of Bethlehem.

“Soon I met with the foreign men still out in the desert. I lightly landed downwind of them once again and approached them with the gold still heaped in my arms. As I related to them what transpired at Bethlehem, I did not tell them about that strange tug to my inner self or the growing warmth of Love and understanding that seemed affixed deep within me. I did not yet know what this new sensation was.

“At the conclusion of my tale, I placed the gold before the men and requested, ‘Take this gold to the newborn king and tell him it’s my gift to Him.’

“The men fell silent and exchanged glances. One was brave enough to ask, ‘And you seek nothing in return?’

“I shook my head, yearning to depart from them for this strange feeling deep inside me needed quiet contemplation.

“The men looked at the heaps of gold on the ground and at their well-burdened camels. At last, an idea bloomed in the mind of one. ‘Wait yet a moment more, noble dragon. For we can not take all our gifts AND your gift of gold with only the mounts we have. Let me give you my gift to take home with you.’ The man that spoke rapidly emptied his parcels of the scrolls and bound books of wisdom and refilled the sacks with my gift. ‘I will tell the newborn king this is your gift. This,’ he gestured toward the small mountain of knowledge, ‘is my gift to dragonkind.’

“This man knew our kind well, for we forever seek to gain knowledge and wisdom, but I did not understand why he was giving it as a gift. I asked, ‘What do you want in exchange for this knowledge given to my kind?’

“He replied, ‘The same I expected from the newborn king, nothing; it is a gift.’

“‘What about His Grace?’ I asked.

“The man climbed up onto his camel and urged it to rise. Then he met my eyes, and I saw the wisdom that filled his own. After a moment of silence, he replied, ‘I believe we have both already received that gift from the newborn king.’

“I sat in the open desert for a long time after that, watching the men follow the brilliant star toward Bethlehem. That new feeling deep inside me never left and is still with me today.”

+++ +++ +++

When the golden dragon had finished his remarkable story, the blue dragon cocked his head in interest. “So then you received this gift of Grace?”

The golden dragon nodded elegantly. “You have seen it within my actions today.”

“What about the books and scrolls of wisdom?” asked the blue dragon skeptically. Then he paused and his cobalt eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re Him! You’re the one who brought wisdom and knowledge to all dragonkind!”

“Yes, but I also brought a far greater gift to our kind as well,” responded the golden dragon quietly.

“What?”

“His Grace.”

The expression on the blue dragon’s face showed a blend of skepticism and curiosity. “You can share that gift with others? How could I get some? Where do I have to go for it?”

The golden dragon raised his head to peer wistfully at the first evening star shining on the eastern horizon. “You must be willing to give up what you treasure to find the greatest treasure of all. Then look deep within yourself. When you are ready to receive it, it will be there.”

The young blue dragon peered at the evening star and with a sigh turned to the golden dragon. “But this newborn king you knew is no longer in this world. It was so long ago and humans do not live as long as our kind. How am I to receive His Grace then?”

The golden dragon looked down at the blue dragon and smiled a broad draconic smile, his golden eyes sparkling with an inner Joy. “Oh, that King still lives. That was only the very beginning of His story. Do as I say and you too will find Him and His Grace.”

* * *

Thus concludes the story of the Christmas Dragon and his gift of gold to the newborn Christ.

- ESA

The Reindeer Tale (Story)

(c) 1995, 2008

The cold, wet wind howled through the small Pennsylvania town, promising more snow. Joey peered down the road. There was still no sign of his mother. The snow-covered roads were slick, and the old station wagon barely ran in the cold weather. Joey tugged his knit skull cap down, keeping the wind off the back of his neck.

Peter, his little brother, stood beside him on the icy steps of the local school. Mary and Matt, their neighbors, waited with them for Joey’s mother to take them home. Peter was relating the story that his teacher told her class that day.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” Joey said stubbornly. “Mrs. Maybel just tells you little kids things like that because they have nothing to teach just before Christmas break.”

Peter glared at his brother from between his scarf and knit hat. The bright blue pom-pom on top danced in the cold wind. “I think it’s true.”

“Me too!” Mary spoke up from under her scarf. She was in Peter’s class and usually sided with him in these arguments.

“I believe Joey,” Matt argued. “Who ever heard of animals talking on Christmas morning? It’s all make-believe. It’s just a story Mrs. Maybel made up.”

“Is not!” Peter shouted.

“Is so!” Matt and Joey countered.

“Is not!”

“Is so!”

“NOT!”

“SO!”

“Here she comes,” Mary cried.

The sign that read, “Caution School Children,” crested the hill before the old, battered station wagon rose into view.

“I get shotgun,” Joey called.

“Not fair,” Peter whined, “You rode shotgun to school. It’s my turn.”

“Too late. I called it.”

“I want to ride shotgun,” Peter shouted as he shoved his brother.

Joey shoved him back, and Peter fell right into a snowbank. Mary helped him rise to his feet. But by then, Joey was in the front seat next to his mother. “Hurry up, Peter! I don’t want to miss the Power Rangers.”

Pouting, Peter climbed into the back seat and pulled the heavy door shut behind him.

“Don’t forget to buckle up, kids. The roads are pretty bad,” their mother called from the front seat. “So, kids, how was school today?” With a shudder, the station wagon pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.

Peter fumbled with the seatbelt for a few minutes. The padded mittens made it difficult. He tugged the scarf down away from his mouth and removed the mitten with his teeth. “Miffus Maybel thaid that animufs talk on Chrifmuth.”

“What was that, Peter dear?”

“Our teacher said that animals talk on Christmas morning,” Mary supplied.

“I told them it isn’t true,” Joey said, “It’s just make-believe.”

“Oh? How do you know?” his mother asked with a grin.

“Huh?”

“Well, you’re not outside early Christmas morning, are you? Maybe the animals do talk. And you just haven’t heard them.”

“It’s true?”

“I don’t know,” his mother said with a shrug, “I’m not outside early Christmas morning either. Maybe they do talk. Or maybe it is just a story.”

* * *

The four children stood together in the woodlands. The snow hissed as it fell through the leafless branches. “Hey, Peter?”

“Yeah, Mary?”

“If the animals do talk like you said, what will you ask them?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. What about you?”

“I don’t know either.”

“How are you clowns going to ask them anything?” Matt inquired.

“We’re not allowed outside after dark. There’s no way our parents are going to let us out after midnight.”

“We just don’t tell them,” Joey replied. “You know, sneak out.”

“These woods are scary at night,” Mary said.

“Don’t be such a ‘fraidy cat, Mary,” Joey scolded. “These woods are right behind our houses. And there’s deer and other animals out here at night. We’ll just sneak out and meet here.”

“You sure we can do it?” Matt asked. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“We won’t,” Joey said confidently. “Trust me.”

* * *

The tolling bells chimed from the church in town, proclaiming the start of Christmas morning.

When the last sound of the bells faded beyond the rolling hills, Joey slid out from under his covers. Peter was already out of his bunk and pulling on his boots. Both had worn their jeans and sweaters to bed, ready for their adventure. They fluffed pillows and pulled the covers over them to make it look as if they were still in bed.

Within a few moments, both were bundled up and out the back door with flashlights in hand. As they trudged through the ice-crusted snow to their rendezvous spot, they could make out the brilliant circles of light from Mary and Matt’s flashlights.

All four children had dressed warmly, leaving only their eyes exposed to the biting wind. “Where to now?” Matt asked.

“Let’s go deeper into the woods,” Joey suggested as he led the way with his flashlight.

The children had not gone far when they heard voices in the darkness ahead of them. “Hey! Watch those lights. It’s killing our night vision.” A few eyes glittered in the light from Joey’s flashlight.

The other children pointed their flashlights in that direction and saw a herd of deer grazing. The does nervously moved behind the buck. And the buck lowered his head menacingly at the children, dark-tipped antlers coming within inches of their flashlights. “Again, would you get the light out of our eyes?”

The children obediently lowered their flashlights. The snow on the ground softly reflected the light, enough to make out shapes in the darkness.

“Thank you, children,” said the buck as he continued to graze on the low-hanging tree branches.

The children exchanged wide-eyed looks as their mouths hung agape behind their scarves.

Mary was the first to speak, “You... you can talk.”

“Of course we can, child,” one doe replied. “We always could. You just can’t understand us until these first hours of Christmas.”

“How come Santa’s reindeer can talk all year round, and you can only be heard now?” Peter asked.

“Saint Nicholas’ reindeer are special,” the doe explained.

“It’s a good story,” the buck added.

“Let me tell it. Let me tell it,” another doe pleaded. The buck nodded elegantly and the doe began….

+++ +++ +++

“Many years ago, somewhere in Europe -- I forget where -- there was a herd of reindeer living in the woods just beyond a small village. One day, the herd discovered an abandoned fawn. It was a miracle that he was found so easily, for his coat was as white as the pure snow he burrowed himself into. With the newborn stag’s parents nowhere to be found, the herd decided to adopt him.

“It was strange that one so young was found early in the winter -- Christmas morning in fact. But there were does in the herd who were heavy with unborn fawns and able to give the newborn stag the milk he needed. And on cold winter nights, the herd curled around the young one, to shelter him and keep him warm.

“Near the end of winter, the wolves came down from the mountains, as they did each bad winter. The bucks and does taught the young stag to keep downwind from the wolves. When the wolves finally scented the herd, though, several strong bucks kept to the rear of the herd, keeping the wolves away from the does and the young.

“The seasons turned, and the white stag was raised and well loved by all in the herd. But as he grew in size and strength, he never lost his white coat like the fawns lose their spots. In fact, his coat only seemed to grow more brilliant -- as if the moon had come to rest in his hide.

“One day in the fall, just as the young stag was getting the first of his antlers, something strange happened. There was a grizzly in the area who had gone mad with pain. A careless bow hunter had hit him, and left him suffering. He attacked any animal that came near him, and he suffered all the more when his movements made the shaft further open the wound.

Once the herd knew about the wounded grizzly, they made sure to keep out of his way. But the young white stag went off on his own. He approached the grizzly slowly. The bear’s red-rimmed eyes spotted him and he bellowed a terrible growl. The stag stood still, letting his clear eyes gaze into those of the bear. The bear’s madness began to fade, then pass. The stag then brushed his muzzle against the bear’s wounded side. The shaft fell out and the wound healed.

“Just then, the herd found him and one of the does stepped forward carefully. ‘There you are, young one. Step away from that bear. Didn’t we tell you he had gone mad?’

“‘But he’s alright now,’ he argued. ‘Can you not see that?’

“With amazement, they realized that the bear was healed. Only a small scar remained where the wound had been. ‘Come with us now, young one,’ a buck said quietly. ‘We’re off to find winter grazing, and we don’t want you lost out here.’

“‘Yes, sir,’ the white stag replied and took his place in the herd.

“‘What were you thinking of?’ one of the does scolded. ‘We were worried about you.’

“‘I didn’t mean to worry you. I was only doing my father’s work.’

“The members of the herd exchanged puzzled looks. None knew what the young stag had meant.

“Late that winter, the wolves came again. The stag by then had been taught to defend the females and younger members of the herd. When the chase began and the wolves howled their joy in the hunt, he took his place at the rear. But when the wolves drew closer, he stopped and turned to face them.

“‘He’s going to get himself killed,’ an older buck said. He turned to defend the herd beside the white stag, antlers lowered.

“But the white stag held his head high. ‘Brothers,’ he called out to the wolves. ‘This herd is not yours to hunt.’

“The alpha-male wolf paused and called back across the snowy woodland, ‘Brother, we are hungry and meat is scarce. You have many fine members in your herd. It’s our right and nature’s way that we have at least the weakest from your herd.’

“‘It is your right to hunt, brother. But I have chosen this herd for a special purpose. You shall not hunt here.’

“The alpha-male thought the answer over and replied, ‘As you will. We shall hunt elsewhere.’

“When the young stag turned, he saw the questions in the eyes of his herdmates. ‘I shall leave you for a time,’ he said, ‘But I shall find you when you’re needed. I thank you for raising me.’ With a few bounds, he disappeared into the thickness of the woodland.

“It wasn’t until a few years later that the white stag returned. His coat still gleamed white, and a full set of antlers crowned his head. ‘There’s someone in the nearby village that needs your help,’ he said. ‘A man by the name of Nicholas Claus brings food and toys to the poor children. And each year his burden grows heavier.’

“Since it was Christmas Eve, the herd agreed to help Nicholas. But as they shyly approached his cabin at the edge of the village, they remembered that men couldn’t understand their speech. ‘Stall him until midnight,’ the white stag suggested, ‘and then you can explain your intentions.’

“And that is what they did. A few does lured away the mule that Nicholas used to help carry the food and toys. Some spread the toys around the yard, careful not to damage any. Another hid a sack behind the stable.

“Soon Nicholas and his wife were outside, trying to chase the reindeer off and collect the scattered items. ‘Isn’t it strange,’ Nicholas’ wife said, ‘that the reindeer don’t run away.’

“‘Look there, dear,’ Nicholas said as he pointed at the white stag. ‘That’s the one I said watched me last year.’

“For a few more hours, the couple chased the reindeer about the yard. It soon became a game, and they couldn’t help laughing at the reindeer’s antics. But then, the village church bells rang in Christmas. ‘Enough already!’ Nicholas said. ‘I need to get these gifts to the children.’

“‘We’re here to help you do that,’ one of the reindeer said.

“‘Well why didn’t you say so earlier instead of scattering these gifts?’

“‘Christmas morning, sir. We couldn’t be understood by you until then.’

“‘Oh-ho! That’s right. So what are we waiting for? Let’s get you loaded up. The lot of you will save me several trips back home this night.’

“‘Here, dear,’ his wife said as she dragged some bells from the storage shed. ‘If we put these on the reindeer, the children will hear you coming and know that you haven’t forgotten them.’

“‘Splendid idea!’ Soon the reindeer were loaded up with sacks of gifts piled high on their backs and bells strung about their necks. Nicholas stopped at many villages that night. And everywhere he went, he brought joy to the children. Many children were asleep by now. And they wouldn’t know that he came until the next morning when they saw the gifts he had left.

“The reindeer helped Nicholas through the night. They returned to Nicholas’ home just as the first rays of dawn were lighting the winter sky.

“The white stag waited with Nicholas’ wife and nodded proudly when the herd returned. ‘You’ve done well tonight. This day I will give you two gifts. First, the speech of this herd and its descendants will be understood year round. This way you can work with Nicholas throughout the year. Second, as Nicholas’ work grows to cover the entire world, you shall receive a second gift. Those of this herd shall receive the gift of flight to help bear the burden, but only during my hours -- between midnight and dawn on Christmas morning.’”

+++ +++ +++

“And that,” concluded the doe, “is the story of Saint Nicholas’ reindeer.”

The four children stood in awe, motionless in the soft glow reflected from the snow at their feet. At that moment, a faint silvery sound of jingle bells could be heard above the treetops. The children looked up. Even Joey’s eyes took on the well-known wistful look as he silently mouthed the word, “Santa.”

The buck smiled at the children, “We speak and they remain silent. Go back to your homes, little ones, you know how Saint Nicholas feels about children being awake.”

Matt was the first to recover, “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Deer, uhm, whatever your name is. Let’s go Mary.” He tugged on his sister’s sleeve until she followed him up the path back to their home.

“Yeah,” added Joey, “like he says.” He gave a curt nod in the direction of the deer. “Thanks.” He turned to start his brother moving but found that Peter was already trudging through the snow back toward their home.

When Joey caught up with Peter, he saw that his brother’s eyes sparkled in the reflected light of his flashlight. “Where do you think you’re going in such a hurry?”

“To tell Mom and Dad what we just heard.”

“Are you NUTS!?!”

Peter stopped and turned to face his older brother. “No.”

“Well, you are if you tell them.” He rapped his mittened fist on his brother’s head for emphasis. “Remember we’re supposed to be asleep in our beds. If you tell them we’ll get into trouble, you moron!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter replied as he turned and started trudging up the path toward their back door. “Mom and Dad should hear the story too. Everyone should!”

- ESA