The Dragon And The Child
A Fable For Our Time
October 2025
1 John 1:9
Once there was a boy named Amrodel, a cheerful and friendly boy, who lived with his mother and father in a pleasant village, renowned for its wonderful pastries and baked goods. He loved to wander about the meadows and forest and listen to the wind walk through the trees, and to the birds perform their joyful concerts.
One day, as he lay in the sunshine, a large shadow passed over his face. He looked to see a dark bird sitting in a tree, looking back at him. It frightened him at first, but Amrodel realized it meant him no harm. He had never seen such a bird. It was big and ominous, and was a very curious color of grey, almost like fog at night. Even its beak and feet were grey. He studied the bird most carefully. No sunlight reflected from its feathers. It seemed to speak to him, and then to smile. But no, that could not be . . . could it? After a while, he grew tired of watching the bird and returned to the village.
“Mother, it is too cold!” he said of his breakfast pastries. “You know I do not like my pastries cold! Take them back and bring me others!”
Amlat, his mother, was shocked, for her son had never spoken to her so rudely. She said, “You shall not speak to me that way! You shall apologize, right now!” Amrodel scowled at his mother, and sweeping the plates to the floor, ran from the house, laughing wickedly.
That evening, he demanded his supper. “Bring it to me!” he shouted. Finrodel, his father, became angry and spoke to him harshly. “You will not behave in such a manner! You will show respect to your mother and to me!”
His son looked directly at him and said, “I shall behave as I choose and there is nothing you can do about it! Now, Bring. Me. My. Supper!”
His father picked him up by the scruff of his neck and thrust him into his room and latched the door. “You shall not come out until you can behave properly! No supper for you!”
Angrily, Amrodel pouted and waited until it was late at night, and then he slipped out of his window into the darkness.
Running to the forest, he slept that night huddled under a tree. At dawn, when Amrodel began to forage for food as he had seen the animals do, he saw a dark opening up on the hillside. A cave. “It is certainly big enough for me to live in,” he said. Just as he was about to enter, the big grey bird came flapping past and hurtled inside. Amrodel, excited, ran to follow. Curiously, he found that he was able to see in the darkness. Deep, deep into the cave he went, through twisting tunnels and clefts, past a thundering waterfall and sullen pools of ink-like water, until he came at last to a massive cavern. “Hah! I shall live here, and I shall do as I please. I shall have no one to tell me what to do, not ever!” The bird flapped its wings. “You shall be my companion,” he told the bird, “and I shall call you Nightfog! We shall be companions always! Hooray!” The bird looked at the boy, and again, it seemed to smile.
After many months, Amrodel was walking by a stream when he came to a quiet and beautiful pool. He admired the black sand on the bottom, and as he came closer, he saw his reflection. “What is this?” he said. Putting his hands to his face, he touched what appeared to be scales. He picked at one. It would not come off. Dark, ringed circles lay under his eyes. His teeth had become pointed and sharp. His ears were smaller. His hair, what was happening to his hair? He looked at his hands. Scales, green scales, and claws were where his fingernails had been! He opened his mouth to scream, but the scream stilled in his throat, for right in the middle of his opened mouth he saw the reflection of his tongue. It was forked.
Far back and beyond the big cavern at the very end of the cave, Amrodel brooded for days upon days. “What is happening to me?” he moaned, over and over. He felt his eyebrows. They had changed, had become higher and bridged. Scales now covered his entire body. His legs were shorter. “What is happening to my back?” he cried out, for peculiar bulges had formed over his shoulders and hips.
One night when there was no moon, Amrodel ventured out of his cave. He could no longer walk upright with any comfort but had to go about on all fours. Somehow, it felt quite natural. The night air was refreshing after many days of being cooped up in the cave, and Amrodel began to run. After a while, he realized how hungry he was. He remembered that had not eaten since he left home, and what he wanted most was one of Amlat’s wonderful pastries! He began plot how he might get some.
He returned to the mirror pool often and began to delight in how wonderful he was, how powerful, how beautiful. What wonderful emerald-green eyes, what glorious colors are my scales. He sang softly to his reflection and thought darkly of wreaking fear and awe upon the people of the village, carefully planning how to enter their homes at night, and one after another, eat their pies and cakes and pastries. “I will ssstart with Amlat and Finrodel,” he hissed. “Yessss!”
It was so easy. In the dark of night, he slithered quietly into the village. He was terribly strong now, and creeping softly to the back door of his parent’s house, he burst it open with hardly a sound, except for the skriiitch his tail made on the floor. He entered the kitchen and filled his arms with all that he could carry.
Finrodel awoke. “Who’s there?” he called out. “Amrodel, is that you? Have you come home?”
Amrodel rose up on his hind feet and spreading his arms, roared a mighty roar. Much to his surprise, a great belch of flame shot forth, catching fire to the walls and curtains. “Run, Amlat, run!” shouted Finrodel. He grabbed his wife and they fled for their lives. Amrodel chuckled through his mouthful of cherry pie as they ran away, watching the house burn to the ground.
With his belly full, Amrodel returned to his great chamber and saw something new. A great and sparkling jewel sat in the middle of the floor. It was as large as a cantaloupe and perfectly clear, cut with many facets all about. He held it high in his clawed hand and breathed the breath-that-brings-flames. There, in the flamelight, the jewel cast about a radiant rainbow of color that danced across the walls of the cavern. He was entranced. Once again, he breathed fire and light filled the cave, so brightly that Nightfog winced. Amrodel danced around his wonderful jewel and crowed and whooped and hollered. “It isss mine it isss mine!” Never hasss there been sssuch a jewel! It isss mineminemine!”
That night and most of the day, he slept curled about the great jewel, holding it close, dreaming sparkling dreams of sweet pies and cakes, of éclairs and strudels, of muffins and cinnamon twists . . . and treasure.
Finrodel was telling the villagers, “Truly, it was a dragon! Yes! A dragon! We awoke just to see it envelop our sleeping chamber with its terrible flame!”
“It was awful, awful,” cried Amlat, wringing her hands. The villagers murmured together as fear edged into their thoughts. “A dragon? What can we do against a dragon?” They drifted away, each to their own homes, to ponder what the night might bring.
Soon after midnight, Amrodel slithered back into the village. “There,” he hissed, “isss the mayor’sss houssse. I will ssslither in and grab all his piesss and muffinsss, and by morning, the houssse will be cindersss.” He moved cautiously until he was next to the house, and standing up on his hind legs, took a tremendous breath, and . . . roared! Flames leapt out and over the roof, and the house began to burn. Making a way through the charred wall, Amrodel quickly raided the kitchen of all the pies and muffins, stuffing them into his mouth, ignoring the mayor and his family as they fled.
Later, back in his cave, he was delighted to find yet another enormous jewel, this one as red as a rose, as red as wine, as red as . . . blood.
Amrodel’s treasure grew to great size. Each time he wickedly burned a house in the village and ate all their goodies, he would get another jewel. And when he thought thoughts of theft or vengeance or hatred or greed or dark bitterness, he got another medium-sized jewel. Even his dreams of chasing people, roaring after them and stealing their pies and cakes and making them afraid, brought jewels, little ones, but jewels nonetheless. He chortled, “All that really countsss are my jewelsss, my jewelsss, my jewelsss!”
Before long, the village was no more. Ashes and cinders marked the place where it had once stood. The people moved on to other towns, other cities where it was safe. Amrodel did not care. There were other villages, other bakeries. Besides, something marvelous had happened. The bumps on his back had grown together and blossomed, full and strong. Now, in addition to his powerful and wicked tail, he had mighty wings! Amrodel could fly!
~0~
“I’m tired,” said Amrodel to Nightfog. “I’m tired of being a dragon. After ssso many yearsss, it hasss become sssuch a bore. Fly here and raid the bakeriesss. Fly there and burn the village. Burn thisss. Eat that. Roar at them, ssscare them. Pooh. Boring, boring. But my jewelsss. Ah, yesss. Worth the boredom, don’t you think? Just look at the treasssure.” Pride swelled in his heart, for the mound of jewels now filled more than half of the cavern. He let fly a little flame just to see the cavern go crazy with refracted light. “I love my jewelsss love them love them.” Deliberately, he thought another wicked thought, this one too wicked to be described, and another jewel appeared. He reached out and grasped it.
“Mine,” he said.
“What will you do with them?” came a voice from the darkness.
“What? Who isss there? Who isss that?”
“What will you do with the jewels?” said the voice.
Amrodel looked about. “Nightfog, isss that you?” But the bird had gone rigid with fear and was peering furiously into the murk.
“Come forward that we may sssee you,” said Amrodel in a syrupy voice. The bird twitched nervously.
Into the great cavern came a small child. Amrodel gasped; a little child, of all things, with curly hair, dressed in a blue tunic trimmed with gold.
“What do you want?” boomed Amrodel, tightening the curve of his long tail around his treasure.
“What are you going to do with your jewels?” asked the Child.
“Why, ah, well, ummm . . . keep them,” said Amrodel.
“Then what good are they?” asked the Child.
Amrodel thought a long time. “They bring me pleasssure.”
“And is that all?” said the Child.
“What elssse isss there?” answered Amrodel. “After all, they are mineminemine!”
“I know they are yours. I also know where they came from,” said the Child.
Amrodel narrowed his eyes, reaching his arms and claws out to cover his treasure. “Yesss? Ssso what isss it to you?”
“I want you to give them to me,” said the Child. He began to walk closer to the dragon.
“Never!” shouted Amrodel. “Nevernevernever, they are mineminemine! Besssidesss, you don’t know how hard I had to work to get them, ssso there.”
“Oh, but I do,” said the Child, taking another step. “I know that each jewel is a result of every evil deed you have ever done, and every evil thought you have ever had. Yours is a treasure of wickedness and evil.”
“No it isssn’t no it isssn’t,” replied the dragon. “I mined these jewelsss out of thisss cave. Way in the back. Yesss I did.” Another little jewel popped out and trickled down the pile.
“No, you didn’t. Evil.” The Child stepped closer. “May I hold one?” he asked.
“Well . . . jussst a sssmall one. And jussst for a moment. And be careful. No fingerprintsss. I jussst polissshed them.”
The Child reached down and picked up a brilliant yellow gem. Holding it in the palm of his hand, he looked straight upon it . . . and poof! It vanished.
The dragon roared! “What have you done what have you done? My jewel my jewel! Give it back give it back give it backbackback!”
“I cannot. It is gone,” said the Child.
“Gone? Gone where?” challenged the dragon. “I ssshall go there and get it.’
“You cannot. It is as if it never was. And I want you to give all your jewels to me.”
Amrodel angrily set his teeth, growling at the Child. “What do you mean, you want me to give you all my jewelsss?”
“I know what you truly want, Amrodel, deep in your heart, even more than your treasure. Your treasure is all you have and that is why you love it so. But I also know that deep inside, you remember what you once were, and you remember the love of your mother and father. You yearn for your lost innocence and your lost love.”
Amrodel winced. He never thought that anyone would know, could know the secrets of his heart. A tear gathered at the corner of his eye. “Not true not true nonononono!”
The Child looked up to Amrodel’s face. “True,” he said.
Frantically, Amrodel dug into the depths of his treasure, jewels flying everywhere, until he found what he was looking for. “Here! Look upon my Prize!” he crowed, holding up an enormous green jewel. Even in the dimness of the cave, it glowed and shimmered. “Never-ever wasss there sssuch a wonderful jewel!”
“And I know where you got it,” said the Child.
“Oh, missster sssmarty-pantsss, and where wasss that?”
“That is the jewel you got when you destroyed the entire village of Yarm.”
“Well, ssso it isss ssso it isss,” said Amrodel. “I remember it well. Took an entire night and part of the next day. I remember the bakery mossst of all. I ate the whole thing.” He smacked his lips.
The Child reached up and touched the jewel. Like the other, poof! it vanished.
Amrodel screamed, “Aaarrrrgh!” The sound echoed around and around the walls of the cave. He glowered at the Child. “Why did you do that? My Prize! My Prize! Why did you disssappear my Prize?” His claws twisted together. His wings flittered.
The Child said, “Because I love you, Amrodel.”
He was stunned. Long minutes passed before he could speak. He felt tears welling up again. “If you love me, why do you want to take my treasssure?”
“As long as you cling to your treasure of wickedness, you are its captive. Only if you let it go can you be free to accept love.”
From his perch at the rear of the cave, Nightfog rose up, and flapping twice, glided and lit upon Amrodel’s head. Angrily, Amrodel took a deep, deep breath, and rising up to his full, fearsome height, screamed, “Nooooo! NOOOOO! MIIINE!” Vicious flame filled the cavern, its force directed straight at the Child. Again and again, the dragon screamed and breathed the breath-that-brings-flame, engulfing the Child.
When it was over, Amrodel looked at the form lying on the floor. Nightfog hopped down and stood upon the Child’s chest, looking into his face. The bird nodded and flapped back to his rock.
Amrodel sat upon his treasure for a long, long time, thinking about everything the Child had said. Occasionally, a tear would appear at the corner of his eye and drop onto a jewel. Then he would pick up the jewel the tear had fallen on only to see that it had become clouded and dim. Finally, he said, “Nightfog, I mussst replace my Prize. Let usss go and ssseek out another village, thisss one with two bakeriesss!”
~0~
Days later, exhausted and dirty, the pair returned to the cave. Slithering down into his cavern, Amrodel was looking forward to having a long sleep upon his treasure, and afterward, a long bath in the waterfall. But first, the New Prize! The new, enormous, magnificent Prize of a jewel! He dug frantically through his treasure, jewels flying everywhere, until he found the new jewel, for he knew each and every one by heart. But this! This new one was not a Prize! This one was ugly and bent and horrible! In fact, the whole treasure was just like it, twisted and broken, blackened and dull!
“What isss wrong?” he roared. “Where isss my Prize? It ssshould be ssstupendousss! There were three bakeriesss! Ssso many people to ssscare! Ssso many housssesss to burn! What happened to my treasssure? My treasssure!”
“You see it as it truly is, Amrodel,” came a soft voice from the darkness. “Yours is a treasure of evil, and evil is never beautiful, not really.”
“That voice! No, it cannot be! Comeoutcomeoutcomeout!” shouted Amrodel.
The Child emerged from the shadows and stood before Amrodel.
“How can it be? I made you disssappear! I sssaw you go! I did it myssself with my breath-that-bringsss-flame!”
“What you say is true, Amrodel. But you cannot make love disappear, for love is stronger than anything. And I love you, Amrodel.”
The dragon fell onto the heap of his treasure, unable to think. He wallowed there, flinging the soiled and ugly gems in every direction, moaning and crying, wailing and sniveling. The Child climbed up and took Amrodel’s paw. He held it tightly and told him again of his love for him. Finally, Amrodel was quiet.
“Do you ssstill want me to give you my jewelsss?” he asked with sadness in his voice.
“Yes. One by one. And when they are gone, you shall be free.”
Slowly, Amrodel picked up the tiniest jewel he could find and gave it to the Child. The Child took it from Amrodel; poof, it vanished. Again, the dragon handed over a jewel. Again, poof! it was gone.
Each jewel Amrodel ever had, he gave to the Child. And every jewel vanished, just as if it never was. With each jewel that he gave over to the Child, Amrodel felt himself become lighter, more whole, more complete, more . . . loved. Finally, he came to the first jewel he had ever owned, the one as big as a melon, the one that had shone rainbows throughout the cave, the one that was now nothing but a lump of coal. Reluctantly, he gave it to the Child.
Patiently, they searched all the corners and cracks and crevices of the cavern and found every single jewel. Finally, there were no more. After many long hours, it was done.
The Child said, “There is one last thing which I must do. Wait for me.”
The Child went to the very end of the cave where Nightfog the bird was hiding. When he found the bird, he gazed at it intently for a moment, and it too vanished, poof! just as if it never was. Returning to Amrodel, he took him by the hand and said, “Come, it is time to go.”
Outside, the birds sang joyfully and the wind walked through the trees as Amrodel and the Child strolled to the mirror pool.
“Look,” said the Child.
“No. No, I don’t want to,” said Amrodel. “I have seen what I look like. That is enough.”
“Look again,” said the Child.
Amrodel did as the Child asked. The smiling face of a boy looked back at him. “I’m not a dragon!” he shouted. “I’m not awful and evil and ugly anymore! I’m not hateful! I . . . I’m a boy again! I’m me! I’m me!”
The Child smiled at him. “And I will be your forever friend, Amrodel,” he said.
“And I will be yours,” said Amrodel. And together, they left the forest.
The Dragon and the Child © copyright 1984 Peter K. Schipper