The Gentle Dragon

On the peak of Smoking Mountain, almost always wrapped in grey, mysterious clouds, there lived an enormous dragon with emerald-green scales. For generations, the people of the village at the foot of the mountain had told frightening stories about him: they said he breathed flames capable of burning down an entire forest, and that his roars made the ground shake all the way down to the cellars of their houses. Because of this, no one dared go near his territory, and the paths that once led up there were now covered in weeds and ivy.

Only Nico, an eight-year-old boy with more curiosity than fear in his heart, didn’t quite believe those stories. Every evening, watching the dark silhouette of the mountain from his bedroom window against the sunset, he wondered what that legendary creature could really be like.

One summer morning, while the village still slept, Nico filled his backpack with some bread, a bottle of water, and his favorite compass, and set off along the old path that climbed toward the peak. The journey was long and tiring: he crossed forests of fragrant pines, hopped over icy streams from stone to stone, and finally reached the grey rocks near the summit, where the air grew thinner and the silence deeper.

That’s where he saw him: the dragon, as huge as three houses stacked on top of each other, was not breathing fire or roaring menacingly as the stories claimed. He was sitting among the rocks, head lowered, and from his large golden eyes fell tears that sizzled softly the moment they touched the ground.

Nico’s heart was pounding, but instead of running away he took one step forward, then another, until he was close enough to speak.

He asked gently, trying not to let his emotion show:

“Why are you crying?”

The dragon slowly lifted his head, surprised that someone had spoken to him instead of fleeing in terror. He replied with a sigh that made the grass around him tremble:

“Because I’m alone. I’ve lived here, on top of this mountain, for years, and every time someone sees me, they run away terrified before I can even say a word. I’ve never hurt anyone, and yet everyone is afraid of me.”

Nico sat down on a rock beside him, unhurried, and began telling him about the village at the foot of the mountain: about the festivals with colorful lanterns, the Sunday market, the stars that could be seen best in winter, and even about the distant sea, which the dragon had never seen in his life. The dragon listened, spellbound, to every word, his eyes gradually lighting up with curiosity, and for the first time in many years, a shy smile crossed his snout.

From that day on, every week, Nico returned to the mountain to visit his new friend, bringing along drawings, stories, and sometimes even a treat baked by his grandmother. The dragon, in turn, showed him crystal-studded caves hidden among the rocks and taught him to recognize the trickiest constellations.

When a particularly harsh winter arrived, a deep frost threatened to destroy all of the village’s crops, putting the community’s food supply at risk. Desperate, Nico ran to his friend for help. The dragon didn’t hesitate for a moment: he flew low over the frozen fields and, with carefully controlled, gentle bursts of fire, melted the frost without burning anything, saving the whole village’s harvest.

The villagers, amazed and moved, finally understood how wrong they had been about him. From then on, the dragon was no longer seen as a monster to fear, but as a precious friend of the community, always ready to help whoever needed it.

The village learned a lesson it would never forget: the things that seem the most frightening, when looked at closely with a little courage, are sometimes just looking for a friend.