Brunhilda/Stories
Quotes
Dragon Story Episodes
Flamewyrm and Butterfly
The Flamewyrm's earliest memory
was of a tiny butterfly alighting on the
tip of her snout after she descended
the volcano as a hatchling.
"Who are you?" asked the
curious Flamewyrm.
"I am Butterfly," answered the
tiny creature.
The Flamewyrm believed she and this
small insect were two of a kind, as
they both bore wings of brightest red.
They spent a summer of laughter and
joy together, but as autumn's chill
crept across the land, it came time
for Butterfly to depart.
The aged butterfly lay on the tip of
the Flamewyrm's snout, and said in a
small, weak voice, "I'm afraid my life
is at its end."
"No!" cried the Flamewyrm. "Our
friendship is still young, and already
we must say good-bye?"
"No," replied Butterfly. "Not 'already.'"
"Our lifetimes have a different worth.
I have lived, had children, and grown
old—while to you, but an instant has
passed."
"You aren't like me," said Butterfly.
"You are far, far more special."
And with that, she moved no more.
For centuries, the Flamewyrm lay
dormant in the fields, dreaming of
her time with Butterfly. Then humans
came and rent the fields asunder.
Enraged, the Flamewyrm set the
human colony ablaze and left to
make a home for herself elsewhere.
In their terror, the humans began
referring to her as the Wrathwyrm.
But the Flamewyrm paid them no
mind.
Humans pay no heed to short-lived
insects, after all. And if life span
determines worth, what reason have
dragons to value humans?
"I am more magnificent than any
other being," mused the Flamewyrm.
"That is why I live the longest."
But that thought brought her no joy.
She would have rather lived as the
tiny butterfly.
If only it could have been so...
The Flamewyrm again shut herself
away in a volcano that none dared
approach. She had no visitors, but
also avoided her hated farewells.
The years passed in solitude, and
the Flamewyrm's memories of her
friend faded until they seemed only
a distant dream—which was exactly
how she wished it to be.
Ages elapsed, and the shape of the
land itself shifted. There seemed no
creature of merit to the immortal
Flamewyrm.
But one day, her ears perked to
whispers of a human king, Alberius,
to whom ancient dragons had been
swearing allegiance.
The Flamewyrm traveled to the
Windwyrm's nest. "Why aid them?"
she asked. "It is foolishness! All they
do is scrabble about and then perish.
They are nothing like us!"
The Windwyrm smiled. "That is for the
best. Short-lived they may be, but
they leave their mark upon the
world. They are...beautiful."
At this the Flamewyrm scoffed,
though she was beset with thoughts
of the small butterfly she befriended
all those many years ago.
The sight of her fluttering through the
air truly WAS beautiful...
Rearing her head, the Flamewyrm
saw a swarm of butterflies in the field,
frolicking on red wings identical to
those of her long-gone friend.
At this, she suddenly wondered if her
friend had left a mark upon the world
after all. For it seemed her life—and
those of all creatures—wove together
over time to form a greater tapestry.
Perhaps small creatures were just as
deserving of the respect they showed
to those larger than themselves.
"Preposterous," thought the stubborn
dragon. "We are the superior beings."
It would be some time until the
Flamewyrm came around.
Not, in fact, until she met a certain
prince...