The Implausible Hat

XANDROS THE DONKEY loved the road. When Steven and Selah awoke in the morning, he was already standing between the rails of the cart waiting to be harnessed. Steven and Selah looked at each other, both blushing slightly. Steven dared a quick look into her eyes and was almost lost in their green depths.

They busied themselves with breakfast, hitched the impatient donkey to the cart and began the journey again. Walking with Selah, Steven forgot that he was lost. Had the wise woman not told him that all roads led to his dragon? He might not know where he had been anymore, Steven reasoned, but he still knew where he was going. As the merchant had correctly reminded him, in his stories the hero never returns home.

Selah was pleasant company and was delightful to hold as they slept. Steven suddenly found himself thinking more about his companion than about his journey. It was a surprise to him when Selah said, “Now that we are on the road again, you owe me a story, Steven George. What will you tell me?”

Steven thought about the stories he had told over his journey and they all seemed to pale against Selah’s tale of the endless road.

“Would you have a tale of knights and maidens?” he asked. “Kings and thieves or fools and ghouls?”

“No,” said Selah. “As you have had the story of Xandros, I ask for the story of your hat.”

“My hat?” Steven asked, genuinely surprised. He had almost forgotten about the monstrosity on his head. “You can’t be serious!”

“Come now,” said Selah. “You wear a conical hat decorated with feathers and snakeskin. It has a bone whistle that you play charmingly. It has a king’s service emblem and a pilgrim’s talisman intertwined. Surely such a remarkable hat carries a remarkable story. I would have it.”

Finally, Steven looked squarely into her eyes. They did not sap him as the thief’s had, but gave him courage and drew him to her. “I cannot deny you, my lady,” he said.

ONCE UPON A TIME, at least a million steps ago, there was a dragonslayer. He could not remember whether he had volunteered for the task or had been chosen. He did not know when he would be called upon to slay the dragon. He did not even really know what a dragon was—aside from the fact that it was fierce, and to be feared, and it breathed fire. He knew, however, from his earliest memories that he was the one who would one day slay the dragon. And he thought he knew enough to succeed.

How wrong he was.

Long before the dragonslayer was born, an itinerant missionary came to the village of Firsthope preaching of the dragon god who demanded the worship of the people. The people had never heard of such a thing and it seemed silly to them. They tended the fields and their flocks and lived lives of peace and contentment. The idea of a being that required sacrifice and obedience, when they had always lived in freedom and generosity was ridiculous.

They treated the missionary courteously, but told him quite frankly that his dragon was not welcome to rule Firsthope, but that he could come to visit if he so desired and the people would gladly give him a feast. While this should have satisfied the missionary, he took offense at the people of Firsthope and stood at the edge of the village shouting back at it.

“I shake the dust of your village off my sandals. You who will not hear will suffer. Pain and torment will be the lot of those who live here and the judgment of the dragon shall be visited upon you. In the day that you least expect it, the dragon will swoop down upon this village. The dragon will be your doom. The dragon will eat your flocks and burn your fields. There will be great pain and suffering in Firsthope and it will be held up to the world as an example of what happens to those who will not hear the words of the dragon.” And with those words he turned his back on Firsthope and walked away.

The people of Firsthope laughed at the foolishness of the missionary. “Who had ever heard of a dragon?” they asked. “This, surely, is the product of one man’s imagination.” And the people went about their happy lives, sowing their crops and tending their flocks.

But the words of the missionary were like seeds scattered on the ground, and while most fell on the path and were trampled underfoot, some found fertile soil and began to grow. The fruit of this seed was vague uneasiness. Neighbors began to fear each other’s prosperity instead of rejoicing in it. A child who disobeyed his parents was said to “have the dragon in him.” Children were told “if you aren’t good, the dragon will get you.” And when a person died, he was said to have “gone to the dragon.”

After many years, the dragon, whom the people of Firsthope had never seen, ruled over the village. Where they had once ranged far and wide over the fields and hills, they now kept close to the village for fear of the dragon. The village drew in upon itself, afraid of the dragon they had never met.

One day, many years after the missionary had planted his seeds in the village, a young maiden became pregnant. This was not an uncommon occurrence, and was typically celebrated with the woman and her mate. Each new child was an occasion for celebration in the village of Firsthope.

But the maiden refused to say who the father of her child was and no young man of the village came forward to claim it. This created great confusion among the people and people spoke in hushed tones that she was carrying the dragon’s child.

Now the village elder was a clever man and had always judged the people fairly. But he could see that talk of the dragon’s child was causing fear among the people. He knew that he must capture the passion of the people or that they would tear the village apart under threat of the dragon’s child, and that the child would not be safe in the village.

The elder, the shaman, the hunter, and the wise woman of the village met together secretly and devised a plan. On the day of the child’s birth, they came before the people and called for a great feast. When people gathered together, the elder rose to speak.

“People of Firsthope. For generations we have lived under the threat of destruction by the dragon. We gaze across the river to the distant mountain where smoke rises and run to our homes in fear. But today we have new hope. The elders of this village have passed down a secret prophecy from generation to generation, for so long that it was almost forgotten until the shaman and wise woman guided this elder into a trance to commune with the elders of the past. In trance, this elder has recovered the prophecy.” The people were amazed. The elder seemed to go into a trance again as he chanted the words of the prophecy.