Author's Note – The original last chapter got split up in two which should be read together. Posted at the end of the final chapter is a closing author's note with acknowledgments, some parting thoughts, and some other information.

"For though much has been saved, much must now pass away... And all the lands that you see, and those that lie round about them, shall be dwellings of Men. For the time comes of the Dominion of Men, and the Elder Kindred shall fade or depart." - The Lord Of The Rings – The Return Of The King

Once There Were Dragons - I

"All right everyone, gather round! Gather round! It is time!" the Elder shouted to get everyone's attention.

It was time for that special event that had been promised and much awaited throughout the entire morning. The wanderer, as they had all called the stranger, had arrived in their village the previous day and had gone straight to the village Elder with a request and proposition. The Elder had agreed on the condition that he be allowed to listen in on the entire event.

Children were shepherded inside the Hall by their parents, many of whom also gathered around to participate. Warmed loaves of bread were handed out to all, mugs were filled with amber ales, and the fireplaces were stoked to life with meats sizzling on the racks. Friends greeted each other as laughter began to echo throughout. There was nothing like a festival that began at noon.

The wanderer sat in the chair at the head of the assembly. She was an older woman, possibly in her later sixties from the gathering wrinkles on her face. She was also slightly hunched and looked very pale, as though she did not get outside and see the sun enough. The traveling hood she carried may have also contributed to her appearance. The simple, plain staff she carried with her was definitely invaluable in getting around from how much she seemed to lean on it. Her eyes, vivid green and filled with a depth of feeling, seemed truly ancient by comparison to all around her. Everyone knew that she was a wise woman who had seen much in her years.

The Elder reflected to himself that it was certainly odd that such a woman would travel the world unaccompanied. Safe it certainly was not, but there was an odd aura about her. Some purpose or mission drove her. Maybe the gods themselves watched over her venture. It was also true that storytellers were of inestimable value to even the rougher of tribes. Those brave souls who traveled between different lands and carried news and gossip were respected even if for no other reason than that the stories they carried with them helped to break up the tedium of life. And this wanderer had quite a story of her own to tell from the little that she had shared the other day.

The laughing voices in the Hall gradually subsided as more people turned their attention to the nomadic guest.

The wanderer, at some silent signal, put her hands to her chair and hauled herself to her feet with a groan. She looked out over the attentive audience of nearly a hundred, leaned heavily on her staff, and began speaking, albeit with an odd, rough accent.

"The story I will tell you is not my own. This is a story that I heard told in a far distant land. This is the story that would have been told by a... man... named Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, if he were here to tell it."

A chorus of laughs echoed through the small Hall.

"Yes, a great name indeed, but there were worse! You know how those Nords up north can be with their odd traditions. What his parents were thinking I have no idea!" she laughed along with them.

"Aye!" "Yup." "Definitely." "Crazy!"

She took a breath and looked at each of the youths in turn as everyone settled down again. The moment built with anticipation until she spoke.

"There were dragons when I was a boy."

She paused and took in all the gasps, wide eyes, and eager faces.

"Yes, dragons of all types, shapes, and colors. You will have to take my word for it now. What happened to them and where they went, only a few know. This story has changed the world forever..."

Everyone looked around and held their breaths, eager to hear more.

"This story began on my home. You have probably never heard of it. Berk. Twelve days north of Freezing to Death and solidly on the Meridian of Misery. It snows nine months of the year and hails for the other three. The only food that grows there is tough and tasteless. The people who grew there were even more so. The only real problems though were the pests. You see most places have mice or mosquitoes... we had dragons!" she shouted.

All the children jumped in alarm and the adults laughed with amusement along with the storyteller.

The audience became completely enraptured by the telling of a fantastic tale of encounter, forgiveness, understanding, trust, and growth. It was a story about a boy who met a dragon under less-than-ideal circumstances and went out into a little hidden world, a cove in the forest. He set aside all pride and control, extended a hand of trust to an equal, and let the dragon choose whether to give him a chance. It was a story about a human and a dragon who changed what it meant to be human and dragon, killed a Monster, and lived long as best friends and leaders for their respective kinds. Their lives, though not perfect and bearing the pains, scars, and losses of wars, and the example they set, brought about a shining hope for a better world. A world of trust in which old divisions were forgiven or forgotten. A voice of peace.

However, that better world faced threats from beyond. Forces opposed that change and sought to control and use dragons. One day that world, which held such hope for the future and in which dragons and humans had learned to trust and live together, vanished entirely to escape the armies and armadas sent against it. The story told of another haven, a New Berk, that they had tried to make elsewhere only to need to give that up. The world was not safe for them, and they had to disappear completely.

The wanderer stopped speaking and looked out over the audience.

"Do not forget us. Do not let us fade into your myths or twist your memories of what we were. Listen so that you might learn from the past, remember what was lost, and dream about what might be."

The wanderer reached inside the pack at her side and brought out a scroll which she handed off to the Elder.

"This is a Book of Dragons to tell you and others the truth. It has the entire story of what we were. Tell others this story. Our voices whisper to you from these pages. Remember that once there were dragons."

One of the lads in the front of the assembly raised his eager hand, a question clearly on his mind.

"Yes, young man?" the wanderer gently asked.

"Did you ever see one? See a real dragon?"

The wanderer wearily sat down, dropping her persona she had worn throughout the long telling.

"Well, that would give away my age wouldn't it, young man?" the wanderer kindly joked.

Much laughter followed.

"To answer your question though, yes, I have seen dragons myself. I still remember the flashes of color on the wind and the distant roars that echoed through the skies and the hills."

"Were you one of them? A dragon rider?" a lass asked.

The wanderer chuckled openly at that.

"Me? A crazy, feral dragon rider? Ha! I can imagine what that would be like. To reach out and touch the clouds themselves from the back of a magnificent creature who trusts you... as family and who knows that you trust them. I can dream of such a world," the wanderer sighed, a weary and sad look in her eyes.

"But where did they go? Did they all die?" someone else threw out.

"A good question. I have heard differently on that point of what happened to them. One way I heard the story told was that the dragons flew far into the unmapped east, another that they flew beyond the sunset and the edge of the world into the west, another that they flew up north into the lands where the snow never melts, and another that they vanished like fish into the deeps of the ocean," the wanderer shrugged.

"The dragons flew away alone?" a little girl cried.

The wanderer sighed and leaned back in her chair while fingering her staff.

"The humans who lived with them apparently disappeared completely off the map. I think that the story may have started with a few of the Books being spread around. Who knows what really happened?" the wanderer asked.

"But why did they have to go away?" another lad sadly wondered.

"Because there was too much hate and fear in the world. Too many people wanted to hold on to old hurts and fears and were not willing to change. Change can hurt. Letting go and moving on from the past can hurt. Many people do not want to do those things and think that staying what they are makes them stronger. Some people give up on dreams and turn away from what they could have been. They give up hope and think that fate is already made."

The wanderer grinned, got to her feet again, and leaned heavily on her staff.

"But do you know what I think?" she asked.

"No." "What?" "Tell us!" "Please!"

"I think that the dragons can come back someday. Do you know when?"

"When?"

"When the world is safer for them. When they are not hunted for being what they are. When we... have moved on and are willing to give them a chance. When we stop thinking about them as monsters or things to use and instead see them as the life that they are."

She raised a finger and waggled it at them all.

"Do not get me wrong, they are dangerous. They are not tame, but that does not make them bad. That they are not pets does not make them your enemy. It is up to you now to let go of your pride, be ready to trust, and extend a hand of friendship to someone who looks very different from you. I think that if they are out there somewhere... they will visit the world in secret from time to time to see if it is safe for them. And if it is, they might just come back to us again and change the world when they do."

The wanderer stepped back with a bow to general applause all around.

"Our thanks to you, wanderer, you do tell quite a fantastic story. I believe that we shall add this to our list of tales to be told and passed down around the fires at the festivals!" the Elder announced, much to the audience's and the wanderer's approval.

The old woman packed up her things, grabbed the food supplies she was gifted, tossed her traveling pack over her shoulder, and slowly walked out of the Hall into the evening light, setting her course for the road that led out of the village. She had barely reached the outskirts of the village when several young people ran up behind her.

"Wait!"

She paused and turned to regard those who had followed her.

"Yes, children?"

"That story you told us!" "It is amazing!" "Is it true?" "Do you think it is true?" "Can they really come back?"

She watched them with an appraising eye for several moments. She nodded toward the road and started walking.

"Follow me."

The group followed her further along the path toward the deeper forest for several minutes until they became nervous about going further from the village.

"Why are we out here?"

"I wanted you to see something before I leave," the wanderer answered.

She gave a piercing whistle.

All the children looked at each other in confusion for several moments until something truly incredible happened.

Out from the trees bounded a black shape with massive wings, a lean body, powerful limbs, and a swaying tail. The creature ran for them with great speed and settled down before them all.

The children were all frozen in place as they stared in a mix of fear and awe. They could all hear the deep purr coming from the creature, and they all knew what it had to be.

The dragon had a strange assortment of ropes around its neck and chest. The ropes held what looked like a pack to its breast and a padded saddle to its back.

"Do you believe me now?" the wanderer asked while grinning solemnly.

"Is that a... Night Fury?" one of the children gasped.

The wanderer turned to the dragon and laughed heartily.

"I don't know. Are you a Night Fury?"

The dragon looked directly at her.

"Yess."

The dragon's voice was very rough and inhuman but still clear enough to understand.

"It can talk!" "Dragons are real!" "This is amazing!"

The Night Fury chuckled at something that was said. It stepped back and spread its wings after the wanderer vaulted up onto its back. The children seemed to understand what this meant.

"You are leaving!" they exclaimed in dismay.

"Yes, we must go. This is not our world. Learn from the story, tell others, live better, and who knows what may happen," the wanderer answered them.

"Will you tell us your name?"

"My name? I am Dragonheart," the wanderer whispered.

The dragon turned in place to look at each of them. Its vivid green eyes were alien yet filled with awareness, intelligence, solemnity, and kindness. Its myriad of scars and burns on its chest and neck spoke to some dramatic past.

"Rremmemberr uss."

Before any of the children could say or do anything else, the dragon spun away, jumped with its powerful hind legs, and majestically beat its great wings. It vanished over the treetops and was never seen again.

The Chief laughed in her face and pointed toward the distant road, an unspoken command and warning in his words and demeanor. The wanderer nodded without saying anything else and put her back to the village.

The Elder nodded with understanding, seeing some wisdom in the story the wanderer proposed to tell, and ushered her inside the Hall for food and drink.

They looked at the village from above, saw the dragon skulls hanging from the largest buildings, and knew that this people was one to skip entirely.

The Chief took the blasphemous scroll and tossed it in the fireplace as soon as he got back home. There was no reason to let spread such ideas that threatened all their traditions. They knew perfectly well who they were. Change... change was danger, and it was his job to protect his people from danger.

The farmer shook his head as he wandered back to home after listening to the wanderer tell her strange tale. It was a good thing that such monsters were gone from the world. He remembered how his father would tell stories of having to beat back such attacking demons, using nothing but a pike to protect the herd that the family depended on. He remembered but had neglected to pass on those stories to his own sons and daughters. There was no reason to tell them about the past with the monsters having vanished entirely. But it seemed like a good idea now to tell them stories of the monsters so that his children would not forget and would be prepared.

Shadowwing drifted closer to the village while keeping high enough to remain unseen. It was so bittersweet to see all the activity of civilization after dark. They looked like normal people; couples walking to the Hall for drinks and food, children playing, and guards keeping watch. There seemed no great danger for her, but he was ready to act if there was a need. She eventually emerged from the Hall with a small audience following her and clearly asking her more questions. He allowed himself a soft hum and flew ahead to meet her along the road.

The innkeeper gladly accepted the offer, knowing that a good story was an excellent way to bring in business and sell more ale and food. The longer and more fascinating the story, the more food and drink the audience would need. Plus, he had a relative down south who might enjoy such a story and could maybe have more copies of the story made for profit. Profit and gain was most important. Those were the signs that he was making a difference in the world.

The children stared off into the sunset as the black dragon and the strange Dragonheart woman vanished from sight. The friends glanced at each other and knew their lives had been changed forever. They knew, deep in their souls, that the old stories had to be wrong.

The hunter returned to his hut after listening to the story told in the Hall. Complete rubbish, all of it. He looked around the inside of the hut at all his bows, hides, and his two prized dragon skulls hanging from the rafters. His two greatest hunts that marked the peak of his skill at hunting. It was only a shame that such hunts were impossible now with the dragons gone. But he would be ready and would train others in his noble craft, just in case the dragons did ever return. Man against beast was the natural way after all. It was the way of the wild.

Chief Halvden of Clan Ironfist stared in awe at a sight he had never thought he would see again. The very same dragon that had lived with his people for over a winter many years ago now stood in the middle of his village. And this time Shadowwing, now substantially larger and able to speak aloud somewhat, brought someone else with him to tell a story. It was only disappointing that none of the others whom the dragon would especially want to meet were still here. They had all left years ago, Bori and Aelf to travel to relatives down south and Adal to pursue whispers of wild dragons somewhere out in the world once he came of age.

"... I think that they might come back every now and then to see if the world has changed. And if it has, if the world is safe for them again, dragons may fly freely again in the skies."

She finished the story and handed off the final copy of the Book of Dragons to an apparently eager and willing Chieftain. This people had no history at all with dragons and were more willing to listen than most of the others she had met and spoken with.

She took her leave and made her way out of the village as sunset neared. She walked alone down the narrow path cut into the rocky cliffs. The roar of the nearby ocean beckoned as she walked down the slope, onto the sandy beach, and out to the water's edge. There, she gave a great sigh while leaning heavily on her staff. The warm westerly wind blew in her hair and rustled her traveling cloak as she stared into the distance. Her bones and joints felt so old from all the venturing and traveling.

But it was done now, and the great burden lifted away in that moment.

She heard another faint rush of wind from behind her, and she solemnly grinned without turning around. There was no need. She only stood there and stared out toward the horizon with her cloak waving behind her. She did not react when a black shape walked up next to her and gently rested the weight of a chin on her shoulder. She leaned against his head and listened to his deep purr as he partly draped a wing over her other shoulder.

"Would you look at that," she whispered.

They stood together on the shore and watched the sunset, such a thing as should be perfectly normal and unremarkable. They had very few opportunities to relax with such a view so far on this mission.

His warm croon slowly turned sad and solemn. Tears fell freely down her cheeks as she sobbed openly and the wind whipped her hair.

"Sso lonng ssinnce we have sseenn thiss," he offered.

"I know. It is beautiful."

They remained there until the last of the sun's red sphere vanished entirely beyond the horizon, beyond the edge of the world. They both sighed heavily.

"It iss time."

"Yes, we should go home."

Nearly two months the two of them had been away and flying along the mainland and some of the isles while doing the same thing. They had it down perfectly such that they knew how to read the villagers' reactions almost from the first moment that they saw the village. They knew whether wonder or anger burned hotter in the hearts of each people. In every village that was willing to listen, she had told a modified version, closer to what people needed to hear, of the story they both knew by heart, and she left behind a copy of the updated Book of Dragons.

There were sadly few signs of progress and change in the years that had passed, though they had not expected much anyway. The disappearance of dragons had emptied many of the northern villages, which had no means to support themselves through trade with other peoples. Several inter-tribal conflicts had started in the years that had passed.

Too many tribes still had resent and anger shining in their hearts. Most of the stories surrounding dragons were of them as monsters and natural killers of humans. Night Furies in particular were said to have magical powers from Hel itself. Grimmel the Grisly was honored as a hero and savior alongside Drago the Fallen, two great men who it was said had fought and died to protect people and liberate them from the dragon menace.

The worst and most painful to witness and hear about were definitely the former dragon riding tribes; the Volsung, Vaina, and to a lesser extent the Outcasts. The most disheartening part of it was that they both understood and could not find it within themselves to blame the survivors of those tribes. In the eyes of those survivors, all dragons had shown themselves to be untrustworthy, treacherous, or at least too dangerous in the great cataclysm long ago. Time alone could not heal all wounds. There were some hurts that went too deep and might always fester. Moving on and letting go might not be possible for some losses.

It was somewhat amusing though to learn some about Viggo Grimborn's exploits in the years that had passed. He had become a great warlord leading a private army named The Night's Fury. Having a bonded dragon of his own, perhaps one of the last ones still in the world above, helped him escape plots on his life and get tactical advantages in battles.

Shadowwing crouched down to help her get on and strap herself into the padded riding saddle. As usual, her light weight still slightly aggravated certain of his old burns, which themselves never truly stopped hurting entirely, but he had learned to endure the slight remaining pain through the years. He gave his very deep chuckle and softly sang a laughing tease.

"Arre you rready to fly againn?"

"I have no wings, so lend me yours and show me your best," she laughed as she crouched low on his back and cast away her plain staff.

He roared aloud for joy and took to the sky, flying off the shore and along the open northern ocean where the maps did not extend. There was nothing out there worth putting on the maps.