Chapter Text
Long ago, when even the elves were new to the world and dragons were more common than birds in the sky, there lived a prince known to his people as Myn. Prince Myn, known for his great bravery and kindness that flowed as freely from his heart as the waters flowed from the mountain springs into their woodland kingdom. The prince looked out at his lands and felt a great sadness, for despite the great beauty and abundance of the elves, they lived in constant fear of dragons. Their grand halls of living wood burned to ash under dragons’ fire, and even their most skilled archers and spearmen fell to their ferocious claws and teeth. Even with all this, the dragons had a more fearsome weapon over the elves. For dragons knew the secret methods to infuse their living magic into the metals and gems they so coveted. By decorating their bodies with these enchanted metals a dragon could increase its natural powers one hundred and one thousand fold, becoming unstoppable by any mortal on land or in sea.
Prince Myn was an elf of great cleverness and ambition. He believed that it was possible for his kin to learn the same methods of enchanting metals, and should they succeed in this they might fight on equal footing with the dragons. To do this, he first would need to find a dragon willing to teach him. He bid his servants to bring him his finest silver armor, given to him by the master craftsmen of the dwarven lands. Over this he wore a cloak of evergreen silk, and in his hair was woven wreaths of white azaleas, the symbol of his nation. He then ordered the servants to dress his horse in a similar fashion, and to bring him a cart loaded with seven barrels of their oldest and sweetest wines. And thus Prince Myn went into the mountains of the North, with crowns of azaleas and silks and wines with a host of servants attending him on his journey.
At the top of the highest mountain in his kingdom, the prince tracked the rising smoke of a mighty dragon’s sulfurous breath. The monster’s scales glowed red as burning coals, with claws like curved dwarven axes and eyes darker than storm clouds. Every part of the creature was draped in ornaments of gold and silver, inscribed with those ethereal runes unreadable to all but the oldest draconic seers and magicians.
The mere sight of the dragon struck terror into the hearts of the elves, but Prince Myn did not allow them to turn and run. He understood that they need not defeat this dragon in combat, only to convince it to share with him the ways of metal magic.
“Hail, mighty dragon!” he called out, riding up to the beast with his head high, “I am Prince Myn of the woodland kingdom, and with me I have brought seven barrels of my country’s finest wine. Let us drink together, and in return all I ask is to hear the tales of all you have seen on your journeys. For one so magnificent as a dragon must surely have many stories that would bring wonder to my people for ages to come.”
Impressed by his boldness, the dragon accepted this offer. Two barrels were opened, one for the dragon and one for the prince. As the sweet wine warmed their bellies and loosened their tongues, the dragon revealed to the prince that he was one of his kin’s most powerful sorcerers, one whose intellect and skill for magic was unmatched in any mortal kingdom. How fortunate the prince was to have found a master of enchantments to teach him their secret arts, though he would need to be cautious as well. Should he reveal too quickly what he was after, he may just as easily be burned to a crisp and his kingdom fall with him.
Many hours passed, and Prince Myn continued to indulge the dragon with many barrels of sweet wine. He listened carefully to the dragon’s countless tales of distant lands and conquests, of which there are too many to recount here. At the end of each story the prince showered the dragon in praise and compliments, marveling at the beast’s power and cleverness. At last, when nearly all of the wine was drunk, the prince dared ask to see some of the wondrous magic the dragon possessed. In good spirits, the dragon agreed and bestowed upon the prince three enchanted gifts.
The first gift the dragon presented to Prince Myn was a great sword, with a blade that could slice easily through wood and stone and burned eternally hot even in the coldest winds. The second gift was a shield as broad as an oak yet light as a feather. Even the hottest fires could not scorch the surface of the shield, but greater still was the third gift. The last item was a beautifully crafted silver chalice, with moonstones and rubies set into threads of mithril. No matter the liquid poured into this goblet, any who drank from it would be healed of all their wounds and sickness. Any one of these relics on their own was a prize worthy of kings and heroes, but together Prince Myn was sure that they could be used to vanquish even a dragon.
The moment the prince held all three of the gifts, he fell upon the very beast who crafted them. The dragon bellowed with thunderous rage that shook the trees around them, but in its drunkenness it was not swift enough to take flight before Prince Myn held the mighty sword over its heart.
“And now great magician, I command that you reveal your great wisdom to me!” the prince ordered, “Should you refuse, I shall cut out your heart and hang it in our hall as a trophy.”
“Very well,” the dragon hissed, “And what is it the prince of elves wishes to know? Am I to tell you where my treasured horde is hidden?”
“No, I do not seek treasure,” the prince said. “I seek the knowledge of enchantments. Teach me to work magic into the metal and gems as dragons do.”
The dragon spat and howled in outrage at the command, flapping its wings with such force that the very rocks were knocked loose from the mountainside and tumbled around them. Smoke billowed out in black towers from the beast’s nostrils, but no threat or curse would sway the prince. When it saw that Prince Myn would not falter, the dragon lowered its head and whispered in his ear the secret arts of metal magic. The prince understood at once, but the moment he realized how this magic was done the dragon spoke a curse upon him and his servants. Their pointed ears became dull and round, their eyesight diminished, and their immortality given to them by the very Mother of Stars herself left their bloodline forever.
Thus did Prince Myn bring the gift of enchantment to his elven kin, at a terrible cost. All his children and those of his servants carried this dragon’s curse, born with the same rounded ears. He and his servants left the elf kingdom, and founded their own country under the House of Myn. As centuries passed, the House of Myn became human, the race that outsmarted dragons at the cost of immortality.
A Note from the Bard:
To my fellow minstrels: should you recall this tale for an audience, be mindful of what kingdom you’re in! Being human myself, I’ve recorded here the human’s version of this legend. You’re going to get a lot of uppity looks in Vencaryn if the elves hear you tell it like this. To them, Prince Myn was an impatient youth unsatisfied with his position as the king’s seventh son. They say it was avarice that drove him to hunt a dragon, and make a deal with it for power over his brothers. I’m but a scribe, not one to say who’s got the real tales. Who can say what old Myn’s real motives were, all those centuries ago?
May your feet never tire and your songs bring delight,
Corvis, the Raven’s Bard