The Reluctant Dragon | A Gentle Tale For Sleep

Hello,

Dear listener,

And welcome to Drift Off.

I'm your host Joanne,

And I'm so glad you're here with me.

Tonight I'll be reading a gentle and thoughtful story called The Reluctant Dragon by Kenneth Graham,

The beloved author of The Wind in the Willows.

It's a charming tale,

Full of heart and imagination,

Reminding us that things aren't always as they seem.

Now,

Let's take a few moments to unwind together before we begin the story.

Go ahead and make yourself as comfortable as possible.

You might like to cozy up under the blankets,

Or rest your head just so.

Whatever helps you feel safe and at ease.

Let's take a nice,

Slow breath in,

And a long,

Gentle breath out,

And again,

Breathing in calm,

And breathing out tension or worry.

Allow those shoulders to soften,

Your jaw to loosen,

And your hands to rest with ease.

With each breath,

Your body becomes a little heavier,

Sinking gently into the bed beneath you.

Now imagine yourself in a peaceful meadow at twilight.

The sky is painted in soft hues of lavender and gold,

And a quiet breeze stirs the tall grasses.

Off in the distance,

Nestled against a hillside,

Is a cozy little cottage,

Where a warm fire crackles inside.

All is calm,

All is still,

And there's nowhere you need to be but here.

And now,

When you're ready,

Let's begin our story.

Long ago,

Maybe even hundreds of years ago,

There was a cottage halfway between this village and the far shoulder of the downs up there.

In that cottage lived a shepherd with his wife and their little son.

The shepherd spent his days and,

During certain seasons,

His nights too,

Up on the wide,

Open stretch of the downs.

His only company was the sun,

The stars,

And his flock of sheep.

The busy,

Chattering world of people was far away,

Out of sight and hearing.

But his little son,

When he wasn't helping his father,

And often even when he was,

Spent much of his time buried in big books.

These he borrowed from kind local gentry and friendly parsons in the area.

His parents were very fond of him and quite proud too,

Though they never said so when he was around.

They let him go in his own way and read as much as he liked.

Instead of the usual scoldings that might have come to a dreamy child,

He was treated more or less as an equal by his parents.

They figured it was a fair division of labor,

They provided practical knowledge,

And he brought the book learning.

They knew that reading and learning could be quite useful at times,

No matter what their neighbors might say.

The boy mainly read books about natural history and fairy tales,

Taking them in together like a sandwich.

One story,

Then the other,

Without worrying about which was true,

And really,

His way of reading was rather sensible.

One evening,

The shepherd came home looking pale and shaken.

For several nights,

He had been uneasy and distracted,

Not quite himself.

Now as he entered the cottage,

He trembled all over.

His wife was quietly sewing at the table,

And the boy was deeply absorbed in a story about the giant with no heart in his body.

The shepherd dropped into his chair and burst out,

Full of distress.

It's all over for me,

Maria.

I'll never be able to go back up on those downs again,

Not ever,

No matter what.

Now don't carry on like that,

Said his wife,

Who was a very sensible woman.

Just tell us what's happened,

Whatever it is that's got you so shaken,

And then the three of us together,

You,

Me and the boy,

Here,

Ought to be able to figure it out.

It started some nights ago,

Said the shepherd.

You know that cave up there?

I've never liked it somehow,

And the sheep don't like it either.

And when sheep take a dislike to a place,

There's usually a good reason.

Well,

For a while now,

There have been strange noises coming from that cave.

Low,

Heavy sighs mixed in with deep grunts,

And sometimes snoring,

Way down inside.

But not ordinary snoring,

Like you and me at night.

More like,

Well,

Not quite honest snoring,

If you know what I mean.

I know,

Said the boy quietly.

Of course,

I was frightened,

The shepherd went on,

But somehow I couldn't stay away.

So this very evening before I came home,

I went up by the cave,

Very quietly.

And there,

Oh Lord,

There I saw him at last,

As plain as I see you now.

Saw who?

Asked the wife,

Now growing just as uneasy as her husband.

Why,

Him,

I'm telling you,

Said the shepherd.

He was half sticking out of the cave,

Looking like he was enjoying the cool of the evening in a kind of poetic,

Peaceful sort of way.

Was he?

What did he look like?

He asked eagerly.

Just like a dragon,

Said the shepherd,

Only,

Well,

Not so fierce as I'd expected.

He was large,

Of course,

And scaly,

With a long tail and wings folded up behind him.

But he wasn't doing any harm.

Just lying there peacefully,

With his chin resting on his paws,

Looking out over the valley,

Like he was thinking up poetry.

The boy jumped up with shining eyes.

Let's all go and see him,

He cried.

I've never seen a dragon,

Not a real one.

You said he wasn't doing any harm.

Now don't be foolish,

Said his mother firmly.

There's no call for you to be getting mixed up in this.

If there's a dragon on the downs,

It's a matter for the proper authorities.

No place for children.

But I'm not afraid,

Said the boy.

And maybe he's not a bad sort of dragon.

Maybe he's tame.

That's just like you,

Always dreaming,

Said his mother.

You've read too many fairy tales.

That's your trouble.

But the boy wasn't listening anymore.

His eyes were far away,

And his thoughts were already up on the downs,

Where the dragon lay waiting.

The shepherd shook his head.

Tame or not,

It's a dragon,

And that's enough for me,

He said.

And it's enough for the village,

Too.

There'll be talk.

There'll be a meeting.

And if I know anything,

They'll be sending for Saint George before long.

Saint George,

Cried the boy.

Oh,

But he always fights the dragons.

He won't give this one a chance.

He'll just come charging in with his spear.

Well,

That's what he's famous for,

Said the shepherd,

Sighing.

And folks won't be satisfied till they see him do it.

They don't care if the dragon's quiet or not.

Just the word dragon is enough to set them off.

The boy was silent for a moment,

Thinking hard.

Father,

He said at last.

Will you take me up there?

Just once,

So I can see him.

I'll be careful,

I promise.

I won't go too close.

But I must see him for myself.

The shepherd looked at his wife,

Who gave a reluctant nod.

All right,

He said.

We'll go tomorrow at first light,

Before the rest of the village starts talking nonsense.

But you stay behind me.

And if I say run,

You run.

Understood?

The boy nodded,

Eyes wide with anticipation.

So,

Early the next morning,

The shepherd and the boy set off together across the quiet downs.

The air was still and the grass was heavy with dew.

They climbed slowly,

Without speaking much,

Both deep in thought.

At last they came to the cave.

The shepherd stopped at a safe distance and pointed.

There,

He whispered,

Just like I told you.

The boy stepped forward a little,

Peering into the shadowy entrance.

And sure enough,

There lay the dragon,

Just as his father had described.

His great body stretched along the ground,

His chin resting on his forepaws,

Eyes half-closed in a dreamy sort of way.

He looked up as the boy approached,

And to the boy's amazement,

He smiled.

Good morning,

Said the dragon,

In a pleasant voice.

What brings you out so early?

The boy's heart was beating fast,

But he managed a polite bow.

I've heard about you,

Sir,

He said,

And I wanted to see you for myself.

I hope you don't mind.

Not at all,

Said the dragon.

Shifting slightly to sit more upright.

I've been expecting you,

Actually.

Thought someone with a bit of sense would show up eventually.

The boy was delighted.

Are you a real dragon,

He asked.

Certainly,

Said the creature.

A rather respectable one,

If I do say so.

But I've given up all the roaring and ravaging and treasure-guarding.

These days,

I prefer quiet living.

A bit of poetry,

Some fresh air,

A comfortable cave,

That's enough for me.

The boy sat down on a flat stone near the entrance.

The dragon curled his tail more comfortably around himself and gave a contented sigh.

People don't usually expect that from a dragon,

The boy said thoughtfully.

No,

They don't,

Replied the dragon.

But I've found it's better not to worry about what people expect.

I just do what suits me.

They talked together for a long time.

The boy told the dragon all about the village and the people in it,

And the dragon listened with great interest.

In return,

The dragon shared stories from his travels,

Bits of ancient history,

And snatches of poetry he'd been working on.

When at last the sun rose higher in the sky and the morning wore on,

The boy stood up.

I'd better be getting home,

He said.

They'll wonder where I've gone,

But may I come again?

I'd be delighted,

Said the dragon with a warm smile.

Visitors of your kind are rare.

And bring a book next time,

Will you?

I've run out of decent things to read.

The boy promised,

And with a cheerful wave,

He and the shepherd began their walk back to the cottage.

The shepherd was quiet,

But the boy was full of excitement.

Isn't he wonderful,

The boy said.

So gentle and wise and kind.

The shepherd muttered something about dragons being unpredictable.

But he didn't sound so certain anymore.

When they reached home,

The boy went straight to his shelf and began selecting a few books to lend.

He was already thinking about their next conversation,

But his excitement was short-lived.

By the afternoon,

Word had spread through the village.

Someone else had seen the dragon,

Or at least the smoke from his cave,

And fear began to grow.

The villagers gathered in the square,

Voices loud and worried.

It's a dragon,

Someone cried.

We're not safe.

There's only one thing to do,

Said another.

Send for St.

George.

He'll know how to deal with it.

And so a messenger was dispatched.

The boy stood on the edge of the crowd,

Heart sinking.

He knew what was likely to happen.

Dragons in books were always slain.

That was just how the stories went.

But this dragon was different,

And the boy was determined to save him.

A few days later,

St.

George arrived.

He rode into the village on a fine horse,

Wearing shining armor and carrying his great spear.

The villagers greeted him with cheers and grateful relief.

They told him all they knew about the cave,

The smoke,

The strange sounds,

And begged him to rid them of the terrible dragon on the downs.

St.

George listened carefully,

Nodding as they spoke.

Then he asked,

Has this creature done any harm?

There was an awkward silence.

Well,

No,

Someone admitted,

But he's a dragon after all.

St.

George frowned thoughtfully.

I see.

I shall go up and have a look,

Then decide what must be done.

Now the boy had been watching and waiting.

As soon as he saw a chance,

He slipped away from the crowd and followed St.

George at a distance.

When the knight stopped to water his horse at the village trough,

The boy stepped forward.

Please,

Sir,

He said,

I'd like to speak with you.

St.

George looked down at him kindly.

And what would you like to say,

Young man?

It's about the dragon,

Said the boy.

He's not what people think.

He's gentle and kind and wouldn't hurt anyone.

He spends his time reading and writing poetry.

I've spoken with him.

He's really quite harmless.

St.

George raised his eyebrows.

Is that so?

It is,

The boy insisted.

Please,

Before you do anything,

Go and talk to him.

You'll see for yourself.

The knight considered this.

Well,

He said at last,

I've always believed in hearing both sides of a story.

Take me to him.

The boy's heart leapt this way.

The boy led St.

George up the winding path along the downs,

Through tufts of heather and sunlit grass.

The dragon's cave came into view,

Peaceful and still,

With a curl of smoke drifting hazily from its mouth.

As they approached,

The dragon appeared,

Stretching out of the entrance with a look of mild curiosity.

Ah,

He said cheerfully,

Visitors,

How delightful.

The boy stepped forward.

This is St.

George,

He said.

He's come to meet you.

The dragon bowed politely.

An honor.

I hope the village hasn't been too dramatic about me.

St.

George dismounted.

Looking the dragon up and down.

Well,

He said at last,

You don't seem particularly fearsome.

I'm not,

Said the dragon simply.

I gave up all that long ago.

These days,

I prefer peaceful living,

A bit of conversation,

Some poetry,

And the occasional stroll under the stars.

St.

George chuckled.

Not quite what I expected.

You were going to fight me,

I suppose,

The dragon asked without offense.

I was,

Admitted the knight.

It's what's expected of me.

People send for St.

George when there's a dragon about.

Quite understandable,

Said the dragon.

But rather awkward under the circumstances,

Don't you think?

The boy looked anxiously between them.

There must be something we can do.

The village needs a show,

Something to settle their fears.

But there's no need for anyone to be hurt.

The dragon tapped his claws thoughtfully on a stone.

A performance,

Perhaps,

He suggested.

A little staged battle,

Nothing serious,

Of course.

I pretend to be fierce,

You pretend to defeat me,

And the village is satisfied.

St.

George smiled.

It may be the oddest thing I've agreed to,

But I think it just might work.

The boy beamed.

Then it settled.

The next morning,

The whole village turned out for the great event.

Men,

Women,

And children gathered along the edge of the field below the downs,

Whispering nervously and craning their necks toward the hillside.

At their front stood the mayor and the parson,

Looking very serious indeed.

St.

George arrived first,

Gleaming in his armor and mounted proudly on his horse.

Behind him walked the boy,

His heart beating fast.

He had been up early,

Making sure all the details were in place.

Then came the dragon.

He approached slowly and grandly,

Head held high,

His tail swaying with just the right amount of menace.

The villagers gasped and huddled together,

But he gave them only a courteous nod and moved into position at the far side of the field.

St.

George took up his place at the other end.

The boy stood between them,

Acting as herald.

Let all here know that a great contest shall now take place between the mighty St.

George and the terrible dragon of the downs.

There was a hush.

Then the mock battle began.

The dragon roared quite convincingly and blew a puff of smoke into the air.

He reared up and pawed the ground.

St.

George charged bravely forward,

His lance glinting in the sun.

The two circled each other,

Clashing gently and then retreating.

The knight's lance tapping the dragon's side,

The dragon responding with careful sweeps of his tail that never came close to harm.

The crowd was breathless with excitement.

Finally,

With a great roar and a very theatrical groan,

The dragon staggered,

Spun slowly around and fell to the ground with a soft thud.

St.

George stood over him and raised his spear.

People of the village,

He cried,

Your dragon is vanquished,

But he has sworn to live in peace and trouble you no more.

Cheers broke out,

Hats were thrown in the air,

The mayor wiped his brow in relief.

The dragon opened one eye and gave a subtle wink to the boy,

Who smiled and clapped with the rest.

From that day forward,

The dragon became something of a local treasure.

He returned to his cave on the downs,

Where he lived quietly and comfortably just as before.

But now he was no longer feared.

Children would sometimes climb up the hillside to listen to his stories or ask him riddles.

He gave advice on gardening,

Read aloud from his favorite books,

And held little poetry recitals when the weather was fine.

The villagers,

Who had once been so afraid,

Now boasted proudly that their dragon was the most well-mannered literary dragon in the whole kingdom.

As for St.

George,

He stayed for a few days as the guest of honor,

Enjoying the village's hospitality.

Then,

After shaking hands with the boy and exchanging a few verses with the dragon,

He rode off to his next adventure,

Quite pleased that no blood had been spilled.

And the boy?

He continued to visit the dragon often,

Bringing him books and listening to his verses.

They remained the best friends for many years.

And those stories of knights and dragons filled the books he still loved to read.

The boy always smiled to himself,

Knowing that sometimes,

Even in a world full of battles and beasts,

There was room for peace,

Poetry,

And understanding.

And now,

As the dragon settles into his cozy cave beneath the quiet hills,

His books tucked beside him and the stars beginning to twinkle above,

You too can begin to let go.

Take a slow,

Deep breath in.

.

.

And gently let it out.

Feel your body grow heavier,

Softer,

Warmer,

As you sink into stillness like the downs beneath the moonlight.

There is nothing more to do,

No dragons to face,

Just peace,

Quiet,

And rest.

You are safe,

And you can let go now,

Completely.

Sweet dreams,

Dear one.

Sleep well.

Good night.