Stentor

STENTOR1

In an unnamed land, in an unchronicled time, there existed a dragon named Stentor. He gave himself that name because he thought it potent with power, vigor and might. Little did he realize it was merely the name of a lowly protozoan, a one-celled creature, like the amoeba.2

Stentor lived alone and roamed the many miles of his home forest, feasting on berries of all sorts, leafy greens, and occasional sweet, tasty bark from the tall, thick maple trees. In his spare time, he watched the ocean, examined the rare sea-shells that littered the shore, and at times exhaled some faint (but ominous- looking) puffs of smoke.3

Aside from providing for his considerable sustenance, the chore that occupied most of Stentor’s time was building and constantly fortifying his shelter. The lair, as he enjoyed calling it, was built of flat rocks and wood, dried mud, and a somewhat complicated concoction of ground sea-shells and moss originated by Stentor himself. It surrounded and fairly hid the entrance to a cave that furnished Stentor with greater protection and insulation than did his entry way, but he enjoyed the frontispiece and took much pride in its appearance (even though there was no one but Barney, the local wizard, to take note of and admire it).4

Where there is a dragon, everyone knows, somewhere, there must exist a wizard. And on Stentor’s island, Barney was that guy. Barney was more a friend and confidant than a wizard, but since Stentor was a bona fide dragon, he thought it only appropriate, and preferred to think of Barney as a wizard. 5

The days and nights and the afternoons passed as they should, uneventfully, as Stentor’s lair grew more and more elaborate and whimsical, adorned with his eccentric frills. He fed upon almost everything edible on the island, nearly depleting the land of its seemingly endless acres of tasty berries. But he was not a happy beast.6

Stentor was lonely. It was not so much the loneliness that disturbed him, as was his being alone. Or, he thought, was it not so much his being alone that troubled him as much as his loneliness? Either way, he was unhappy, and the more he thought of this question, the more he lumbered about, the more unhappy he became.7

So it was nothing all that particularly atypical or unusual when Stentor paid a seemingly casual visit to Barney to seek his sagacious counsel. 8

“To what do I owe the honor?” asked Barney, as he looked up at the towering Stentor casting a very long and dark shadow before Barney’s cave, as the beast blocked the afternoon sun.9

“Barney,” said the dragon, “I’m not happy anymore. There is no joy in my step, no glad anticipation in my day. I seem to be suffering from a certain ennui.” And Stentor hung his head.10

“Stentor,” said Barney (who was not all that much of a wizard, but who had heard of wizards, and who did his best to act wizardly, and who knew what ennui meant), “there doesn’t seem to be any reason for your gloom.”11

“That’s the trouble,” said Stentor. “I’m blue, but I don’t know just why…and that is what appears to be making it worse. Imagine how I will feel when something really goes wrong.”12

“Well, so far,” said Barney, "nothing has gone awry except the loss of your spirits. And you seem to be the primary cause of their having gone south. Find your good spirits, Stentor, and when you do, store them in a safe place and don’t lose sight of them again.”13

They had tea and some fine berry bread that Barney had baked himself, and afterwards Stentor, with his head hung uncharacteristically low, went out to look for his good spirits. He still had some hope which enabled him to do this, and without which he would have been completely defeated and lost. While he prowled about (really walking, but he preferred to think of himself as prowling) Stentor was thrashing through the bramble when he noticed a bluejay and a bright red cardinal circling over a nearby thicket. Below, there was a flurry of movement behind a logan berry bush. The moving thicket was nearly fifty yards away, but Stentor thought he saw a flash of rainbow scales and a pair of violet eyes through the leaves that were almost as high as he was. The image was clear but short lived as it quickly vanished and became lost in the dark woods.14

For the remainder of that late afternoon and well into evening Stentor stomped through the area where he saw the rainbow flash and the strangely memorable eyes, but he could locate no trace of what he now considered to be an apparition.15

Still he could not forget the image and just by closing his eyes could envision the flicker of the iridescent scales he had seen and the majestic frame atop of which he imagined those violet eyes.16

“I think I will call her Mariella,” thought Stentor, for somehow he was convinced the eyes and the diaphanous scales belonged to a lady dragon. And that night his sleep was deep and restful, and full of a quiet anticipation.17

Each subsequent day Stentor trolled the beaches, prowled the woods, and thrashed though the bramble, gathering material for his cave frontispiece and eating the fattest, juiciest, berries he could find. He searched for Mariella, and once when he saw a strange shadow in the forest and thought he had heard an unusual sound, he imagined it was her. With his heart full of hope, he cried, “Mariella!” and ran, galloping to that very spot, but to no avail, for the rustling had stopped. When he reached the bush, there was nothing but a patch of elderberries, blueberries and loganberries, and the dark feather of a hawk.18

For the rest of that year, Stentor thought of Mariella and although he could not seem to find her he took a new joy in waking, in the warm sun, in his repasts of berries and sweet bark, and took new buoyancy in his long and lonely swims in the sea. Each day, on his way back to his lair he brought more and more material for his glorious frontispiece and took special pleasure reclining on his balcony puffing light clouds of smoke, (a result of the flames that burned within) looking out at the sea, waiting for Mariella…or at least another a sign of her.19

Somehow he knew the day was near when he would meet the violet eyes once more; when he would catch a glimpse of those gossamer folds. She was there; he could sense her presence. It was she who held his spirits, and perhaps, he thought, that was a safer place than when they had been entrusted to him. At least, now, he knew where they were…with Mariella. If only he could find a trace of her; if only he could find her.20

But the days and the years drifted by and Stentor, although he always passed that special thicket, never again came upon a sign of Mariella. There were even days when he spied the bluejay and the cardinal in flight or perched on a nearby bough but there was no Mariella.21

Stentor enjoyed the warm afternoons and his walks by the sea; he built up the most beautiful frontispiece on the island and stocked his lair with stores of berries and jams and the finest leaves and maple bark, and on certain days when the seasons changed, he took a hiatus from his appointed rounds and took tea with Barney. And when their teas were over Stentor left Barney, his hopes renewed, and strode, homeward bound, where he did what great dragons of the past did. He turned Mariella into art and literature by keeping her in his thoughts and constructing his frontispiece as a monument to her.22

One day Stentor, who no longer thought of himself as prowling (when he merely strolled) and who no longer breathed any fire, walked into his beloved sea to let the waters wash over him as he turned, for the last time, to face his island and that wondrous spot where he had first discovered the rainbow scales, those eyes, and the safe-keeper of his good spirits. 23

As the tide came in, and began to sweep Stentor’s body farther and farther out to sea, he strained for a final glimpse of his beloved spot. And there, through the thicket, nearly altogether hidden by the greenery, were the violet eyes of Mariella. And there was Mariella herself. He watched her as she lifted her violet eyes to him and he knew that, should he swim to shore and gallop to her, she would be gone. So he thought his thoughts and basked in their comfort and beauty. And Mariella watched him, he imagined, with a certain love and admiration, as he drifted quietly out on the swift tide. Above, the bluejay and the cardinal flew in circles high over the logan berries.24