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I wish that I could say that on the day that I was hatched, lightening shattered the sky and thunder reverberated from the mountain tops. But my grandmother loves to tell me of the gloriously sunny day that I was born.



"Ah yes, young one, the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, butterflies filled the sweet air and the daisies bowed and bobbed on the warm breeze to celebrate your arrival." she grinned playfully as she regaled me yet again with her tale.



It's not easy to be taken seriously as a fierce dragon when everyone hears her calling me Fluffy either. Such a happy dragon I must be to be born on such a day ... bah!



See, no one really expected my egg to survive. There was a terrible battle while I lay in my egg in the snug little nest with all the other eggs.



The Dwarves had come one gloomy, stormy day to steal my families treasures. For some reason they believed the gold and silver and jewels my family had collected and protected for centuries somehow belonged to them. Silly creatures!



Dwarves don't taste very good. So, when they attacked, none of the family wanted to bother with them. Usually, the odd Dwarf that wandered too close to our mountaintop was merely roasted and dropped into a deep ravine.



But on that day, they had come in alarming numbers. This time, they were armed with dragonsbane and weapons enchanted by the most powerful anti-dragon sorcery. We were nearly wiped out by the hordes of belowing, filthy dwarves.



Well, that's how my grandmother describes it. She was only saved herself by her superior intellect and quick wit. She had flown into the sky at the first sign of real trouble. She had witnessed the brutality of the murder of so many of her kin.



She had flown directly to my nest, scooped my egg into her maw and carried me to safety. By the time she had returned for another egg, all who had not likewise fled had been destroyed and looted.