Zmey Lipa - Dragon of the Linden Tree
I. In The Cave
Text by Jacqueline Brocker

~Many centuries ago...~

Ah! You have returned, strange man, in your
armour, and with your sword. Yet you do not
attack me. I wonder why...you sit and watch me,
and you are attentive in ways I have never seen. All
creatures respect me, fear me, or worship me; the
humans, the rabbits, the sparrows, the wolves, the
eagles, the mice, the foxes...but you are cautious,
not fearful. You intrigue me, and so you can stay.
Crouching in my cave, covered by the dark, the
shafts of dusty light only leave the dank rocks and
the black water more frightening to your sight. Or
at least, they should...for here I have often lain,
lurking and waiting for prey to stumble through
the jagged mouth of my cave.

You cannot see into this dusky light, only hear,
and that you cannot see you fear, as you cannot
comprehend what I am. This is how it should be...
but it is not quite for you, is it, strange man?
Never mind. I am not afraid of the darkness, and
you are not either. We can sit together. And you
can listen.

See those roots above us? They are of the tree that
gives me life, that leaves the air around us with its
scent. That is the linden tree that sits on the hill
above this cave. This cave is my dominion, but the
tree above is my life. The linden’s roots stretch
into my world, and lend the earth and rocks and
air that surrounds me its fragrance. When I take
flight, on my return I look down from the sky and
see the hill, where the tree that grows above me
stands. Tall and abundant with leaves. It is not as
grand or as mighty as an oak, but it is my tree. My
tree...ha! I should not claim ownership to it. The
tree is my life, my own god, and is a truer, more
steadfast god than...well...you understand.
You should love the tree as I do. I will tolerate
many transgressions, but should any harm come
to that tree, I will not be forgiving.

What? You say I am unforgiving in my ways
towards the people of this land? Well...perhaps.
But have you heard my story?

I may not be all you imagine me to be. To you, I am a
symbol of many things, and yet is that my essence?
Am I but an evil being, made to be defeated? The
other that you fear, the embodiment of all of
your darkest thoughts and nightmares. Or am I
a great protector, whose presence wards off far
greater evils than myself? Invading armies, wild
beasts who fear not humans but run from me. Is it
perhaps not as simple as darkness and light, much
like this cave with its murkier air?

You have named me as you saw me. I have had
many human names. Yes, I am Zmey Lipa, the
Dragon of the Linden Tree...yet that is not who I
am.

Oh, you will not understand my name. Creatures
of the earth, animals of the land, they do not name
each other the way you humans do. In that sense
I have no name, but I do have an identity. I am
known by scent, by sight, by my footfall and the
beating of my wings. All of these distinct markers
make up me. My name is an image, a sense, a
feeling.

And ultimately, my name is meaningless without
all of this. You know that. The people have named
me to try and confine me to that name, but this
failed them. And so instead, out of their fear...they
revered and worshipped me.

Think on this. I am not a god, except in the minds
of the people. The people left me offerings of
cattle, sheep, gold, and finally their children. So,
I embraced the role that was granted unto me.
And in return, they had my protection, and my
tacit promise I would not harm them. And thus I
became their god.

There are many days that I emerge from this place,
my cave, allow the heat of the sun onto my body,
and my scales grow warm in the light as I take to
the air and sky. I unfurl my wings – to stretch them
out feels exhilarating. My form casts shadows
across the fields and the forests as I rise higher in
the air.

Then from those heights, I fly. And I look down
over the lands, and the creatures of those lands.
The animals know me well, and respond with
respect and trepidation. Whilst the people...
especially the people...I see the awe in their eyes,
and I sense my own body’s power. My wings,
their leathery expanse frightens them most as it
may seem like I am about to engulf them whole,
swallow them up, snatch them, or their precious
cattle, in my teeth and claws.

And when I do...the flesh catches in my claws,
the blood is warm and lush as it gushes down
my throat. The tearing, the snapping, and the
screaming, all surrounds me as I feast on what
they have made mine. They have made me theirs,
and so, what is theirs is mine.

For they no longer bring these me their offerings.
Where once there was abundance there is now
emptiness. Do you think I was happy to see
nothing but dirt and rocks outside my cave where
food and treasure were once given? Do you?
And had you been in my place, would you have
been so forgiving?