Lancelot had heard rumors everywhere: in taverns, castles, and even on the corners of markets where merchants debated the fair price of a cabbage. Everyone agreed on one thing: the Dragon of Infinite Fear had arrived in the kingdom, and no cabbage, carrot, or knight could stop it. In fact, someone once tried to scare it away with a sack full of onions, but all they achieved was making the dragon cry fiery tears, destroying half the village in the process.
"A crying dragon is dangerous," thought Lancelot, sharpening his sword with a stone he had bought from a traveling merchant who swore it was magical, though Lancelot suspected it was just an ordinary stone painted blue.
Grumpy, his faithful steed, looked at him with a mix of disdain and resignation. This horse was not exactly enthusiastic about heroic adventures. He preferred spending his days grazing and philosophizing about life, something he did regularly, though no one else understood him, as equine philosophy is complex and filled with words like "neeeeighsophy" and "whinnology."
Lancelot, however, was determined. He was born to be a hero, though he wasn't entirely sure that heroes were supposed to fight dragons that cried fire. But as his mother always said: "Lancelot, heroes don't ask questions; they just dive headfirst into danger, preferably with clean and shiny armor." And so he did, always following his mother's wise advice.
The journey to the dragon's lair wasn't easy. First, Lancelot had to cross the Forest of Eternal Murmurs, a place where the trees never stopped talking. At first, he thought it would be interesting to hear the forest gossip, but after two hours of "Did you know the Oak on the Hill is losing leaves faster than a birch in autumn?", Lancelot began to wonder if chopping wood might be a good idea after all.
"Did you know someone once mistook a fir for a pine? What an offense!" murmured a particularly grumpy tree.
"And did you know some knights don't have time for talking trees?" replied Lancelot, though he immediately felt a bit guilty. It wasn't the trees' fault for being so chatty, but still, he had a dragon to hunt.
After the Forest of Eternal Murmurs, he arrived at the Mountain of Constant Surprises. A place where you never knew what was going to happen. You could step on a stone and suddenly find yourself flying through the air, or you might encounter a goat that spoke in verse. In fact, Lancelot had a long poetic exchange with a goat named Bertoldo, who insisted on reciting odes about the wonders of cheese.
"Soft and white like snow, cheese that melts and moves so slow..." recited Bertoldo as he leaped between the rocks.
Finally, Lancelot reached the mountain's peak, where he expected to find something epic, like a golden sign pointing the way to the dragon's lair. Instead, he found a sheep wearing a top hat, which simply looked at him and said, "Baaa. Looking for the dragon? It's just over there. But beware, it's more complicated than it seems."
Lancelot wasn't sure what was more complicated: understanding how a sheep had a top hat or what it meant by the dragon being complicated. Still, he thanked the sheep and continued on his way.
The lair of the Dragon of Infinite Fear was located in a dark and ominous cave, as a cave should be. The walls were covered with ancient inscriptions and rudimentary drawings that seemed to depict human figures fleeing in all directions. Not a very encouraging sign.
Lancelot, with his sword held high and his armor clanging with each step, advanced into the darkness. Grumpy stayed behind, making a sort of gesture that in horse language meant something like "you go ahead, I'll watch the rear... from here... very far away..."
Inside the cave, Lancelot heard a soft whisper. At first, he thought it was the wind, but then he realized they were words, words forming sentences, and sentences forming fears. "You can't defeat me... you're weak... you're not prepared..." Lancelot felt a shiver run down his spine, but he pressed on. There was something strange about that voice, as if it came from within his own head.
And then he saw it.
The Dragon of Infinite Fear was not like any other dragon Lancelot had seen in tapestries or heard about in songs. This dragon wasn't made of gleaming scales and fiery eyes. No, it was a nebulous creature, made of shadows and mist, always shifting, as if it had no fixed form. Its eyes weren't burning flames but dark voids that seemed to look straight through the soul.
"Ah, Lancelot," said the dragon in a voice that sounded like the echo of all the fears he had ever felt. "You've come to challenge me, but I am the Dragon of Infinite Fear. I can't be defeated with swords or courage. I am fear itself, and I will always be here, lurking in the darkness, whispering in the night. What will you do now, knight?"
Lancelot felt his hands tremble. The stories didn't mention dragons like this. No one had told him about a creature that couldn't be struck down even with the sharpest sword. He wondered if perhaps he should have taken the sheep with the top hat's advice more seriously.
But then, something strange happened. He remembered his mother's words: "Heroes don't ask questions; they just dive headfirst into danger." And while that seemed like questionable advice at this moment, he also remembered something else: "Fears are only as big as you let them be."
Lancelot looked at the dragon, into its dark and deep eyes, and took a step forward. "It's true, I can't defeat you with a sword. But I don't need to defeat you. Because even though you're here, lurking in the darkness, I am still me. And no matter how much fear you try to give me, I won't let you control me."
The dragon recoiled slightly, as if those words had had an effect. "But... I am fear. You can't just ignore me," it whispered, though its voice was no longer as sure.
"I'm not ignoring you," Lancelot said. "I'm just putting you in your place. You're part of me, but you're not all of me."
And with those words, the Dragon of Infinite Fear slowly faded away, becoming nothing more than a whisper in the breeze. The dark cave seemed to brighten, and Lancelot felt a peace he hadn't experienced before. He had won, not against the dragon, but against the fear it represented.
Suddenly, the world changed. The mountains, the talking trees, the dark cave... everything disappeared like a cloud of dust swept away by the wind. Lancelot felt a pull, as if something were drawing him away.
And then he opened his eyes.
He was no longer in a cave or wearing armor. He was in a bed, a very familiar bed. The walls of his room were decorated with posters of knights and dragons, and in one corner, his toy sword rested against the wall.
Lance, the boy, sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. The morning sun poured through the window, bathing the room in golden light. It had been a dream. It had all been a dream. But somehow, it felt more real than any other dream he had ever had.
"A dragon that was fear?" Lance thought as he got up and stretched. "That's... that's weird, weird, weird..." Because Lance had been dealing with a lot of fears lately: fears about school, about making new friends, about... well, about so many things.
But now, remembering how Lancelot had faced the Dragon of Infinite Fear, something inside him felt different. Stronger.
Lance smiled. Maybe he didn't need to be a knight with a shiny sword to face his own dragons. Maybe all he needed was to remember that fear, no matter how big it seemed, could never be bigger than him.
And with that thought in mind, Lance went downstairs, ready to face a new day. And he started enjoying breakfast. Because in the end, there was some truth in his mother's words, and maybe even a bit in the absurd wisdom of the talking trees: heroes don't ask questions, they just face their fears and move forward, preferably with a smile.