First he saw the shadow. He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter and tried to steady himself. It was all very well to train against stuffed models, or even the magical firework ones conjured up by the castle wizard, what’s his name. The knight couldn’t remember. He was doing well to remember his own name, if he was honest. He was Basil Spivey, and he was trying to kill a dragon.
The shadow was gone. “Oh, well, maybe it changed its mind and went home,” thought Basil, somewhat relieved. Dragons were supposed to lurk around these fields, to which he’d gone, sword clutched in hand, but maybe his information had been wrong. He was just about to go himself when he heard a sudden low roar, like the beginning of a summer storm. All at once it came out of the sky, huge and monstrous, tons of scale and clawing wings and blackened hide, and when it landed it shook the very earth beneath Basil’s boots. Then it opened its great mouth and its breath nearly overwhelmed him. He smelled fire and cinders and smoke and … was that a whiff of alcohol?
“Excuse me?” he piped up timorously. “Are you…”
“What?” bellowed the dragon. “Who said that?”
“Down here,” Basil said helpfully.
“Oh,” the dragon said. “Hold on. Get you in a mo. Got an awful headache. Y’wouldn’t believe.”
Basil was intrigued. “I didn’t think anything could hurt dragons. Aside from this, I mean.” He gestured in an awkward way at his sword.
The dragon snorted. “Y’r wrong on both counts, there. I won’t tell you why as to the second, that’d be cheatin’. As to the first, if y’ must know, I left the cave a bit, went to a party. Said it was a dragon party. Never doin’ that again. Dragons,” he said with a thunderous belch, “should not be partyin’. We should be sittin’ on our gold and countin’ it. And then countin’ it again. Ask me how I know.”
“Erm,” Basil said.
“Because I didn’t do that last night!” the dragon roared, “And now my head hurts like-” the rest of his simile was lost in a belch of fire. The monster flung himself down on his side and groaned.
“Anyway,” the dragon said. “Suppose you’ll want to kill me now. Just get it over with. Be a mercy at this point.”
Basil thought back to the last time he’d been to a truly wild party. This didn’t take him long, since he’d never been to one in the first place. Knights didn’t get invited to those sorts of things. “Well,” he said. “Tell you what, why don’t we try another time when you’re feeling more up to it, all right?”
“What, really?” the dragon said, looking over at him.
“Sure,” Basil said. “It’s not like I’m in a hurry.”
The dragon pushed itself up on its mighty and slightly wobbly legs. “You’re a gentleman, y’ are. Until next time.” It turned and lurched away into the sky.
Basil sighed. He’d have to explain this to the knights’ Lord Commander. On the other hand, he was still alive to do the explaining. That was something, at any rate.
This was inspired by the below prompt from
:
Drunken, Scottish Dragons asking for death and just flying away when it doesn't come. What a world this is LOL!
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