Haneel and the Dragon
The dragon sat by the mouth of his cave, singing a melancholy baritone melody with the syllables “pot a do, pa da doo, pot a doo..”. Sir Haneel, Last Knight of the entourage of the black queen rode slowly up the hill on his workhorse Stout, and knowing not what else to do for his distraught old friend, accompanied the dragon on a bassoon that a he carried near his spear and lute. The dragon continue to sing, an occasional tear falling left eye and crystallizing in the dirt….”Pot a doo, pa da do, pot a dooo….”
When at last the dragon paused in his wretched song, Haneel pulled a jug of concentrated spirits, laced with a mild hallucinogen, and passed it to the dragon after taking a long pull from the container himself. The dragon took a swig, coughed, and blew forth a blast of multi colored flames, the burning alcohol mixing with dragon fire. He steadied himself, coughed again twice and took a deep drought of the beverage, and while more tears came to his eyes, there was no more coughing of fire, just a single belch laced with a black vapor.
“What ails you old friend?” Haneel asked.
“Gone, all is gone, wretched and forlorn am I, on this hill guarding cold treasures of no use to me, deprived of a female of my own kind, and I sit watch over these lower lands, yours and mine. Where these cliffs rise, the barbarians of the high plains are pushed back by an invader and sometimes they fall off, are pushed off, or throw themselves over the cliff’s edge of their own accord.
My students tell me that the invader has banned the medicinal and sacred plants of the natives, enslaved the men and dressed them in degrading costumes, and painted the women’s faces before pressing them into service as harlots for their troops.
Yet what is there to be done? I am but one and they have things that could shoot me from the skies before I could do enough damage to even slow their troops. Besides, this is an affair of your kind, not mine. So I watch through this telescope,” he said, pointing his snout at a cylinder mounted on a tripod, “and take these blue tablets, which always seem to run short before the local wizard delivers more.”
Ah yes,” Haneel said “Isn’t that always the case with the blue ones, soothing as they are. Have another drink of my fine Absentia, which cause visions, forgetfulness, and if one drinks enough, deep sleep. It has the unfortunate effect of giving a green tint to one’s complexion, but in your case my friend, this should be of little concern.”
