A Dragon Dilemma

Light fell in slanted pools around the base of the ancient oak tree. Its gnarled roots spread across the mossy clearing, and all the young saplings kept a respectful distance, bowing their heads as a light breeze rippled through them. The oak had been there long before the forest that surrounded it. Sigils were carved deep in its bark, their meanings long since lost to time.

One by one the villagers crept out from the shadows, arguing in the hushed tones usually reserved for libraries and churches.

“Something must be done!” Hamish the baker demanded, fiddling nervously with the hem of his floury apron. “My wife won’t leave her bed, petrified, she is! It came before dawn and breathed fire down our chimney, so hot it burned all the loaves to cinders.”

“It’s a menace, that’s what!’ Widow Phyllis agreed. “I had all my washing hung out to dry overnight, and this morning my sheets were singed, and my best winter bloomers had the bottom burned right out of them!” She waved a giant pair of holey knickers in the air like a call to war.

“And my rams!” Farmer Tam raged. “Stolen right out of their fleeces, they were! There’ll be no spring lambs for the May Day feasting now.”

“Quiet!” Silas raised his hand, and the villagers clustered around the Alderman. “It’s clear to me this beast needs to be sent on its way. And there’s only one way to get rid of an unwanted dragon. We need a sacrifice! Something so precious that it will take the offering and leave at once.” He peered out among the crowd. “Is Bartholomew the butcher here among us?”

“Aye, I’m here,” the big man stepped forward, wiping his ruddy forehead with a bloody rag.

“You have a daughter, if I recall correctly. Right pretty thing, golden hair, eyes as blue as cornflowers.”

The Butcher’s eyes narrowed. “My Bessie, yes. What of her?”

Silas blushed, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. “Is she… is she a maiden still?”

“Why, you…” Bartholomew took a swing at the Alderman, who ducked and fell backwards into a patch of nettles.

“Steady on, man! You know as well as I do, a sacrifice ought to be pure and unsullied. Your Bessie might be the saving of us all!”

A tittering went up from the back of the crowd. “Bessie’s about as pure as yellow snow! She’s been tupped by half the lads in the village, I’d wager!”

“Who said that?”

“’T’was I, Helga.” The wizened old woman leaned on her walking cane, her eyes unflinching as she met the Alderman’s gaze. “And you’d best be listening to me, too. I was here the last time a dragon came round these parts, afore most of you was even a glint in yer Pa’s eye. And it’ll take more than a lascivious wench like young Bessie here to appease a dragon. No, what we needs is a toddler. Soft and plump, still sweet with the taste of his mother’s milk.”

Everyone gasped in horror. Mothers clutched their infants tight, before turning to look at Mildred the baker’s wife, and at her troublesome twins, busy eating dirt and grass at her feet.

Silas sighed. It was going to be a long meeting.

***

The silver dragoness spread black sand across the cave floor with her thick tail, humming as she worked. When it was evenly dispersed she flared her nostrils, feeling the heat rise from within her chest. With a great breath, blue flames poured from her mouth, scouring the floor as she moved back and forth. The sand bubbled and turned to molten glass, the glow diminishing as it cooled and hardened. When the floors shone like polished obsidian, Sylvana smiled and went outside for a rest.

She was slumbering down by the brook when Gzorgona screeched overhead, sending birds scattering as he landed hard, steam pouring angrily from his nostrils.

“You’re in a bad mood again, aren’t you?” She asked as he dropped a bundle of sheepskin at her feet.

“A bad mood? Pish woman, I’m absolutely livid! Just look, look at it! If this doesn’t beat it all…” He turned his head, scorching a nearby gorse bush into a smoldering pile of cinders.

Sylvana nudged the package gently, wrinkling her nose at the smell of hot urine and stale milk. A chubby pink hand poked out of the fleece, grabbing her by the nostril.

“Yowch!” She shook her head, and backed up nervously. “What is it? Some kind of bald monkey?”

“Are you blind? It’s a baby, that’s what it is! A human baby!” Gzorgona paced back and forth, his tail scraping the bark from the nearby trees.

“What? Why on earth would you steal a baby?” Sylvana pulled gently at the woollen wraps with her teeth, careful not to damage the creature within.

Sure enough sitting on the sheepskin, naked as the day it was born, was a small tow-haired human. It reached two podgy arms out towards her and gurgled.

“Steal it? Me? You aren’t listening, wife! They GAVE it to me, they did! Tied it to the Tithing tree in some kind of barbaric sacrificial offering!” His eyes glowed hot as coals. ‘Is this what they think of me? That I’m a monster? That I would actually eat an innocent babe?”

Sylvana sensed he was about to explode, and swept the youngster behind her, coiling herself around it just in time. “Turn your head, you cantankerous old goat! You’ll roast it alive if you don’t cool your temper.”

Gzorgona backed away sheepishly. “Sorry, my love. It’s just so unfair! When we moved here I thought for sure we’d found it, the perfect place to live out our days in peace. I’ve done everything to try and make the humans like me – Don’t I get up before the Sun to heat their fires and dry their laundry? I stoke the blacksmith’s furnace to temperatures he could only dream of! I take only the oldest and weakest of their flocks, and leave the fleeces neatly piled and ready for spinning!”

Sylvana placed a claw on his scaly forearm. “I’m sure there’s been some kind of mistake,” She soothed. “You’ve tried so hard to win them over. Maybe the people here are just different to those in the Valley. Less civilized. Why, I doubt they’ve even seen a dragon before!”

“Hrumph. Well that’s even worse – they think I’m an evil baby-killing monster, and yet they just tie a toddler to a tree with no attempt to protect it?”

“Well what made you do a foolish thing like bring the child here?” Sylvana grimaced as the baby chomped the tip of her tail, gumming it gleefully.

“I could hardly leave it with them! What kind of environment is that for a child to grow up in? Living in fear of being fed to every passing ogre and troll?” He stomped into the cave, tracking rivermud all over her freshly cleaned floors.

Sylvana scooped the child back into its sheepskin and carried it inside, carefully placing it among the downy feathers of her nest. “We can’t keep it, beloved. Our days of raising younglings are long since behind us. What do we know about a human’s needs?” She roasted some freshly skinned rabbits, adding some crushed lingonberries to sweeten his mood. “Here, you must be famished. Eat something, you’ll feel better for it.”

Gzorgona gulped down the meat, hissing in pleasure. Sure enough, his mood lightened when he had eaten his fill.

“I know we can’t keep it. Heck, I don’t even know if it’s male or female! Do humans have genders?”

“I think so, dear. I can’t see a cloaca, so I guess it’s a boy.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’ll need a name. Grimfell has a nice, strong ring to it, don’t you think?” They gazed at the sleeping baby, burrowed under the soft white feathers.

“You can’t name a human with a dragon name! The others will tease it. Humans have names like Keith, Sam or Jeffrey.”

Gzorgona grimaced. “No wonder they're so savage, with names like that. How about Bracken? He was chewing on some when I found him. “

“Bracken it is. But don’t get too attached, my love. First thing tomorrow you need to go find it a good home. A dragon’s lair is no place for such a flammable wee thing.”

***

The following morning Sylvana awoke to the foulest of smells. Gzorgana was snoring softly beside her, completely oblivious.

“Wake up, you old fool! I think the baby’s gone bad!”

“What? What are you on about? Holy smokes, what is that rancid smell?”

They looked at Bracken, gleefully smearing poop in its hair and gurgling.

“It’s gangrene! Must be, the poor bairn. I hear that smells worse than anything.”

Sylvana investigated closer. “I don’t think so. I think what it needs is a bath.”

Gzorgona moved rocks into the stream to create a shallow pool, grumbling the whole time.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, I’m the one carrying this foul wee beastie!” She lifted the child carefully, dipping it feet first into the water.

Bracken turned a worrying shade of purple, and let out the loudest wail they had ever heard. Sylvana dipped a claw into the water and turned to her husband angrily.

“This water’s freezing! Humans have thin hides, they don’t tolerate cold like we do.”

“Oh, I guess I forgot that.” He blew a steady stream of orange flames into the water.

“Not too hot! We don’t want to cook the child! That’s it, nice and warm. Here you go lovie, bathtime!” She dunked the squirming baby into the pool.

Bracken stopped crying and splashed happily. Soon enough the smell dissipated. Sylvana found a large deerskin and wrapped the wriggling toddler up to dry.

“Time to go find you a new family,” She said, giving it a loving lick goodbye with her velvety tongue. “Off you go, dear. Good luck!”

Gzorgona took the bundle in his claws, flying off over the forest and out of sight.

***

It was dark when he returned to the cave. Sylvana was pacing back and forth at the entrance.

“What took you so long? I’ve been worried sick!” She noticed the deerskin squirming, and Bracken popped its head out and cooed at her. “Why do you still have the wee’un?”

Gzorgona flumped down beside her wearily. “It’s a long story, my sweet. I found a gnome village, just past the woodlands to the west. They were friendly enough, seemed decent folk, for all their small size.”

“But they wouldn’t take it?”

“Well, it seemed to be going well. I sat with their leader, name of Agatha, round as a wyvern egg and twice as wide. We shared a pipe and I entertained the youngsters with my smoke puppetry…”

“Oh, our broodlings loved that when they were little…” Sylvana’s eyes misted slightly at the memory.

“Yes, well Bracken here was a big fan too, I can tell you. Cooing and laughing it was, fit to burst. Agatha grew quite enamoured with the child. Said it was a crying shame anyone would see fit to abandon it in the forest, what with all the wolves and whiplings about.”

“Well it sounds like she wanted the bairn. What went wrong?”

“I was just going to ask if they’d raise the child, when disaster struck. Young Bracken here… well… I don’t think it meant any harm. And really, why do they wear those silly hats anyway? Anyone could mistake them for mushrooms…”

“It ATE a gnome?!”

“No, not exactly. More like nibbled. Like I said, an easy mistake. But it didn’t exactly make for a good first impression. I tried to explain Bracken's just an infant, but they threw thorns and pebbles at us until we went away. By then it was too late to keep searching.”

Sylvana made sympathetic hissing noises as she helped pull thorns from Gzorgona’s rump. Bracken toddled around the clearing, chasing after a purple butterfly and clapping its hands in delight.

“You’re a troublesome wee thing, that’s for sure,” she said, scooping the child off its feet and nuzzling it gently. “Nevermind, there’s always tomorrow. Let’s get you both some supper, sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure!”

***

The following morning Gzorgona took off to the East, towards the Elf King Eidelaine’s citadel. All day Sylvana hummed sibilantly to herself, content in the knowledge that their young ward would be raised by the gentle elven folk, surrounded by beauty and grace. A fine home for the sweet creature.

It was late afternoon when her husband returned. He landed clumsily by the stream, puffing clouds of smoke as he tried to catch his breath. Bracken peeked out from behind his tail, dressed in richly embroidered elven silk the color of summer skies. It reached towards Sylvana, chattering excitedly.

“No luck, then?” She asked, coiling herself around the youngster affectionately.

“Afraid not. I think I’ve upset our good friends, the elves. At first they were glad to see me, welcomed us with open arms. Told me they’d be glad to take the boy...”

“Ooh, it’s a boy?”

“Yup. I played it cool, like I already knew.”

“Well of course. Though I always thought the males had beards...”

“Maybe he'll grow into it. I didn’t ask. Well anyhow, there I was, nattering away with King Eidelaine about the good old days, while his servants whisked the laddie off and kitted him out with a whole heap of new clothes, fit for an elf prince.”

“He does look rather fancy, doesn’t he? I hope the elven clothes aren’t flammable.”

“Oh you know how crunchy those elvish types are, probably all natural fibers.”

“So then what? Sounds like everything went swimmingly.”

Gzorgona sighed. “Aye, it was going well. King Eidelaine said he’d talk to his queen about raising the lad up alongside their own brood. Asked me to bring him back in a few days, when his wife returned from visiting her sister.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Sylvana demanded. “I can tell when you’re hiding something, your nostrils twitch.”

“Well, we were walking in the great hall of the palace. Beautiful, it was. Marbled floors and carved vaulted ceilings, and statues of every great elf that ever lived lining the walls. I was examining the one of Queen Eideldwyn, the king’s beloved mother, gone these past four winters now. I only turned my back on the littlun for a moment, I swear!

Then suddenly there’s this almighty crashing sound, and one by one the statues toppled down, each one knocking over the next, all around the room. When the dust cleared there was young Bracken, surrounded by broken statues, holding the alabaster ear of an Elvish king! I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“Oh dear, that’s terrible! But what were they thinking, taking a baby in a room full of such treasures? It’s hardly Bracken’s fault, poor little lamb, he can barely walk without tumbling over.”

“I know. I don’t blame the bairn. But Eidelaine said the boy was too clumsy to live among the elves. He suggested I take him to the dwarves in the caverns to the south… I guess I’ll head there tomorrow.”

“Good idea. You’d best get off to bed, the pair of you. Too much excitement for one day!”

***

Early the next morning they were wakened by the sound of tinkling bells.

“My ears need cleaning out, I’m hearing that ringing noise again!” Gzorgona complained, scratching at his ear with a sharp talon.

“Your ears are fine, you daft thing. I can hear it too! Go outside and see what it is.”

Gzorgona was greeted at the mouth of the cave by two dazzling guards dressed head to toe in gold, with white feather plumes atop their helmets.

“Can I help you fine folk?” He asked with a yawn.

“We are here on the orders of Queen Moon Blossom, ruler of the fae! She wishes to commune with you.” The guard gestured towards a magnificent carriage shaped like a lotus flower, shining like dewdrops in sunlight.

“Your majesty,” Gzorgona bowed his head as she stepped out of her carriage. “To what do I owe this great honour?”

Moon Blossom was tall for a fae, though barely as big as a broodling’s egg tooth. She stood proudly, her hair falling about her shoulders in white ringlets. Her gown was the colour of moonlight and the way the first strawberry tastes after the winter thaw.

“You have something that belongs to me,” She said imperiously.

Gzorgona was affronted. “are you accusing me of theft?”

“No, that is, not deliberately. But surely you know the old lores. Anything left tied to a tithing tree belongs to the fae folk.”

“Oh! You’ve come about the baby!” Gzorgona smiled with relief. “Why, we’ve been trying to find the lad a home these past few days. Give me a minute and I’ll go get him for you… Bracken, we’ve called him. Cute as a button, he is.” He turned to go fetch the child.

“Out of my way! The baby’s exploded again!” Sylvana yelled, rushing past the guards, covering her nose with her wing as she hurried the toddler down to the stream.

“What in the world is that foul stench?” Queen Moon Blossom asked in bewilderment. “It’s worse than a bog dweller’s britches!”

“Oh, that’s the little lad. Terrible stinksome, he is. Fair clears a room. It’ll be quite a relief to be rid of him, if I’m honest. The smell has a way of lingering in yer nostrils.”

“A little help here, husband!” Sylvana called from the water as she struggled to hold the wriggling boy still. “It’s in his hair again! How does that even happen?”

Queen Moon Blossom backed away from the cave, climbing hurriedly back into her carriage.

“Wait up, your highness – we’ll have him cleaned off in a bit and then he can ride back with you,” Gzorgona told her.

“No… no, that’s quite alright. I just remembered, that wasn’t a tithing tree after all – just an old oak tree. Nothing special about it. So you can keep the baby… it’s yours.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite sure, really. I must be going… guards!” She opened a bottle of perfume, dousing herself liberally in the floral scent.

Sylvana headed back up to the cave. “He’s clean again, good as new. Where’d the carriage go to?”

“I have a feeling the young’un wasn’t quite what she was looking for, love.”

“Oh, well more fool her. He’s a braw wee thing. Ah well, off to the dwarves you go, then. I’ve packed some mutton for your breakfast.”

***

Gzorgona was in a foul mood when he returned that night. Even the delicious roast boar and watercress salad did little to cheer him, though Bracken loved the tender meat.

“He’s cutting a new tooth, I think,” Sylvana rubbed her swollen knuckle, a row of tiny indents marking her leathery hide.

“Good, maybe he can use it to bite dwarves with.”

“What happened to put you in such a black temper?” She wrapped her wings around her dejected husband.

“Greedy buggers, they were. Rude too, considering I could’ve squished them in an instant.” He rubbed his greying chin hairs grouchily. “Borgelbiln, their leader, comes marching up to me bold as brass, and asks me how much we’re selling the lad for!”

Sylvana gasped. “He thought you were trying to trade the bairn? Like a sack of potatoes?”

“Worse than that. He looked him all over, checked his teeth, eyes, ears the lot. Rubbed that long beard of his and cocked his head on one side for so long I almost fell asleep. Then he told me he couldn’t possibly buy the boy, weak and puny as he is, but that he’d do me the favour of taking him in if I handed over the boy’s weight in gold! Said he knew us dragons all have hordes of treasure in our lairs, and he meant to get his hands on some of it.”

Sylvana was outraged. “The cheek of it! Like we were trying to get rid of the poor babe, bless his wee face. Like Bracken was some kind of burden!”

“I know! I told him to run back into his caverns right quick if he didn’t want me to roast his behind.”

Bracken, unaware of the drama he was causing, had fallen asleep in his watercress, fingers curled tightly around the tip of Sylvana’s tail. She lifted him up, nestling him down in the feathers beside her.

“A dwarf mine is no place for a human anyhow. All those low ceilings to bump his head on, and nasty damp tunnels – no, Bracken really needs to be among his own kind, I think. There’s a tavern a few hundred miles north of here, over the mountain pass. You can take him there tomorrow. They’ll know what to do with him.”

They fell asleep, snuggled protectively around their young charge.

***

The next night Gzorgona didn’t return to the cave. Darkness crept over the mountain and long shadows grew along the treeline. The moons rose, and Sylvana tried to be patient.

First she wondered if her husband had been hurt, or taken sick. Then she worried that something had happened to Bracken… what if he’d fallen from the fur sling she’d made him? She couldn’t bear to think of him plummeting to the earth, yet her mind filled with images of his lifeless body lying cold in the forest.

By dawn she resolved to go searching for them.

She flew low over the woodland, cursing her poor eyesight as she scoured the glades and clearings for any signs of them. She spotted pixies frolicking by a waterfall and flew down to ask if they’d seen a dragon pass this way.

“Aye, one flew by yester’s eve, big fella it was, ash grey and kind of paunchy round the midden.”

“That’s him! That’s my Gzorgona! Was there a child with him? A human child?”

The pixies giggled, whispering to one another in squeaky little voices that hurt Sylvana’s ears.

One stepped forward. “A human child, to be sure. Tousle-haired and eyes full of mischief. They stopped to drink from our crystal pool, before heading off northwards.”

“Thank you!” Sylvana beat her wings so hard the pixies tumbled head over heels, not that she noticed.

She followed the river through the mountain pass, over the snowy peaks and down into the distant vales. A small hamlet appeared on the horizon, and she swooped down towards it warily. Nothing seemed amiss, but you never knew with humans. It didn’t do to underestimate them.

The tavern was rather grand compared to the wattle and daub huts of the villagers. Its walls were thick and white-washed, with sweet columbine and honeysuckle creeping across the front. The place was busy even at that early hour, and the stable was packed with the ponies and mules of many a weary traveller.

Sylvana kicked open the door and peered into the darkness. A troll and three hobgoblins sat playing dice by the fire, and a long-faced wizard with ragged robes was nursing a flagon of ale by the leaded window. Sid the tavern keeper hurried forward to greet the dragoness.

“Can I help you, madam?” He asked, sweat beading nervously on his forehead.

“I’m looking for my husband. He came here yesterday, and never returned home.”

“Ah yes, a stoutly fellow, grey in the hair and somewhat belligerent… he’s in the cellar.”

Sylvana’s eyes had a dangerous glint in them. “Take me to him!”

“Right this way!” They left the tavern and went round the back, where a set of double doors opened outwards, releasing a smell of stale dragon farts.

“Gzorgona? Wake up, you old fool!” She emptied a barrel of apples over his head. “You’re absolutely sozzled! I can’t believe it! How could you get drunk like this with Bracken to take care of!”

Gzorgona opened his eyes, blinking until his wife swam into focus. He winced as the pounding in his head reached a new crescendo.

“Sorry, my sweet. I was just celebrating finding a home for the young’un… only meant to have just the one keg… but I guess I lost count.”

“A home? You found a family for the little one?” Sylvana softened a little. “What are they like?”

“Good folks, I’d guess. They own this place, and by the singing and merriment last night I’d say business is good. They can keep him fed and cared for.”

Just then a door opened at the back of the cellar, and a travelling bard tumbled down the staircase. His mandolin followed after, narrowly missing Sylvana as it smashed against the floor.

“You think this is a fit place for Bracken to grow up? Surrounded by drunkards and fistfights? What’s got into you Gzorgona Blazewing? I thought you had more sense!” She stormed out of the cellar, ripping open the windows of the upper floors, searching.

“lady, please! Calm down, calm down!” Sid begged. “I’ll fetch the lad down, my wife’s looking after him. Don’t smash anything else!”

“Hrumph!” She paced the courtyard, tail swishing furiously. Gzorgona crawled out to join her, shading his eyes against the harsh sunlight.

“It’s not such a bad place, my love,” he wheedled. “The boy would be among his own kind, and they’re generous souls. He’d want for nothing, I’m sure.”

“I am NOT having my human raised in a house of drunken debauchery!”

A round-faced woman with blonde braids down her back came out of the tavern, holding a squirmy Bracken in her arms.

“Mama! Mama!” the boy’s face lit up at the sight of Sylvana, who grabbed him and coiled tightly around him, snorting smoke and hissing in anger.

“We’d give him a good home, miss, honest we would,” Sid spoke earnestly. “I’ve only got daughters meself. Could do with a strapping lad about the place. I’d train him up in the business and who knows, one day he could even run the town brothel!”

“Enough!” Sylvana blew flames over the drinking trough in the courtyard, vaporizing it in an instant. “Gzorgona, we’re leaving! I’m raising this human myself, and I won’t hear another word on the matter!”

She took off without a backwards glance, clasping the waving toddler by his britches. In no time at all they had disappeared over the mountains.

“Thanks Sid, you’re a real friend,” Gzorgona patted the tavern keeper on his back so hard he almost fell down. “I thought she’d never come around to it.” He pulled a handful of silver out of his deerskin sack. “Here’s something for your troubles.”

“Mighty kind of you. I’m thinking it’s you with the troubles now, though. Your good wife seems mighty displeased with you.”

“Oh, she’s all steam and no fire. She’ll have calmed down by the time I get home. The child will have her wrapped round his little finger in no time at all.”

Sid scratched his head. “Still, it’s a right odd business, that it is. Who ever heard of a man raised by dragons?”

“Nobody, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. One day you’ll be hearing stories about the adventures of young Bracken Blazewing, you mark my words! Heart of a dragon, that one.”

Gzorgona flew after his wife and foundling son, back home to their cozy cave above the forest.

Maybe a dragon’s lair was right for a baby after all.