The Blossoming of the Marigolds

“Tell me again, the story of the dragon of Ellengrand, father.” “Alright then ma boy, never lack curiosity do ya? I’ve told the story bout’ a hundred times by now, but who am I not to make merry of the past?” The sharp night wind whistled through the sky and brushed the fire separating the two of us. A lick of embers traveled upward, disappearing to the sky. Father took a long draw from his ashwood pipe and began my favorite tale from the archive of his memories.

“Let’s see, from what I can recall, the morning had just peaked, and me and the guardsmen stood at the ready watching and waiting. You see, the problem with dragon attacks is they never really are punctual. The opposite, in fact. Their attacks are commonly sporadic. No one precisely knew why that was the case. Some of the greatest beastologists of our time surmised it as a resting pattern. Such a massive creature would only attack with a proper pause. Others say they can sense high volumes of movement. You know what I think? I think they do it because they’re proper pests, that’s what I think. Their heart set on gold, and eagerness for chaos is all that ever drove them, and boy the city of Ellengrand had its fair share of gold in its depths. Luckily me and my men were well-rested and prepared for the sky beasts’ attack that fateful morning. At the sound of the alarm, we all scattered like mice near an owl. We took our post as the elves of Ellengrand took to safety in the caves below. Boy, when I tell you it’s the biggest I’ve seen I tell no lie. Out in the foreground, she unfurled the entirety of her body. Wings outstretched so far they blocked the sun, creating a silhouette born from nightmares. She thrust her powerful wings and began making her disastrous trek towards our position. Reaching just above the outskirts of the city far up towards the heavens she hugged her wings toward her body and began the accelerated descent toward us. Like an arrow shot from the clouds. As she approached the highest points of the elfen structures, she spread her wings and caught the evening air gliding just an oars length from the tallest building. Rearing her head, she built up flames inside her snout, unleashing a bellow of fire on the streets and the people below.

That day's attack was relentless; the fiery beast was fit to leave the city in ash. My men fought courageously. We knew the variety of dragon was one of the devil serpent species, which meant the underbelly of its neck was soft and unprotected by scales. So I told them to concentrate their attacks on the throat. Alas, it had little to no effect. By the time my archers and catapult reached the giant, the power was no greater than a sting from a bee.

I watched the smoke whirl into the sky, as she took her pick of the buildings fit to be charred. ‘Fall back, retreat, there is nothing we can do!’ I heard my lieutenant cry. And perhaps there wasn't. I looked down from my perch at the city below. All I could see was its people, screaming and yelling, scattered and dashing for reprieve. Black dirt caked their face as they tried hopelessly to help one another. Mothers cradling their babies in their shawl protecting them from the enveloping smoke. I had to do something, I had to think quickly.

From my time at my post, I noticed the devil serpent would coordinate its attacks seeking out the unclaimed by her fire. From that, I guessed where she would attack next. I searched for the tallest building in that area. Without hesitation, I grabbed Margen, my ogre infantryman. “Come Margen, we’re going to end this, and grab your big shield.” Ungrudgingly Margen followed me to the base of the tower. The structure was kissed by flame, we hadn’t much time. ‘Margen shallow your breathing and move close to me.’ The interior was hotter than a stone oven. Still, we forged on battling barking coughs from the taste of smoke, falling beams of fire, and intensely increasing heat. Just before being cooked alive, we reached the top outdoor deck. I shimmed my way to the peak at the center and instructed Margen to do the same. Using his giant shield for balance he greeted me at the peak with a smile. ‘Quite nimble for an ogre. Listen carefully Margen, she’ll make another pass just through here, hopefully in just a spec of sand. I want you to propel me upward as hard as ogre lily possible. I balance on your shield as you kneel underneath me and on my signal, launch. I'm ending this now!’ Margen responded with a nod and gripped my forearm and mine to his. ‘For my brothers, now.’ And I respond in kind with, ‘and forever.’ I gained my bearing atop the shield as I nervously waited for the dragon. An earth-shaking growl drew my attention to the south. ‘Here she comes.’ I steady my stance and my heartbeat. Her massive head was barreling toward me. At this height I could see her piercing green eyes. They could shake the bravest of men.

Not a second later she was on top of me. ‘NOW,’ I shouted. Margen let out a growl of his own and heaved me into the still air, with my blade extended far out in front of me.

The world stood still as time itself slowed. My blade caught the low part of the throat closest to its torso. It wriggled and twirled in the air as it writhed in pain. I curled into a ball for stability, hanging on for dear life. My blade was made of elfen metal. It wouldn't let go and neither would I. Hours and hours went by. I held steadfast as I felt my grip weaken. I picture the elves below running, crying, and fighting for their lives trying to save the younglings, and my strength returned. Black blood spurted through the wound showering me with its being, stinging my eyes, and rendering me blind. ‘I will not let go, until you or I die, beast, or both. Your reckoning ends today.’

I don't remember much after that, just my men greeting me on the shores of Ellengrand where I had washed up. My men surrounded me cheering and applauding with the townspeople. I rose to a seated position, coughing up the sea. Margen was among them clapping the loudest. My mind remained in an exhausted haze as I couldn't fully grasp what was happening. With blurred sight, I scanned the crowd next to me yelling and crying. ‘You've done it, by Zarzans beard you've done it.’ The lot of them were pointing just beyond my gaze towards the ocean. I took the hint and set my eyes to the water. An emotion of utter pleasure and triumph filled my soul as I saw her, the devil serpent only moving from the waves below. Big and mighty she was, desperate and fighting she fell. That's why every time you travel through Ellengrand you will hear the tale, and sing the songs of the man who ended a dragon’s tyranny.”

“Alright ma boy that's enough for tonight, the moon has risen and we have a hefty trip ahead of us tomorrow. Quell the fire and retire to the night.”

Early on the next day’s morn we wasted no time. We packed our belongings and set on the trail just as soon as the sun splashed through the Wiloway trees. “Ah, what an absolute delight,” I thought. My father had been yearning to make the trip west and witness the blossoming of the marigolds for quite some time now. I am ever so pleased he chose me for the journey. Be that as it may, I have to question why a man who has seen everything across the great seven realms would want to watch the birth of a flower.

After some time on the road our feet weary, and packs heavy, we took the first of many rests. Seated on the stumps of the great Wiloway trees my father started to widdel away at his Sorsee fruit. Usually our time spent idle was spent with my father telling one of his famous stories based on my inquiries. This time however I was stuck. I wasn't sure which tale I wanted to revisit.

“Father, what's one of your favorite stories from your days as a Balder knight?” I asked. After quite a bit of pondering and a lengthy chew of the Sorsee fruit, he looked at me with a quiet grin.

“Well my boy, my favorite story was the day I found you. I remember it clearly. The night air was brittle and cool. It was the first and beginning cycle of winter, when me and my men were called to arms. ‘Another goblin raid, just south of Orchid’s gate’ they cried. We traveled as fast as our steads permitted. Alsa ma boy a frivolous attempt, the goblins had come and gone leaving a trail of desolation in their wake. Fire, bodies, and dismantled huts were all that was left. After taking care of the stragglers, our efforts turned to saving who and whatever we could. Storming through the straw huts searching for any signs of life, no one too be found. Until amongst the rubble and smoldering straw, I saw a youngling no older than three winters sitting there all by his lonesome, crying and irate he called out for his birth givers. But the cries meant nothing, for his birth givers had left this earth. A casualty of a sometimes cruel world.I I held you, and just for a brief time your cries ceased and you looked me directly in the eyes. From that moment, call it what you will, fate, destiny. I knew I had to be your caretaker.”

Each and every time I heard that story I could never truly reciprocate how thankful I was.

Finally after a week long trek down the coast of the Grnichfig mountain range, we had reached our destination. The vast fields of the Marigolds. Tangled webs of greenery top with tufts of golden flowers. The blossoming always took place at night so we had gotten there just at the right time.

“Come boy, sit next to me, it will begin any moment.”

I settled myself on the overturned Wiseper tree next to father, and just as he said the blossoming began.

The flowers closest to us began to expand in a speckle of illumination, crackling and sparking, punching tiny holes of golden light in the darkness of the night. One by one the flowers nearest us emitted the same gentle explosion. Surrounding us in a calming dim glow. “Look son,” my father points out into the expanse. And just like the ones closest to us, miles and miles of field took to light. The immense sparkle of gleaming radiance mirrored the stars above.

I looked to my father to witness his reaction. I watched with heavy heart knowing that perhaps his time of merry adventours was drawing to a close. He softened his gaze and continued to stare straight ahead. It seems as if he shares the sentiment.

“Father I have to ask, of all the things you've done, all the things you've witnessed, why this, the blossoming of a flower?”

His gaze unwavered, he answered simply with, “because I'm here with you.”

“Everybody has a book, son, filled with stories. While mine draws nigh, yours is just beginning, the blossoming of the marigold is your first chapter. I'm proud of who you are and even prouder of what you will become.”

For the rest of the night we sat in silence and revealed in the stories of old, and the ones yet to be.