Roger the Pocket Dragon
I couldn't help myself: I had to write a spinoff of the ongoing group fairy tale, because I just love the possibilities of one of the new characters. I've set it in the "past", so that I don't interfere with the continuation of the group story.
Roger the Pocket Dragon
A Fairy Godfather Story
Roger had not always been a pocket dragon. In fact, for many years, he was quite a respectable size, bigger than a cottage and smaller than a mansion. He did pretty much what any other full-sized dragon would do: kidnap fair maidens, munch on their rescuers, and just generally be a really large flying fire-breathing lizard. In fact, perhaps the most unusual thing about him was his name.
However, one day he was double-crossed by an unscrupulous wizard, and his life changed forever. The wizard had used a shrinking spell on him, trying to make him disappear. He had barely escaped with his height. However, that height was now about six inches, which meant that his days of terrorizing the villagers were over, unless he wanted to scare them one at a time. Oh, his flame still burned just as hot; only, now, it was a proximity weapon, at best.
This is the story of how he survived.
The first few days were filled mostly with fleeing. The wizard who had shrunk him would presumably want an opportunity to finish the job. Fleeing took quite a bit of time, as well, because although, on one hand, Roger could now fly for longer periods than he could before (because he was lighter), on the other hand, he could not cover nearly as much ground. So, the first few days were filled with long heedless flights through the forest, followed by trying to find something to eat, and some uneasy sleep.
At first, finding food was not easy. Dragons in the wild are accustomed to their food coming to them. They would start by kidnapping a fair maiden, and then they would just lie around (sitting does not come easily to dragons) waiting for would-be rescuers, who were usually coated in that thin layer of crunchy steel that dragons love so much. It was much like roasting marshmallows, only without the sticky mess.
Sadly, that option no longer existed. About all he could kidnap now were mice maidens, and boy mice are not as chivalrous, or crunchy, as human ones. He tried watching wild animals, like cats and foxes, hunt for their food. It seemed like a lot of trouble for a very small return. Too, even a small winged fire-breathing lizard has a hard time being inconspicuous. Stealth simply is not in their natures.
Worse yet, he found that he himself was attracting some attention from predators. When he slept on the ground the first night, using the roots of a tree as a pillow, a cat tried to sneak up on him. Fortunately for Roger, dragons have excellent senses of hearing and smell, and even better means of self-defense. And cats are not stupid. Once it got a good look at him, this one simply turned and ran.
However, being potential prey did interfere with his sleep, so he tried something else, the next night. At dusk, he followed the pigeons to roost on a branch high in the forest canopy. They looked at him in alarm, but tolerated him, though they made him perch closest to the trunk, because he was the heaviest. This arrangement worked to his advantage, however, when in the light of the full moon, a hawk swooped into the crowd of pigeons, snatched one off its branch, and flew away. Clearly, it was not safe for him up there, either.
One night, he tried a badger warren. However, it was unpleasantly full of badger scent, not to mention badger. Unfortunately, badgers are one kind of animal that is just stupid enough to charge a white-hot flame and just mean enough to survive it and still do some harm. So, he left them alone and went elsewhere. Another night he tried to borrow a squirrel's nest, high in a hollow tree, but the squirrels pelted him with acorns and he could not get close enough to flame at them.
Roger was beginning to see that perhaps the most important thing that a six-inch dragon needed was a new habitat. Something with fewer predators and easier food. He still had talents and tools; now what he needed most was the right place to use them.
His wanderings eventually brought him to the outskirts of the human village where, before his shrinking, he had gone when he needed a fair maiden. Now, though, he found it more useful as a place where he could scrounge some shelter and scraps of food, with only stray dogs as competition. It did not take the dogs long to learn that, even in a pack, they could not win a fight with a dragon. After that, they left Roger alone.
Unfortunately, human children were harder to teach. When they saw Roger, they thought he was cute, and wanted to catch him. Not wanting to cause an uproar by defending himself, he was forced to hide, or fly away on his stubby wings.
The problem came to a climax one warm afternoon as he was standing by the banks of a small stream. Roger was frustrated by being able to look through the clear surface of the stream and see fish calmly looking back at him. Yet, every time he tried to flame them, the only thing that happened was that steam rose from the water's surface, and when it cleared, the fish were still there, unharmed. It even seemed to Roger as if they were laughing and making fun of him.
Roger was so engrossed in his fishing attempt that he did not notice the group of boys who had come down to the stream with pails and buckets to play. They, however, being boys, did notice him. And, being boys, they thought it would be fun see if they could catch him and quench his fires in a bucket of water.
One of them pounced on Roger, wrapping a hand over his wings so that he could not open them at all. He flamed angrily, but the boy held Roger's head with the other hand, keeping it turned away from the boy's body. One of the other boys filled a bucket in the stream, and together, they plunged Roger deep into the water, over and over.
Now, you cannot put out a dragon's fires with water; almost anyone can tell you that. However, dragons do drown. So, Roger, for the first and last time in his life, faked it. He pretended to be quenched, and put a sorrowful, bedraggled look on his face. At least, he told himself that he was faking; his pride demanded it.
After a few times, the boys stopped dunking Roger. After all, they did want to keep him alive. They wrapped his wings in string, and tied a length around his neck like a leash. They thought he would just follow them home, like some kind of pet.
What they did not understand is that an adult dragon, of any size, is not someone to be trifled with, and an angry dragon is someone to avoid at all costs. As soon as the boys put him down, Roger flamed to life and burned through his leash. The cords on his wings went next, and he took to the air. Swooping over the panicking boys, he carefully set fire to the hair of each one. He paused only briefly to gloat, as the boys took turns dunking their own heads in the bucket. Then he flew away, still angry.
6 Comments
Recommended Comments
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.