Chapter Five: Dragon's Road Trip to Far, Far, Away

"Today is the big day," Dragon happily thought as she leaped off the highest battlement of her castle towards the lava below. But she did not drop far and caught the thermal updraft that helped lift her high above Dragon's Keep. It had been exactly a week since that eventful day when she had captured and devoured the large group of adventurers, and met the famous Fairy Godmother Dama Fortuna. True to her word, she was now on her way to pick up the Lovely Yet Tragic Princess Fiona in the Kingdom of Far Far Away.

She had not eaten since that day a week ago, which is not unusual for a dragon, particulalry after so prodigious a meal, but she now hoped she would find something to sustain her that morning, for it was a very long flight in store for her, and she meant to make the trip back on the same day, for she would have a young princess in her charge, and wanted to bring her to the safety and comfort of her very own room in the highest tower of her castle.

A dragon's eyesight is as acute as any eagle's, probably more so, and as the flying reptile glided in the currents she scanned the ground below her for the slightest movement. She detected a number of rabbits and squirrels, and even a badger, but couldn't be bothered with such small fry. Then over a mile away she saw larger prey, traveling away from her on a crossroad. It was only a small detour to take a closer look, so she banked right. In moments she was over a farmer leading a young donkey. Now they saw her, but there were nothing but cabbage fields on both sides of the road, and nowhere to run.

Other dragons might simply swoop down and gobble up the hapless pair, but this one would not harm an elderly farmer who had done her no wrong. So early in the morning, and the fact that the two were headed to the village market for it was market day, told her the farmer probably intended on selling the donkey there. Her stomach growled, and she thought that maybe she could save the man the trip. She always kept a few coins under her tongue to buy an unwanted farm animal when nothing else was to be had. The donkey was small but it was too long a flight to travel on an empty stomach.

She banked again so she could land directly on the road, so not to damage the crops, and now that the farmer saw the dragon coming directly towards them, so he dropped to his knees to pray, and the equally terrified donkey absurdly attempted to hide behind him. The quadreped poked the farmer in the back with a front hoof and said in a very worried voice, "S-say a prayer to me too, I forgot who the patron saint of donkeys is!" Then he yelled, "Jehoshaphat! Is that it?"

Dragon's excellent predator's ears heard the voice and she blinked in surprise. "A talking donkey?" She gave a disappointed sigh and banked left to resume her flight to Far Far Away. Just as she avoided eating humans that were no threat to her, she similarly refused to eat enchanted animals who had the same level of intelligence, and feelings, as humans. In a way, she was an enchanted animal too. As she departed she heard the donkey say to the farmer, "Did you see that? That thing backed off just when I said Jehoshaphat. I told you I was lucky. I'm a lucky donkey, just like a rabbit's foot only there's four of 'em so there's four times the luck. Noooo way you wanna be selling me today. Nosiree, what'll you do if the dragon comes back and you don't have your lucky donkey? Or maybe I'm a blessed donkey, that could that be it. Being blessed is way better than being lucky. I'm protected by Saint Jehoshaphat. I reckon being blessed is even better that being lucky, ain't it? Now ain't it? Hey, but maybe I'm both lucky and blessed. You remember that time you were going to trade me for those magic beans and..." Thankfully the donkey's voice faded off as Dragon flew on, and she wondered if the farmer might have actually paid her to eat the beast and rid him of such an irritating traveling companion.

Her detour now caused her to fly over a swamp to make up time, a place she sometimes hunted when not enough slayers and treasure seekers sought her, and ended up sating her hunger instead. Like all of those other times she had passed this way, she debated again if she should eat the young ogre who had made the swamp his home for almost seven years now. And again, she dismissed the idea, for ogres were sentient creatures just like humans, and though larger and stronger than humans, in a way, they were less of a threat to her than them. For ogres did not have the greed for gold that caused men to try to steal her hoard, nor did they have the desire for fame as the knights who foolishly came to slay her. In fact she found it amusing how much the humans hated ogres when they almost never caused them any harm, and in this respect, saw how much ogres and dragons were alike. The humans despised the ogres because the were such primitive creatures, living in rude huts or caves, but her grandfather, a very old dragon indeed, had once told her that when he was young, the humans were more savage than any ogre, wearing nothing but rude animal skins and their only tools were of stone or antler. In some respects she believed ogres had more sense than humans. When this one came to the swamp, he seemed only to have been a decade old child, and if he had been a human boy so young in such a hostile environment, he would have surely not survived. She heard the ogre still snoring in his hut, for the sun had not yet risen. He was usually in bed when she hunted this territory, usually at night or at dawn, and she believed the creature was probably oblivious to the fact that such a deadly huntress had passed so close to him, and so often.

Following the main road to Far, Far, Away again, her stomach continued to growl as she passed over a herd of milk cows in a pasture below, but she dismissed such bulky prey today, for even if she used the coins under her tongue to pay for the meal, eating a cow was such a messy business. They were too large to swallow whole like a man or a deer, so she would have to stop, kill it, and tear it into manageable pieces to swallow, usually about three or so. And then her beautiful white teeth would be stained, and some bit of entrails would invariably become stuck between them, and would be terribly embarrassing when she met Good King Harold and Beautiful Queen Lillian at noon that day. She would also become spattered with gore with no time to bathe, and worst of all, tearing into a cow would ruin her carefully applied lipstick, that took almost three hours to apply, and caused the untimely deaths of two hundred and thirty three individual tubes of both Dama Fortuna's and her own favorite color, Cherubic Cherry. The unlimited supply of free cosmetics the Fairy Godmother had promised, that would come with regular shipments of food and clothing for the Princess, was the final coup which Dragon had made in her negotiations with Dama Fortuna when their deal to guard the princess was struck a week ago.

The Sun began to peek over the rolling eastern hills, and several miles ahead, coming her direction and presumably on their way to nearby Duloc, was what appeared to be a huge shimmering steel serpent, its scales reflecting the dawn's early light. But her sensitive nose betrayed it was no great reptile, but stunk of the sweat and funk of horses and men. She bared her ivory teeth and licked her lips in anticipation for these were not just men and horses, but the glittering sheen that first seemed to betray the armor of a great land-borne silver wyrm was in fact the steel armor of a column of knights. Knights! who because of their centuries-long enmity against dragons were the only humans besides explicit sacrifices that she never balked from devouring on sight.

The air was perfectly still, and a wicked thought crossed her mind. The poor-sighted humans had not seen her yet, and she grinned mailiciously as she gained altitude over the marching column. She was now glad she had taken such a long drink at the beginning of this journey that had almost drained a large duck pond. Ancient creature that she was, she was an expert at such calculating maneuvers, and at just the right moment gallons and gallons of hot, foul smelling amber liquid was released into the atmosphere with such precision as to shower the complete column of over 300 men and accompanying baggage train.

Some moments before the impending precipitation, the horses of the column began reacting to some invisible terror. Equine eyes widened in fear and nostrils flared as the creatures strained to find and escape a terrifying predator that they all smelled, but could not yet see. The proud column that had been moving on Duloc with such marital impetuosity now ground to an erratic halt as men vainly strained to control their mounts and baggage animals.

Captain Hieronymus Farquaad, stood tall in his saddle and cut a dashing figure at the head of his personal army. He was an adventurer and mercenary from the Southlands and had come to this region to win a kingdom. His spies informed him that the small Dukedom of Duloc would be easy pickings because of an inheritance dispute between two sons of the late Duke. He would offer his services to the highest bidder, destroy the weaker and then usurp his employer. He was not of noble birth, but once he established his power base he planned to marry into a royal family and obtain a noble title. He actually eyed the gem of the region, the larger Kingdom of Far Far Away, but is was still too strong. But he had plenty of time, for he was only twenty nine years old and the captain of an impressive company of horse and foot.

Although men around him were thrown from their mounts, or hung wildly to them as they ran out of control due to the unknown terror that gripped the horses, Captain Farquaad was able to keep his seat and maintained his dignity. As the lead man in the column, he was first to feel the curious, unseasonally warm rain as it pattered his face, the only part of his body not sheathed in steel plate and mail. "Odd", he thought, for the sky was clear. He looked up and saw nothing at first, but craning his neck around he saw a monstrous apparition in the sky just as men around him began to scream DRAGON! If the scene had been chaotic before, it now erupted into sheer pandemonium, as Dragon leisurely banked around and lowered her altiitude for her second sweep over the road, but this time at almost ground level. "Leaders first", the reptile thought to herself, and focused on the large man in front on the best horse and wearing the most expensive armor. Dragon had successfully used this tactic in capturing mounted men for centuries. With the horses panicked by the dragon scent, the men on top of them were virtually helpless, with both hands needed to control the reins, and all of their attention devoted to staying on and controlling their mounts, they could not even draw their swords, (not that a mere sword could penetrate her iron-like scales to begin with). As for the infantry, in the few moments since the opening rain, there was no time to string longbows or cock crossbows, and although they were a small nuisance if they punched holes in her wing membranes, they could do little more damage, as her scaly hide deflected them. But the infantry were as terrified as the cavalrymen and horses. Instead of stringing bows, nearly every one had packed themselves under the three baggage wagons. Legends told of both dragon blood and saliva being deadly poisonous, and no one could be sure what horrifying properties the dragon-produced fluid on them now would have, apart from the gagging odor.

Farquaad cursed his men for their cowardice, until he looked forward again and saw the airborne leviathan coming directly for him up the road. He was too paralyzed with fear to draw his sword, and could not do so anyway, for his horse now saw the beast whose scent was so terrifying, and bucked in terror, and turned to flee. Faaquaad thought this the best course of action as well, but no sooner than the horse was turned than he felt a powerful force grip his torso that would have crushed his rib cage if it had not been encased in an excellent steel cuirass. He heard a terrifying shriek to his right and saw his standard bearer, still clutching his personal banner with the fancy emblazoned "F", held in the dragon's other front paw, just as he must be. Dragon was a bit perplexed by the weight of the leader she held in her left talon for he seemed far too light in weight compared to the one held in her right talons. She craned her head down to get a closer look, blinked in surprise, and then looked down at the horse which still had attached to its saddle the leg armor of a large man, that the short legged person in her claws wore only to appear taller than he really was. Her terrible teeth were only inches from his face, but instead of devouring him, he heard a soft, oddly feminine voice distinctly say the questioning words, "A midget knight?" followed by what seemed like schoolgirl giggling, as he was tossed away in disgust like too small a fish, and even before he landed, the monster had expertly snatched another, larger rider in his place, and after another wing flap, deftly seized two more men with her rear feet, also from the backs of terrified horses.

Farquaad hit the ploughed earth of the field with a dull thud. Had he not been wearing the cuirass, with a well padded arming doublet underneath, his back might have been broken by the fall. He, and all of the rest in the company watched in relief as the dragon nonchalantly flapped away, not even giving them the dignity of a back glance. A screaming man writhed from every clenched paw, and they all thanked God the dragon had only four of the appendages, for nothing in their power could have dissuaded the beast from taking more of their number if it were so inclined.

Dragon was enormously pleased with her good fortune. This was a breakfast she could eat on the go, and lose no time. And she could relieve the monotony of the long flight as she methoically removed the armor and clothing of her prey bit by bit, leaving a trail behind her like the breadcrumbs of Hansel and Gretel, one of her favorite fairytales because it was a witch, and not a dragon, who was the villain. She could have destroyed them all with her fiery birth, but that would be such a waste. The presence of this unfamiliar army in this region indicated another war would be coming, and human wars alway meant good eating for dragons.

These were all hardened soldiers, accustomed to death, and once it was apparent the dragon was not coming back, the men began whispering and then chortling how the dragon had thrown back their diminutive leader to take a more substantial man in his stead.

Captain Farquaad sensed the mirth at his expense, and unobtrusively slipped his sword from its scabbard. Before any man reached him to lend assistance, he stood, flourished the blade at the supposedly retreating dragon and boasted, "Ha, that demon made a grave mistake when it decided to make me its prey. It tasted my steel and I pray the wound I delivered upon it was a mortal one".

More than one soldier burst into laughter at this absurd remark, though Farquaad could not determine who the culprits were, for they had their backs to him. And now he regretted attracting so much attention with his proud pronouncement, for too many men now stared down at his lower extremities with mirth in their eyes and the barest traces of grins on their faces, for when he looked down himself, he was mortified to see that his red linen arming hose were stained a highly conspicuous darker color from his own urine. He did not doubt many others had similarly befouled themselves, and with far less reason than he, who had actually been in the monster's very clutches, but unlike them, whose stains of dishonor were masked by manly steel plate and mail, he alone appeared in mere undergarments, for the legs of his armor, that had given him the appearance of a man of great stature when nobly mounted, (to the point of even enticing the dragon), where still in the stirrups of his saddle, on his horse, which like so many others, might be miles away by now.

Though mightily thankful that he still lived, Captain Farquaad was furious. A full day, maybe two would be lost in reorganizing his men, catching the terrified horses and removing all traces of the dragon scent on their bodies before they could mount again. And the martial splendor of his command that he envisioned would so impress the leaders and inhabitants of Duloc as he made his grand parade through the city, would never be the same. Already his beautiful armor, and that of all of his men, had oxidized a rusty brown wherever the dragon's caustic yellow water had touched it.

He wished to exact some revenge on the beast, but was too much of a realist to believe he could. That's why he still lived, when so many of his contempories were dead, for he was a true survivor. Once he became Lord of this place he would immortalize his version of the days events, perhaps commisioning a magnificent stained glass window in Duloc's town cathedral of him battling the red monster, or maybe a huge monument of the ficticious battle carved in eternal granite, that would eventually serve as a sufficiently heroic tombstone to honor his greatness. "Or why not both?" he mused, for he could simply tax the populace to pay for these, and any other extravagance once the fools were under his thumb. "Years from now", he mused, people will believe whatever propaganda I created for them to believe. for it is human nature to want to believe in larger than life heroes. Perhaps this is how all the dragon slaying legends were born", he wondered, for he had never seen a dragon's mounted skin, severed head, or anything else to prove that men had ever really killed one. If it ever came to him meeting a dragon again, he would coerce other men to fight his battles.