Sir Derek, Lady Matilda & the Dragon

'Look. I have to kill you. It's my job!'

The Dragon looked down and breathed a little acrid smoke over the exasperated knight: 'Right, you said. But I know you don't want to, not really.'

'I do, I do!' cried the knight.

'Well, then,' said the Dragon. 'Get on with it.'

Let's back up a minute and introduce our characters. Our knight and likely to be our hero is handsome and, of course, dressed in shining armour. The armour is a bit big having previously belonged to his older brother, who'd cast it aside for another career - one that didn't involve Dragon-slaying. Sir Derek has a sword strapped to his waist and a long spear which he's currently pointing shakily at the Dragon. 

Our knight's name is Sir Derek. He's young and handsome, as shiny as his armour, but of a nervous disposition, not to say a bit wimpish. Sir Derek is in love with Lady Matilda, the beautiful maiden whom we should now meet.

Look towards the Dragon's lair, that big cave in the side of the hill with all the bones and rusty armour on the ground in front: she's on the left, partly hidden behind the Dragon. Lady Matilda is tied to a post and dressed, of course, in thin, flowing, rather disheveled, white linen. Her flaxen tresses spill over her bare shoulders etc. and she definitely looks distressed. She's urging her reluctant champion on, jerking her head between her knight and the Dragon and bawling out.

'Get on with it! Kill him, Sir Derek. Just do it!'

To be honest, the noise was a little annoying to both Sir Derek and the Dragon. But, to be fair, she had been tied up for some time. She'd been out picking flowers at the Castle, pretty much minding her own business and expecting Sir Derek to come and chat to her father about the wedding, and next thing... Here she was, embarrassingly tied to a post. 

A strong-willed young assertive woman, Lady Matilda had agreed to marry the diffident Sir Derek because she wanted a compliant, malleable husband; not the usual run-of-the mill, egocentric and wearisome type of knight. At the moment, however, she was having second thoughts; somewhat frustrated at the lack of progress from her betrothed, handsome though Sir Derek was.

And then we have the Dragon himself, full name Dragon of Whitney, young himself and fairly new to the locals. He's a bit like a serpent but has four legs, the back pair being a lot bigger than the front he stood upright while engaging our knight. The Dragon wasn't very big - though big enough if you had to slay him - perhaps twice the height of Sir Derek's horse. This gorgeously bedecked animal on which Sir Derek had ridden up to the cave had sensibly backed off and was cropping grass, trying to ignore the altercation. 

The slimy green scales of our Dragon, his malicious golden eyes and some very sharp teeth made him look the real deal. And when you added the possibility of nostril fire-breathing, you had a very fiercesome beast indeed. Only, to be honest, the Dragon wasn't looking his best: bloodshot eyes and a tendency to rub his forehead, and he wasn't ejecting much burning snivel from his nostrils, just small puffs of blueish smoke now and then like a bored pipe-smoker.

 At the moment, all the characters in our tableau have paused, except for Lady Matilda at her post, her tresses flick around as she loudly tries to make her point.

'Wait a minute,' said Sir Derek, cunningly 'Before I kill you; I want to know something. How did you tie her up? I mean, look at you.'

The Dragon turned his snake-like head to examine his thick brawny 'hands' with their long, rough claws. Then he looked over his shoulder to appraise the thin ropes around Lady Matilda at her post.

'Hmph' he snorted, a ring of smoke curling from one nostril. 'Nobody's asked me that before.'

The Dragon looked around at Sir Derek, who was smirking, thinking he'd caught the Dragon in a nice little empirical trap. 

'But what does it matter,' continued our Dragon, scratching his ear with a claw. 'Hardly seems relevant.' He looked Sir Derek in the eye. 'I think you're changing the subject.'

'Yes! Yes, you are!' shouted Lady Matilda from her post. 'Get on with it!'

'Look,' said Sir Derek, turning now to Lady Matilda and drawing a deep breath to keep his querulous voice under control. 'I'm under a lot of pressure here, right?' 

You could see Sir Derek's shoulders slumping. 'Your father for a start,' he continued, 'With his, What are you going to do about it, eh?'(And here Sir Derek did a good imitation of his abrasive father-in-law-to-be.) 'And my own father, with his, Obligations, son. Obligations!' (This impression was more sarcastic.) 'And my brother, You've got the shiny armour now. Tough.' Sir Derek scoffed as he said this and took another deep breath. He knew he was carping on a bit.

'But what about me!' called Lady Matilda, put out by this confession from Sir Derek. 'I'm your betrothed. You have to rescue me. And slay the Dragon!'

The Dragon regarded her. She was obviously, and understandably, more invested in that last thought than was the young knight. He lifted a claw on his nose and scraped an itch.

'He's not so big,' continued Lady Matilda, reassuringly. 'And the burning snivel? I haven't seen much of that. Which is good, by the way, as you seem to have forgotten your shield. I've only seen smoke. So just hold your breath.'

'Alright, alright,' said Sir Derek. 'But I'm new to this rescuing lark. And I wasn't expecting it today.'

'Well nor was I!' shouted Lady Matilda.

'And, well, I didn't know that diaphanous linen could be so distracting.' 

At this, Lady Matilda looked down, startled. A definite lack of modesty.

'Oh!' She gasped and began to wriggle her hands free from the ropes and do something about her garment.

'I would have thought that would spur you on,' she added irritably. 'Prize and all that.'

 The Dragon had been waiting patiently during this exchange and was quietly picking something from between his teeth. He now turned a bloodshot glare onto Sir Derek.

'So. You going to do it? Have a go? Or must we hang about here all day?'

'I'm not finished,' said Sir Derek petulantly and he threw away his spear. 'I want to know what's in it for you.'

'What do you mean, what's in it for me? I'm hungry of course,' said the Dragon.

'OK,' said Sir Derek, 'I can relate to that. But what are your intentions regarding Lady Matilda?'

'What?' said the Dragon incredulously. 'Eat her of course. You don't think we dragons are vegetarians do you?'

 'And he will. He will!' shrilled Lady Matilda, squirming away 'Unless my champion does something about it. And that's you Sir Derek!'

'Alright. Alright!' Sir Derek shouted back, wondering if he detected a little mockery in her voice. 'I've got this.' He turned to the Dragon.

'What about a sheep as an alternative? Something like that?'

There was a long pause. 

'Got any?' said the Dragon. 'No. Didn't think so.' And at that he sniffed and had a good scratch at his rough throat. 'Nice horse though.'

The horse, who'd been listening, took a step back. So did Sir Derek, surprising himself by drawing his shiny sword. 'No way. Anyway, the horse isn't mine.'

The Dragon reared up. 'Just hold on,' he said, 'Put that away before someone gets hurt.'

The reality of what he'd just done dawned on Sir Derek and he sheathed the sword, quickly switching back to conciliatory mode. 'Why didn't you ravage the village for a sheep or cow this morning if you were that hungry? Like you're supposed to.' 

The Dragon sighed. 'Honestly, I'm not feeling so good. I was up all night doing Dragon stuff.'

'Don't listen to him!' shouted Lady Matilda, getting on quite well with her wriggling and hand-freeing. 'They do that voice-charming thing.'

Sir Derek pulled his eyes away from his betrothed and, picking up on her vibe, said, quite assertively he thought, 'And I'm supposed to feel sympathy?' 

'Well, I listened to you didn't I?' said the Dragon. 'And her.' He pointed at Lady Matilda, who had one hand free now and was adjusting her clothing. 'Look. You're not the only one with problems. I've got pressures too, right? Not many knights think about that. Parents? Job description? Prove myself? All that stuff. Sound familiar?'

'Aah,' said Sir Derek, nodding sagely.

'And this cave. I'm just looking after it for a friend. So I'm new to this area; I don't know the villages around here. I'm not feeling too good, as I said. I'm hungry. Give me a maiden any day. Easy option. I hate chasing sheep around.'

Sir Derek's jaw had dropped a little. Was this Dragon whinging?

'You do want sympathy.'

'Well, not so much sympathy. Just a little understanding,' said the Dragon earnestly.

A pause.

Sir Derek and the Dragon locked eyes and seemed to move closer. A sort of kinship hovered in the air, born of youth and the burdens of responsibility.

'I could have just eaten her straight away, you know, but we have to go through the motions don't we. Tying up an all that. Right?'

'I guess so,' said Sir Derek.

'What? He definitely would have eaten me. He would!' screamed Lady Matilda from behind the Dragon. She'd now managed to free her hands and arms from the ropes tying her to the post and was wiggling them down to her feet.

'Don't just stand there getting warm and cuddly. Get on with it!

Sir Derek and the Dragon ignored her and continued their conversation.

'It's true. And I would have by now I suppose, if you hadn't come along' the Dragon said

'I can imagine that,' said Sir Derek and gave a little chuckle. 'Quite a mouthful I expect.'

Can a Dragon smile? 

Perhaps not but it reached out a claw-ridden hand. Surely he wants to shake, thought Sir Derek with relief.

Conflict averted.

The Dragon turned just in time to see a furious Lady Matilda who, free of her bonds, was running at him with Sir Derek's discarded spear.

The pointy end caught the Dragon under the armpit and drove straight into his heart.

Before he fell backwards and expired, the Dragon gave a smokey sigh and ejected a clot of burning snivel ejected from his nose. 

And that was that.

For a long while all was silent, except for Lady Matilda's panting. Sir Derek's eyes were as wide as his mouth.

'Right,' said Lady Matilda. 'Get your horse.'

Sir Derek's chops opened and closed like a fish, but no words came out.

'And, Sir Derek,' Lady Matilda continued, looking at him assertively, 'We won't say a word about this to my father.'