Posted by Menagerie on June 12, 2004 at 08:52:40:
A MEDIEVAL TALE
“See here, now,” said Grundy, sounding a bit peeved, “you give me back my property.”
“Your property?” snorted Geoffrey. He was fine and sleek, golden scales shimmering in the ancient sun. His eyes, clear and bright as the smithy’s fire; in his claws, smooth and hard as iron, he clutched a teary, buxom maiden.
“Indeed,” harrumphed the old dragon, whipping his mottled green tail about behind him, the feathered spade at the end whistling as it cut through the air. “This is my corner of the world. Hand her over, and bugger off.”
Geoffrey smiled; aloft, his huge bat-wings barely beating, he showed two rows of teeth that were like finely-honed swords of ivory. “This corner of the world has passed you by, Ancient One,” he purred. “This is the Eleventh Century, after all, the world of modern wonders. It is for the young and strong, not for those weighed by the passing of so many centuries as yourself. Begone, for this be my turf now.”
“Not so,” grumped Grundy, as he made a sudden lunge toward the prize; Geoffrey easily dodged his elder’s clumsy maneuver, holding the somewhat distraught maiden out of reach as Grundy’s claws found empty air. “You will die from lack of nourishment,” the younger beast smirked, “if you continue to seek sustenance here. Find another kingdom, Ancient One, and dine on the fair maidens there.”
“You young whippersnappers,” puffed Grundy, temporarily out of breath from the exertion, “you have no respect for tradition. I have supped on the youngest and prettiest in this land since long before you were a hatchling—have I not?” he demanded of the terrified maiden.
“Oh, yes, sire,” she quavered, taught to show good grace and manner to her elders, even as they were about to devour her. “My people have long known the legend of the Devil Beast of the Skies, with limbs like mighty oaks and a hide green as the forest.”
“See—green! This chap holding you is gold, right?” snapped the beast, gesturing at Geoffrey.
The maiden peered down; Geoffrey held her in one claw, above his massive head, as he hovered a hundred feet over the floor of the forest. “Yes, sire, his scales do appear to have a golden hue—but very attractive, dear sir!” she hastened to add, lest the younger dragon be offended.
“Green—gold—pshaw!” thundered Geoffrey, spitting a fireball at Grundy, who lifted his hindquarters out of the way and glared back at him. “All I know is, I was soaring lazily over the meadows and what do I spy but this young lady, shackled to a great flat rock and weeping piteously. And I said to myself, ‘These townsfolk, they recognize my great hunger and they seek to appease me.’ Now, off with you, and let me dine in peace.” And with that, the maiden sobbed, audibly.
“Not so loud, my dear,” muttered Grundy to the lass in soothing tones, “it’s unseemly.” He glared at Geoffrey. “The townsfolk sought to appease me, you dunderhead! For on each equinox, I rise in the night skies above the village, my wings spread, and I boom out a mighty bellow. That’s in case they aren’t watching, mind you; calendars aren’t very accurate these days. And in fear of my wrath, they bind a fair maiden and leave her on that rock. That way, they don’t get bothered for six months, and I get a free meal.”
“Your wrath, eh?” sneered the golden monster. “And what would you do if they did not set out a maiden for lunch?”
Grundy was stumped; he scratched the top of his serpentine head with one of his jagged, age-weathered claws. “Well, I don’t rightly know,” he admitted. “They’ve set me out a maiden for the last—I’d have to think. 300 years? I’ve not had to display my wrath in a long time.”
“You’ve no wrath to fear, Ancient One,” Geoffrey jeered. “With their torches and catapults, the townsfolk would bring you down in two ticks of a sundial. They’d be making fine garments of your hide before dawn. You’ve been living a lie; you’re lucky I happened here before they called your bluff.”
“Nevertheless,” the old one argued, folded claws on hips as his wings beat rapidly to support his massive bulk, “this is my racket. I came up with the concept; I made my plan, set my goal, and went with it. And I’m not about to let some ignorant hatchling steal my idea, my territory and my supper.”
“Dear sirs,” piped up the maiden, “if I may make a suggestion—” She was abruptly silenced, as Geoffrey pinched her mouth closed with the tips of two claws; the young dragon said appeasingly, “See here, old fellow; I’m not looking for a row. Why not relocate to the village 50 miles hence? They are soft and weak from the sedentary life by the sea, and would certainly bestow upon you all the maidens you could cram into your doddering, feeble gullet…”
“You insolent pup!” roared the green one, and expectorated toward him such a cone of caustic sputum that the upstart barely managed to evade it, shielding his trembling prey from a flesh-damaging acid bath with his belly. The old coot’s still got a few tricks up his scales, Geoffrey had to admit.
“Dear, kind sirs,” whimpered the maiden with a pained smile, “it is clear that I am but a mere morsel for two so mighty and lordly beasts. Why not bid me return to the village, and I will cause the elders to fetch you two damsels of beauty and girth, that you may both be satisfied?”
The huge saurians looked at each other, then at the maiden, who returned the look with an earnest expression, eyebrows raised. “What is your name, my child?” inquired Grundy, his tail flicking back and forth as he pondered.
“I am known as May, milord,” she replied eagerly.
“Very well. Hatchling, let us first see what May has to offer.”
The gold dragon nodded, and peeled off the maiden’s coarse peasant dress, then her petticoat. She shivered in the autumn cold, her bare skin dimpling, as Geoffrey held her out for Grundy’s examination. “Dear sirs, it’s terribly chill,” she said, struggling slightly in the beast’s grip.
Grundy warmed her with a blast of hot air from his nostrils, then poked at her with his claws; she squirmed and whimpered. “Terribly sorry; need a manicure,” he conceded. “She has bosom full and snowy white, her teats pink and as large as the King’s own coin.”
“Her hips are wide, her buttocks plump,” Geoffrey observed. “We could split her lengthwise and each share in half of her loveliest attributes.”
“I,” sulked Grundy, “am a breast man.” He traced a claw along an imaginary dotted line across her bare belly. “Would you be willing to accept the hindquarters?
The golden one lifted one of the maiden’s legs with the tip of a claw, pressed his appendage into the meat of her ham, and thought about it. “Her limbs are strong. You’ve labored, my child, have you not?”
“Oh, yes, sire,” whispered May, smiling as she tried to hold back tears. “I work hard in the fields, and tend to our cows, to feed my seven sisters and myself.”
“Seven!” exclaimed the young dragon. “And are all as comely of visage as you?”
“Oh, why, I am the plain one, Sire,” she answered; one of her shoes tumbled from her toes and fell far to the forest beneath. “And with bosoms much fuller than my own.”
Geoffrey smacked his lips; his long jaws popped open and his forked tongue lolled out, circled his mouth. “Hear that, old man? A veritable smorgasbord!”
“Doesn’t work that way,” the old dragon muttered. “I let the villagers choose. Seems only fair.”
“See, that’s your problem, Ancient One,” his counterpart retorted. “You’ve grown complacent. You need only show your wings in the harvest moon, and, hey presto! Dinner is served. A raiding party, and you’d feast triumphant, with maiden breasts and bums to your heart’s content. You are as a caged animal in the circus, fed only by the circumstance of the timetable; my generation, we shall take what is due us.”
“How about those catapults and torches you were just threatening me with?” challenged Grundy. “And the King’s legions with their spears and shields? I have seen our kind lain in the dust, their ears taken by the victorious knights. My way, no muss, no fuss; two a year is not enough to prompt His Royal Highness to expend valuable defense resources…”
Now, Geoffrey was holding fair May away from him at arm’s length while the two beasts argued over her fate; they were snout to snout as they debated the pros and cons of harvesting a plethora of maidens at once at the risk of jeopardizing the entire arrangement, or contenting themselves with one at a time for a guaranteed but unsatisfying semi-annual return. And therefore, they failed to notice the gryphon that was lazily gliding by, observed their distraction and swooped low; he snatched May in his mighty beak and soared again heavenward. Startled, the two mighty beasts broke off their discussion and looked up as May’s final shriek faded into the clouds; they continued to stare in morose silence as they heard the sounds of the gryphon’s gobbles, and then saw bits of fair maiden drift earthward.
“Rude,” Geoffrey finally said. “Very rude.”
“And very careless on your part,” Grundy snapped. “And I’m hungry.”
The young monster paused in thought for a moment, then brightened. “I believe I have an idea…”
And so it was the following moonlit night that the townsfolk rushed to their windows in alarm. For the harvest moon framed not one, but two fantastic winged creatures, suspended in the heavens, wings perpendicular, and howling—the gruff, deep thunder of an ancient dragon, and the piercing cry of the hatchling. They remained aloft for some minutes, bellowing and flapping their wings, then departed.
“Think they bought it?” Grundy asked the next morning. “The equinox was last Tuesday.”
“You’re the one who told me they can’t read a calendar,” Geoffrey responded. “Look, there’s your answer!” For beneath them chained to the great flat rock were two maidens, wailing at their fate.
As they swooped down, Geoffrey raised one paw. “Gimme four,” he said.
Grundy hesitated, then gave him four.