The Vegetarian Dragon - A tale of Spiggle
Elyn W. Marsh(A Student Contributor)
In the land of Spiggle, a dangerous dragoness ravages the country! Can a vegetarian dragon and a princess save the Spigglians from the evil dragoness Shur?
Fiction
Fantasy
Once upon a time, in the days before blind dates, eHarmony, and compatibility tests, there was true love.
However, true love was usually pretty inconvenient, often between royalty and commoners, or some other such "impossible" situation. Nothing is ever "impossible" for true love, of course, and most of the time it resulted in "happily ever after." But there were always a few who… Well, let’s just use the example of Romeo and Juliet.
Now, the story you are about to hear is about one such "impossible love." We’ll let you decide for yourself if it deserves a "happily ever after" or not.
The tale begins in the tiny country of Spiggle, where a terrible dragoness named Shur had been terrorizing the populace for three years. Shur was an immense purple-and-green dragoness with huge red eyes and a ferocious temper, but she was also a lazy creature who preferred easy meals like local sheep and lost maidens over things she actually had to hunt herself. But she wasn’t above a little fighting every now and then, and by the time of our story, she had already defeated six and a half knights. (The "half" was actually a very brave dog belonging to the fourth knight.) We won’t go into their fates, but let it simply be said that the land of Spiggle was terrorized, and even the king didn’t know what to do.
One day, King Mulberry called together his counselors and demanded a solution. All of them—king included—feared for their herds and daughters, and were desperate for help.
In fact, they were so worried that they couldn’t think straight. They tried everything they could imagine to rid the country of Shur. Sixteen plots, in all, were attempted, two of which concerned glue, one involved a pile of carrots, and a full six ideas required frogs. Unsurprisingly, Shur only laughed at their attempts, and the counselors finally had to admit defeat.
As they sat around the council table, silent and unhappy, a small voice came from the big doors at one end of the hall. "I might have an idea," it said.
All of the king’s men craned their necks to see who had dared to interrupt a council meeting.
There stood the king’s daughter, the princess Vyoletta, her long, black hair falling loose around her shoulders. With a smile she repeated, "I have an idea."
King Mulberry motioned his daughter nearer, and she came to stand beside his high throne, with his arm around her shoulders. Looking over the gathered counselors, Vyoletta smoothed her gray dress and explained.
"My governess was telling me some of the old stories." A murmur of disappointment greeted her words. The old stories were fairy tales, nothing more; what help could come of them? Vyoletta shook her head. "I know that most of them are just myths, but there are a few that tell of the Dragon King and his court. And I found a record in the library that mentioned a feast the Dragon King held, to which he invited our first king, Ashing the Fourth."
"You know, I do believe I remember reading that one," mused Elder Counselor Tion. "But what of it, Princess?"
Princess Vyoletta sent him a thankful glance. "If the Dragon King rules the dragons like the old tales say he does, then we should send an emissary to report Shur to him. There’s a map in that record I was talking about."
It was so simple, so direct, that a few of the more vain counselors harrumphed, saying, "I was about to suggest that myself."
King Mulberry only smiled proudly. "That’s m’girl," he murmured, patting Vyoletta’s shoulder. "That’s m’girl."
So a messenger was swiftly sent to the Court of the Dragon Kings and, when he returned, he brought word that the king would send a champion to defend Spiggle. It was about time too: in the three weeks the messenger had been gone, Shur had defeated three more knights, eaten sixteen sheep, and made off with yet another maiden. The counselors nodded in relief to each other and, completely forgetting Vyoletta, said things like "What would King Mulberry do without us?"
Vyoletta laughed at them from behind her bedroom doors, and watched the roads with mixed emotions, waiting for the champion. She was happy, of course, that someone was coming to save Spiggle, but her heart was not as light as perhaps it should have been. You see, it was tradition in those times that someone who defeated a dragon got to marry the princess of whatever land the dragon held captive. Princess Vyoletta was nineteen, and she knew that she would have to marry soon, but her heart was already lost to someone, and she feared marrying a man she didn’t know.
Now, even in a tiny kingdom like Spiggle, there are secrets. Some are nice, like birthday presents and surprise parties, and some are not, like stolen things and lies. But our tale only concerns three of these secrets.
The first, of course, was Vyoletta’s secret love, who was also her secret best friend. In those days, princesses were only supposed to associate with others of their rank. But as Vyoletta was an only child, and there were no kingdoms nearby that had princes or princesses her age, it was hard for her to have many "proper" friends.
However, she did have one "improper" friend. This friend was someone that Vyoletta could talk to about anything; he always listened and usually had wise words of advice for her. However, he never let himself be seen, and only visited in the dead of night. He called himself Gary, and would stand outside Vyoletta’s window, hidden behind an azalea bush to speak with her. Whenever Vyoletta asked him why he hid himself, he would say something teasing like, "Oh, princess, I am too ugly to be seen by you. I have humps on my back, and a nose three feet long, and my skin is blue!" And Vyoletta would laugh, and the conversation would move on.
But Gary was usually helpful and smart—it was he, actually, who had suggested that Vyoletta’s father seek the Dragon King’s help. How did he think of it, you ask? Well, that is the second secret of Spiggle, and it was one known only to the dragons.
It was this—there were actually two dragons in Spiggle. Besides Shur, there was also her cousin, a young blue dragon named Erith. Erith was a little bit strange among dragons. For one thing, he loved to read, which most dragons can’t manage because when they get excited, they tend to breathe fire. This usually results in a smoking end for the book, and it irritates dragons so much that they often scorch the nearest person in their anger. But Erith was a mild-mannered dragon, and he had no such problems. The other reason that Erith was considered odd was that he was a vegetarian.
A vegetarian dragon? You sound shocked, my friend. Well, it’s no stranger than a dragon who has a taste for smelly, stringy knights in tin armor, with sharp edges everywhere. Now that is strange.
But Erith was a vegetarian, and he grew his own gardens up on the side of a mountain near his cave. Between his plants and his books, he led a quiet life, which is why no one except the other dragons even knew he was there.
This brings us to the third of Spiggle’s secrets: Erith and Gary were one and the same.
Ah-ha! You are shocked, yes? Or did you suspect? "Gary" himself said that he had humps on his back, which were actually wings; a three-foot-long nose; and blue skin! But the third secret has not yet been fully revealed.
When Princess Vyoletta was three years old, she once became lost while on a picnic. This was in the pre-Shur days, but there was a great panic, nonetheless, when she could not be found. Erith discovered the wayward child in his carrot garden, digging up the tubers and giggling in the dirt.
He instantly lost his heart—every scaly, draconic ounce of it—to the tiny, raven-haired lass. Every time he visited her, his love grew. And now that Vyoletta was a young lady of nineteen, well...
But do you see a problem here? Vyoletta loved Gary, not knowing that he was a dragon, and because she never saw him, and because he acted so mysteriously, she had never told him her feelings. Erith loved Vyoletta, not knowing that she loved "Gary," and he felt he couldn’t tell her that he loved her, because he thought a human girl, even a princess, could never love a dragon. Love makes people act silly sometimes, does it not? So many problems would be solved if they would just speak their minds.
Let’s switch our focus for a little while and check in on the Dragon Court.
After the messenger from Spiggle had departed, the Court was in something of a tizzy. King Paxiam shook his silver wings for order.
"Come, come!" he bellowed impatiently. "Surely there is someone in my court who will hear this human’s call."
Silence fell heavily on the assembled courtiers.
Paxiam peered around nearsightedly at the dragons of his court. Admittedly, most of them were long past their prime, since younger dragons tended to keep to themselves. But certainly, the king thought, certainly someone… His golden scales glinted in the multi-colored light of many stained-glass windows.
After several long moments, an elderly, purple dragoness stretched out her wrinkled neck. "Your majesty," she began, a little timidly, "do not think that your people are cowardly, but Shur is a formidable warrioress, and none of us present are powerful enough to withstand her." A rustle of agreement quivered in the air. "However," the old dowager continued, "there is already one in that area who is both young and strong; if a little odd." Here there were a few chuckles. "Why not send Erith against Shur?"
The king looked thoughtful. The court held its breath. Then a slow smile spread across his golden face. "Indeed," he said. "Erith would be an ideal opponent for Shur. The boy is too soft. Needs toughening up." The other dragons relaxed smugly.
And with that, Paxiam sent a royal order to Erith, and the vegetarian dragon became the Official Protector and Champion of Spiggle.
Well, poor Erith was shocked to get the news. He had no idea of what to do with his cousin; he had no experience fighting. And even if he did, Shur was at least twice as big as he!
So Erith did…nothing.
He lay miserably around his cave for days, moping and forgetting to water his garden until it wilted in the summer heat. He racked his poor brain and squeezed every last drop of draconic wisdom from it, with no results. How could he defeat Shur?
And now, let us return to the palace of King Mulberry and his daughter Vyoletta.
Despite the Counselor’s claims, everyone knew who had really given the king his wise counsel—he himself told everyone he spoke to about it, as a proud father tends to do. Vyoletta was praised for days on her wisdom in calling the Dragon King until she grew thoroughly sick of taking credit for Gary’s idea. At last, she used her princessly power, and commanded people to stop talking about it.
She wanted to share their success with Gary. However, on Friday night, the time of their usual meeting, he never appeared. Or rather, he didn’t not appear, since he always hid himself when he did appear. The next week, it was the same.
When three weeks had passed with no sign of Gary, Vyoletta became seriously concerned. And to make things worse, no champion from the Dragon King had come yet either. Eventually, Vyoletta decided to do something about the situation.
She waited until the next Friday night, and until the rest of the palace had gone to sleep. For years, Vyoletta had given orders that she was not to be disturbed on Friday nights, to protect Gary, so it was a simple matter for her to slip out of the castle and over the walls of her garden. Once outside, she set out to find King Paxiam on her own, and remind him of their plight.
As luck would have it, this turned out to be one of Shur’s hunting nights. The dragoness had been sick with a cold for two weeks (and trust me, you do not want to see a dragon with a cold). She had gone without hunting for that whole time, and now was extremely hungry.
She could hardly believe her red eyes when Vyoletta, striding calmly down the middle of the road, came into view. "How ridiculously easy!" the dragoness snickered to herself, deep in her evil brain. But, never one to look a gift horse—er, maiden—in the mouth, Shur swooped from the sky and made off with Vyoletta, the brave girl unable to even scream in her terror.
Now, if it hadn’t been for Erith, all would have been lost for the Princess. But he finally remembered, after nearly four weeks, that he was supposed to be meeting the princess. And he realized guiltily, he had missed the last three weeks. So he set aside his worries about Shur for a little while, and flew to the castle, where he was just in time to spot Shur’s easy capture of Princess Vyoletta.
I think you may have grasped by now that Erith was a very mild-mannered dragon—being a vegetarian and all—but at this sight, his blood boiled, which is something for a creature like a dragon, whose blood has to be kept close to freezing to compensate for his internal fires. His rage was unbounded and, as he shot through the night sky in furious pursuit of his deadly cousin, it gave him access to levels of strength and cunning he hadn’t known he possessed.
With a great roar, Erith shot like an arrow aimed at the departing Shur, and attacked his cousin with every ounce of his newfound power. What followed was an air battle that woke the entire country below and lasted for generations in the tales of the grandparents, though actually only a few hours long.
Erith managed to loose Vyoletta in the first few minutes, and to gently set her on the ground. A retainer of a dozen guards was sent by the king (who by this time was awake and alert) to protect her, but she refused their entreaties to return to the palace, and watched the entire battle with anxious eyes. Before setting her down, Erith had whispered "Do not fear" and, with a shock, Vyoletta recognized "Gary’s" voice. So now she gazed with worried eyes at the conflict overhead, silently begging Erith to win.
It was a fantastic fight. Flashes of purpley green and blue flames lit the dark sky like summer fireworks. The roars of the two dragons shook the very stars. Back and forth, up and down, diving and swooping and clawing, biting, gouging—they fought across the heavens. Neither would concede defeat; neither would back down.
Shur fought for the pleasure of fighting, for the right of the huntress, and with the anger of one wronged. Erith, on the other hand, was fighting with only one thought in his draconic mind. He fought—flaming, slicing, attacking, retreating, thrusting, and parrying—for Vyoletta, for her protection and love.
Shur lunged forward, to the shrieks of those below, and snapped at Erith’s throat. The younger dragon dodged her and raked blue claws across her snarling face. He flamed blue explosions at her green wings, and she retaliated by whipping him with her tail. It was an awful and awe-filled sight, a battle to end all battles, and Vyoletta watched from below with bated breath and bitten lip.
Then, with the last of his strength, and an earth-shaking snarl of triumph, Erith saw his chance. Darting under Shur’s foreleg, he sought out her "Achilles’ heel"—that soft place at the base of the neck that makes all dragons vulnerable, if you know what you’re doing.
His seeking fangs found their mark, and Shur shrieked a defiant and despairing wail as she plummeted to earth—dead.
She did not go unavenged, however. With her dying breath, Shur breathed such a fire on Erith that he fell with her, and lay on the grassy hillside beside his cousin, gasping and unable to move. One wing was crushed underneath him, and his tail was broken in more than one place. (And if you know anything about Spigglian dragons, you know that their tails are both their pride and their most sensitive appendages. So a broken tail meant excruciating pain for Erith.) His great bulk lay on its side, and his head stretched out away from him on the grass, dulling eyes seeking out one sight—Vyoletta.
She rushed to him, crying out "Gary, are you all right?" She could see, of course, that he wasn’t, but what else could she say?
"My name is Erith," the sprawling dragon rasped out. "I’m sorry…I lied to you."
Vyoletta knelt beside his great scaly head and took it in her lap. Stroking his face, she said softly, "I remember you. You found me, that time when I got lost, didn’t you? And you’ve been my friend ever since. Oh, Gar—" she corrected herself, "Erith."
A tall man in a floppy, jade-colored hat pushed his way through the gathering crowd. "’Scuse me, pardon—Oh! Sorry, miss…" he muttered as he came.
When at last he stood close to Erith, he looked very grave. "I am Dr. Phozzal," he announced. "PhDoDaoFC."
At Vyoletta’s questioning look, he harrumphed and clarified, "It stands for Physical Doctor of Dragons and other Fantastic Creatures."
Vyoletta nodded and kissed Erith’s nose horn. "Can you help him?"
Dr. Phozzal put on a pair of spectacles and walked twice around Erith’s whole body. Then, with a serious expression on his old face, he said to the dragon, "Good sir, there is not enough of you worth healing back into a dragon."
Vyoletta gave a small cry.
"However," the doctor continued, "I think we might be able to work something out." He gestured to Princess Vyoletta and the crowd, "If I might have some time with the patient, please?"
Vyoletta gave Erith one last stroke and nodded. She rose and ordered everyone to the palace for some early breakfast, as the dawning sun was just peeping over the eastern horizon. They left Dr. Phozzal to his work, and soon the palace ballroom was filled with both commoners and nobles eating breakfast. There were even two dragons in the mix, who had brought the good doctor on the Dragon King’s orders when he had seen the battle. He knew, of course, that at least one of the dragons would need medical treatment, and Dr. Phozzal was the best Fantastic Doctor there was. Nobody knew all of what he could do, but it was well-documented that he had performed some amazing feats of medical achievement.
Back on the hillside, the good doctor was very busy at his work. First, he knelt by Erith’s head and asked a series of questions, which the injured dragon answered painfully. Phozzal looked surprised, but merely shrugged his shoulder and stood.
For the next few hours, the hillside was a flurry of activity as Dr. Phozzal stitched and salved, nipped and tucked, sewed and bandaged. And it would not be surprising if a watcher noticed a few sparks of faery magic—for the doctor is faery, you realize.
But let us leave him to his job and see about Vyoletta, shall we?
Princess Vyoletta was in the banquet hall, trying vainly to see over the garden trees to the hillside beyond. She stood in the great ballroom of the palace, along with sixty-three villagers, twenty-one nobles and their servants, and two dragons—Berne and Toarsher. Despite the repeated assurances of everyone in the room, she was anxious and fidgety, so much so that her father at last said that if she couldn’t sit still and eat her breakfast, she would be sent to her room to wait.
Vyoletta couldn’t bear to be confined to her room, so she meekly took her seat and tried to choke down some of the delicious scrambled hummingbird eggs and toasted strawberry-seed bread. Needless to say, it all turned to ashes in her mouth, which was even worse because ash made her think of Erith’s terribly burned form.
When the rest of the guests noticed her tense, restless expression, and how still and quiet she sat, they gradually settled down too, until barely a sound could be heard in the hall. Vyoletta hardly saw this, so intense were her thoughts, and people glanced worriedly at one another, significantly eyeing her pale, white countenance and gnawed fingernails.
All was still.
Suddenly, the immense doors at one end of the hall burst open, and in strode Dr. Phozzal, wearing a very satisfied face.
"The patient is recovering," he declared.
Cheering broke out, and the doctor turned back to the door, calling, "Come in, Erith."
Everyone looked eagerly to the entrance, waiting for Erith’s scaly head to peer around the doorframe.
Instead, a tall, brown-haired young man appeared. He wore what was obviously a borrowed suit of clothes but, even with its awkward fit, everyone could see that he was well-built and handsome.
Dr. Phozzal stood aside, and the young man walked—somewhat unsteadily—up the aisle to Princess Vyoletta.
He bowed low. "M’lady," he murmured and looked up at her. "Dr. Phozzal is amazing."
Vyoletta gasped quietly. His eyes were the exact same hue as Erith’s scales, and his voice… Vyoletta was sure that she had never seen this man before in her life, but his voice sounded familiar.
The young man seemed to read her mind. "I suppose I sound different because my voice is coming from a much smaller chest now," he mused.
Vyoletta’s lips started to smile, but she caught herself with an apprehensive query.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He smiled, and rose from where he had been kneeling. "I am Garith."
Vyoletta laughed suddenly, and danced into her father’s arms. "Father?" she said in a quiet, excited voice.
He smiled down at her joyful face "Yes, dear?"
"You said I might marry the hero who slew Shur, didn’t you?"
King Mulberry beamed at "Garith," who looked equally happy. "I did indeed."
"And I consent!" crowed Vyoletta. Garith caught her up in his arms and spun her around the room.
"Are you sure?" he asked in a low voice, joy struggling with doubt in his eyes.
"Of course, silly!" she exclaimed. "I’ve loved Gary for absolute ages!" She laughed again, and then asked him, "Will you miss your wings?"
Garith whispered right into her ear, "Not now."
The gathered crowd was a little bit puzzled, but after a few things had been explained to them, they huzzah-ed for all they were worth.
And so Garith—whom I’m sure you recognize—and Vyoletta were married and the feasting (all vegetarian in honor of the bridegroom) lasted for six weeks. The happy couple eventually took over ruling Spiggle when Mulberry retired, and they had seven children, all blue-eyed and black-haired.
The kingdom of Spiggle was peaceful for all of their reign, and for many reigns after them, and never again was there any trouble with evil dragons.
And as for Shur? Well, perhaps her ending wasn’t the best, but it was, I think, better than we might have hoped.
The Spigglians took the body of the evil dragoness to a taxidermist, who stuffed her, and then to a goldsmith, who gilded her. And even to this day, if you visit the land of Spiggle, you will see a life-size, golden dragon standing in the capital city’s square. And children from all parts of the city made her their playground, so that after decades of playful children clambering over her back and tail, her gilded face gradually became less fierce and evil, and became more mischievous and gentle.
So, my friend, does this tale deserve an "...and they lived happily ever after"?
I’ll let you decide.
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Copyright 2008, Elyn W. Marsh. All rights reserved. Elyn W. Marsh is a teen, Home-schooled writer who lives in the Midwest. She loves authors like J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, L.B. Graham, Donita K. Paul and Brian Davis. She writes mostly fantasy, including a very rough first-draft of a novel, and many poems and short stories. She has many hobbies, including flute-playing, reading, drawing, and making stuffed dragons while listening to Disney movie soundtracks and Superchic[k]. No one can say she isn't eclectic.
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