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Dragon’s Tears.

As I am writing this short story the first snow of winter is falling. The ground is covered in white and I am looking at the falling snowflakes from the comfort of my old arm-chair before a fire of logs that give off a crackling sound as they slowly burn to a bright red ash. Occasionally I place another log onto the fire and look out of my window pleased that I do not have to go out into the snow. The flakes are now more intense and the snow has covered the garden all in white even the bushes have a white overcoat. The most important thing is the silence; it is as if all sounds that one normally hears are gone. I remember wondering what happened to the roar of traffic that one hears from the not too distant motorway.

The last thing I remember is the crackle of a burning log. Dropping off into a doze I found myself in a far distant land. Here there was no snow just thick lush grass waiting to be cut for the winters hay. Peeping through the grass were numerous flowers. I remember thinking that they would make a good bouquet for my dining table. Trees filled with ripening fruits were all around the hay field these seemed to be basking in the afternoon sun. I heard the voices coming as if from far away. At first I did not think that they were voices but part of the afternoon sounds that one hears in the countryside.

The sounds continued. It was the Fairies and a Dragon. The Fairies were carefully collecting the teardrops that were running down the Dragons face. Dragon’s tears are very important for the casting of certain spells. To get the tears the Fairies have to tell the Dragon some very sad stories. Sometimes even these sad stories do not always work. It is very difficult to get Dragons tears and the Fairies use a trick they get the Dragon to peel onions, many onions this always works and the Fairies too, cry for there is nothing like peeling onions to make the eye’s water.

One small bucket after another was slowly filled with Dragon’s tears and these the Fairies poured into special bottle as each bottle was filled it was sent by means of the Fairies magic wands to the place where the wise old Fairies looked after all of the herbs and magic things that were stored there ready for use when needed. As the Dragon saw me it cried even more. This delighted the Fairies that were collecting the teardrops and they asked me to tell the Dragon a sad story. I agreed and told the Dragon this, my following little story.

A long, long time ago when there were many Dragons in this world, a young Knight in shining armour killed a Dragon. No not a full-grown Dragon just a young baby, one might say. The Parents of this baby Dragon swore revenge on this young Knight that had killed their only child. They followed the Knight, day after day, always one day behind him. The knight became very famous as a slayer of Dragons. As I told the Dragon my story the tears rolled down from his eyes onto its cheeks and then into the Fairies buckets.

The name of the young Knight was Mortimore. Mortimore the Brave he was called by all of the people he killed one Dragon nearly every day. My Dragon cried and cried. The Fairies then told me that they had enough Dragons tear drops for the wise old Fairies and that I could now end my story. I told the Dragon that at last the parents of the baby Dragon caught up with Mortimore the Knight and attacked him from both front and back. Mortimore had no chance and the two angry Dragons killed him and left him there for all to see. The once proud Mortimore that had killed hundreds of Dragons was now dead killed by the parents of the baby Dragon that he had first killed.

On hearing this, my Dragon stopped crying and started to boast about how good Dragons were and how bad the knights were. I then told the Dragon that I had made the story up for him so that the Fairies could get more of his teardrops, which were more famous than the Dragons that had killed Mortimore. With the teardrops one could make medicines or make magic spells that were very useful for all on this earth whether they be animal or human or Fairies. It was better to shed a few tears to do some good than to kill someone for revenge no matter what they have done on this earth.

The Fairies sent the Dragon to China where it still lives in a very remote valley to this very day. It does not cry any more but sometimes sighs as he remembers how he gave the Fairies his tears for medicine and magic. This always cheers him up and he walks the valley with his head held up on high.

I woke about five o'clock in time to place more logs on to the fire then to boil the kettle for my evening tea. I happened to look into the mirror and what do you know my eyes were very red rimmed as if I had been crying. I put it down to the logs that I had been burning perhaps they gave off some smoke that got into my eyes or indeed was I perhaps that Dragon that had given off so many tears for the Fairies. I do not know dreams are funny things to try and take apart.