DRAGON FOR DINNER

Eska'torm sat on a flat outcropping of rock halfway up the steep south side of Windyvale Mountain, delicately picking his teeth with the splintered leg bone of Mayor Jorhem's prize dairy cow. Far below him, nestled in a patchwork of rolling hills and farmland, lay the village of Taberton. He hummed contentedly as he worked loose a particularly stubborn piece of meat. This was a prosperous area and the pickings had been easy.

Well, maybe, too easy. The truth was, it was not yet mid-summer and he'd already eaten most of the livestock in the valley. Eska'torm sighed and flipped his bone toothpick out over the edge of his rocky perch. He was probably going to have to leave soon. Finding a new place to live was always troublesome, but a dragon had to eat.

He raised his hind foot to try to scratch that itchy spot behind his ear that he could never quite reach, when suddenly he saw movement below on the mountainside. Someone was climbing up, and had just disappeared for a moment behind a ridge. Eska'torm quickly lowered his foot and crouched down, his sharp eyes riveted on the rocks below. The tip of his tail quivered with anticipation.

Aha! Eska'torm grinned as the figure reappeared. An old crone was staggering up the mountain. This was perfect! He'd just had a good dinner and now dessert was walking right up to him. Really, there was nothing he loved better than old crone.

It was true that young maidens were soft and juicy, but old crones crunched delightfully, like nothing else he had ever eaten. And what was the point of having sharp teeth, if you used them only on soft things? Eska'torm chomped his teeth together several times for practice and rolled his tongue around his lips.

The old crone disappeared from view again under the outcropping of rock. She would reappear any second just below Eska'torm's perch. Eska'torm sat up and craned his neck to get a better view.

Suddenly, a girl, wearing a tunic and leggings, with a traveling pack on her back, clambered up over the rock and stood before Eska'torm. She was carrying a large sack made of heavy cloth over one shoulder. The dragon's jaw dropped and he wheezed out a huge breath in surprise and disappointment.

The girl dumped her backpack on the ground, then dropped the cloth sack beside it. She pushed back the damp strands of hair that had escaped from her braids and looked up. “Hello, dragon!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Eska'torm snapped his mouth shut, barely missing his long tongue. “I'm not deaf,” he hissed. He stuck his huge face right up to the girl, red eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you alone?” he whispered.

“No!” she shouted, right in the dragon's ear.

Eska'torm had to shake his head vigorously to stop the ringing in his eardrums.

“Stop flapping your ears!" yelled the girl. “My grandmother sent me to ask you a question, and she's waiting down there for an answer!”

Eska'torm abruptly stopped shaking his head. His eyebrows flew up. “Hmmm . . . .” he said. “Ooooooooh . . . .” He tilted his head absently, his eyes half-closed, and hummed a little laugh to himself, wondering how young maiden and old crone would taste if he could manage to catch them together in the same bite. It might be the best thing yet.

The girl whacked him hard on the nose with her fist. Eska'torm's head shot straight up in the air. He looked down at the girl from his full height with an expression of outrage. The girl stared right back with her hands on her hips.

“I was talking to you, dragon!” she shouted. “And you weren't listening!”

Eska'torm's eyes narrowed to mere slits as he slowly lowered his head back down to the girl's level. “When is your grandmother coming up, my dear?” he asked sweetly, but angry smoke puffed from his jaws as he spoke.

“She isn't coming all the way up here,” replied the girl, sticking out her chin defiantly. “I just told you. She's old. She sent me up instead.” Eska'torm tried to crane his neck around the girl to look for the grandmother, but the girl started waving her arms in his face. “She sent me to ask you a question, dragon!”

Eska'torm snorted and rolled his eyes. “All right,” he growled. “What is it?”

The girl took a deep breath. “My granma and her neighbor, Mrs. Pumpfry, have been having an argument. Mrs. Pumpfry says my granma puts too much pepper in her soup. She says the soup is so hot from the pepper that not even a fire-breathing dragon could eat it. So that's what she wants to know.”

Eska'torm lashed his tail. “What does she want to know?” he snarled.

The girl crossed her arms and sighed with exasperation. “Granma wants me to invite you to dinner so we can find out if you like pepper in your soup.”

“Pepper?” thundered Eska'torm. “Pepper! What in the name of the eight-headed dragon-god of Po-chin-jhee is pepper?”

The girl clapped her hands to her cheeks and whooped and screamed with laughter. She turned her back on Eska'torm and called down the mountainside. “Hey, Gran!” she hollered. “He's never even heard of pepper!”

Eska'torm was humiliated. Never, ever, had he been ridiculed by a potential dessert. Screams of terror, that was the proper response. He would just gobble up this girl right now, then drop down over the embankment and get the grandmother. Stealthily, he parted his jaws and went for the girl.

But the girl was ready for him. Quickly, she reached into a pouch on her belt, and spun around just as the dragon closed his eyes to bite. “Here!” she yelled. “Pepper!” She threw a handful of black dust right up Eska'torm's descending nose.

“AAAARGH!!!” screamed Eska'torm as the pepper hit his sinuses. His eyes popped as wide as cart wheels. “Ah . . . Ah! . . . .” inhaled Eska'torm. The girl dove for cover behind a large rock. “AH . . . AH! . . . AH! . . . CHOOO!!!” exploded Eska'torm.

A great cloud of thick black smoke enveloped the girl and the dragon. Instantly, under cover of the smoke, the girl sprang into action, jumping out from behind the rock and running toward the dragon. She stopped, chanted an incantation and at the same time, pulled a small round object out of her belt pouch and set it on the ground.

Then she grabbed the cloth bag and searched the area around her. After a few seconds, she found what she was looking for, and scooped it up into the bag. She tied the bag tightly and ran to hide it a short distance away behind some rocks. Hurriedly, she returned, and as the smoke began to lift, she closed her eyes, and started chanting another spell.

By the time the smoke had cleared, the girl stood next to a blackened, burnt-to-a-crisp, dragon-shaped lump. With a satisfied smile, she dusted off her hands, and closed her eyes again. She stood still in concentration for a moment, then the shape of her body blurred and shifted and she became the old crone.

She hobbled to the edge of the cliff, paused briefly to straighten up the robe she now wore and brush back her flyaway hair, then put two fingers in her mouth and whistled down the mountainside. Very soon, a large group of men pulling carts and wagons were laboring up the mountain from the village. Mayor Jorhem, red-faced and puffing, was the first to reach her.

He surveyed the charred remains with disgust. “Well, you got 'im, no doubt o' that. What in the world made 'im burn up?”

“Sneeze,” said the crone. “Gets them every time.” She leaned toward the Mayor and winked. “It's the fire inside them that does the trick – roasts them from the inside out.”

The mayor shook his head, then smiled a gap-tooth grin at the old woman. “Well, howe'er you done it, we can't thank you enough, Dame Loris – though I guess this'll come close.” He fished a bulging bag of coins out of his baggy coat pocket. “I don't mind telling you though, it's goin' t' be rough on us, what with the livestock nearly eaten up, and havin' t' pay your fee and all. Folks 'round here don't know how they're goin' t' scrape up enough food to last 'til the fall harvests.”

Dame Loris tilted her head and looked at the Mayor with a critical eye. “Do you mean to tell me, young man, that you've never eaten dragon?”

“Eaten . . . dragon?”

“Of course! Best meat to be had on any animal. Here, take a look at this.” Loris pulled a dagger out of her boot, and sliced through the crusty blackened skin of the charred carcass to reveal the steaming white inside.

She carved away a hand-sized chunk of it, took a bite and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Mmmmmm . . . .” she purred. “Just the way I like it, roasted to perfection.” She held out a choice bit to the Mayor. “Come on, try it. It's really very good, and it solves your food shortage problem. There's enough food here for the whole village.”

Mayor Jorhem reluctantly accepted the tidbit, but as he chewed, his face brightened. “Why, this is good. The flavor ain't strange at all. Fact is, it's . . . I don't know . . . familiar some'ow. Can't quite put my finger on it . . . .”

“Delicious with butter and salt,” interrupted Loris.

“Why, yes'm . . . butter an' salt . . . we'll try that.” He took Loris's hand and pumped it up and down. “Now I know why you tol' us to drive the wagons up and to bring all those carving knives. Like I said, can't thank you enough . . . worth ever' penny o' your fee.” At last he handed over the moneybag.

Loris jingled the heavy bag appraisingly, then carefully stuffed it deep into her backpack. She left the Mayor happily directing wagon traffic up the mountainside. Once she was out of sight, she paused for a moment to resume her true, youthful shape, then she sneaked back to retrieve the large cloth sack she had hidden.

Unseen, she shouldered the bulging sack, and aiming one last mischievous grin back toward the very busy mayor, she set off down the far side of the mountain. She walked quickly, but she had barely made it into the forest at the foot of the mountain before the wiggling and squirming of something inside the sack got so unmanageable, she had to stop and set it down.

“BLEK!” sputtered Eska'torm, popping up in the mouth of the sack as Loris opened it. “There's dirty stockings in here!” He picked a piece of lint off his tongue and grimaced at it.

Loris stepped back as the now cat-sized dragon scrambled out of the sack and shook himself. He looked up at Loris and for the first time realized his altered size. “AAROOOOO!” he howled. “What have you done to me?!”

“Oh, only saved your life, dragon,” said Loris. She set her backpack down and stretched. “Those villagers didn't pay me to trick them and sneak you out of there, you know.”

“But, look at me! I'm small!”

Loris shrugged. “I had to shrink you – couldn't have smuggled you out any other way. Besides, I think you'll get used to it.”

Eska'torm glared at her and bared his teeth. “I don't want to get used to it,” he snarled. He took a menacing step toward her. “You put me back the way I was, or I'll . . . .”

Loris laughed. “You'll what? Bite my toes? Singe my kneecaps?” She reached down and pulled the dagger out of her boot. The sharp blade flashed very close to Eska'torm's tender nose. “You'd better just leave and be grateful I didn't use this back there – you did try to eat me.”

The dragon paled visibly under his scales. “Okay, okay, I'm grateful. I'll go away and never bother you again, just change me back.” He paused. “Please!”

“Nope.”

Eska'torm howled puffs of smoke and stomped his little feet. “Can't or won't?” he demanded.

“Won't,” said Loris. She twirled the knife expertly around her finger, then replaced it in her boot. “If I changed you back, I'm sure I'd soon find myself hired to get rid of you all over again, after you'd eaten up some other village's entire population of livestock – not to mention a few young maidens and grandmothers.” She smiled down at Eska'torm. “At least now you're too little to use people as appetizers and after-dinner treats.”

She paused and thought for a moment while the dragon stomped and fumed around her feet. “Actually,” she said, “you're better off like this. No, really. It'll be much easier to hide and hunt things . . . .”

“Hunt what things?” wailed Eska'torm. “I'm too little to carry anything off. Cows will laugh at me, and horses, ooooooh . . . .” He shuddered and rolled his eyes. “Horses will stomp me flat!”

Loris laughed so hard she had to sit down. Eska'torm marched up and blew smoke in her face. “I don't think it's so funny,” he said. “What am I supposed to eat?”

Loris waved away the smoke as she struggled to catch her breath. Finally, between giggles, she managed to speak. “Haven't you ever eaten rabbits or squirrels – or chickens, even?”

“Certainly not,” sniffed Eska'torm, sticking his nose up in the air with disdain. “That's fox-food. Dragons only eat big stuff.”

Loris stood up and brushed herself off, grinning and shaking her head. “Well, I'd say you're small enough now to end up being fox-food yourself, if you're not careful.”

Eska'torm's haughty expression vanished. Slowly and quietly, he turned himself round in a circle. He looked out around him at the falling twilight, at the deep shadows that were gathering under the towering trees, his red eyes growing large and dark with alarm. He suddenly looked very small, very vulnerable and very afraid.

All at once, Loris felt sorry for him. “Hey,” she said gently, as she began to gather and stack wood for a cook fire. “There's no need for you to go off on an empty stomach.” She reached for her backpack and rummaged around in it. “I've got some potatoes in here that we can roast in the fire.” She pulled out several small round reddish-brown potatoes and her tinderbox. “And if you'll go catch some rabbits, I'll roast them for us, too.”

Eska'torm looked up at her, eyebrows raised, his expression slowly changing from pitiful to hopeful. “Well . . . I guess I could do that,” he said finally. He looked around carefully and sniffed the air. “Do you think there's any foxes out there?” he whispered.

“Mmmm . . . probably not,” said Loris, absently, as she struggled with her tinderbox. “But, I saw lots of rabbit tracks back up the trail there, and . . . oh, darn this thing, it won't light.” With a sigh of resignation, Loris tossed the tinderbox in the direction of her pack and picked up two sticks. “Guess I'll have to do this the hard way – again.”

“Wait!” said Eska'torm, coming to stand next to her, his face lit up with usefulness. “Allow me.” Taking a deep breath, he breathed a perfect stream of flame into the woodpile. The wood caught instantly and flared up into a crackling blaze.

“Why, that was wonderful,” exclaimed Loris, clapping her hands. She smiled at Eska'torm with real admiration, and Eska'torm did something completely unexpected. He smiled back.

Later that evening, Eska'torm glanced up from noisily munching his roast rabbit to cast an appreciative look at Loris licking her fingers as she finished her meal. The rabbit was delicious, and oh, so much fun to catch. He couldn't wait to try squirrel and chicken. The roasted potatoes had been pretty good too. Then he turned his head and looked out into the hugeness of the dark forest and shivered at the thought of being alone out there. It was so warm and comfortable here by the fire.

He turned back to his rabbit. Loris had given him a part with bones in it and it was delightfully crunchy. In fact, it reminded him of his favorite snack of old crone. “Hey,” he said suddenly, frowning up at Loris. “Where's your grandmother?”

Loris was busy unrolling her sleeping blankets. When she was finished, she sat down cross-legged on her pallet and sadly shook her head. “Don't have one,” she said. “Don't have any family.” She paused for a moment, then explained. “When I get hired for a job, I know the people want to see someone older, someone with experience, so . . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment, took the form of the old woman, winked at the dragon, then changed back. “No one would hire a kid like me.”

“Hmmm,” said Eska'torm. “I see what you mean. It's too bad about the grandmother, though.”

“Too bad I don't have one, or too bad you can't eat her?” asked Loris, one eyebrow raised. Eska'torm had the good sense to look embarrassed.

Suddenly Loris started chuckling. “I just thought of something funny,” she giggled. “Right now those villagers back there think they're having the dragon for dinner, while actually, I'm having dinner with the dragon.”

Eska'torm gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean? They think they're eating dragon? Me?”

Loris laughed at his silly expression. “Yes, they think they're eating you. But what they're really eating is . . . .” She paused and grinned impishly at Eska'torm.

“What?” asked Eska'torm, grinning back.

“Oh, just a giant . . . .”

“Tell me! A giant what?” laughed the dragon, stomping his feet and swishing his tail.

“A giant . . . roasted potato.”

Eska'torm's mouth dropped open for a moment, then he closed it with a snap. “You mean like the one I just ate? Like this?” he said, rolling a now charred and fire-blackened potato from his dinner toward Loris with his nose.

“Yep,” said Loris. “Just like that. My magic talent is to change the size and shape of things, so after I made you small, I made the potato big. Then I changed the shape of it a little and told them it was you. And I told them if they ate it, they'd have enough food to last the winter. That part, at least, was true. You did leave them a bit short of resources.”

Eska'torm hung his head. “I never thought . . . .” he said sorrowfully. Then, he looked up at Loris with amazement. “But, what you did, that was great! You tricked everybody!” He came over to Loris, his belly fat from roast rabbit, and rested his chin on her arm. “I should thank you for not using that knife back there . . . for sparing my life.”

Loris looked down at him, slightly startled at his unusual sincerity, and surprised to feel that his body felt soft and warm against the bare skin of her arm. “You're quite welcome,” she said earnestly. “Dragons are ancient and rare. I would never kill one.” Then she smiled. “You great lazy thing,” she teased. “You should be off by now.”

Eska'torm looked up at her, his ruby eyes tender and pleading. “Let me stay with you,” he begged. “I won't be any trouble. I'll start your fires and catch your dinners. I'll . . . I'll even ride in the laundry sack . . . without wiggling!”

“Oh, no, you won't!” said Loris, stifling a laugh. “You're much too fat for rides. But . . . your behavior has improved a lot,” she added thoughtfully. She reached out tentatively and scratched him behind one ear. He sighed and closed his eyes in utter bliss, his hind foot quivering as she got that itchy spot he had never been able to reach. “Sure, you can stay,” she said. “It would be nice to have company for a change.”

Eska'torm cracked one eye open. “There's just one thing, though,” he said sleepily. “Those potatoes . . . they need something.”

Loris shook her head. “So you're a critic already?”

“No,” said Eska'torm, with a huge yawn. He stretched and snuggled closer to Loris. “I just thought they needed . . . oh, I don't know . . . maybe a little pepper.” A saucy grin stole over his face, and then he was sound asleep, and not even Loris's delighted laughter woke him up.

The End

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