Aldra and the Dragon

“See up to the stars, children. Look. There, do you see it? The curve there makes the arch of his back. Dorgur, the Great Dragon. They say he ruled Corico, many years ago. In stories we told before we could write them down. His domain was vast, and he ruled with a terrible, terrible grip. Balra would quake as he passed, for he would demand a tithe. A tithe of water, which he hoarded greedily, drinking in great, gulping slurps.”

The Storyteller mimics this, to giggles from his audience.

“Now, one day, along came a huntress. Aldra, she was called. The greatest huntress in the North. When the time came for Dorgur to take his tithe, she stood strong. She refused to pass over her waterskins. Now, this made Dorgur furious. He stamped, and he roared, he chewed, and he clawed, but Aldra stood firm. He let out a terrible burst of flame. But still Aldra remained defiant.”

“So Dorgur charged. Bounding forward, roaring fearsomely. They fought for a day and a night, Aldra too nimble to catch, Dorgur's iron-hard scales stopping her spear from piercing his heart.”

“She thrust and she thrust and she thrust again, each time her spear bouncing off his impenetrable scales. So she made a plan. Throwing her spear aside, to Dorgur's mockery, Aldra took out a long chain. Swiftly, she danced around the dragon, dodging swipes and evading claws, wrapping him round again and again, until he was tied from head to toe.”

“Then she picked him up, and swung him. Roaring and screaming, bursting fire out of his mouth, scorching the surface of the land, she swung him round, and round, and round, until she let go. Dorgur went flying through the air and into the stars, where he remains chained up in the sky.”