The following are the two Legends of the Lonely Dragon. Both are clearly apocryphal, as many legends are, and yet many choose to believe one or the other.

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The First Legend

Once upon a time, up the pass to the Crags over Mhirdrun, there was a sleeping dragon. Some travelers went up to see the Thradhel, when one of them stepped on its big toe and woke it up. Sure enough, they all got ate, except for one, and he comes running back to Mhirdrun screaming 'bout a dragon swoopin' outta the sky and pluckin' off his mates like a hawk and field mice.

 

So the baron called for all the land to send their bravest knights to slay the dragon. First was Sir Stewart the Stalwart, and he went to fight the dragon, but never came back. Sir Stewart'd been a famous and powerful knight, and him gettin' ate didn't sit well with the other knights, so the baron offered the hand of his daughter to whoever'd kill the dragon.

 

Sir Carmine the Cowardly had been tryin' to court that very daughter, but never dreamed of gettin' her hand 'til that moment, and up he went, and he got ate. Sir Robin the Brave, who also fancied the baron's daughter, went up thinkin' he could do better'n Carmine, but he got ate just the same.

 

The Baron's gettin' desperate now, so he offered an estate up in the pass where the dragon was to whoever'll slay it. Up came Gendry the Greedy, and Thomas the Thradhelion, and Louis the Lazy. one by one, they all got ate right up. That was all the knights the barony had to offer, or any land around, so people got even scareder'n before and left the town. Afore long all of town were gone, except for the Baron, and a farmer with his wife and sons, way out where the dragon was hid from sight by the forest. That farmer was called Old George Pythia.

Now, Old George Pythia was gettin' up there in age, but he still had as much black in his hair as he did grey. His wife nagged him occasionally, and his sons were lazier than he would like, but all in all, Old George had it pretty good. He ran a good-sized farm and rarely went hungry. But that year seemed to take the bad luck the dragon brought and make it all the worse. When winter came, snow was always on the ground, and in the spring, that snow turned to rain, meanin' one couldn't plant without drownin' the poor sprouts. In the summer, locusts flew in and devoured what little had grown, and by autumn, there was almost nothin' to harvest. So by late autumn, Old George's farm was nothin' but a skinny goat, a scrawny pig, and a starvin' ox.

Now, George could handle an empty belly, but his wife couldn't and she started naggin' old George harder'n ever. When it got unbearable, he finally went to the baron to see if anythin' could be done. Old George had only been down to the city a couple times afore now, but the last time, he'd hardly seen so many people high-tailing it to leave, all at once. But George paid it no mind, he got to see the baron and air his grievances. The baron hardly cared to hear George's problems, as he had more important things to worry 'bout. When George asked 'bout this, the baron explained his problems with that overgrown lizard. George pondered this, then finally volunteered to give it a try, as he still had a solid build and wasn't so old yet that he couldn't take a walk.

The baron, naturally, thought little o' George, but George kept pressin', and finally the king let him have his way. He gave George the armor they'd gotten back from the other knights - scorched 'n all - and outfitted him with a dragonslayin' sword. Now, they say this sword was made by them Elves way back when they still ran things. There was some sorta magic woven into it that hurt dragons mighter'n a hot iron on a snowball. 'Course, that dragon wouldn't let no one get close 'nough to it t'let them stab 'im, so the dragon went right on livin' happy as you please. George knew this, though, so as he set out, he began comin' up with a plan.

Now, the dragon was livin' outta a cave on top of a tall mountain at this time, and George went trottin' off in that direction at dawn. Took 'im all day to scale that mountain and make it to the dragon's cave. Once he got there, he peeked inside and saw the big lizard, all red scales, bat wings, and yellow eyes that burned brighter'n the sun at midday. The dragon gave George one look in his shabby, scorched armor, and snorted afore sayin', "Well, what fool walks into my den this time? Speak, tell me your name before I devour you."

George felt his knees shakin' and his heart poundin' at this, but he bravely swallowed his fear and said, "Dragon, I be Old George Pythia. Mighty fine t'be makin' yer acquaintance. But y'don't wanna eat me. I'm sure yer tired of man-flesh. How about you let me leave and I return with somethin' better'n my scrawny old bones?"

The dragon pondered this a bit, then shrugged and let 'im run off, figurin' he may as well get two meals over one. So George backed out and ran home as fast as his legs could carry 'im. Ignorin' his wife's demands to know what in blazes he was doin' wearin' that armor, he tied a rope 'round the skinny goat's neck and made his way up the mountain. Afore he was halfway there, though, the goat keeled over and died from hunger, so he carried it the rest of the way up the cliff. Now he was sweatin' and huffin', but he gave the dragon his goat. The dragon lazily wrapped its long tongue 'round it and snapped it up, crunchin' its bones, afore it fixed its gaze on George.

"A decent snack," the dragon yawned. "But hardly enough to sate me. I think I shall eat you after all."

"Now wait a minute there, dragon!" George protested. "If yer still hungry, I got more meat! And I'm sure you're still tired of manflesh!"

The dragon thought about this, and then nodded. "Very well. Return when you have something more filling," it told him.

So George ran back down the mountain, and ignorin' his wife's demands to know where he ran off with their goat, wrapped the rope 'round the scrawny pig's neck and began leadin' it along the same path. But three-quarters of the way there, the pig keeled over from hunger and died, so George had to carry the swine up the mountain to the dragon. The dragon gave it a once over before snappin' it up and crunchin' on it while George watched.

"A tasty morsel," the dragon said, fixin' George with a hungry glare, "But I find that I'm still not satisfied."

"Now 'old on there, dragon!" George said, "I got one more gift for ya t'gorge on!"

"Very well," the dragon said, thoroughly amused by this point. "Go, and fetch me another treat."

So George returned to his farm, ignorin' his wife's shriekin' and hollerin' about where he got off to with their pig, and tied the rope 'round the starvin' ox's neck, and hauled it off t'see the dragon. The ox made the trip without a problem, and George by this point had finished comin' up with his plan. Glumly, he cut the ox's neck and sliced open its belly, afore stickin' the sword into its middle. He then huffed and wheezed as he dragged the ox into the cave, whereupon the dragon stood up and sauntered over to it, lookin' mighty pleased indeed.

"Now there is a meal fit for one of my stature," the dragon said, and began chompin' on it mightily. As it swallowed, though, that Elven sword did its work, and stuck itself in the dragon's throat. The dragon began coughin', then chokin', and its eyes went wide with fury at Old George standin' there smirkin'. It tried breathin' fire, but the sword was caught too deep in the throat and caught up his breathin'. It tried swipin' at George, but he'd already high-tailed it outta the cave. The dragon wheezed and struggled for a good five minutes afore, with a mighty crash, it collapsed on the ground, deader'n a snakebit rabbit.

George pried the dragon's jaws open and pulled out the sword, afore makin' his way back down to the city with it still covered in blood. George gave the baron that bloody sword and told him, "That dragon won't bother you none no more, Yer Grace."

The baron was amazed, and gave George a reward of three huge treasure chests, which George used to buy himself a fine estate, and build a lodge there, and he shipped in all the food his wife could ever ask for. And she never did nag George quite so hard again.

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The Second Legend

So you know a good bit, mind, from the old tale. 'Up the pass to the Crags over Mhirdrun there was a sleeping dragon,' or somesuch, and some folks woke it and they got ate. Then some more folks went up fer to see what happened to the last folks and they got ate. Finally enough people went missin' in Mhirdrun they sent some soldiers to go look and see what was happenin'. So they see the dragon, run back, and missin' a soldier what got ate, and say it's a dragon. You know that part.

But here's what they didn't say. Maybe their pride was hurt, or they was just dumb. The dragon was stuck, couldn't move. It just lay there like a pile o'lumber. That's all onaccoun'a it was there from before the Dragonswar, y'see, and as dragons get old they get bigger'n fatter and need to eat a lot or they sleep their whole life. And it'd been there so long it got grass grown on it, and even some trees, and the rabbits ran around on it, and the owls picked them rabbits up from its back and ate 'em. So all it did was lay there and no one could see it, and when they got close, and he could smell'm, ~snap!~ they got ate.

But these soldiers didn't say nuthin' about that. maybe they just didn't think about it. Anyway, they got all Mhirdrun thinkin' there's another Dragonwar, and it'll be flyin' down from the hills any second, and a bunch of 'em went runnin,' and a bunch of 'em went lootin' in the confusion, but the baron knew this wouldn't do. Then you prolly know the next bit, with the knights, Sir Stewart the Stalwart, Sir Carmine the Cowardly, Sir Robin the Brave. And so on. All that happened like they say, all those people, and all of 'em got ate the same as all the ones before.

So the baron gets desperate and offers the pass itself to whoever'll kill the dragon, he did that after a couple knights went up and got ate, then he offered his daughter, then he offered... I don't recall how all that goes, but you know it. So finally we get to Old George Pythia.

And before I forget: George Pythia don't lie. He never lied his whole life. And he don't break his oaths. He couldn't, it was against his nature, like how those rabbits on the dragon weren't about to fly up and eat them owls what were eatin' them. Just not somethin' they do.

So anyway George Pythia, most everyone he knows is dead or run, and he's just a farmer, but he decides he may as well, if he don't kill the dragon then there won't be anyone left in the town, and he don't wan't that. So he goes to the Baron and asks for a shield, and a sword, and armor, as a farmer isn't about to have any o'those on his own. And the Baron's got no one else now so he gives it all to him, and George goes to the pass.

Finally now the dragon, it's been usin' this trick the whole time, but now it's ate enough it don't need to trick no-one anymore, and don't have to sleep so much, and it can move a bit, so when George gets up there its reared up, its neck, and he sees it right off. And so he walks up, and he looks up at the dragon and says, "I'm about to slay you dragon," and the dragon opens its mouth and spits fire from its belly and burns the whole land around George. Just everything. This was mighty fire, the strongest fire any dragon ever had, and George kin feel the heat all about him, and he starts sweatin' in his armor, and shakin', because he thinks now he's not gettin' outta there alive. He don't know nothin' about fightin' dragons, less one so big and so powerful.

And the dragon just smiles, but not malicious-like. And she says, "Human I smelled you from many leagues away, I heard your armor clanking, I heard the crunch beneath your bare feet, and had I wished I could have smote you with flame and you would now be dead."

George don't know what to do, the voice fills his head like it lived there the whole time, even before his own thoughts, and he drops his shield and his sword and just falls to his knees and tears his hair until it goes away.

The dragon's just sittin' there, still smilin', and she says, "Surely you must have seen a dragon before. We rule these lands, as we have for all time!"

Now George works up to talk, he don't know how, but he's shakin' and can barely get the words out. And can't lie, so he says, "No sir I never seen any dragon. There's not been a dragon around these parts since the Elves."

The dragon don't smile no more. Dragons is smarter'n us when they're born, and when they get as big and old as this one nothin' escapes 'em, so she kin tell right off George was the type to speak true. And George closes his eyes, thinks the dragon's angry, about to spit at him again, but the dragon just asks, "And what of the Elves?"

And now George realizes somethin's the matter with this dragon. It's not movin' 'cept its head, and there's trees grown all over it, and finally it dawns on George the dragon kin hardly move at all. And then he figured the dragon isn't even angry, it looks almost forlorn... forlorn. I's like bein' sad. So he gets hope, a'cause if the dragon don't kill him now, maybe he can make it out alive. So he works up a bit more courage, and he picks his jaw back up, and he breathes deep, and he explains about the Dragon War and the Elves and how they drove the dragons outta Linothor and Sulgate.

The dragon just listens, quiet like, like a statue listening, not moving. And then she says, "Surely then the Elves, upon learning I remain, will come for me?" And a gleam lights up in that old dragon's face, like it's hungry, and the courage goes right outta George's soul and he don't wanna talk no more. And the dragon sees this, and says, "Speak now peasant or I shall eat you up and await another to conclude the story for you."

So George steadies his nerves and he tells how the Elves got their cities all destroyed a long time ago, and now Humans're in charge, but nuthin' like the Elves were, and the king couldn't kill a dragon like her with a hundred thousand soldiers.

The dragon looks forlorn again after that. She's about to demand to know how humans could ever rise over the Elves, how the Elves, bein' so powerful to defeat dragons, could ever fall, because what did that make her, a dragon? But she don't bother, cause she's seen George don't lie, and she knows he speaks true. So finally, kinda desparate now, she starts asking George about all the great dragons. And George don't know any of 'em. And the dragon can see it on his face.

The dragon realizes everyone else, dragons, is gone, or asleep. And she realizes that she'll never be able to eat enough to move again, less fly, if all they're sendin' is farmers one at a time. And she knows from George's courage he figured her out, and can't get him to go back and lie and say she's a big threat. But the dragon is too proud to sit there bein' useless all her life. So she twists her neck about and looks over the pass and asks George's name. And George tells her, and he's got more comfortable now, as it don't seem like the dragon means to harm him particular. So the dragon says, "George Pythia I have been too long in this pass, and for want of the company of another Dragon I would fly a million leagues, but as you see I have grown so heavy that I cannot move. And neither can I suffer long to converse with none who are my equal, and if the Dragons have truly moved to the next land then never shall I be availed. And from this humble place I shall never produce a horde of riches to equal my own grandeur. A lonesome life lays ahead of me, and it is one I would not choose, for inevitably I will return to sleep, and be again forgotten, until by some future date I awake again, heavier than before, and more helpless, and more alone. And so I would request a boon of you, should you have the courage to offer it."

This is right puzzling to George, because what can he do fer a dragon? But he nods his head, and the dragon says, "Take up your sword, George Pythia." So George does, shakin' still, though not so hard. And the dragon says, "Do not fear. There is but one way to kill a dragon with a common blade. Through the roof of the mouth, nigh to the throat, is a flesh which remains soft even in my age, and through it can you pierce, and thus slay me."

George don't know for sure he's still got his wits, so he makes sure the dragon said what he just heard. And the dragon just looks forlorn again and repeats 'erself. So George agrees to do it, though he can't really tell why, and he holds up the sword. And then like a giant snake the dragon opens its jaws all the way, and lowers its mouth over George's head. And George gulps, because each fang in that mouth is taller and wider across then he. But he takes a breath, and the dragon twists for to allow George the angle he needs. So George says quietly, "Farewell then, Dragon," and the dragon says, "Farewell then, George Pythia." And George pushes the sword in, and like the dragon said it cuts through as easy as anything, and the dragon dies.

A long time after that, on the burned grass, George just sits and looks at the dead dragon and he don't feel too proud. He never meant to be brave, but it was a sorta what they call "anticlimax" that the dragon just kills itself on his sword. And the dragon never did him no harm, and all it did was eat, he thinks, and want for the company of other dragons. So he resolves for himself, as he feels bad for this dragon now, he'll tell everyone the story of this lonely dragon, so maybe it'll "live on," like they say. So decided like that, he goes back to Mhirdrun and reports to the baron the dragon is dead. The baron can hardly believe a farmer like George killed a dragon by himself, but George shows him the dragonsblood on the sword—and that blood's like fire itself y'see, just burns through metal like wood, so there's no mistaking it—and the baron finally asks how it happened.

So George tells him, and true, and the baron believes 'em, because he already knows George from the farms. And in addition he knows George can't forswear no oath if his life depended on it. And the baron don't feel so sad about the dragon, he feels mighty foolish, if he'd thought to bother learnin' more he might've figured about the dragon and sent more knights up there, or not at all, instead of wastin' the ones he had one at a time. And if people knew he wasted all those famous knights they might get angry, and he might lose some authority in Mhirdrun. So he tells George, "Tell no-one that the dragon slew itself on your sword. Tell no-one that the dragon remained in place all along and could never have threatened us if we let it alone. Swear this to me."

But George is stubborn and says, "No sir, baron sir, I won't swear that."

So the baron says, "Then I withdraw the offer of land, and titles, and my daughter."

George is torn now. He's gettin' on in years, and never had none for his wife, and bein' just a poor farmer knows he isn't likely to get one even if he killed a dragon, on account'a dead dragons don't make you a noble lord or nothin' without the baron. And that land really tempted him. He felt mighty bad about it, but finally he agreed, and swore the oath.

The baron handed over the land, and the titles, and his daughter, as he promised. And George never told a livin' soul his tale, as he promised. And people come back, and rumor spread, and the tale grew, and now Old George Pythia became Sir Pythia the Dragonslayer.

With the land of the pass, which he now had, and named it Lonely Dragon, George didn't want nothin' too fancy, he was a workin' man and a luxury life didn't sit well with him. But he didn't want to farm no more, as it was hard work and he was gettin' old. And his new wife, Helen was her name, didn't like much the farmin' life none, either. So George built himself an inn on that pass, as people come up to see the dragon now, as some kinda marvel, and they needed a place to stay, so he figured he'd give 'em one. But no matter how many of 'em asked about the dragon, George just smiled and said nothin'. He hired some folk to help him run the place, and they were just the same, so he said nothin' to them, too, so they gave up on bein' friendly to 'im and just worked.

Eventually Helen was with child, and gave birth. In the birthin' she died, but the child was born healthy, a daughter George named Cyrene.

George and Helen never loved each other much, but George loved Cyrene. She was everythin' he wasn't, bein' clever, and tough, and brave. But she learned from him the ways of honor, to keep truth and to obey oaths, while growin' up with the stories of her father, Sir Pythia the Dragonslayer. And finally she was a woman, and she announced to her father she was gonna train to be a knight so she could achieve great fame for doin' mighty deeds, just like he did, and that maybe some day she might root out a dragon and slay it. And Old George just smiled and said nothin'.

George was alone now, as Cyrene was busy trainin' and fightin', and Helen was dead, and he couldn't tell no one about the dragon, but it was all everyone who came to Lonely Dragon Pass ever wanted to know about. So he ran his inn as quiet as he could, until he got very old.

The baron was old too, older'n even Old George, and never talked to him since marrying off his daughter Helen. But on his death bed he asked someone to send fer George, and the old innkeeper came, barely able to walk, 'imself, and he leaned in close to the baron, and the baron whispered to him about regret, how he repented sending all those knights to die, how he kept it secret all along, and made George, an honest creature, swear such oaths'n'such that time ago. The baron was about to relieve George of the oath then'n'there, but died in the middle o'whispering. The family came over and asked what the baron said, but George just smiled and said nothin.'

George never left his inn again after that. Cyrene would visit every now and then, but she stopped visiting after a while, and she kin't send letters on account of George never learned letters. George held out hope for a while until he found out she'd married into a noble family and wouldn't be up to see him again.

Afore long George was so old he was taken to bed, and he kin't move, and he kin't eat, less someone did it for him. And only the new innkeep came in, who liked him well enough but never talked with him, and the innkeep fed him, then left. And George felt lonely, lonelier than he ever felt, and he would pass long into sleep and peak from it only to eat, then slumber again. He lost track of time, and he forgot who he was or where he was or why he ever lay to bed.

Finally Old George was no more for the world. He realized then his tale was about to die too. In a last fit of lucidness... uh, bein' awake, he decided to forswear his oath on his deathbed, and called the innkeep in to pass the true story on. But the words tumbled from his mouth in a jumble, and the innkeeper couldn't make heads or tails of it all. The innkeep just said, "Go back to sleep you crazy old man," and went back to clean glasses.

And then it was that Old George died, the lonely dragonslayer in Lonely Dragon pass.

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((By Wild Cote (First Legend) and Ultea (Second Legend)))