A short fantasy bromance about a frightened kingdom, a misunderstood dragon, and a lord who discovers that his sword is not the most useful thing he brought up the mountain.
Bring me my blade
“Bring me my blade,” commanded Lord Peter Paul, his violet cape sweeping across the floor of the court.
Beyond his kingdom rose a line of frozen peaks. Somewhere among them lived a dragon, and every caravan seemed to return with a more terrifying account of the creature.
For years, the dragon had kept to himself. The lord had taken that silence as a wish for peace. But the stories grew louder, and the caravan masters grew more insistent.
At last, he set out to confront the beast.
Above the snowline
Alone, the lord climbed the icy slopes. Blizzard winds battered his face and pulled at his cape, but he kept going until he reached the summit.
There, coiled among the evergreen trees, was a colossal green serpent. Its snout seemed as large as a whale. Black feathered wings spread across the mountain, swallowing the light above him.
The dragon turned its gaze toward the small man standing in the snow.
The lord put away his sword.
The conversation nobody expected
The beast snorted. Orange light gathered behind its crooked teeth, and smoke curled from its mouth. A restless tongue of flame promised to make very short work of the visitor.
The lord sat down in a snowdrift.
He had climbed the mountain expecting a monster. Now he wondered whether the dragon had been expecting one, too.
Instead of a challenge, he offered kindness.
The dragon hesitated. Then it began to speak.
They talked for a long while. The dragon learned about the people living below the mountain. The lord learned that the creature wanted peace, but feared the roaming adventurers who might come to kill it.
Each had been listening to frightening stories about the other.
A little less fear, a little more herb
They shared their histories, their songs, their happiness, and their grief. Eventually, they shared a puff of mystic herbs and laughed together in the snow.
The sword stayed in its sheath.
By the time the lord returned to his palace, he was riding on the dragon’s back.
The court looked up. The lord smiled.
“Bring me not my blade. There is no blood to be shed. Bring me my bowl of herb, so that I may welcome my new brother!”
Life is fleeting. Greed consumes. But sharing love, laughter, and a puff with an unexpected friend might be one of life’s greatest treasures.
The artwork
Two photographs from the original art story. Select either image to open it larger.
