The Tragic Tale of Ethel the Martyr and the Man in the Tin Suit

mark roth-whitworth, with thanks to Michael Kurland
Ethel was born to honest and hard-working noble dragons of the Third Rank, who had no great horde, and lived in the east of what is now Libya, in Africa. As a young dragonette, she toiled hard to aid to her parents, in their cave cataloging their treasure so that nothing should get lost, and out hunting for food.

The part of Libya that they lived in ranged from desert in the south to the edge of the Mediterranean woodland. Dragons need goodly quantities of food of course, but obtaining it should not require great exertion [as we are mighty and forceful beings, but were not created for long exertion, much as our friends, the cats]. With so much of their domain dry and untenanted, they were forced to work far harder than those dragons born in more fruitful lands. Frequently, a brace of sheep or goats was all that could be found to feed them for a week.

In this same land dwelt humans, mostly herders, who found the land hard as well. On occasion, however, they found themselves with too many grown children to feed, and so would offer one of them, normally the young women, for whom they had little dowry, to the lordly dragons, hoping that in return, the dragons would bring rain.

Western dragons, such as we, are not like the Great Eastern Dragons, some of whom have such powers, but in recognition of the humans’ providing provender in the form of their herdbeasts, Ethel’s parents would take the offering of their maidens regretfully, and offer up their own prayers to the Creator Dragons, that they might bring rain. From her pious parents, Ethel learned to to find such sacrifices sorrowful, and took such only at need.

Such offerings were not sought out, for what dragon would wish to eat a speaking creature, bound helplessly to a stake. Her parents were please to find that Ethel had the skill to burn the foliage around the sacrifice, allowing them to die quickly from the smoke, before roasting the poor thing. Even so, humans provided little food, unlike a fat sheep or goat, and when times were hard, she and her parents were forced to accept such sacrifices more often than they wished.

Still, there were years where there was plenty rain, and in one such year, as she had become a grown dragon, their family was visited by some of the Great Nobles of Dragonhood, her parents’ domain viewed as a neutral territory where they might meet in peace. With them were several whose sons wished to court Ethel, as well as a number of their younger dragonettes.

Ethel loved the company of the dragonettes, and while the elder dragons took conference together, Ethel would take the young ones around, teaching them skills learned in a harsh land.

Alas, one day a human man, wearing a tin suit, mounted on a horse came into a village, on his way from somewhere human domain to another. When he heard the tale of the dragons accepting sacrifices, he, as humans are wont to do, saw it as dragons preying on helpless humans, rather than as a regretful acceptance, and swore he would slay the dragons as evil beasts.

Riding out, he came to an oasis where the people of the village had told him dragons were wont to frequent, and hid himself and his beast in a thicket nearby.

It was not long before Ethel and a clutch of dragonettes came there to slake their thirst, for teaching youngsters is thirsty work, as all know. Just as they had drunk their fill, the man in the tin suit, mounted on his horse, charged out of the thicket with a great and heavy pointed stick, and rode at the nearest dragonette.

Ethel responded instantly, pulling the dragonette out of the path of the man and his weapon, and shoved the young one behind her as the man galloped past. “How dare you attack a youngling!” she yelled at the man.

The man turned his horse, pushed up the cover over his face, and paused. “You speak!”

“Of course I speak, everyone knows that dragons speak.”

“That doesn’t matter, you eat people!”

 

She rolled her eyes impressively. “Only when your people put them out as a sacrifice. This is a hard land to live in, and we prefer sheep or antelope, but your people herd the former, and hunt the latter, as we do.”

He sat there for a minute, breathing heavily, mouth open. “You lie. The people here only put out a virgin as a sacrifice, to keep you from burning and eating the town!”

“Why would we do that? They put them out when they have too many female children, and no dowry. They may say otherwise, but this is the reason. Young ones do not have much meat on them, anyway. Besides, the point is, you attacked a youngling, and would have killed the poor thing. I will not allow that, since they are under my care.”

“Better they should die, than innocent virgins! I shall take you first, then, and then the rest!” he shouted, and shoved the cover back over his face, and lowered his sharp stick.

At this point, Ethel realized that things were getting out of control. “Children, fly back as quickly as possible!” As the man began to gallop towards her, With a few fast steps, she flung herself into the air, and breathed fire at the man, who spun his horse again, his long pointed stick catching fire. But then, he bade his horse forward, and raising his stick, struck, and tore one of Ethel’s wings as she built herself up to breathe fire again. In pain, she fell to the ground heavily, injuring one of her legs. She again cried for the dragonettes to flee, and most did, but two, bolder and older than the rest, hid themselves in the woods to see what would happen.

On the ground, she swung her tail, and this time struck one of the horse’s legs, and it fell, throwing the man from its back. The man rolled and rose, drawing his sword and rushed at her. She again swung her tail, and flapped her wings, and knocked him down, rolling away. But she shrieked, because such an action with her injured wing gave her great pain, and now her leg gave out, leaving her partly down on three legs.

The man rose again, and at this point, Ethel realized that things might be getting out of control. Still, she tried one more breath of fire, but could only a small flame, and the man warded it off with his shield. He charged, and leaped over her swinging tail, and struck her shoulder with his sword, and she dropped with her breast on the ground. She grasped his shield in her uninjured claw, and struggled with him, sliding around. At last he dropped his shield and cut her jaw. In the greatest of pain, she swung her tail, and knocked him down, and he gave a groan. His tin suit was dented and bent, and he was in pain, but rose, and thrust his sword through her eye, and she expired, exhaling her deadly froth. He staggered back, burnt, but dragged himself away, and so survived.

At this point, he turned, to see the two dragonettes who had remained flew away to tell their parents. When Ethel’s parents and their noble visitors returned, the man was gone, though his horse remained. In great sorrow, they sang her funeral song, and burnt her body to ashes, to blow away into the sky. There she remains, to watch over young dragonettes, or at least those who mind their parents and teachers.