Le Fee de Dragon et le Chavelier
By Kenna

"Ma jolie dame my pretty lady, please give me the pleasure that is your hand in marriage," proposed Sir Aleron.
"My knight, I would gladly accept but for the reason of your bravery-" she paused, "or lack thereof," she finished sweetly, a small smile on her lips and anger flashing in her eyes. How he dared ask her to be his bride when he was so young and unproven in battle, she thought. Though he was fairly handsome, as any French knight was, he could not win her on his beauty alone.
The young knight's hopeful face fell. For two years, since his knighting and first meeting of Lady Grainne, he had dreamed of her nonstop.
"But, my lady-" he stammered and was cut short.
"Good sir, I mean no disrespect, but what exactly have you done? You have never in your life slain a single enemy, save for the play tournaments held by his majesty. And even then you are foolish in the field and quick to die," she said, trying to hold back the laugh that so wanted to come out. "For what pride would I gain by having you as a husband?"
"I-I will-" he was cut short again.
"Do not be so quick to damage that handsome face on my account, good sir, by all means, stay within the safety of these walls, where a boy belongs, and let the real knights fight your battles." There was no jest in her voice, no hint of a smile on her lips, or kindness in her demeanor. Without waiting for him to stammer another reply, she turned on her pretty brass buckled heel and left, leaving her serving woman staring at the crushed look on Sir Aleron's face, feeling pity for him, as she did for all the suitors of her cold lady.
"Maid! Come now!" shouted Grainne, and Viviane scurried after, her eyes firmly grounded, she mumbled, "Yes, my mistress," and then they were beyond Sir Aleron's hearing.
Sir Aleron stood solid, feeling his heart somewhere about his ankles. This was the first time he had ever mustered up enough courage to ask a woman's hand. It's true, he all but knew Lady Grainne would decline his offer, but he never dreamed she would do so in such a cruel manner. For all her beauty, she was a hard, cold woman. As Aleron slowly convinced himself of his love's ugliness, he turned in the corridor and strode back to his room. Dinner would be starting in fifteen minutes and he could not be late.

In the kitchens, servants were ran, carving the mutton, and mixing the wine. Aleron bumped into a man carrying an extremely large goose on a platter. When the cook gave him a nasty look, he knew for sure that he was no better than them, no matter what title he held.
Standing by the wall, trying to find the courage to walk into the hall with his head held high, he felt someone run into his shoulder. Turning swifly, wanting to take all his frustrations out, he had a quick diatribe on the tip of his tongue, but it fell away when he met the eyes of Lady Grainne's serving woman.
"I'm sorry, Sir Aleron! Please, I beg your pardon for my clumsiness," she said in a rush, her hands at her sides and her eyes staring at his black boots, timidly awaiting punishment.
He stared fixedly at her face. The light played with her dark features. When she looked up to see him staring at her, he saw the cat's eyes, the color of the wheat that grew in the peasant's fields. Large features dominated her oval-shaped face. He slowly put his hand out to rest on her shoulder, keeping his touch light and feathery.
"It is all right. It is easy to bump into someone by accident in this crush," he spoke kindly, trying to let her relax. Then he motioned his hand toward the hall to let her go first, and he followed her out, his head held high, and took his seat. Even though he was a lowly knight, he still sat higher up the table than most, but only because he was the King's grandson.
"Ah, my boy! I have been wondering where you might be!" exclaimed King Linus.
Aleron nodded to him and began to eat what was within arm's reach. No sooner had he started than the doors of the hall burst forth, expelling a haggard old man; his trousers were torn at the knees, and his shirt was ripped almost in half.. His breathing was labored and he stumbled towards the guards, who were pointing their swords at his throat. The man fell to his knees and sat there a bit, trying to regain his wits, then raised his hands toward the high table, and begged the king.
"High King!" he gasped. "Finally, I have reached the safety of your walls!"
The king motioned his hand, and the guards sheathed their swords. "Why is it you have disturbed my supper?" demanded the king.
Again, the peasant raised his hands, invoking the king. "My village is under attack! Almost half the people are dead and the Duke does nothing! He barricades himself inside his castle and does not defend his people!"
"From what?" demanded King Linus.
At this, the old peasant lowered his hands and a disturbed look came across his haggard features. "A dragon, my lord," he said in a low voice, as if he did not want the "dragon" to hear.
A silence blanketed the hall; everyone stared until the king threw back his head and laughed. Everyone joined the king, even Aleron, and left the serf on the floor.
"A dragon? Where do you get off coming to my hall and telling me of a dragon?" roared the king, still laughing, holding his robust stomach. "Everyone knows there's no such thing as dragons!" And still he laughed harder.
"But-but Sir! There are! Almost half my people are dead! If it is not a dragon that has been burning my village, then I ask what is it?" queried the serf.
This question weighed heavily on the king's mind. For he knew there was no dragon, for a fact, but he could not sit by and listen of unexplained deaths among his kingdom. If it were the English attacking his shores, he must need to know immediately.

"Fine," he said, no longer laughing. "I will send one of my bravest knights to your village to slay your dragon." He looked around his table full of knights; none would stand and claim the quest. They did not want the reputation of being the "dragon slayer" in the land. Irritated, the king chose the knight Marcel, a strapping man who had well proved his courage in battle many a time. "Marcel will go with you," stated King Linus.
At the time of this news, the knight had been drinking a glass of wine, which came spurting from his mouth in a long stream. "But Sir!" he exclaimed, trying to think of an excuse to renounce the mission. "I-I..." he thought again. "I have a bum knee! Don't you remember? I fell off my horse just a fortnight ago? Sir, it is still mighty sore!"
The king chose knight after knight, but never once did the king choose Aleron. In Aleron's mind, having the reputation of "dragon slayer" was better than having no reputation at all. At least he would be remembered...even if it were as the butt of a joke. He would also be proven to Lady Grainne, he thought, as his eyes met her face, only to see that she was staring deeply into the eyes of Lord Thomas, and he deeply into hers.
Aleron stood tall and proud at his bench and exclaimed, "I will help this man, if none of you will!" and they all turned to gape at the young knight, not knowing whether to laugh, give thanks, or to encourage. The king also looked upon him with the same wonderment, which soon passed.
"Good, good. This man will show you to his village, but you will not leave until dawn. Please, my good fellow, come forth and eat your fill," said the king as he extended his hand to welcome the peasant.
That night, Aleron slept fitfully and worried what he had done. Was it wise of him to take up something so rash? He knew it could not be the matter of a dragon; it had to be something more dangerous...more real. What if it were the Angles? What if it were the Saxons? He dreamt of a brutal slaughter. All this worrying caused black circles to stain the soft skin beneath his eyes.
The next morning, Aleron, with the peasant following beside his horse, set off on the journey to the old man's village. Turning around in the saddle, Aleron looked for Grainne in the distance, but she did not show. Then he reminded himself that this task would surely prove his worth in her eyes.
It was at least a day's ride to Ciel, the peasant's village. Once there, they walked down the main road through the village, and Aleron saw for himself the burnt buildings, the mess unattended. There were so few people present, and the silence was so grave, he thought to be walking through a cemetery.
A stooped beggar, whose clothes barely clung to his back, hurried up to Aleron's horse. "Vous serez insuite ce dragon, eh? You'll be after that dragon, eh?" he asked as he hobbled along on the crutch that took the place of his right leg.
When Aleron looked down upon him, he was startled to find that the beggar was blind; white covered both the man's eyes, making him seem more of a ghost of a human than a man of living flesh. "Yes," replied Aleron somberly.
"Ah, but there are!" exclaimed the man as if he heard Aleron's thoughts. "Dragons roam this land, free and untamed! It's a miracle some of us are still alive!" The beggar placed his hand on the rump of the horse to guide his way. "But you're here now, Sir Knight, and you will save us all," he said assuredly.
Aleron looked down on the weathered man queerly. How is it he had known Aleron was a knight, if he could not see?
Shaking these thoughts from his head, Aleron road on in silence, and finally the beggar left the horse's side. "Is it much further?" asked a bored Aleron.
"Oh yes, my good sir! It is but around that bend of trees and then a few paces after that."
When they reached the lair of the dragon, Aleron stopped his horse and the peasant. "What-in that cave? I do not believe it..." said an exasperated Aleron.
"It is true, sir! Many have seen him fly out of this black cave in the dead of night when the moon is covered so not a thing can be seen!" he reassured Aleron.
"Really? Dead of night, you say?" Aleron waited a moment. "I ask you, if the moon was covered and nothing seen, how was this dragon seen?"
This caused the peasant to stop in mid-stride and crease his brow. "Well, I don't rightly know. I never saw it myself," he admitted.
Rolling his eyes toward the heavens, Aleron jumped from his horse's back and unsheathed his sword, and as he did, they both heard a rasping snort from within the caves depths. Aleron and the peasant each had wide eyes, and looking at one another, they heard it yet again. This caused the serf to run screaming for his village. "Take refuge! The dragon awakes!"
"Fool," mumbled Aleron, and in he went, down into the darkness of the cave. There were no lights to see by and he could only move forward by feeling his way along the wall. Soon, he entered a small cavern that opened wide with fires lit on either side, and there he also found the dragon!
In the firelight, it was more ominous than anything he'd ever encountered. Though it was not as great as was to be believed from the peasant's tales, it was large enough to make him want to go screaming into the light of day. But he held firm in his courage and determination to slay this beast and bring back its head to the court for all to see his heroism, especially Lady Grainne. He held his sword high and came towards the great winged creature. Its scales were snake-like and completely red; a great fireball it looked.
As Aleron moved toward it, the dragon moved toward him, raising its right foot, teeming with claws, to Aleron's face. Aleron swung at the beast; he heard a cry, then a roar, as his blade made contact with its flesh. In retaliation, it brought its other clawed foot down upon Aleron with a force that Aleron could not defeat. It knocked him to the ground and held him there, pinned. It leaned over him, its face mere inches from his, and it brought up the foot Aleron had injured, took one claw, and dug firmly into the flesh of Aleron's cheek, wrenching a cry from him. After wounding Aleron in return, the dragon went to the back wall of the cave and sat.
Aleron scrambled to drag his sword with him as he stumbled back against the opposite wall. Once there, he touched the cut placed high on his cheekbone, brought his hand back to see the blood dripping from his fingertips, and then he heard an unnatural sound come from the dragon. It was laughing, and something was happening to it that Aleron did not understand. It was changing shape, and Aleron realized that it was changing into the form of a man. It was the old beggar whom he'd met in the village! Still blind, he cackled in his raspy voice, slapping his only knee in hilarity. "You got me good, boy!" he exclaimed, still laughing at the horrified look upon Aleron's face.
He brought his own injured hand up to his white eyes and apparently "saw" the gash that had come from Aleron's blade. The beggar placed his opposite hand over the wound, mumbled something strange, and the wound was no more. "Come here, boy. I will heal your cut, if you would like."
When Aleron did not move, the beggar hobbled to him. He crouched down next to Aleron and extended his hand toward Aleron's face. The knight shied further back against the wall. The beggar laughed again. "Do not be frightened, my boy. You should know by now, nothing is as it seems!" said the old man, who seemed to be changing shape yet again.
This time Aleron watched as the beggar turned into a woman, slight of build with long raven locks. Her deep green eyes focused on Aleron and her childish voice said his name.
Gasping, Aleron crossed himself and prayed to the Christ to banish the sight before him. Laughing, the woman knelt before him. "Your god will do nothing against me, good sir."
"Keep away, witch!" cried Aleron.
"I am no witch. I am Morgaine and I am the vassal of the Goddess, and I've come to help you, young Aleron." Morgaine paused. "Do you not wish for me to help?" As she said this, she placed her healed hand on Aleron's shoulder.
When he felt her frail hand on his body, he knew there was no evil in her. Warmth spread from her touch and it filled his body with peace, he became relaxed.
"You will have a scar, good sir, but that is to be a souvenir. I wonder if your lady will take you now that you have proven yourself against a magical creature. Do you think?" asked Morgaine sweetly.
"How did you-" Aleron stammered.
"I know all about you, Sir Aleron, grandson to the King. Now, you will take your battle wound, and this talon, back to your kingdom and present them to your lady, and within three days your true love shall present herself." She touched her hand to his cheek, and the cut healed into the tight line of a scar. She rose and went back to the other wall of the cavern and picked up the talon, and handed it to the knight. "Make haste, good knight. You do not want to keep your love waiting longer than she already has." And with that, she watched as he bowed before her and backed out of the cavern.

"Aleron is back!" was the cry all around the gate to the castle. The doors opened and he rode his horse through. All rushed to him in the courtyard, wanting tell of what occurred, but Aleron ignored them and set out in search of Lady Grainne. He found her in the corridor outside her rooms, along with her serving woman, Viviane. Aleron stared at the maid, her dark features, her wheat-hewn eyes, and he inclined his head in greeting. Then he looked up on the beauty that was Grainne; how her milky skin was dotted with freckles, and her whiskey brown eyes, then at her copper red hair that was pulled back into a tight plait. He fell in love with everything about her, and then she spoke.
"What has happened to your face, sir knight?" she asked innocently. "Did you have a nasty fall from that horse of yours?" And Aleron could take no more heartache. He looked toward the maid Viviane and dropped the talon. It clattered once it hit the floor and rolled away. Turning his back on Grainne, Aleron walked silently away.
How had this happened? What had he done wrong? He presented the talon of the slain dragon and she had looked up on the long scar across his cheek. What more did he have to prove?
As Aleron walked away, Viviane's mistress laughed under her breath. "Wish to God that boy would let me be," and she turned and walked the opposite direction, leaving Viviane standing there alone. The maid looked to the ground and saw the talon against the wall of the corridor. When her fingers touched the cold bone, a warmth settled throughout her body.

Three days later, Aleron walked in the dusky light of the deserted courtyard, thinking to himself. It had been three days and still nothing. All morning he'd looked upon Grainne with a longing that she did not reciprocate.
Sitting on the cold stone bench in the twilight, he heard light steps behind him. Turning around, expecting to see Grainne, he was surprised to see Viviane. He smiled as she came toward him. She sat next to him and he could stare into her eyes. All the while he thought he loved Grainne, he was only in love with her beauty, but the woman before him was truly beautiful.
"I've been waiting for you for a long time, Viviane. Tell me, what took you?" Aleron asked.
"While you have been waiting for me, I have myself been waiting for Morgaine to fulfill my greatest wish," she replied with a large grin across her face, and she took Aleron's hand, leaned her head on his shoulder, and they both watched the sun as it filled them with its last rays of warmth.