Week 12: Storytelling -- As They Dared to Challenge Me

I hear them before I see them. Muffled footsteps beat in the heavy snow, belonging to a band of men traveling through the forest to confront me. As they near the clearing of the burial mound in which I had long since made my home, their footsteps slow and come to a final halt. Fear clings to the air -- I can taste it -- and a moment or two of silence passes among the men. For a moment I believe they have decided to abandon this foolish quest to take my life and raid my lair. And it seems as though my prediction is correct when I hear many pairs of footsteps run deep into the forest, cowering behind the trees. But it is only a partial truth, I learn to my surprise and anger, as a single pair of footsteps walks across the clearing and stop at the entrance to my lair.

A strong voice rings out in the air, whose owner dares to act as though I were his to command. The human even calls me ‘foul fiend’ so lightly.

I will not stand for this.

I open my eyes in anger and observe the arrogant human who insults me. The sight sparks a rage that steadily builds itself inside of me. How dare they send one meager human to try and defeat me? And an old man at that, judging by the grey in his beard and the slight stoop in his stance. Although this awakens my anger, it only spills out when I hear the sound of a laugh from another human in the clearing, who foolishly hasn't saved his skin like the rest of his dragon-hunting party.

I let out a furious scream that would terrify even my long-gone brethren, and exit the cave.

It has been awhile since I have stretched my wings and claws, and even the boastful rat that dares trespass my lair can see the power that I exude. Aside from my enormous size are a number of deadly weapons at my behest, from my large and virtually unbreakable scales to my tail spike containing poison. I am the king of beasts, and this mere human thinks he can break me?

He has made a grave, grave mistake.

Fire roars within me, surging from my insides and laying waste to all in my path. All except the human in front of me, who has put up his shield to stop the fire from incinerating him. I pause -- we both do -- trying to gage the enemy's strengths. I can see that this human is no weakling, which makes his impending demise all the more satisfying.

As if giving a clear indication of the victory that awaits me, he tries to attack my scales, but barely makes a scratch on them. He then switches to another tactic, and I deem him cleverer than I had originally credited him. Rather than trying to attack me with the force of his puny body, he swiftly weaves from side to side, exhausting me. But in my exhaustion I am angered, which gives rise to more energy. I again roar fiercely, concentrating my attacks on him harder than I had before. He in turn jabs everywhere along my body he can, likely determined to find my weak spot, the one that every dragon has.

As time passes with this interplay of fire and metal, he begins to grow exhausted, trembling with fatigue in the dark night.

I win, human, I think to myself.

But as the man is about to give up, I hear a shout from the distance. I deduce that it was this person who had laughed, and as I angrily plan to incinerate them both, his arrival somehow gives my first attacker strength and they fight with renewed vigor before I can send them to their deaths.

They are somehow able to push me back, forcing me to give them ground. But all isn’t lost for me, as I still have resources aside from my fire. I suddenly swing my tail and catch my attackers by surprise. And though I am unable to injure the second attacker, I have fatally wounded the first. This seems to anger the second human, who gives a loud cry and, to my disbelief, pierces my weak spot.

With that, no more am I living -- the darkness grows and my body collapses upon the ground.

Dragon

(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Author's Note:

I based this off of Battle with the Dragon and The End of Beowulf in the Beowulf Unit. The hero Beowulf is now old, though he is still strong, and knows that this will be his last battle. Although the original story is written in third person past, I decided that it would be more interesting to see the battle from the dragon's eyes in first person. Even though the dragon is bloodthirsty and a scrooge, he still seemed to have some idea of what was going on aside from instinct when facing Beowulf. Aside from the perspective and tense change, this retelling sticks to the plot of the original.


Bibliography
The Story of Beowulf by Strafford Riggs (1933). Story Source: Sacred Texts