The Lay Of The Last Dragon

In the beginning there wert innumerable,

But then there were two,

One kind and honorable,

And the other dark and cruel,

Brother and sister were they,

Alike and unlike,

She had scales of deep blue and gray,

But he was the black of night,

In olden days, in times unrecorded,

Man and dragon had agreement,

That they would lay not a hand,

Upon, or lest in wrath descent,

And by this word they kept bound,

Even the dark one,

Who lusted after gold and meat,

At least, until the great evil was done,

Though he waited long, and wove deceit,

One day, a bright spring morn,

The he dragon roved out,

With fiery eye of scorn,

Until the sheep he spotted about,

And he set upon them,

Intent to eat his fill,

But he was stopped by a shepherd grim,

Who was known as Abril,

She drew her spear in defence of her charge,

And he did mock her so,

I am great terrible and large,

And you are not to harm me, do not you know? 

Aye, I know the word,

But so do thee,

I will cut thee with my sword,

If the sheep befall harm from thee,

Enraged and incensed,

He sleuth Abril,

And cast her corpse aside,

And devoured the sheep at will,

Then he returned to the cave to abide,

When the villagers arrived,

They were enraged to see,

So went one and all, 

To the cliff in the mountainside,

Which one of you hath slain Abril,

Our daughter whom we belove,

You have broke the pact at your own peril,

Now surrender unto us,

The she dragon, ever wise,

Lapsed her wisdom for kindness,

And went forward peacefully to die,

And her brother feigned duress,

That she was slain,

But the people now with hate for the wing,

Called upon their great goddess Wane,

And he was banished to the waste of Galgang,

There he wandered, cold,

For the sun there was dim,

And he was no longer bold,

But the darkness still lingered in him,

As he rambled ever the wastes,

Devouring small powerless beings,

And ever desiring forbidden tastes,

Stoking ever his enraging,

Ever as he stewed in his anger,

Did it well in his twisted belly,

Fearing to become an outward danger,

And he fed it with malice and cruelty,

After 100 long years had passed,

He took his revenge upon the children of Wane,

He unleashed his wells of fire at last,

And they perished one and all in pain,

Or so he thought,

For Zanzura the young, was out hunting,

And so survived the destruction he wrought,

But she saw the great firing,

And returned by nightfall,

To find the dragon slumbering,

With his back outward, and his face to the wall,

So confident was he,

Such an errant fool,

That he failed to wake or see,

The sword that sliced his scales like wool,

He rolled over, nearly to crush,

But Brave Zanzura evaded,

And flew in a rush,

He bellowed out fire, but unguided,

And she was out of his sight,

So she loaded her oaken bow,

And loosed the arrow, which gored his eye,

With one last bellow,

His fire turned to a pitiable smoke,

And he collapsed into his little wallow,

And died with an undignified choke,

Know Zanzura sits, old, with crown on head,

Telling tales by firelight,

Before the little ones go to bed,

Tales of glory, tales of fright,

Tales of how she slew the dragon that night,

And why there's a hot spring,

That's glows so bright,

In the shape of a great beast dying,

And why now there are no dragons in the land,

But in the merry songs that are sung,

For the last dragon was felled by a young woman's hand,

The most brave and honorable Zanzura the young,

Through no great sorcery,

Nor tricks of fell,

But simple bravery,

And the last dragon, who forged his own death bell.