In a far-off land, in a time not long ago, there lived a brave knight named Sir Cedric. Sir Cedric was known throughout the kingdom for his noble heart and courageous deeds. One day, as he polished his shining armor and readied his swift steed for another adventure, a message from the king arrived, sealed with the royal stamp.
“My brave knight,” the letter began, “a terrible dragon has captured our kingdom. It has driven away our farmers, stolen our livestock, and burns the countryside with its fiery breath. I command you to ride forth and vanquish this foul beast so peace may return to our land.”
Sir Cedric quickly donned his shining armor and mounted his beloved horse, Eaglewing. Away he rode toward the distant mountains where the dragon was said to live. The villagers fled his path, terrified of the very sight of him, for they believed he was going to rescue them by slaying the dragon. Soon, he reached the rocky hillside where the dragon dwelt. He dismounted and climbed up, sword in hand, until at last he stood at the entrance of the dragon’s cave.
“Be gone, foul beast!” he cried. “Your reign of terror ends today.”
But, instead of rushing forth to swallow him, a deep voice answered from within the cave, “Quiet, foolish knight! Can’t you see I am trying to sleep? Your kingdom’s people come before your noisy calls.”
The dragon’s voice was not at all what Sir Cedric had expected. It was low and calm, with an underlying warmth that soothed his very spirit. “But,” he stammered, “the king sent me to slay you.”
“Did he now?” asked the dragon in surprise, poking his scaly head from the darkness of his lair. “And why would your king wish to slay me?”
“He says you are a terrible nuisance to the kingdom.”
“A nuisance? I? Hardly. I have simply asked the villagers to leave me alone. Most have gone, but one stubborn farmer persists in feeding his animals on my mountain. So I have kindly burnt his crops so I cannot be tempted.”
“But there will soon be no crops left to burn, and them he needs to feed himself and his family this winter,” explained the knight.
“Then let him keep his animals away,” grumbled the dragon, “and I shall have no more trouble.”
“But he has nowhere else to feed them, dragon,” replied Sir Cedric. “Look, you are far too powerful a beast to go on living here alone. Why not come to the king’s palace, where you will be as safe as in your own cave, and where all the kingdom may admire your glorious self.”
“King and kingdom mean nothing to me, knight,” puffed the dragon. “But if you are so concerned for this farmer, I shall carry him and his family to the king’s court, where he can plead his case.”
And with this the dragon stretched himself out upon the mountain and shut his gleaming eyes. Sir Cedric, bowing low, jumped onto his back, and away he flew across the land until they reached the tall towers of Camelot. There the entire court stood waiting for their knight’s return. The king himself came down to the dragon and begged, “Noble beast, I pray you carry this poor farmer to the court and grant him as audience.”
The dragon obeyed, and soon the humble farmer, supported by the king, stood in the presence of the renowned judge. Quietly and simply he told his tale. Then the king asked the dragon if his words were so, and the monster nodded.
“You see,” continued the king, “there was no need for you to take my brave knight’s life. Why could you not have told the farmer, in quiet tones, what you had to say?”
“I did tell him!” grunted the dragon. “But he has got a hard head and would not listen. But he is a good farmer after all, and I will listen to him if he will do me the favour to ask me politely for meat and vegetables for just himself and family.”
And so on Sundays the farmer with humble words prostrated himself in the dragons cave, and for all the intervening days he had meat or food for his family and animals to eat from the dragon’s mountain.
On rare occasions the king with a large retinue of nobles visited him, as did also bands of knights with polished arms and glimmering guildedheel fetters.
Sir Cedric was rarely away from court. He remained king’s favourite and married the farmer’s daughter at last. But treasure was sent daily to the spacious court from the mountainside, for the dragon and poor farmer’s friendship endured deep into the greyest of old ages.
And the story goes that the rumbling and grumbling of his cave are still at times to be heard around the tallest rock of our island’s furthest Westermost Point.