In the days of knights and dragons there lived a particularly nasty beast that plagued the village of Plumgreen, an otherwise quiet hamlet, in the pleasant kingdom of Merridom. The dragon, Oldreg by name, daily prowled the village looking for whatever dainties he could easily carry to his hillside lair. This made the villagers very uncomfortable, of course, not knowing when or where the unwelcome beast would strike nor what it would take to appease his appetite. His demands reduced them to poverty.
They appealed to King Hasbek, who governed Merridom with a benevolent hand, but their pleas went to no avail. Larger villages with greater wealth presented his majesty with dilemmas that demanded his immediate attention. Each year he promised to send a knight to slay the dragon, when one came available, but none ever came. The people of Plumgreen sent an emissary to the king on the first of March each year and each year his royal highness promised action, but no knight came. But the dragon continued to ravage the village and its citizens plummeted deeper into despair.
The fourteenth year of Oldreg’s visitations brought about a change in events. Honred, the Old refused to make the trip to the king’s palace as he had in the past. “What’s the use?” he declared. “Nothing comes of it, except it gives the dragon opportunity on my return to take my horse. Thirteen years, thirteen horses and each year I barely escape with my life. No, I will not go.”
The village elders sought high and low to find someone to go in Honred’s stead. All the men of the village refused the honor until Earist the Young accepted the task. Being hardly older than a schoolboy, Earist had little appreciation for the danger involved, nor did he understand the proper protocol in which to approach his majesty, the king. When he appeared in ragged travel attire at the queen’s garden party it created quite a stir. “This will not do,” her majesty told the king. “It would be best for you to hear this young man’s request than to have him interrupt my social calendar.”
King Hasbek bid the young man to his court. He sighed as he listened to Earist’s plea for a knight to slay the dragon at Plumgreen. “How long has this worm been in your village?” the monarch asked.
“Fourteen years,” replied the stalwart young man. “And we have no one possessing the skill to dispatch a dragon.”
King Hasbek pounded on the arm of his throne. “So why am I just now hearing about this?”
Chimrun, his chief advisor stepped forward. “Your majesty, each year someone comes from that village asking for your help. You promise to look into it but there are always more pressing needs.”
The king sat back in his chair. At the moment he saw no need more pressing than to get the queen off his back. “Go your way, young man. I will send a knight,” he said to Earist.” To Chimrun he said as an aside, “Who can we spare at this hour? It needs be someone very expendable for you never know how things might turn out with a dragon involved.”
Chimrun smiled slyly. “I know just the knight. He is old and frail, having outlasted his usefulness. He just takes up space as a resident in your majesty’s old Knight’s home.”
And so, Tangard the Old received orders to travel to Plumgreen with Earist to slay the village’s dragon. As he reached the village, the people cheered until they noticed his rusty armor and ancient battle horse. The village mayor confronted the young emissary. “What good is this knight you have brought us? He’s no better than all the king’s empty promises. At least in those we had hope that a deliverer would come someday.”
“Not so,” returned the young man. “This knight is here, where the promises were but air. I daresay this warrior is battle tested and may have more about him than what he appears on his exterior.”
Earist pointed Tangard to the dragon’s lair. “There you will find our protagonist who has plagued us these many years. Pray, deliver us from his ravaging.”
Tangard nodded and headed up the hill toward his destiny. On his way he reasoned, The good people of this village, didn’t tell me to slay the dragon but to stop his raids. Subtleness may prove more useful than lance or sword.
Now for the dragon’s part he had grown fat and lazy and possessed little desire to battle a knight no matter how weak and frail this one appeared. He watched the old warrior approach and met him at the door of his den. “Go away old man. You’re no challenge. There is no hope that you can slay me. Just give me your horse and we’ll be done with it.”
Tangard approached with open arms. “You misjudge me mighty dragon. I have not come to challenge you in battle but in wits. I challenge you to a game of riddles.”
Now it’s a well-known fact among people of lore that dragons are fond of riddles and consider themselves to be very witty although that is not really the case. Oldreg studied his challenger closing one eye. “Okay what is your play old man?” This he said aloud while scheming, When the game is over, I will have you and your beast of burden for my supper.
The knight sat on a rock opposite Oldreg. “Here’s the game. Each of us will ask the other a riddle. If the riddle is answered correctly the riddler must give the one who answered the object of the riddle. If the riddle is not answered correctly the one who has not done so must give the questioner the object of the riddle.”
The dragon sat back. “That’s pretty standard rules. let’s go for it. You ask first.”
Tangard smiled. “Golden treasure the maid can eat, round and fragile without any feet.”
Oldreg formed a toothy grin. “That one is easy. An egg. So now you must give me an egg. But one will not do. Give me twelve or give me none.”
Of course, the old knight could have quibbled, but he knew that dragons do not strictly follow the rules. He fetched out his larder in which he had stored eggs carefully wrapped for his journey for he was fond of his breakfast of eggs and bacon each morning.. Setting them in front of the beast, he waited while Oldreg gobbled them up. He said, “Now it’s your turn.”
The dragon tossed his head. “What flies, but has no wings, wears down the lowly as it does kings. Devours mountains and everything?”
“Time,” said the knight. “And so, I have answered, but I don’t see how you can give me that.”
“The rules indeed say I am to give you the object of the riddle that is true, and time I have given you for I have not eaten you yet. Now what is your next riddle?”
Tangard rubbed his chin. “From the sky above, it wears down mountains, runs through hills, giving life in valleys it fills.”
The dragon pondered this until a drop of moisture fell on his nose from a passing cloud. He blurted out the answer. “Rain! Or water and I’ll settle for a nice cool drink from my spring.”
The knight nodded and fetched three buckets of water.
And so, the game went. Tangard asked questions which Oldreg answered feeling quite proud of himself. The knight gave the object in question. And each time Tangard answered correctly the dragon found some way to avoid giving the object.
At the point when Oldreg began to grow weary of the game the knight said “I have one more riddle. This will decide everything. If you guess it I will surrender myself to you and you can do as you please with me. What guarantee do I have that you will give me the object of the puzzle if you cannot give me the answer? Each time you have answered me I have given you something but each time I have answered you I have nothing to show for it.”
Oldreg grinned. “I will pledge on my hoard. No dragon has ever gone back on such a pledge. Those of my kind will not allow it.”
Tangard replied, “Truly said, and I make my pledge to you also. I swear on my sword.”
“Enough said, I am getting hungry. Tell me your last riddle. If I answer it the game is done, and I will eat you and your horse. If I cannot answer it then I will give you its object and you will go on your way.”
Again, the old knight ignored the change in rules. “Okay, but you must pledge the most sacred pledge of dragons—on your hoard.”
“Yes, on my hoard.”
“Then here’s my final riddle. ‘Black as coal, Cold and stony, forged down below, empowers the mighty, its breath is aglow. Beats oh so strongly and ever more when prey is found waiting in front of its door.’” The knight waited expectantly knowing a dragon would not recognize the description of his own heart.
Oldreg squirmed and said, “An elf’s sword. That is forged underneath the earth.”
“No, it is shiny and not black, nor does it beat.”
“Well then, molten rock forms a glowing mountain”
“No, again. I win the contest.”
The dragon shook his head. “You must give me one more guess. A king’s crown.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. How conceited you have become that you do not recognize your own dark heart. I win and by your pledge I await your giving me the object of the riddle.”
Now you must understand that this is not as gory as you think. Dragons can exist without their hearts. In fact, there are heartless creatures roaming about the earth even in this very day. But Oldreg realized how vulnerable this would make him. As long as the heart continued to beat the dragon would live, but should the knight plunge a knife into his heart, Oldreg would die.
The dragon hesitated. The knight insisted. “By your pledge you must give me the object of the riddle.”
Oldreg breathed out fire. “My own heart? How can you ask this?”
“A pledge is a pledge. And you promised on your sacred hoard. You cannot renege now.”
The dragon bellowed and roared, but nonetheless reached through the scales on his chest and pulled out his heart. He handed the still beating, blackened organ to the old knight. “So, I guess you’ll slay me now?”
“No,” said Tangard. “Your heart goes to the mayor of yonder village to keep safe as long as you do right by its citizens. You will no longer raid their crops and livestock but feed on the wild animals that do harm to their village. In return I will instruct the people to give you cakes of corn and barley enough to sustain you.”
And so it happened that Oldreg the dragon became the protector of the village he had once ravaged, and learned to love the people who had his heart.
Tangard returned to the old knights’ home where he lived out his days in comfort.