photograph: sv vincent
An older man and a young girl stood on the river bank, observing the flow of the river LaGuin. The strange way it moved having passed through a rock formation know as the Dragon’s Teeth. Boiling if still heated by ancient fiery breath.
“And that’s where Belmain fell the dragon?” the girl asked, looking up at her Grandfather.
“Yes, he tumbled right here, all that is left are his teeth that toss and boil the river water. Daring mortals to seek passage across.”
“But, she was just a girl, how did she achieve such a victory,” granddaughter asked.
“Why by knowing a dragon’s soft spot.,” her Grandfather said wisely. “That gave her the advantage that no knight with lance or sword ever had.”
“The dragon did not know hers?,” granddaughter checked.
“Oh no, she would never reveal such a thing. No modest women would be so bold.”
“But why did the dragon tell her, Grandfather?”
“Ah, because she made him boast of it. Dragon’s have egos that can be stroked,” he laughed and proceeded with the rest of the tale.
“How can a timid maid such as myself,” Belmain said, “stop a mighty dragon like yourself. Your talons, your tail, your fiery breath . . .”
“You entertain me,” the dragon replied, his words curled around puffs of smoke. “So, I shall give you a chance to guess.”
“But I am a foolish girl,” she simpered, “how should someone as empty-headed as I have such knowledge.”
“You do entertain me,” he said, bending his head closer, his red eye winking at her. “I shall give you three clues, and three guesses.”
Belmain curtseyed most respectfully. “Thank you kind sir, dragon. Perhaps even a silly girl such as I might guess.”
So, the dragon gave her a clue and a guess. Belmain, far smarter than the dragon bargained, answered wrong, but in such a way, the dragon, in his feeling of superiority, revealed a bit more.
“Was not she scared and worried?” Granddaughter had been quietly into the tale.
“Oh no little one, Belmain was a lot like you when she was young.”
Unable to stand the suspense any longer, granddaughter burst out: “So, Grandfather, what was the dragon’s one soft spot?”
“He was ticklish,” Grandfather said, tickling his giggling granddaughter who knew the story well, but loved the ending.
Written for #writephoto: stepping stones, Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.