Ryanderman
03-05-2010, 08:03 PM
I'm interested in getting your opinions and critiques of this story. I wrote it at work, while an analysis I was running took up too much of my computer's processing power to allow me to do anything else productive. I've already found several parts I want to rewrite, especially the end, which I rushed. But I'll post it here as a first draft.
My original thought is that it would be the sort of story I could read to my future children, like the story of Custard the Dragon, of which I have very fond memories. I don't think I really achieved that, but that's where it started.
So any thoughts on it would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
The Tale of Sir Richard and the Dragon
The knight stood his ground as the dragon roared.
He set his shield and raised his sword.
His words rang out, though quite sincere
His attempt at courage could not hide his fear.
“I will not yield to your fiery wrath
So turn back now or breathe your last.
Though you wish to burn the town below
I will not let you destroy those homes.”
The dragon laughed, his eyes aglow
“Your courage is noted, oh tasty foe.”
His voice, it rumbled like grinding rock
His breath smelled of sulfur as he continued to talk.
“You are quite brave, oh little knight
But you have no hope of surviving this fight.
Leave now. Depart. Never return.
And I will not make you watch the town burn.
You will live to fight, again another day.
You know, I am sure, it is the only way.
For dragons are creatures of magic and might.
We take what we want, it’s only our right.
But you humans with your wonderfully crunchable bones
Live only to provide us with meat and with gold.”
The dragon continued, his voice low and soft
His suggestion seductive, the knight feared he had lost.
“I respect your resolve to face me here
To come to this dark pass despite your fear.
I have heard of your name, your tales of renown
I am not surprised you would face me alone.
Sir Richard the Brave, the Swift, and the Wise
You have bested many foes, and saved many lives.
Your victory over the seven headed beast of Travair.
The hairs you stole from Queen Mab on a dare.
The day you saved three villages in Kent,
A blow from that giant barely gave you a dent.
You climbed the tallest mountain to gather the tears
Of the weeping willow to heal the princess of Lear.
Of your courage there can be no reasonable doubt.
Your fleetness of feet is legend throughout.
Your wisdom is, perhaps, your greatest trait.
And it is to this I appeal, before it’s too late.”
I have no wish to kill you, at least not today.
Your feats I admire, but you stand in my way.
You are not as young as when you saved the princess of Lear
Your stories are old, you’ve lived many years.
Are you sure that you carry your sword with the strength you once did?
Does you shield stand as high, are your hands steady and rid
Of the shaking, the frailness that comes with old age?
Don’t you think, in your state, you’ll feel the burn of my rage?
Look at the state of the armor you wear
Is that rust on your shield, and the sword that you bear?
How dull is the blade on the sword in your hand?
You’re in no condition to defend this land.”
Here, the dragon paused to listen for the sound
Of the trembling that the knight sent through the ground.
The dragon grinned, he saw frail hands shaking with fear,
The old fool would fold soon, his victory was near.
The dragon knew that his words were far stronger than flame
So he spake his last lines to bring an end to this game.
“What do you care what I do to this town,
To the people in the village and the farms all around?
What fealty do you owe them to give up your life?
All the days that you’ve lived there, you’ve had nothing but strife.
They ask for your courage, for your wisdom, your speed.
They take from you all that they feel that they need.
No one down there would care if you died.
Up here in the pass, saving their lives.
They take you for granted, call you crazy old coot.
And secretly search for the legendary loot
That it’s said that you stole from the Prince of Aldine
And hid somewhere here. They’d rob you blind.
Would you really be willing to die here and now
For the greedy and spiteful folk of this town?
Walk away, I don’t mind, and never look back.
There is nothing here for which you’d feel a lack.
I do not want to kill you, at least not today.
But I will if I have to, you stand in my way.”
Sir Richard stood silent, unsure how to proceed.
The action to take, perhaps he should heed
The advice of the dragon, his offer was fair.
To abandon the town and the folk living there.
What could he do, an old man and his sword
Against the might, and magic, and roar?
The dragon was huge, its wings blocked the sky
The poor knight’s big shield was the size of its eye.
In truth he did not care for the people of the town,
Was dying here worth it? He would gain no renown?
He felt his arms droop and he knew at the time
That he would lower his weapon and choose not to die.
He would head on his way, leave the town to its fate.
They deserved what they got, their greed and their hate.
Then he saw in that moment, a glint the eye
Of the dragon sensing victory, and he let out a sigh.
What a fool he was, to let the words the worm spoke
Convince him, so nearly, to abandon his oath.
His strength returned, his courage took wing.
He was a knight, a champion, a man of the King.
His strife with the villagers mattered not at all.
He would not, he could not, let the town fall.
So with a cry of triumph, lifted his sword,
With nary a quiver in his voice, Sir Richard roared
“Nay lizard, Nay Acriphae, you shall not woo
My conscience, my will from its sworn duty to
The people who live in the small town below.
To the farmers, the children, the beasts of the field
My duty is clear. I. Will. Not. Yield.
So now an offer, it is my turn to make.
Turn back now, go away, or your life I will take.”
With a roars that shook mountains and valleys alike
The dragon, Acriphae, readied to strike.
His stomach churned, its deadly potions prepared
To shoot from his nostrils and burn everything there.
The battle was swift, as such battles must be
For to face a dragon, one must have qualities three.
The courage to stand, and face one’s own doom.
The swiftness to strike when the opening looms.
The wisdom to know how to survive the duel.
For dragons are magic, and magic has rules.
Though mighty and strong, and vicious and fierce
Dragons must have a weakness, a soft spot so near
Their heart, that a stab of a well sharpened sword
Could end the beast’s life in the space of a roar.
Richard stabbed once, then twice, missing both times.
The dragon roared fire, though he could not find
His target, for Richard was swift on his feet
And had danced the side out the beast’s reach.
Again they clashed, and again they both missed.
Richard started to tire, and he heard the beast hiss.
Gathering his strength, he prepared for one final try.
He lept forth and stabbed, and felt the dragon die.
The beast let out one final defiant roar
Before falling silent, to the valley floor.
The battle was won.
Sir Richard was done.
He turned back down the road
And headed for home.
My original thought is that it would be the sort of story I could read to my future children, like the story of Custard the Dragon, of which I have very fond memories. I don't think I really achieved that, but that's where it started.
So any thoughts on it would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
The Tale of Sir Richard and the Dragon
The knight stood his ground as the dragon roared.
He set his shield and raised his sword.
His words rang out, though quite sincere
His attempt at courage could not hide his fear.
“I will not yield to your fiery wrath
So turn back now or breathe your last.
Though you wish to burn the town below
I will not let you destroy those homes.”
The dragon laughed, his eyes aglow
“Your courage is noted, oh tasty foe.”
His voice, it rumbled like grinding rock
His breath smelled of sulfur as he continued to talk.
“You are quite brave, oh little knight
But you have no hope of surviving this fight.
Leave now. Depart. Never return.
And I will not make you watch the town burn.
You will live to fight, again another day.
You know, I am sure, it is the only way.
For dragons are creatures of magic and might.
We take what we want, it’s only our right.
But you humans with your wonderfully crunchable bones
Live only to provide us with meat and with gold.”
The dragon continued, his voice low and soft
His suggestion seductive, the knight feared he had lost.
“I respect your resolve to face me here
To come to this dark pass despite your fear.
I have heard of your name, your tales of renown
I am not surprised you would face me alone.
Sir Richard the Brave, the Swift, and the Wise
You have bested many foes, and saved many lives.
Your victory over the seven headed beast of Travair.
The hairs you stole from Queen Mab on a dare.
The day you saved three villages in Kent,
A blow from that giant barely gave you a dent.
You climbed the tallest mountain to gather the tears
Of the weeping willow to heal the princess of Lear.
Of your courage there can be no reasonable doubt.
Your fleetness of feet is legend throughout.
Your wisdom is, perhaps, your greatest trait.
And it is to this I appeal, before it’s too late.”
I have no wish to kill you, at least not today.
Your feats I admire, but you stand in my way.
You are not as young as when you saved the princess of Lear
Your stories are old, you’ve lived many years.
Are you sure that you carry your sword with the strength you once did?
Does you shield stand as high, are your hands steady and rid
Of the shaking, the frailness that comes with old age?
Don’t you think, in your state, you’ll feel the burn of my rage?
Look at the state of the armor you wear
Is that rust on your shield, and the sword that you bear?
How dull is the blade on the sword in your hand?
You’re in no condition to defend this land.”
Here, the dragon paused to listen for the sound
Of the trembling that the knight sent through the ground.
The dragon grinned, he saw frail hands shaking with fear,
The old fool would fold soon, his victory was near.
The dragon knew that his words were far stronger than flame
So he spake his last lines to bring an end to this game.
“What do you care what I do to this town,
To the people in the village and the farms all around?
What fealty do you owe them to give up your life?
All the days that you’ve lived there, you’ve had nothing but strife.
They ask for your courage, for your wisdom, your speed.
They take from you all that they feel that they need.
No one down there would care if you died.
Up here in the pass, saving their lives.
They take you for granted, call you crazy old coot.
And secretly search for the legendary loot
That it’s said that you stole from the Prince of Aldine
And hid somewhere here. They’d rob you blind.
Would you really be willing to die here and now
For the greedy and spiteful folk of this town?
Walk away, I don’t mind, and never look back.
There is nothing here for which you’d feel a lack.
I do not want to kill you, at least not today.
But I will if I have to, you stand in my way.”
Sir Richard stood silent, unsure how to proceed.
The action to take, perhaps he should heed
The advice of the dragon, his offer was fair.
To abandon the town and the folk living there.
What could he do, an old man and his sword
Against the might, and magic, and roar?
The dragon was huge, its wings blocked the sky
The poor knight’s big shield was the size of its eye.
In truth he did not care for the people of the town,
Was dying here worth it? He would gain no renown?
He felt his arms droop and he knew at the time
That he would lower his weapon and choose not to die.
He would head on his way, leave the town to its fate.
They deserved what they got, their greed and their hate.
Then he saw in that moment, a glint the eye
Of the dragon sensing victory, and he let out a sigh.
What a fool he was, to let the words the worm spoke
Convince him, so nearly, to abandon his oath.
His strength returned, his courage took wing.
He was a knight, a champion, a man of the King.
His strife with the villagers mattered not at all.
He would not, he could not, let the town fall.
So with a cry of triumph, lifted his sword,
With nary a quiver in his voice, Sir Richard roared
“Nay lizard, Nay Acriphae, you shall not woo
My conscience, my will from its sworn duty to
The people who live in the small town below.
To the farmers, the children, the beasts of the field
My duty is clear. I. Will. Not. Yield.
So now an offer, it is my turn to make.
Turn back now, go away, or your life I will take.”
With a roars that shook mountains and valleys alike
The dragon, Acriphae, readied to strike.
His stomach churned, its deadly potions prepared
To shoot from his nostrils and burn everything there.
The battle was swift, as such battles must be
For to face a dragon, one must have qualities three.
The courage to stand, and face one’s own doom.
The swiftness to strike when the opening looms.
The wisdom to know how to survive the duel.
For dragons are magic, and magic has rules.
Though mighty and strong, and vicious and fierce
Dragons must have a weakness, a soft spot so near
Their heart, that a stab of a well sharpened sword
Could end the beast’s life in the space of a roar.
Richard stabbed once, then twice, missing both times.
The dragon roared fire, though he could not find
His target, for Richard was swift on his feet
And had danced the side out the beast’s reach.
Again they clashed, and again they both missed.
Richard started to tire, and he heard the beast hiss.
Gathering his strength, he prepared for one final try.
He lept forth and stabbed, and felt the dragon die.
The beast let out one final defiant roar
Before falling silent, to the valley floor.
The battle was won.
Sir Richard was done.
He turned back down the road
And headed for home.