Dragontail 2 The Dreadful Sherpherdess

THE DREADFUL SHEPHERDESS

Sir Eustace Curdylion (Professional Dragonkiller) and his friend the
dragon were camped for the night on the hillside above the village of
Upper Twitching.

"You know, it's just struck me," said Sir Eustace, "You've never told
me your name."

"Actually, I'd rather not," said the dragon.

Sir Eustace thought for a moment. "Some sort of dragon thing?"

"No. It's just a bit embarrassing."

"Suit yourself. Now, are you quite clear about what to do
tomorrow?"

"I should think so, it's simple enough," said the dragon. "A few low
passes over the village, breathe fire, chase everything that moves -
"

"Don't hurt anyone, mind."

" - then back here for lunch."

"I'll stroll in during the afternoon to offer my services. If they
haven't agreed a fee by sunset, you can fly down and give them another
dose, but I don't anticipate any problems."

"You're sure this is going to work?" asked the dragon.

"Of course it will," said Sir Eustace, with more confidence than he
felt. This was a new venture for both of them. There was little call
for a dragon-slayer, now that wild dragons were all but extinct, so it
made sense to bring his own. And the peasants of Upper Twitching
deserved all they got. It still rankled, how they had done him out of
his fee for killing that escaped pig. "Better get some sleep, it'll be
a heavy day tomorrow."

Not long after, the hills were alive with the sound of snoring.

* * *

The dragon was enjoying himself. He skimmed over the rooftops, fire
spouting from his nostrils, then chased the scurrying figures up and
down the village street. He gained altitude with a few flaps of his
powerful wings, then stooped in a screaming dive on the village green.
Geese flew up cackling in alarm as his fiery breath turned the duckpond
to steam. All the children had come out of school and were pointing up
in excitement, so he performed a victory roll for their benefit before
streaking for the hills.

On his way back to where he had left Sir Eustace he noticed a flock of
sheep on the hillside.

'Hmm,' he thought, 'roast lamb for dinner?' The sheep scattered in
every direction at his approach. He picked out one fat ewe and was just
giving chase when a stunning blow to the side of his head brought him
tumbling from the sky.

"W -What?" he croaked.

As the stars cleared from his sight he squinted up. The figure which
loomed over him would have caused the stoutest heart to quail. She was
fully six foot tall and clad in black leather. With one hand she was
tucking her sling back in her belt, while in the other she brandished a
stout cudgel.

"Who are you?

"I'm the shepherdess, of course. What do I look like?"

"Not like a shepherdess," said the dragon. "I've seen pictures. Dainty
little things in flowered dresses, with ribbons on their crooks."

"Huh!" snorted the shepherdess. "Fat lot of good they'd be, hauling
sheep out of crevasses, or seeing off thieving dragons!"

"Madam, I had no designs on your sheep, I was just admiring them . . .
"

"Oh yes? Pull the other on, it's got bells on."

She raised her cudgel. The dragon tried to breathe some fire, but it
was no use. He was totally out of fuel. Now he regretted expending so
much firepower over the village. All he could manage was a small puff
of smoke.

"Say your prayers, dragon," growled the shepherdess. The dragon closed
his eyes.

"Excuse me," a polite voice broke in, "but do you have a
licence?"

The shepherdess swung round. "Pardon?"

"You need a licence for dragon-slaying," said Sir Eustace, who had come
quietly up behind them. "Otherwise, you can't claim the fee."

"Bollocks! I can kill anything that's worrying my sheep."

"I wasn't, I didn't, I never even mentioned mint sauce," cried the
dragon.

"I know you," said the shepherdess to Sir Eustace. "Aren't you the
bloke that blew up old Muggeweed's pig? He wasn't best pleased."

"My contract was to stop it tearing up the landscape," said Sir
Eustace. "No-one said they wanted it back intact. And they still owe
me. Anyway, my point is, if you kill the dragon, you do it for nothing.
Whereas I, as a licensed dragon-killer, can charge a guinea a foot.
Surely we can work something out, say fifty-fifty?"

"What do you mean, kill me?" squealed the dragon. "You rotten beast, I
thought you were my friend!"

The shepherdess looked from one to the other. "I get it. You're in this
together."

"They shouldn't have cheated me over the pig," said Sir Eustace
sulkily.

"Tell me something," said the shepherdess, looking thoughtful. "When
you rescue a maiden from a dragon, you get to marry her, right?"

"Assuming she's willing. Otherwise there's generally some financial
arrangement."

"But if she is willing?"

"In that case it would be discourteous to refuse."

"OK," said the shepherdess. "Here's what I want you to do. Get it
right, and you can have your dragon back. Otherwise," an evil smile
spread slowly across her face, "well, I always fancied a dragonskin
handbag."

* * *

After negotiating his fee with the village elders, to his satisfaction
if not theirs, Sir Eustace made his way to the forge, where he found
the smith idly straightening horseshoes with his bare hands.

"What can I do for you?"

"Just need a few dents taken out of my helmet," said Sir Eustace.
"Visor's sticking a bit. Can't be too careful, fighting
dragons.."

"Ah. You're the one they hired to sort him out?"

"And rescue the virgin."

"Virgin? What virgin?"

"Well, I think we can safely assume she's a virgin. The shepherdess up
on the hill."

"WHAT!" The smith dropped his hammer on his toe. "He's never got
Ferocity Wipstock!"

"That'll be her," said Sir Eustace. "Funny name that, for a girl," he
added.

"Oh," said the smith abstractedly, "Her mam and dad called her
Felicity, but they soon saw that was a mistake."

"Then we'll get married, I suppose."

"You!" The smith stared with a mixture of bewilderment and rage. "What
makes you think you can just come along and marry Ferocity?"

"Well, it's customary," said Sir Eustace. "The rescuer always gets
first refusal. She's a well set up lass, if you like them big. And got
her own flock. A man could do worse. I think it's time I settled
down."

"Oh, do you?" The smith picked up his heaviest hammer. "You stay right
here, or I'll settle you. If anyone weds our Ferocity it's going to be
me.

Glowering, he marched out of the forge and set off up the hill. Sir
Eustace give him a few minutes start, then followed at a safe
distance.

The battle was in full swing by the time he arrived.. The smith was
taking mighty swipes with his hammer at the dragon, who was flying
round him in circles, hissing. Ferocity shouted encouragement from the
sidelined, while the sheep milled around looking sheepish. As soon as
the dragon spotted Sir Eustace he flew up into the air.

"All right," he shouted. "I've had enough. I give up!"

"My hero!" Ferocity rushed forward and flung her arms round the neck of
the smith, who promptly collapsed under the weight.

Sir Eustace left them to it.

* * *

That evening, as they sat by the campfire eating some sausages which
Sir Eustace had had the forethought to buy in the village, the dragon
said, "I'm not sure that I'm cut out for this ravaging lark. My nerves
are shattered."

"Well, things didn't go exactly as planned," said Sir Eustace, "but we
haven't done that badly. I remembered to ask for the fee in advance
this time, and they paid up for the pig job. We won't need to try
anything else for a while."

"It's not that. I don't know if I can trust you anymore. You wanted to
go halves with that awful shepherdess!"

"Don't be daft!" Sir Eustace stared. "I only said that to stop her
braining you. Of course I'm your friend."

"Promise?"

"Knight's honour. Anyway, you're a fine one to talk about trust. You
won't even tell me you're name."

"You'll laugh," said the dragon. "Everyone does."

" I won't. Honest"

"All right. It's Snowdrop. You're laughing!"

"No I'm not." Sir Eustace hastily rearranged his face. "It's a very
nice name. Suits you. Anyway," he added, "I know all about names. In
school they used to call me Useless."

"Oh? I wonder why?" said the dragon.