The Ice Dragon

Once, a long time ago, to the north of a little snow covered village, there lived an Ice Dragon, all alone, in a cave of glittering ice.

 

No, not a nice dragon; an Ice Dragon, I said and this dragon wasn’t nice at all, it was cruel and ferocious.

 

It wasn’t green as most dragons usually are but covered all over, from head to spiky tail, in scales of snow white and it didn’t breath fire either, as most dragons do, but a chill wind that turned all that it touched to solid ice.

 

Many brave men had, in the past, tried to slay the dragon but all had been frozen by its icy breath and they stood like ice-statues,holding aloft their swords but unable to move, around the mouth of its cave.

 

Then, however, one Christmas Eve  the people of the nearby village erected a tall Christmas tree in the centre of their village square that was covered in pretty shiny glass baubles and draped in glistening tinfoil tinsel and which had, at the very top of it, a beautiful, sparkling crystal star.

 

And Dragons, you see, even ice dragons, love sparkly, shiny things; they have a great, enormous horde of treasure; a pile of glittering gold and jewels that they sit upon, like misers hoarding their money, and the ice dragon, seeing the star sparkle in the moonlight began to crave it.

 

“Oh what a beautiful glittering gem that star is”, he said to himself, growling enviously, “I should have that star. It makes all the jewels in my horde seem small by comparison”.

 

And, spreading its enormous white wings that were so large that they, when they were bent,  looked like two snow-capped hills, the monstrous arctic lizard rose up into the frosty air and flew towards the village determined to grab hold of the star topped tree.

 

Unfortunately, just at that very moment, a young girl; the daughter of a village elder, whose name was Christmasina was adding decorations to the tree; little stars and bells made from chocolate covered marzipan and gingerbread when suddenly, almost like an avalanche from the sky, the ice dragon swooped down and seized up the tree in its four ginormous taloned feet and, tearing it up by the roots, carried it off and she with it.

 

And poor Christmasina might well have fallen off of the tree and plunged to her doom on the icy ground far below had she not grabbed on to one of its green and bristly branches just in time and held on with all her strength, hiding herself behind one of its shiny, dangling baubles.

 

Oh, how the village elder and his poor wife wept when they heard about how their daughter had been carried away.

 

“Poor Christmasina”, her mother said, shivering with dread and with tears pouring down her face, “That dragon will now surely turn her into ice and we shall never see her lovely smiling face again”.

 

But then a young man, named Thomas who’d been Christmasina’s friend ever since they were children and who loved her very much, said that he would go and rescue her and slay the vile ice dragon as well.

 

Christmasina’s father and mother were doubtful at first as to whether anyone could save their daughter and they said so.

 

“Everyone who has ever been near to its cave has been turned into ice”, her father told him, “Far braver and stronger men than you, young Thomas”.

 

But then Thomas’s father, who was the village carpenter and toymaker, overhearing this, said that he had an idea how they may get past the dragon’s freezing breath.

 

And, the next day when the dragon awoke, from dreaming of mountains of tinkling treasure, its huge scaly arms hugging the stolen crystal star it saw, to its amazement, a soldier standing outside its cave, dressed in a uniform of red and holding a long steel sabre in his outstretched hand.

 

“You are a fool to come to my cave”, said the dragon, yawning, “Do you not know that I turn men into ice merely by breathing upon them? Run away now, little man and, because I am tired, I will spare you”.

 

“You can try”, said the red suited soldier, defiantly, “But you will not turn me to ice no matter how hard you breath”.

 

This made the dragon very angry and, determined to teach the arrogant soldier a lesson , it breathed in, its scaly chest expanding as it filled with ice cold air and then, howling like an arctic gale, it blew upon him.

 

But the soldier did not flinch; he did not try to run; he didn’t even shiver when touched by the ice dragon’s freezing cold breath and then that soldier, to the dragon’s amazement, spoke up again, this time laughing.

 

“Is that the best that you can do?”, he said, sounding unimpressed, “I did not even feel it”.

 

However, this only made the dragon even more angry and more determined,

 

“How dare you laugh at me”, said the Dragon, bellowing now like thunder and cannon fire, “Why, I’ll freeze you to your very bones, you’ll see”.

 

And, saying this, the dragon took an even larger breath, his chest now billowing out until it looked like all the white sails upon a warship and then, exhaling, it blew upon the warrior with all its might.

 

Now, because that last breath had taken everything out of the dragon, it was puffing and panting but certain that this time it had turned the warrior to ice.

 

Suddenly, however, from where they were hidden under piles of snow, villagers rose up all around the dragon and armed with swords and spears and crossbows they charged towards it.

 

The dragon, though out of breath, was still gigantic and as ferocious as a small army with claws as long as icicles and large, snapping, jaws filled with sharp teeth but the villagers fought bravely and, eventually, a sword, held in Thomas’s hand was driven through the beasts scaly, ice cold heart.

 

Then, when the dragon had fallen like a tower of melting snow, Christmasina who had been hiding in the cave all the while came out and ran into the arms of a smiling Thomas.

 

“But what I don’t understand”, she said to him, looking bewildered,“Is who that strange soldier is and why he wasn’t frozen by the dragon’s icy breath?”.

 

Thomas knocked upon the head of the red suited soldier and she heard a sound like hollow wood.

 

“It’s not a real soldier at all, see”, said Thomas, “My father carved him out of wood, like one of his toy soldiers and his voice, that was me”.

 

Now, because the dragon had been defeated; Thomas, Christmasina and the villagers went home, they replanted and redecorated the Christmas tree, placing the glittering star back on top and this time, underneath, they stood the wooden soldier to guard it, sabre in hand, and then all had a very happy Christmas.