The Dragons Part 1 (rough draft story) posted 1/26/2008 1:09:23 PM | 2 kudos what's this?     report abuse tagged: story, author, copyrighted, rough draft, tale

HopelesslyHopeful

"Listen well, with hearts and ears: you have heard of the Norse Kings and their ascent, by consent of the Chaos of Ordem, to the throne of Kaenisbeth, have you not? In the old days, they were warriors of great physical stamina and virtue.

Rysia, the son of Sæbjörn, was an orphan child, found by Chaos, drifting in the sea. For all are aware, Chaos does love to drift wrecklessly amidst the waves of time and tide, to see what may be caught and claimed.

“I need me, “ said Chaos, “ a net of some size, for which to catch a dragon.” For this was a time when all were at war with the dragons, before the tentative treaties were in place. Scooping in sea water, sea weed, fishies, and briny baubles that scuttled, he was disappointed to find not a drop of netting coming his way. Yet, what was this he heard?

A cry, shrill and powerful, rose from the fishies.

“What ho, fishies!” he exclaimed. “Why do you yell so? Do not be afeared for by and by you will die and fry, and then there'll be no more need to cry.”

The fishies did not seem to care, for on they went with their wailing, driving him to madness. Which was, admittedly, never a far journey to travel.

Tossing fish about, throwing them out into the waters, he howled and cursed their very fins. Since this was entirely the reason that dragons came into existence in the first place, One would have thought he'd have been more careful, yet he did not stop to consult with One but kept on with his activiites.

“May your frontal fins propel you ever onward out of the water... may your throats parch to the point of emitting flame .. may your tails lengthen and coil and I hope you have entirely the sort of legs that do you no good in the sea, henceforth. Take that as payment for your howling.” he had screamed, so long ago, and by his whim and will, an entire race of being was formed, separate from all others.

This time, the fish chose to ignore him, for it was not their wailing. After they had seen what he'd done to their ancestors, the monsters some had become, they dared speak no longer even among themselves, except in the deepest drinks.

The wailer, however, had another reason to choose to ignore him. For it was quite aware that the curses were meant for it, as it was aware that it was driving this two legged creature mad due to the noises it emitted unceasingly. Yet, it had something the fish had in lesser measure: a will of it's own. Not to mention that it's wailing was by way of it doing it's duty for the preservation of Mankind.

“Ugh!” Chaos exclaimed in disgust, noting what had recently come into his hands, during his mad scrabble amidst the dwindling fish pile. “A baby!”

If the fish had been courageous enough to give voice, it would have been a hearty, chortling, laughter that he heard from them. “Ugh, “ they thought collectively, “ a baby, indeed!”

“This shall hardly do! You are not any sort of net at all, much less one capable of catching dragons!” he said to the baby.

The baby waved its little chin about bravely, seeking out the thumb of his Capturer. Finding purchase on a little bulge of thumb flesh, the mouth ceased it's wailing.

“Well, I never!” exclaimed Chaos. “What sort of thing is this, to come onto my ship unannounced, wail like group of doomed fish, and then to actually suck on my thumb? If I wanted my thumb sucked on, do you think me so incapable I could not do it myself?”

The baby didn't answer, except to occasionally release itself and give out little cry, before returning to the thumb.

“I believe, Sire, “ said Servant V “that it has little choice.”
“How so, V?”
“Sucking on your thumb is a biological imperative of the species.”
“Eww. You mean there may be more out there waiting to attack my hand?”
“Possibly, Sire, but it is not your thumb that is the imperative, it is to feed.”
“It's eating my thumb?”
“It's hoping your thumb is another body part altogether, on a different sex, from a different sort of Being.”
“Like an Aardvark?”
“Like a woman.”
“Ah! Who needs those creatures?” Chaos asked, rather sulkily.
“Babies, Sire.”
“Very well. Let us find a port to put into and we'll get us one.”

Port was put into, and a woman found, who Chaos paid well for the raising of Rysia, as he was named by Chaos because, as it was told him at the time “I needed a net to catch the dragons and put an end to their reign of terror. Since you are not a fish, and since my whim and will must be obeyed, I have to assume you are what I called to me.”

The babe grew to boy and the boy to man, and the man to King, having taken his enemies throne. Such a King he was, as terrified many a warrior, whose shrewd dealings with friend and foe caused the land to prosper, so that people everywhere listened when he spoke.

Having been blessed by Chaos, he had a son, to comfort the people and keep them from fear, for that future time when Rysia should be no more.

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