No Dragon Here George

23 April is St George's Day. He is the Patron Saint of England and allegedly killed a dragon. It is probable that St George was not even English, and whether he slew a dragon is a moot point. More likely, the tale is allegorical. Dragon-killing features in the tales of many countries and religions, and I thought that I would do my own spin on the tale. I've tried before to write 750 words and failed, but this time, I have managed to write exactly 750 words! Please enjoy, and let me know what you think. I welcome all feedback.

All characters are over 18.

I tested the ropes. Pointless, but I had to try. I sighed, I knew this day would come, as soon as I was old enough to understand that I was different from The Folk, with their black hair, swarthy skin and dark eyes. I was of The Fair, though my Ma was Folken. It was the way of things, and The Fair, with their pale skin, blue eyes and golden hair, belonged to the Durg'n. The tithe that was paid willingly to ensure The Durg'n did not steal their babes, their future. The Fair were not the future, they were barren.

I shivered. It was cold on the plains, not like under the great trees of the Vertbois, where The Folk lived. Last year it was Radjael's turn, my beautiful girl, my childhood friend and my lover. Our time together had been short, but soon, we would be together again. I prayed to my favourite spirit, Markia of The Eld. Let me die well, and with dignity, I asked her. I did not know whether my prayer would be answered, but I felt comforted.

The sun dipped below the horizon. The priest would have returned to the villagers, they would have gathered in the big room below the Meet Hall, to await the Durg'n. The priest had said the great roaring was the Durg'n's cry, as the creature prepared to feast on Radjael. I wept for her. I prayed to Markia that she would die quickly.

After many minutes, or hours, I knew not, the Durg'n roared. The ground trembled. In a firm voice, the priest said that the creature was sated, praise the Eld, and we all trooped up to the Meet Hall. The Great Fire was lit and we sat round it talking and singing the traditional songs. No one mentioned Radjael. I was alone. I yearned for the touch of her lips, and I cried.

At least the sorrow and loneliness would soon be over. The sun was extinguished, and the stars sparkled. The great blue circle of Durgenwereld began to rise above the opposite horizon. Legend says the Durg'n lives there. Legend says that, rarely, when the circle is dark, you can see the Durg'n's great red eyes watching, ever watching.

A shooting star crossed the sky, closely followed by several more. That was unusual, they didn't normally appear in that part of the sky. They all seemed to change direction, each heading in a different direction, almost as if they were being controlled.

High above, I heard the roaring! No, not stars. They must be The Durg'n! But there was more than one. Surely not? There was only one Durg'n, wasn't there? Terror drowned me, I did not want to die, although I wanted to join Radjael!

The Durg'n's cry filled the sky, and I prayed that I would not soil myself in my fear. It plunged towards me, and as it closed, I could see a long, thin teardrop shape, sparkling in the blue light from Durgenwereld. The creature's roars deafened me as it extended silver legs towards the ground. The roar stopped, and my ears rang in the silence. Curiosity pushed away the terror. What was it?

It sang, a thin, reedy sound, and a door opened. A silvery figure appeared, and I marvelled. This was not a creature, but a boat, and this was the steersman. It stepped down and ran towards me, drawing a knife. I closed my eyes and prepared to die.

I felt the ropes being severed, but I did not move. It might be a trap. I heard several sharp clicks, like snapping twigs, and a rustle. Strong arms encircled me, a soft pair of lips pressed warmly against mine, and a familiar voice whispered: "We are together again, my love!"

"Radjael! But HOW? The Durg'n...last year?" Tears overflowed.

"Sweetheart, we ARE the Durg'n, you and I...and ALL The Fair! But before I show you, I have waited a year for this!"

Her hands were on me, and we fell to the grass, struggling to undress. We nipped and kissed, we stroked and fondled, my fingers found her wet heat and drove into her. She shuddered and cried my name as she came. We made love again, I cried tears of joy and thanked Markia silently, many times.

Finally, we rose and walked hand in hand to the silver boat. I hesitated at the open door, and Radjael said, "There is nothing to fear! Come with me, Jorjia!"