"Ho! Sir Dragon! ‘Tis Mildred ap Morgan from Terwyn.  I invoke the ancient right of the parley."

 "Parley? Dragonnish?  Who taught a child our language?"

 Mildred swallowed hard as the dragon emerged from his lair.  It would be a tight fit, should he visit the Great Hall at Tremaine castle.  Green and blue scales covered most of his hide, toward the belly the color turned to gold. She lifted her chin as he regarded her with one jeweled eye the size of her head.

 "What age have you, child?  No more than twelve summers, I warrant."

 "Aye, my Lord.  Since Grandfer died, I'm the only one, you see."

 "Nay, little one. I do not "see."  Your  Dragonnish is fluent, but you garble the syntax and grammar somewhat."

 Mildred rubbed her neck, a crick forming as she valiantly attempted to maintain eye-contact in the polite way her Grandfer instructed.  "Would you mind, terribly, Sir Dragon, if I climbed yonder tree?  T'would make it easier to converse."

 "Of course, child.  Would you care for refreshment?"

 Grandfer told her never to refuse dragon hospitality.  They were creatures of etiquette and easily offended.  Unfortunately, when offence occurred their response was often times violent beyond belief.

  "I am thirsty. ‘Tis a long journey up the mountain, three days."  Before she finished speaking the dragon disappeared inside, returning with, a gold goblet, balanced delicately, in his long taloned claw.  She examined the contents, relieved it was goats' milk.  "I thank you, my Lord."

 "Nonsense. Least I could do.  It's been an age since my last visit with your kind." A loud rumble issued forth from deep within the dragon. Mildred determined he was laughing.  "Please, desist "My Lording" me.  My name is Garenth.  What can I do for you, young Mildred ap Morgan?"

 Mildred tooka steadying sip.  "Garenth, would you tell me why you intend to destroy the village?  I know it isn't much.  A rude blockage of your excellent view — "

  "Dear child, I don't propose destroying the village, just the Blacksmith and his family."

 Mildred bit her lip.  "May I inquire, why?"  Grandfer's knowledge of dragons and their habits, warned her, if the dragon did indeed revenge himself upon the Blacksmith, his rage-lust would be too great.  The dragon might destroy the whole valley, including the castle of her benefactress, the Lady Tremaine.

 "His son invaded my mountain and poached a stag."

 "Others have hunted on the slopes of the mountain.  You have not minded."

 "The boy was— ignorant, dirty and he left his campfire burning.  We dragons are cautious of fire — knowing its destructive power, intimately."

 Mildred nodded. "Hal Warren is boorish.  What if he apologized for his transgression, personally?"  The dragon's snout wrinkled.  "He could be taught proper bathing habits before he apologizes."  Mildred sighed at the obstinate thrust of the dragon's regal head.  "The villagers can be warned and I'm certain My Lady would be pleased to penalize them in any manner you deem fit."

 "Your Lady?"

 "Lady Willa Tremaine.  Her castle's far down the vale."

 "Oh yes, a very tasteful, pleasing structure.  She is related?"

 "Nay.  My patron.  She took me in when Grandfer died."

 "You have noother relatives?"

 "None that I cared to live with."  Mildred refrained from covering her ears as the dragon roared his amusement.

 "It shall beas you suggest — I ask one concession from you, Mildred ap Morgan, for my clemency.  You must stay with me."

  Live with a dragon? Grandfer never hinted at this possibility.  Dragons were solitary creatures.

 "Hah!  Your grandfather didn't know everything, did he?"  Garenth's dragon grin should have frightened her, but didn't.  "We dragons don't tolerate fools.  Can barely stand each other.  Occasionally, we enjoy a few hundred years of fellowship, if a proper companion can be found. What? Think you that Unicorns are the only creatures titillated by innocence?"

 Mildred frowned. "No human lives longer than three score and ten."

 "Search your heart, Mildred ap Morgan.  There is much I can teach you, much knowledge that's been lost.  Besides, if you don't consent, I shall fire the valley and move onto greener pastures."

 Mildred astonished herself with a disbelieving snort.

 "I am lonely. I was born in the year the great ice fields began their northward retreat.  ‘Tis a lengthy time, child."

 Mildred gazed into his jeweled eyes.  She decided.  Who wouldn't say "yes," to such an adventure?  "Garenth?"

 "Yes?"

 "Would you let me ride your back when you fly?"

 The dragon grunted his affront.  He sighed, gusty with a hint of sulfur from the fiery furnace within.  "Oh, very well."

 "You have myagreement." Mildred smiled in delight as Garenth leaped powerfully into the air and swooped upwards with a strong sweep of his emerald wings.