Featured on The Dirigible Balloon
He was born because of Disney. Because of Disney Princesses to be honest. I had worked on an ad campaign for that franchise. Our “dailies” were those movies. Celebrating adventure and swashbuckling lasses. Then of course Smaug from beloved Mr. Tolkien’s realm of wonder- came to mind. I struggled with the idea that Mortimer is evil. I concluded – he is not. He is merely a dragon who like a cat, has a very developed prey drive. So how could he resist that Fairy buzzing through open air? Every ounce in his being, insisted he take a swat at her at least. And yes. I watched Game of Thrones! Namakula built the excitement with her read along with the music and sound effects Ian wove through the tale. I particularly love how she interpreted the last line of the poem. “Escape? Ha! He never even tries.”
Champion of a thousand fights,
Gobbler of a thousand Knights.
One day a Dragon met his match,
when it was a Fairy, he tried to catch.
He spied her from his perch on high.
Decided he would make her fry.
Mortimer snorted smoke with glee.
He’d dunk this wench in his tea!
An afternoon’s toothsome bite,
would quell his Dragon’s appetite.
Crush her bones in iron claws.
Munch her in his smoking jaws.
Mortimer prepared his strike,
his tail unfurled. A pointed pike.
Poised to plunge his deadly dart,
into the Fairies beating heart.
What the dragon didn’t know
about his fair prey down below,
this Fairy was a Warrior Elf
who knew the art of war herself.
Down he dove at this small sparrow,
wings clove the sky like an arrow.
Mortimer spewed a cloud of ash.
“Blind the imp! Make her crash!”
The Fairy zig -zagged just in time,
heavenward she began to climb.
Mortimer roared! Picked up speed.
Vowed to make this maiden bleed.
The Fairy spun in mid-flight,
inches from that blazing bite.
Pulled a sword from her side,
“Come now Dragon take a ride!”
Mortimer felt a pang of fright.
He wanted a snack. Not a fight.
The sky answered the Fairy’s call.
Sweet blue turned to inky squall.
Roaring thunder clapped and clashed.
Sizzling bolts of lightning flashed.
Cruel Mortimer drew in his breath,
his next exhale…scorching death!
Mortimer prepared to do his worst.
She cried “A drink for that thirst!”.
Swung her steel with all her might,
sword crackling with silver light.
Blade slashed the seething clouds,
shredding their grey wooly shrouds.
Mortimer realized far too late,
this battle would now seal his fate.
Before the worm could spread his ire,
the deluge quenched his Dragon fire.
He’d been beaten in this joust.
Dragon flame forever doused.
Off he raced to meet his doom.
His mountain home now a tomb.
Sealed in his cave, there he lies.
Escape? He never even tries.