give you so many punchbowls? Do dragons even drink punch?”
“I suppose I would if it was offered,” Farloft replied.
James sat in the sand by the pool looking at the corroded bowl.
“Now, James,” Farloft scolded. “You wanted to repay me for the use of the knife I gave you, did you not?”
“Yes,” the boy answered. “But, I didn’t know it would mean polishing your treasure. I feel like a kitchen maid.”
“It is something I cannot do for myself. It is a great favor to me. Besides, you should not picture yourself a kitchen maid, but rather a squire. Who do you think keeps the knight’s armor polished?”
James smiled and set to rubbing the sand over the tarnished pot. “How about another story to pass the time, Farloft.” The dragon’s stories had been entertaining them for days. James had never heard a better storyteller, even from the traveling bards at the yearly festivals that drew so many from hill and dale.
“Let me see,” Farloft began. “Since we were discussing silver, I will tell you of James the Blacksmith,” Farloft announced.
“Oh no, Farloft. Not a smithy,” James protested. The thought of a blacksmith brought the village smithy to mind. He was a mean, carousing, drunk with his two front teeth missing, to say nothing of the stealing. Not suitable at all for a legend. “Tell about another knight or someone else worth a tale.”
“James the Blacksmith is a fine story and well worth the telling,” Farloft retorted. His eye ridges pulled together in a frown of defense. James could see how people got the wrong ideas about dragons. Farloft really could look fierce without even trying. “Now keep polishing and listen.”
Farloft cleared his throat and as he gazed into the pool his story of James the Blacksmith began to unfold.
- JAMES - THE BLACKSMITH-
“James, the Blacksmith lived with his wife and eight children in the small village of Cornover. He had to shoe many horses and fix many a wagon and hand tool, in order to care for his large family. But James was more than just a smithy, he was an artisan. The queen herself had discovered his talent and kept him well supplied with silver from the kingdom’s mine in Leftland.
“The smithy fashioned beautiful bridles from the silver which the queen gave him. In turn, the queen would give these bridles as gifts to her handmaids and as prizes to the victors of the tournaments held each year on the castle grounds.
“James’ work was much admired by all who saw it. However, beauty was not all the smithy fashioned into his bridles. Some said that he placed a bit of magic in them as well. All who owned one said that their horse was far more responsive when the silver bridles were put on then before their use. So the rumors began to spread that James placed a magical touch on his work when he forged the silver. Magic that gave the riders better communication, through the bridles, with their mount.”
“Was it really magic?” James asked with wonder in his voice.
“Wait and see.” Farloft replied. “Now, allow me to continue, please.”
The boy leaned forward in anticipation idly rinsing the pot in the pool.
“This was in the time of King Ludlow. His queen, and the queen who commissioned the bridles from James the Blacksmith, was Queen Harrah. Queen Harrah had been queen for many years, but the royal couple had yet to be blessed with a child. So, it was with great joy the king announced one spring the queen was pregnant. That Christmas, or the New Year at the latest, there would be an heir to the throne. The whole kingdom spoke of nothing else for weeks. Their words filled the air like cottonwood fluff on a breezy day. Speculation and bets were made as to the date of birth, the sex and the color of the eyes of the royal addition. The handmaids whispered about what they thought revealed the child’s specifics. One day, they said the queen carried the child high, so it would be a girl. The next day, she carried it low, so it must surely be a boy. In all cases, her carrying was a burden, for the queen was far too old to bear a child safely.
“When the child did come, late in the same year, it was a large, healthy boy. Unfortunately, it was also that same birth that caused the good queen’s death.
“King Ludlow mourned his queen for months. It was said the only joy he received during that time was from the smiles of his son and heir, which he named William after his dead wife’s father.”
James stopped polishing and set the bowl down.
“Yes?” Farloft asked interrupting his story.
“My sister said that was the way my father was with me when my mother died,” James said.
“Your father was a wise man,” Farloft pronounced. “Some men turn from the child of a dead wife. They mistakenly blame the child for their loss. Such was not the case with King Ludlow or your father. They both saw the right of things.”
James nodded and wiped a tear which threatened to fall with his sleeve. Speaking of his father still touched his heart and renewed the pain of the loss of his family.
Farloft laid quietly awaiting James’ signal to resume his tale. The dragon had lost many close friends and family in all his years. He knew one needed time to grieve.
“What happened to William?” James prompted finally, picking up the bowl again and working sand into the fine detail of its carved designs.
“Well, a wet nurse was found for the child. Her name was Cassandra and she had been married to one of the captains in King Ludlow’s army. The captain was killed by a Baldar raiding party and his wife Cassandra was left with a new baby and no husband to care for her or her child. Her situation much improved when she volunteered to suckle the king’s child. She moved into the castle and was set up in her own compartments in the nursery wing.
“Two years passed with the King seeing Cassandra daily when he came to visit his son in the nursery. Slowly, over the two years, the King and Cassandra came to like and then eventually love each other. In the third year after the death of Queen Harrah, King Ludlow married Cassandra.
“Almost from the start, all was not well with this royal marriage. For you see, Queen Cassandra was a jealous female and she taught her son, Dwayne, to be jealous too.
“Both William and Dwayne were raised side by side. Schooled together, trained together, and disciplined together. No matter whether Dwayne was a better horseman or archer; no matter whether William was slower in math and science than Dwayne; it was always known and repeated over and over, so it would not be forgotten, that William was to inherit the throne upon the death of their father, King Ludlow.
“Queen Cassandra, in her jealousy, wanted her son to be king and she set about poisoning Dwayne’s mind toward William. As the years passed, the rivalry between the boys became a topic at court and even spread beyond the castle walls. The king did everything he could not to show favoritism between the two lads, but facts were facts, and one day William would be king.”
“I thought this was a story about a blacksmith and his magic,” James interrupted. He was just getting interested in the smithy when Farloft had gone off talking about dull royalty and their feuds.
“I am getting back to that,” Farloft soothed. “Now where was I? Oh yes, the two lads.
“William and Dwayne were both young men of 19 years the year the Baldars began their onslaught against the kingdom’s borders in earnest. It was not long before the king realized he would have to wage an all out war against the invaders before he was rid of them for good. He spent many sleepless nights worrying about his kingdom, his people and his family. If he were to die now, he was sure that the kingdom would be split apart by his two warring sons.
“It was one night, very late after the moon had set, that he remembered James the Blacksmith and his magic bridles. The King thought if it was true the bridles were magic, perhaps James could fashion a sword and shield which would contain enough magic to keep a king safe from his enemies and allow him enough time to straighten out this problem with his sons before he died.
“King Ludlow went to the smithy the next day. He commissioned a sword, shield and dagger, with his crest, to
be made over the next fortnight. The smithy was reluctant to take the job. He had never made weapon or shield. Besides, his uncertainty of the correct way to fashion such metal, he was also a very pious man and did not believe violence was the answer to any quarrel. He did not want to fashion a weapon to kill men. The King pleaded and then finally had to order the smithy to make the weapons and shield before he stomped out of James’ shop.
“Every night, for fourteen nights after the King’s departure from the shop, James toiled over the sword, shield and dagger for the King’s commission. And every night, James the Blacksmith cried for what he knew these weapons would be used. His tears fell upon the sword and the shield and the dagger and were hammered and ground and polished into their metal.
“When King Ludlow came to fetch the weapons and shield, he was pleased with their workmanship and paid James the smithy well for his hours of toil. Little did the King know that he should have paid James far more for his tears than his craftsmanship. For you see, later, when King Ludlow went into battle, he was invincible. The shield, polished with the tears of a pious man, protected him from every attack. His sword and dagger found the heart of the enemy almost on their own. Battle after battle was won. The Baldars retreated to lick their wounds and regroup to attack another day.
“By then, William and Dwayne were 20 years of age and