World's Oldest Living Dragon (7 page)

The aged knights kept reciting.

Now Grizzlegore held up a claw for them to stop.

“That is one of my favorite verses,” he told them. “When the knights flee from the cave? I just love that.”

Mordred dared to speak again. “Dragon,” he said, “there will be no more talk of wanting my gold, will there?”

Grizzlegore shook his old head. “No, saying the rhyme is payment enough,” he said. “Although it does leave me a bit short of cash.”

Before he thought about it, Wiglaf spoke up. “You have the gold from the other dragon schools,” he said. “Isn't that enough?”

“Enough?” huffed Grizzlegore, puffing smoke from his nose. “You think I have enough?”

Wiglaf trembled as he nodded.

“Then you know nothing of what surgeons are charging these days,” the dragon said. “Why, those greedy sawbones won't fix a simple ingrown claw for under six thousand ducats.”

“That's what you want the gold for?” cried Sir Roger. “An operation?”

Grizzlegore nodded. “When you've lived as long as I have, things get broken,” he said. “The old ticker is still going strong. I have a few centuries ahead of me yet. But I can hardly see the horn at the end of my snout anymore. My bones haven't held up. Both my hips are shot. My knees wobble like jelly custard. My ankles are as weak as newborn kittens. And oh, my aching back!”

“We feel your pain,” said Sir Poodleduff.

The dragon stared at him. Everyone was very still.

Grizzlegore glared at Sir Poodleduff. “You don't know what it's like to be old!”

“No, of course we don't,” said Sir Poodleduff quickly. “I only meant that we lads and lasses
will
feel your pain one day, when we are old—like you.”

Grizzlegore nodded, seeming to accept this explanation. “My wings are the only things still working,” he went on. “But who knows how long they'll last?”

Now Don Donn stepped forward. He bowed before the dragon.

“
Hola, Señor
Grizzlegore,” he said. “Perhaps I can help you.
Por favor
—please, may I take a look at your ankles? I am a trainer. Perhaps I can show you a few exercises to get them back in shape.”

“What have I got to lose?” said Grizzlegore. He slithered down from the tree and eased himself into a sitting position. He held out his left back paw.

“Uno,”
said Don Donn. Taking the dragon's paw in his hands, he circled it sundial-wise a few times, then counter-sundial-wise. He had the dragon try it.

“Dos,”
said Don Donn. He had the dragon push his paw against his hand.

“Tres,”
said Don Donn. “Close your eyes and picture yourself running like a young dragon again.”

Grizzlegore did as Don Donn said. A smile appeared on his ancient face.

“Bueno!”
said Don Donn. “Let me see you put some weight on this paw.”

Grizzlegore pushed himself up to a stand. He took a step on the left paw. “Astonishing!” he cried. “Why, it feels fine.”

He sat down again quickly, and held out his right rear paw. As Don Donn began to circle it, Grizzlegore said, “Maybe I don't need an operation after all. Maybe I need exercise.”

“Sí,”
agreed Don Donn. “We will work on your knees next.”

While Don Donn took Grizzlegore through his exercises, Mordred, Lobelia, the aged knights, and all the students went back into the DSA castle. The students took the shutters off the slits in the castle walls. After that, Frypot served an extra-lumpy lumpen pudding for lunch. Then everyone went outside to check on Don Donn and Grizzlegore.

Wiglaf gasped when he saw the dragon. Grizzlegore's horn sat upright on his nose. He was walking tall and proud.

“Zounds!” cried Mordred. “Is there magic afoot?”

“Wouldn't know I was the world's oldest living dragon now, would you?” asked Grizzlegore, turning around so they could see him from all sides.

“No!” everyone cried.

Don Donn stood beside Grizzlegore, smiling proudly.

“Oh, Donn!” cried Lady Lobelia, beaming. “You are my hero!”

“
Gracias, Señorita
,” said Don Donn, kissing her hand again.

“Ugh,” said Angus. “This looks bad.”

Now the dragon turned to Don Donn. “
Muchas gracias
, Don Donn,” he said.

“You speak Spanish?” said Don Donn, surprised.

“Sí,”
said Grizzlegore. “When you've lived as long as I have, you speak everything.” He smiled. “All my gold is yours, Don Donn. Take it.”

“Gracias,”
said Don Donn. “Thank you. But it is not really your gold, is it?”

“It is now,” said Grizzlegore. “And I give it all to you.”

“Por favor,”
said Don Donn. “Please. Give it back to the schools.”

Grizzlegore rolled his eyes. “All right. I shall. But how can I repay you, Don Donn?”

“I'll help you think of something, Donn,” said Lobelia.

Before Don Donn could answer, a horse and rider appeared in the distance. Someone was riding toward DSA.

“Who could that be?” asked Wiglaf.

Erica squinted into the distance. “It is…Sir Lancelot!” she cried.

The once-perfect knight rode up to where everyone was gathered outside of DSA. His steed sagged badly under his weight. Yet something about Sir Lancelot looked different now. For one thing, he had managed to squeeze into his armor.

“Oh, sir!” cried Erica. “How good to see you mounted upon your steed once more!”

“Thank you, lass,” he said.

“I wonder how glad his steed is of it,” murmured Janice.

“You are in your armor, sir,” said Wiglaf. “Have you taken up the knightly life again?”

“I have,” said Sir Lancelot. “And I watched enough of the Uno! Dos! Tres! method to know what to do. Soon I will look like the perfect knight again.”

“What made you change your mind, sir?” asked Janice.

“It was the aged knights,” said Sir Lancelot.

“Shhh!” said Erica. “The dragon thinks they're kids like us.”

“They showed me that
being
the best is not as important as
trying
your best,” said Sir Lancelot.

“Now
that
sounds like Sir Lancelot!” cried Erica.

“I shall try my best to be a good knight,” said Sir Lancelot. “And I shall try my best to run Leon out of business and get my catalog going again.”

“Oh, sir!” cried Erica, tears of joy springing to her eyes. “Thank you!”

Sir Lancelot nodded. Then he picked up his reins and his steed hobbled off toward new adventures in the Dark Forest.

“Good-bye, sir!” cried Erica. “Good-bye!”

When Sir Lancelot was out of sight, Don Donn turned to the dragon.

“
Señor
Grizzlegore,” he said. “I have thought of a way you can repay me.”

“Anything,” said Grizzlegore.

“Come back with me to Ye Olde Home for Aged Knights,” said Don Donn. “You can have the whole second floor of the castle.”

“Three meals a day?” said Grizzlegore.

Don Donn nodded.

“Fresh linens on the bed every week?” said Grizzlegore.

“Sí,”
said Don Donn. “I will help you with your exercises. And in return, perhaps now and then you could spar with my aged knights. Let them feel the weight of the lance in their hands once more. Let them relive their glory days.”

“Just for show, right?” said Grizzlegore. “No wounds.”

“No wounds,” said Don Donn.

“And on cold winter evenings,” put in Sir Poodleduff, “we can recite—I mean
they
can recite—your poem.”

“Complete with dance steps!” added Sir Roger.

“It's a deal!” cried Grizzlegore.

Now Grizzlegore turned to Mordred. “I shall never forget how good fortune smiled upon me here at Dragon Slayers' Academy,” he said.

Mordred's violet eyes shone. “Yes, dear dragon, and were you thinking, perhaps… of some reward? A small gift to the school? Or a large one! We could name a new addition after you. The Grizzlegore Wing. How do you like the sound of that?”

Grizzlegore smiled a fangless smile. “Perhaps I could leave DSA a little something in my will,” he said.

“I was hoping for sooner,” said Mordred. “But you are very old. So who knows? Thank you, dragon.”

Then Grizzlegore hopped onto the wagon. “I'm a little too tuckered out to fly,” he said.

Before Don Donn climbed up into the driver's seat, he whispered to Wiglaf, “Tell the old lads to change back into their clothes. I will return for them, and Grizzlegore will never be any the wiser.”

“Farewell, my dear Donn!” called Lady Lobelia, waving a sky blue hankie.

“
Adiós, Señorita
Lobelia,” said Don Donn. He blew her a kiss. “I'll be back to see you soon!”

Then Don Donn and the dragon drove off up Huntsman's Path.

“Come back and visit!” Don Donn and Grizzlegore called back to the students.

“We will!” cried Janice.

“Farewell, Grizzlegore!” Wiglaf and the others called after them.

Everyone waved until the wagon had vanished from sight. Then everyone headed for the DSA castle.

“We did it, Wiggie,” Erica said as they went.

“Thanks to the geezers.” Janice wrapped her arm around Sir Poodleduff.

Wiglaf looked up at DSA. It was filled with cobwebs and creeping, crawling bugs. The teachers were oddballs. And it was a daily challenge to swallow the food that Frypot cooked. Still, Wiglaf was very happy to be walking into the cold, dark, crumbling castle that was his school.

“We did,” Wiglaf replied to his friends and to the old knights. “We all saved DSA from the dragon.”

Rhyme of the Ancient Dragon Verses I-XXIV