A late night visitor.

My name is Robert Brown and I live on this farm. My father’s father landed his kingship on the beach here and we have farmed in this valley ever since. We managed to trade with the stout fellows and they built us this fine house out of the best stone; strongly locked together using their skills of masonry. It is a good job too otherwise my family may have been lost to me.

Only last month we were awoken by the sound of the hounds barking. We quickly dressed and gathered our pitchforks and went the front door. I am glad it was securely closed because there was a terrible noise from outside before the hounds fell silent and then we heard the heavy footfalls of a Dragon. I went over to one of the narrow windows and looked out but all I saw was a large, yellow eye peering back at me. I told Maud to get back and shelter in the corner and she did as I told her; she’s a good wife, that woman.

Then the door started to heave under the force of the Dragon’s talons and the ground shook as it tried to force a way in. I could only think of my son and daughter so I rushed to their room and fetched them out to sit with their mother in the corner. They were terribly afraid but they knew they had to stay quiet and they did as they were told. Moments later the Dragon was on the stone roof and we could hear the scraping of his sharp claws as he tried to get to us. I must say that those stout fellows make a solid building because, try as he might, the Dragon couldn't get inside and after a long while of digging and scraping, it gave up and thumped back onto the ground outside. I managed to get a good look at it as it sloped off towards the milkers; it was a wonderful jade green colour and had a bright orange frill on its head. I know the pen dragons don’t tend to have bright colours on them so it must have been a drake and he was at least half grown; about five times the length of one of the milkers.

It was a terrible thing to see the Dragon catch one of the frightened cows. I’ll never forget the look of terror on its face as the Dragon flapped into the air and dropped heavily on its back, pinning it down and biting into its neck; killing it outright. The Dragon tore chunks from the cow and gulped them down before it had lightened the animal enough to carry. It then flapped into the air again and grasped the remains of the cow with its rear claws before it flew off with it. As it left it screeched loudly but then it was gone and everything was quiet. I made sure Maud and the children were safe before I went outside to have a look and when I opened the door I could see the deep claw-marks in the heavy oak panels and up the walls of the house.

The hounds were left in their own blood and entrails; poor things. They’ll be getting a good send off later for doing such a good job. Fortunately, the Dragon only killed the one cow but the rest were clinging to the fence with terror in their eyes... there’d be no milk from them for a day or so and what they produced for a week afterwards was only good for cheese making. Apart from that, we’d got off pretty lightly and I can’t praise the stout fellows enough for their masterful building skills; we’d have been lost if it wasn’t for them.

When it got light the next day, you could see all the foot prints and claw marks around the place and you could tell where the Dragon had dragged his tail along the ground. We collected the hounds together and wrapped them in cloth so that we could send them off and we were lucky because a Mhurni traveller happened to be passing and he helped to raise the pyre and prepare an offering to the goddess. We made sure he was well fed and watered before he left and he left some strong smelling herbs to settle the milkers down so we were truly blessed. Those Mhurni really know how to make you feel better about things but I have always felt strange in their company... they are so different to us, you know.