As told by Michellie...
Once upon a time, in the lovely city of Montblanc... er... somewhere close to Tarragona (fine, just google it), lived a group of people. With a booming demographic of 15% male (due to lack of clean water, demands of physical labor, malnutrition, and occasional battles with the neighboring villages), 20% female (including widows, wives, sisters, old maids, hags, witches, and maidens) and 65% livestock, the population was economically well situated and content. Then one fine and beautiful day, much like today (unless it’s raining... then not, quite the opposite, actually), the King of Aragon (no, I’m not talking about LOTR, I’m talking about Spain) rolled into town with his entourage, including, but not limited to: knights, servants, slaves, soldiers, the captain of the guard, ribbon dancers, musicians, a jester, two bards, and the princess. Tired and dusty from the journey, they decided to stay the night (and serves them right, too. Tarragona is a lovely little seaside village). After bathing in the ocean, they tucked themselves into beds inclosed but lovely maroon and gold embroidered tents. I would insert a contented sigh, but such was life.
The next morning, they awoke to quite a ruckus: 15% shouting, 20% crying for mercy and ducking for cover, and 65% bleating, neighing, bolting, wildly mooing and overall and in general freaking out. The king rubbed the sleepy from his eyes and proceeded to investigate the situation (while still in his nightgown, but hey! He was a king of action, not fashion). He ran from person to person, person to animal asking, any and all who appeared to be competent, for an explanation to the massive panic that was sweeping the population. Finally, one cow calmly chewing its cud, pointed its empty eyes in the direction of the city gates. Taking the advise rather seriously, the king proceeded in the recommended direction. There he encountered a mass of manly-men attempting to fight off a dragon that had suddenly taken up residence at the gates. ‘Well, this is a bother!’ He thought to himself. The endless arguing, taunting, and fighting seemed to do little to move the fire-breathing beast from its perch atop the draw-bridge, so the king opted for some diplomacy. Hey! it had worked in the past... sort of...
“Mightily green and, or scaly one! Why hast thou maked a nuisance of thineself and blockéd the gates?!”
“I’m a touch hungry, well... I was before. But, am I allowed a scrap of goat? a bit of dog? NO! Therefore, to save your city from my raging flames, I demand one maiden to satisfy my hunger. She must be beautiful, nice, well-educated, and a little plump... I like ‘em juicy. Anyways, you have exactly three days to satisfy my demands, or I will roast your town and consume you all.”
“Oh... that’s... harsh.”
“Yep. Talk to the claw, see who cares.”
Mildly put out, the scantily clad king returned to his make-shift tent and began to contemplate the events of the morning. Realizing he had close to a legion of soldiers with him (well, it was considered a legion at the time. Army inflation... the terms for the numbers have changed. It happens) he began to plan a skirmish on the dragon. That afternoon, the soldiers made their move. They fought, clashed, banged, cracked, and occasionally freaked, but all to no avail. The dragon’s scales were impenetrable. Devastated, the towns people began to search for acceptable women that met the requirements. They searched high and they searched low, heck! they even tried padding! but, no one could meet the standards. Finally, the king came to a depressing realization: his daughter was a maiden, beautiful, very friendly, witty, and a little round around the corners (if you know what a mean *nudge, nudge*). While he broke the bad news, she listened silently... dangerously silent... He cringed while he waited for the response. Slowly, thoughtfully, she said, “I understand what you tell me. Though your soldiers may not be able to protect me, I believe one will appear who can. I will go to protect the city.” And with that, she packed a bag and headed off to meet her doom.
She arrived at the gate at sunset on the third day of the siege. The dragon looked her up, and then looked her down, approved, grabbed her and then ran off to a cave to have some dinner. Once high up in the mountains, he built a fire, put her into a pot of water and said, “just simmer... I mean ‘sit’ there a while. I’ll be back.” Mournfully, she obeyed and began to sing of her woes.
Meanwhile, a knight, riding through the countryside (in between jobs) heard the beautiful dirge wafting from the cave. “A MAIDEN TO SAVE!!,” thought the knight. As he approached the cave, the dragon returned with arms full of herbs, and whistling a traditional dragon folk song. The knight quickly put two and two together and ran to fight. “With this rather long and pointed spear, I shall defeat you!!!” He then dashed to the mouth of the cave. Right before he reached it, he tripped on a rock. Surprised at his own lack of coordination, he face-planted . Though his career was virtually over in his mind, an interesting thing occurred: the spear had flown from his hands at the moment of the fall, had gained enough velocity in the air to be projected at an arc high and long enough to reach the dragon, and had, consequently, penetrated the steel-like scales that had confounded the other knights and soldiers. The dragon, shocked and still gripping his herbs, fell to the ground dead. From the gaping wound the spear left, boiling blood flowed. Once it mixed with the herb, that had fallen to the ground, the turned into scarlet roses.
Picking himself up off of the ground, he ran into the cave to tend to the princess. There, she was sitting in the pot (which had reached Jacuzzi temperature) enjoying the relaxing bath. She saw him and was, slightly embarrassed, but mostly immediately taken. She dressed (out of sight!) while he cleaned himself up. On the way out of the cave, he picked up a single, scarlet, and molten hot rose. It burned to the touch, but cooled once it was placed into her delicate fingers. “this is a sign of my protection, princess.” he softly remarked.
Once within the city, the king, overcome with joy, offered the hand of his daughter to the knight. “No,” replied Jorge, “for though she is beautiful, I desire to continue on with my adventures and to continue to protect the countryside until the end of my days.”
And with that, he rode off into the sunset.
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