The Dragon's Head

The woods had been interesting. And a little bit emotional. Jill had heeded the warning about the danger that the woods presented and much to the consternation of the village gossips, most of which were of a certain age, she had entered the woods regardless.

Or at least, that was what the supposedly concerned villagers thought. The all too loud bleating about it being on her head and the inability of so-called men of medicine to put old heads on young shoulders was the soundtrack to which she entered the dark woods. Woods that were dark despite the Summer sun being at its height and belting down heat and light all around it.

Now of course these woods were dark. Jill knew only too well that the cark tree provided a dense canopy of foliage that stole all the light from the sun. This selfishness caused the cark’s wood to be so dense it rivalled iron. The problem was that you needed something stronger than iron to even think about chopping one of these trees down and so, in their ignorance, the locals deemed these trees to be enchanted. Any excuse to avoid hard labour.

The pleasant and aromatic darkness of the woods that were known to be accursed, pleased Jill. There was something homely about them. This said something about Jill’s home and perhaps her hygiene standards as the floor of the woods was festooned with a smorgasbord of fungi. So much so that as she walked, she was cocooned in a cloud of spores. This did not seem to bother her and neither did the darkness. In fact, Jill skipped through the woods until she had reached a suitable distance. Found a soft spot to recline and promptly fell asleep. Surrounded by enchanted trees in the midst of the most evil of woods.

When Jill awoke, it was to the screams of the villagers who had warned her not to enter the woods. She knew they would blame the tragedy that had befallen them upon her foolhardy entry into the woods. It had ever been so, and who was she to change the hearts and minds of simple men. Now that was a foolhardy pursuit and she’d given up on that one an age ago. The problem was not just that people wouldn’t listen, it was that they were too busy making up untruths to stop for a moment to consider the truth itself. She shook her head sadly at the hamster wheel of life that they all seemed to choose in favour of the perfectly good life they had been given. Then she picked up the long stick with a large hanky tied into a bundle that contained all her worldly goods. Probably. A stick and bundle that may or may not have featured prior to this moment. Such was the nature of reality and fantasy and the confused mixture they created when someone forgot to shut the gate that contained the raging bull of reality and it ran kicking and screaming into a series of unfortunate events that further confused and enraged it. Contrary to popular myth and legend, by the time it had reached the China shop, the bull was grateful for the respite afford by browsing the goods therein. Often it would enquire as to whether there were any vacancies in the shop as the peace and quiet of such a retail outlet suited it just fine. This pleasant conversation would take place as the shop assistant carefully wrapped a dainty and elegant cup and saucer for the bull. He said it was for his Dear Mama, but they both knew that the purchase was all for him.

Jill’s passage through the Woods of Doom was uneventful as far as she was concerned. Others would have a different take on it. In particular, those who were not there and had no idea what they were talking about. These were People of Opinion. And there were quite a lot of them about these days. They were ruining things for everyone else and very soon there would be a reckoning. There always was.

No one remarked upon Jill’s exit from the darkest of woods. This was because there was only a village at the entrance to the woods. There was no expectation that anyone would make it out alive on the other side. In fact, there was an expectation that were anything to exit the woods it would be fierce with a mouth that contained many rows of pointy teeth and no table manners whatsoever. Jill marvelled at the myriad belief systems that when thrown into a cauldron always boiled down to the same, inedible thing. Traditions were often just as bad. People didn’t like making decisions for themselves. That was too much hassle and they might get blamed for whatever happened as a result of such a decision. Easier to grab the blame stick and poke others with it.

Brandishing her own stick, which seemed to have change in shape and hue, Jill whistled a merry tune that almost drowned out the wood’s sigh of relief. Almost, but not quite. Jill paused. Fell silent and then turned around to face the woods. The woods would have shrunk back if it wasn’t so dense.

“Now there’s no need to be like that,” Jill said to the woods whilst wagging a finger at it.

The woods said nothing. Holding its breath until Jill was out of sight. Letting it out cautiously in the quietest of sighs.

“I heard that!” Jill warned, smiling to herself at the absurdity of a woods that was feared by all, but itself feared little old Jill. After all, she was just a girl and she’d lost count of the number of times people had told her this.

The sun was waning and brooding as darkness jostled forth to take its place in the world, as Jill neared the tavern. The place was run down in a way that could only have occurred if someone really wanted to run down a tavern. With an oversized cart ladened with a small mountain and pulled by a battalion of confused and angry bulls. The anger and confusion caused by a fiendish vandal who had smashed a much loved cup and saucer in the dead of a murderous night. Jill thought that the faded sign hanging from only one of its two hooks was a nice touch. The words below an image of a badly disfigured hippo now said T Drag Hed. If the Dragon’s Head had seen better times, no one was there to witness it.

Near the most unwelcoming door imaginable, two hooded figures stepped from the shadows and blocked Jill’s way.

“You don’t want to go in there, miss,” said one.

“That place is not for the likes of you,” said the other.

Jill smiled one of many smiles. She collected smiles like others collected stamps or scars, “and why’s that?” she asked both of the cloaked figures.

“Because it’s full of strangers,” said one.

“And the stranger the better!” said the other.

And oh! How they did laugh at their joke. They laughed and laughed until the laughter stopped. Abruptly.

Jill lowered her head as she entered the Dragon’s Head, not because the entrance to the tavern was low, but out of sheer habit. She smiled another of her collection of smiles as a tankard arced through the air and made a bid for freedom. It’s escape plan had not factored in Jill’s appearance at the exact time of its flight of fancy. She plucked it from the air, subjected it to a cursory examination and nodded with a degree of suitable satisfaction.

The usual melee of the place continued except in the general vicinity of Jill as she made her way to the bar. The Dragon was never short of atmosphere thanks to the physicality of the clientele and the passion they had for such physicality. Speech was all very well, but meaning was to be had in the punctuation.

“A cup of mead,” she said to the barkeep. The man eyed her with practiced and professional cynicism, “and make it the proper stuff,” Jill added. Now the barkeep nodded in something like respect. Whether he was faking it or not remained to be seen.

When Jill did not pay for her beverage, the barkeep eyed the ball of material that most likely contained all of Jill’s worldly goods. One way or another, payment was always made for the drinks at the Dragon.

Leaning against the bar, Jill took a hearty swig of her mead and burped. She took in tonight’s crowd and retrieved a suitable smile from her repertoire. This was a place where thieves and brigands dared not tread. A space where the dregs of humanity would pray for a plughole of salvation. The Dragon went way beyond such things. Got lost. Forgot where it was supposed to be going and just got on with it instead.

Jill cast her eye upon the repugnant and the damned. She inhaled the aroma of the violently unwashed and she tuned in to the threats and the cursing. Now it was her turn to sigh as she relaxed in the only place she called home. Surrounded by her people.

“Jill!”

Jill swivelled around at the sound of her name being called. Mead splashed to the floor adding further character to the tavern.

There before her stood a giant of a man. An ogre of a man. If anyone used man as a descriptor of this hulk he would grind their bones to make his bread. Jill looked up at the pockmarked face. A face she’d played join the dots on as a small child, “Dad!”

The ogre reached over the bar and lifted her into his arms, hugging her to within an inch of her life, but never any further than that. Once she had disentangled herself from her father’s embrace and was sitting on the bar with a fresh tankard of mead, the original tankard now a crushed and disfigured thing on the bar floor, her father asked after her one time lover, “where’s Jack?”

“Oh…” said Jill, “he fell.”

Her father looked at her with a question that would be answered.

“OK…” Jill shrugged, “I may have pushed him…” still her father eyed her suspiciously, “down a hill,” she added swiftly.

“How big was the hill?” asked her father.

“It might have qualified as a mountain,” she said guardedly.

Her father grinned, “I never liked him. Always thought you could do better.”

“He was a prince, Dad,” Jill narrowed her eyes as she said this.

“And you are my little princess,” her father grinned as he said this. He was also a collector of the smiles, but had branched out into grins when his face could not accommodate any more smiles. Now he morphed the first grin into a sheepish one, “what about his crown? One thing I liked about that boy was ‘is crown…”

Jill hefted her stick and nodded to the bundle tied to the end, “broken, but nothing you can’t fix.”

Now her father laughed a hearty ogre laugh that, once abated, he had to apologise to his daughter for. Once she’d picked herself up from the other side of the tavern and wiped the ogre phlegm from her face.