Dragonsong

A Baal and Glimmer Valentine Story by Pam Martin-Lawrence

Early one February morning icy winds whistled around the corridors of Dragonhoard Castle. Baal was cosily snuggled up toasty warm beneath his new wife’s cruelty-free comforter, soft and thick as a cloud, and made from locally-sourced lambs’ spring haircuts all frizzed and fluffed and stuffed into fine linens. Only the retroussé tip of his grass green snout poked out from beneath the bedclothes, little snuffling streams of breath escaping into the chilly air, looking for all the world like smouldering fumaroles.

Such luxury was still a novelty to him, it being not three months since he had wed his beloved human wench Glimmer at the annual Frost Ball, and she and her trousseau had taken up residence in his chilly chambers. While previously he had kept himself warm enough by way of his dragonfire, nothing could beat cuddling up to his beautiful new bride for getting his fires stoked for the day.

And today was a very special day. Their first Valentine’s Day as dragon and wench. Tonight would be his first—

‘Baaly? Are you dressed yet?’ Glimmer’s fairy-bell tones broke into his contented drowse.

‘Almost completely, dearest one. Just four more seconds. . .’ Baal’s throat scales blushed guiltily crimson, and he threw back the comforter hurriedly.

‘Oh Mr Slug-in-his-bed, what a fibber you are. Shame on you!’ He looked up to find her lovely face peeping round the bedroom door, her amethyst eyes wide and bright. She shook her candyfloss curls at him. ‘Up you get, or I’ll think you don’t want the fine breakfast I’ve made you. Spit-spot!’

Beaming at him lovingly to show she wasn’t really cross, Glimmer disappeared to check that his favourite pearl barley porridge with honeyed angelica was piping hot.

Baal shimmied into his weekday weskit, sucking in his breath whilst fighting to get the buttons fastened across his potbelly – the dratted thing seemed to have shrunk in the last few weeks – before capering downstairs with a skip in his step and a gift pouch filled with feminine fripperies dangling from his talons. His mouth watered at the delicious aromas wafting around the hallway. His Glimmer was an excellent cook.

He pulled up short at the kitchen door, shamelessly eavesdropping as he heard his mama’s voice. ‘Today is such an exciting day! What do you have planned for your first Valentine’s Day together, my dear?’

‘Oh you may be certain that I’ll not be marking any made-up marketing opportunity. ‘Tis naught but another chance to part a fool and his hard-earned coin.’ Glimmer’s sweet voice held a note he’d only heard her employ once before (on the subject of his hoarding), and he could almost hear the disapproving little toss of the head she was almost certainly giving.

Baal’s burning heart sank just a little. He tiptoed backwards, almost tripping over his pointy tail, and looked frantically around until he spied a handy hideyhole. He temporarily tucked away the trinkets he’d amassed for his precious one’s pleasure, earwigging on the village wenches in the weeks preceding today’s festivities for ideas. For now, better safe than sorry seemed the best approach to take.

For Glimmer had very strong ethical views. She was the purest soul in all the Five Counties, and he would hear no word raised against his beloved wench. But she could possibly – just sometimes, perhaps – be considered a little too progressive. Almost, one might even say, “militant”? Baal’s left wing twitched slightly. Ooooh dearie. . .

Dragon society was very traditional, with a long and proud history full of traditions about which every dragonling was proudly taught from the very first opportunity (this opportunity falling, traditionally, on the eve of their third birthday).

Amongst their many customs, that of St Valentine’s Day was perhaps the most important in the whole of the dragon calendar. But it had nothing whatsoever to do with the buying of heart-shaped chocolates, stuffed teddies or overpriced meals in overbooked restaurants to present to one’s beloved as proof of love.

Everyone knows that dragons are the most constant and romantic of creatures, which is why so many legends have sprung up about lovelorn dragons enchanting beautiful princesses with Dragonsong, and stealing away with them. However, few outside the dragon community are aware of the origins of those legends. . .

Lost in the mists of time there lived a dragon called Valentinus. Powerful and fierce, his greatest strength however was his purity of heart. He fell in love with a beautiful princess in an unhappy marriage, and she with him. Every night he came to her and begged her to live with him and be his love. He sang to her of her beauty and of his desire. He poured his heart into his songs, and each night his unearthly crooning filled the air. But every night she refused. Not because she didn’t want him, but because she too was pure of heart, and would not break her vows, even though her husband was cruel, and her heart desired only her dragon suitor.

For seven years Valentinus visited his beloved every night, and for seven years she refused him, while tears rained from her beauteous eyes, until they had grown as close as two souls can be in all the most important ways. One February night he failed to visit. In the morning she found out why: her husband had intercepted Valentinus on his way to her and had slain him as casually as one might squash an ant between one’s fingers. Desolate, the princess lay down beside Valentinus and never got up again.

Romeos the dragon God, himself every bit as fiercely and fierily romantic as any of his kin, used his powers to cast a spell over all dragonkind in remembrance of the steadfast Valentinus: in perpetuity, once a dragon finds his truelove, he will sing his love to her once a year. He will compose his song carefully, reminding her of the story of their lives together, building upon it year by year. Woven through every heartfelt note is a bonding thread placed by Romeos, so that through the years the couple will draw ever closer. To this day every single one of the Five Counties is filled with the sound of Dragonsong on the night of February the fourteenth.

As their first Valentine’s Day together drew to its close unacknowledged by the couple, Glimmer grew quieter, and Baal grew twitchier. As soon as night fell, he bade her don her warmest fur (faux, naturally) cloak, boots and mittens, and meet him in the courtyard.

Whilst he waited, he warmed up his throat with a little lovehum he’d composed for her last summer, adding some extra twiddly bits to help him tune up for his maiden performance.

Glimmer hurried to their bedchamber and put on her very prettiest dress, half-suspecting (and secretly half-hoping, despite her previously stated views on the subject) that he was whisking her off for a Valentine’s Day dinner somewhere swish.

When she joined him outside a very few moments later, she stole the breath from his lungs. Blushing and resplendent in all her finery, she made the embers in his heart burst into swift, fierce flame.

‘Climb up and hang on tight, dearest one!’ All concerns forgotten, Baal couldn’t wait to be aloft with his precious cargo.

She fitted perfectly into the little gap between the bony protuberances of his leathery wings, and settled there, safe and snug, like he was made to fit only her. Soon they were gliding high above Verdant County, and Baal’s fine tenor voice, every word threaded through with Valentine’s magic and love, filled the clear frosty air as he sang Glimmer his Dragonsong for the very first time.

When at last he fell silent, an awestruck and teary-eyed Glimmer whispered, ‘Oh Baaly, my darling dragon, I declare this to be the very best Valentine’s Day ever – I do love you so!’

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