SciFi and Fantasy Stories: And the Moral is...

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a young woman with a peach inspediment...." *cough, clears throat* "I mean, speech impediment. She lived in a land where the most beautiful voices were regarded with celebration. It was a superstitious place where songs, poems, and fairytales- taught by the most animated individuals- were the standard every night of the full moon. Ordinary folk and mysterious travelers alike would come from the farthest reaches to the Inns or messengers' camps to join in the famous merriment. It was on one of these very nights that the quiet young girl, who often disguised as a mute to save herself the shame and torment induced by her scarred voice, heard a tale that would change her life forever! The man started with a story about a fat, grumpy dragon who lived in the mountains, and guarded a hoard of treasure. No surprise, right? It seems one would be a bit turned off by the played out plot. The girl had little expectations for it. She figured it would be the same old telling about a handsome young man who had risen to knighthood despite the incredible odds he faced in his poverty ridden childhood. Naturally, he would wind up miraculously slaying the dragon, spread the riches over the land, and all would live happily ever after, etc... But she was wrong! The tale-teller made it clear to the group- a one legged dwarf, a growth stunted elf, a human boy with only a partial brain, and the girl with the speech impediment- that the dragon had never been slain, and that he was alive that very instant!

The dwarf rubbed his scraggly beard and replied 'If that be true, why han't we ner seen 'em?'

The story teller flicked the ash from his long smoke-stick, smiled a jagged grin and said 'He's a peaceful dragon. Likes to slumber, that beast. He don't like being bothered by nobody 'bout his treasure, but...' He looked all about him to make sure there wasn't anyone else listening. '....he's got healing powers, and a mighty big appetite for bartering his gifts for shiny objects.'

Well, the girl's eyes lit up at the sound of that. She had always dreamed of having a beautiful voice, and being able to sing with the rest around the bar or campfire. She was so full of excitement that she burst aloud 'We'rl clan wle flind thle dlragoln?'

The other mutant beings turned and stared at her. The teller's mouth dropped open. 'What did you say?' He asked, offended by the ugliness of her articulation.

'Wherl caln wle flind thel dlragolon?' Blank stares, and the sudden eerie silence of the entire bar, was the only reply. Even the crickets that had been chirping outside the open windows in the Summer night's air, had ceased.

Everyone looked bewildered, except for the boy with a partial brain, who had a grin that spread ear to ear. 'Now, now.' he said. 'Don't stick your fingers in the tulips, and lick the bee that stings you!'

Here we go. The girl thought. She rolled her eyes, and placed her head in her hands in embarrassment.

'My good friend here..,' He placed his arm around the sulking girl '...may not have a beautiful voice, but she's got the part where King Ophelia comes in and finds the rabbit hole. Please, take heed not to throw field mice to the batter near the gaggle of wooden shoes. You never know when you'll wake up strapped to a leprechaun.'

The once dumbstruck faces in the tavern melted to expressions of annoyance.

'I know I am not a man of potatoes, therefore croaking cannot save the dance, but I think what she meant to say was that she'd like to face Krogons against Zalians and see both sides lose.'

Suddenly a hooded man rose angrily form his seat in the corner. He slammed his heavy fists on the bench, shattering it to kindling. 'HOW DARE YOU! I AM A KROGON DEFENDER.' He roared.

Across the room, a lanky man stood to miss the ceiling by two inches. He reached his hand to his belt and drew his sword. 'I am a Zalian knight, Krogon scum! Come and meet thy death!'

Just then the whole bar broke into a brawl. The girl with the speech impediment and the boy with a partial brain managed to duck beneath the clouded chaos of flying dwarves, fists, and swords. They snuck out under the warm Summer night's sky.

'Whlat lare wle gloling tol dlo lnow?' The girl sobbed.

'Do not trouble your pheasant, friend.' The stupid boy announced. 'I have a mountain man, a squirrel, and this!' He pulled a piece of faded parchment from his pocket.

'Lits al mlap!' She cried.

'Yeah, and a map too!' He replied. He handed the parchment to her, momentarily pleased with himself for lifting it from the tale-teller. Then he noticed the luminous reflection of light on a nearby mud puddle, and remembered he was a frog.

The girl unfolded the paper and saw where the trail of dashed lines wound its way through a hand-drawn depiction of the dark forest, the lava spewing volcanoes, then to Tower Mountain where an 'X' marked the location of the dragon's cave. The crash and rumble of the ensuing bar fight blended with the sound of the returned crickets and the mindless splashing of the boy, filling the girl with a sense of danger and excitement as she cuddled the map.

If I Can find this dragon, I'll finally have a real voice! She thought to herself."

"The next day the young speech impaired girl, packed herself a kerchief of food and change of underwear for the trip. She got to the town crossroads about five minutes before nine, and waited for her best friend, but he never showed. He must have forgotten because he only had a partial brain. So the girl decided it'd probably be best to go without him. They barely understood each other anyways. She did manage to crack a smile when thinking of the time he had told her 'You're the best snowflake, Southern raised goat cheese could ever sniff twice.' That was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

So she followed the directions of the map, making her way through the dark forest, where no normal human dared to enter alone. She decided to sing as she walked to keep herself company. That seemed reason enough for the banshees and woodsprites to leave her be. When she finally got through the dank, musty old-growth trees, she realized the road that led through the volcanoes was non-existent. Actually, it really did exist, but no one had ever made it past the forest before, so it had completely grown over with brambles, and was therefore undetectable. She decided to follow the main road instead, and hope for the best. That road was the one that ran East to West from Krog to Zal, (You know, home of the mortal enemies the Krogons and Zalians? Yeah, them.) Anyways, as she was walking she happened upon a hooded wanderer who was leading his horse along the road East. She stopped and tried to ask him for directions, but he had no idea what she was saying.

'You might want to try stopping in the town of Gwindleton to ask there.' He replied slowly, as if the girl were deaf. 'Where did you say you were from?'

'Rulmilintleomlgyl.' She replied. He still had no clue what she said, but her ugly voice rang familiar to him. Even after all those lagers, he faintly remember the hideous insult that had started the bar fight the night before.

'I KNOW YOU!' The Krogon man growled.

He was just about to seize her, when the call of a distant traveler going West rang out from behind the girl.

'Is everything alright?' He asked. His head barely missed the high evergreen bows, as he walked his beast.

The Krogon looked up and fixed eyes with the freakishly tall man. A searing pain shot through the back of his head as he remembered the blow that had been delivered by the hilt of this very man's sword. The Zalian.

'YOUUU!!!!!' He sneered, casting off his hood and revealing his anger riddled, heavily tattooed face.

The tall man halted with the sudden recognition. With the reflexes of a cornered mountain lion, he took a defensive stance and drew his sword. 'We meet again, my brutish foe! Today, will be your day to die!'

'You speak with the tongue of a marked man, Zalian! There will be only one who dies this day, and it is you!'

The girl with the speech impediment was cast to the side like used toilet paper, as the Krogon rushed forward, battle axe held high above his head.

She picked herself up and made for the fork that led to Gwindleton as fast as she could. She did not look back when she heard the loud crash of the two men's weapons. Instead she kept running, and did not stop, until the sound of the battle faded completely into the distance."

"It was mostly dark when she reached the town of Gwindleton. When she approached there was only one lantern lit. Beneath the hanging light an old lady sat smoking a pipe, and rocking in her chair. Half the woman's face was shrouded by a dark hood, and she had a claw-like hand resting on her very fat belly. Her feet were perched underneath her, hidden from view. She did not look up as the young girl approached her.

'Elxculse mle.' The girl said. 'Wlere ils leverlyone?'

The woman's chair stopped rocking at the sound of her voice.

'Oh, they're lying around here som'ere.' She replied in a dry, crackled tone.

'Wlell, clan ylou tlell mle lhowl tol gelt tlo thle plalth olf thle vloclanloes?'

'What's wrong, dear? You seem like your in some sort of hurry?'

'I alm. Ilm oln mly wlay tol slee thle dralglon.'

'Ah, yes. Alfred. He and I go way back, you know.'

'Rleally?'

'Oh yes. But why would you need to find the path of the volcanoes? His cave is just behind the cliffs o'er there.' She pointed to the dark rock face looming high enough that the sun still beat brightly on half its surface.

'Wlow, thlanks!' The girl squealed with joy. 'Hlow caln I evler relplay ylou?'

'It's no problem, dear. You just be sure and tell him Svlandla sent you.' The old lady began rocking again. 'I know he'll get a kick outta that.'

'Olklay!' The girl turned to leave. She had only taken one step before it dawned on her that the woman understood her completely.

'Wlait, Hlow...?' She spun round to ask her, but the woman was gone.

The girl shrugged it off, and continued on her journey toward the dragon's cave. She climbed and climbed for hours before she finally found the opening in the rocks that led to the creature's lair. When she stepped just inside the entrance, she felt a bitter chill blow over her. She took another step and heard the faint sound of something groaning in agony. She froze in fear, unable to continue. Then she saw the tips of pointed ears sticking up from behind a boulder. She strode bravely forward, and pinched one of the tips.

'Ouch!' The ear's owner screeched.

The girl with the speech impediment pulled the elf out of his sitting position.

'Ylou sclared mle, lelf!' She pulled even harder but realized he was already standing. It was the growth-stunted elf from the bar the other night.

'Leave this place, human child!' He whined. 'The dragon said I'm supposed to scare people away so he can sleep.'

The girl's mouth dropped open.

'What?' He protested. 'Nobody else was willing to hire an elf who is the size of a dwarf! You take what you can get in this world!'

'Yleah, gless sloh.' She sighed.

'You jerk!' He screamed at her in his whiney voice. 'I am not slow!'

'Nlo, thlat's nlot walt li mlean.'

The elf kicked her in the shin. 'My name is not Walt, I don't lie, and I'm NOT lean! I prefer svelte.'

The confused girl held her leg, yelping in pain as the elf stormed out of the cave.

'...I don't need this kind of treatment. No thank you!' She heard him rant as he left.

She was just thinking the same thing herself, when she heard the deep rumbling breaths of the sleeping Dragon. She let go of her already bruising leg, and began limping towards the sound. When she rounded the corner, she was nearly blinded by the brilliant light reflecting from the mounds of gold. The piles glittered with every type of precious stone imaginable. The hoard spread from wall to wall, almost touching the ceiling in certain places.

'Wlow.' She whispered.

'ROAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!!!!' The cave shook violently at the sudden eruption of air. The hill of gems directly in front of the speech impaired girl began to quiver and rise. She hid her face in her hands. When the room quit shaking, she slowly risked a peak through the cracks between her fingers. She had expected to see a large green eye staring at her, but there was nothing in sight.

'Ahem.' A squeaky voice trumpeted from below. She peered down to marvel at a very small, but very pudgy little dragon, with yellow scales that rivaled the treasure, and eyes red as rubies. His body was roughly the size of a rotund cat, with a tail twice as long, and stubby wings like a finch. 'Can I help you?' He smarted, crossing his chubby little arms.

Lucky for the dragon, the girl was speechless.

'What's wrong? Can't you talk?'

'Yleah, lie clan. Il've clome claulse I hlave a peech inspediment land lie wlanlt ylou tlo....'

'Please stop.' The dragon pinched his forehead in pain. 'I have a terrible migraine.'

'Slorrly!' She frowned.

'Maybe it's better if I just talk, and you shake your head. Okay?'

'Oklay' She replied.

'Starting now, thank you.'

She nodded in agreement.

'Let me see if I have this straight. You have a speech impediment, and you heard a story about me from some wacky old tale-teller, and you think if you give me a shiny trinket, I'm gonna heal you, correct?'

She shook her head 'yes' enthusiastically.

'Sorry kid, but I'm old, grumpy, and tired, and I got out of the business a long time ago. Go away so I can get back to sleep.' He clawed his way back up his hill of gems.

The girl cast about for something to say. Then she remembered the old lady from tiny Gwindleton.

'Svlandla!!' She cried out.

The dragon whirled abruptly. 'What did you say?'

'Svlandla slent mle!' She repeated.

'The man-eating harpy? I'm surprised she didn't kill...' Then the dragon remembered the time he accidentally sent Svlandla to the village of crazed, bird hunting tribesmen. Ever since then, she'd been keeping her eye out for ways to get him back. 'Ha! Nice try, Svlanda!' He retorted to the chamber. 'That old pigeon!'

The girl just stood there blank faced.

'Okay, the jokes over. You can leave now.' Alfred waved her away.

'Whlat?'

'Svlanda has had her fun, you managed to get out of this alive, and I'm just plain tired.'

'Whlat ablout mly peech inspedi...'

'LEAVE!!!!!' He roared, sending the cave to tremble again.

The girl flopped down in defeat upon the floor of the treasure chamber. Tears filled her eyes, as she thought about the wasted journey, and all the people who would laugh at her if she returned the same as she left. She figured it could be worse. At least she was born with all of her brain intact. Still, all she ever wanted was a beautiful voice to fit in.

That's it! She thought.

She sprung to her feet and furiously began climbing the gold piles. When she got to the top, she cleared her throat, making the dragon roll over to look at her. Then, with all her God given might, she belted out the tune that has haunted many a road trip for generations: 'I knlow a solng thlat glets oln elverlyboldy's nerlvels!...' Over and over she sang the line, until the dragon could take no more.

'Fine, alright! I'll do it!' He whimpered. 'Just please, SHUT UP!'

With a grin as big as the Zalian man was tall, the girl stopped singing and sat down upon the hill of gold.

Alfred the dragon pulled his fingers out of his ear holes. With eyes bloodshot dragon-black, he trudged his way up to the top of the mound of gems.

'Here,' he said, shoving a vial of florescent purple liquid and a yellow rope, woven from the down of a baby dragon, into her hand. "Listen carefully to the instructions I give you. You'll only have one chance to get this right.'

She nodded in understanding.

'On a full moon night, when all have gathered round the fire to tell tales, I want you to place this potion inside your mouth, but do not swallow. After you have secured the potion, I want you to tie your hands together, with this cord, and then bind them to your chair. Only after you have done this, may you swallow.'

The dragon sat atop the pile, and let himself slide down to the bottom. He curled himself up in a fat little ball inside a golden helm, and yawned.

'Alnd Thlis Wlill Wlorlk?' She asked.

He closed his eyes and smiled widely. 'Most definitely.'"

"The girl set up camp just outside the cave, and barely slept a wink the whole night as she waited for daybreak to come. When morning finally arrived she packed her things, and headed down the mountain side towards the sleepy town of Gwindleton. When she got to the bottom of the hill, she was able to see the town's square in full daylight. She skipped by the rows of empty buildings, oblivious to the deathly quite that lurked everywhere. She stopped by the lamppost from the night before, but the rocking chair was empty. Disappointed the girl sagged her shoulders. She really wanted to thank Svlandla for telling her how to get to the dragon's cave. As she was leaving the town, she noticed the sign that read 'Rumiinteomgy, 20 miles.' That was her home town. She turned around to wave goodbye to the quiet little Gwindleton, and noticed a huge pile of smouldering bones behind the general store.

The girl started to put all the pieces together: the mysterious smoking Svlandla with her full belly, the empty town, the mountain of bones... Her eyes widened at the sudden revelation.

Looks like the town had a barbecue last night, and they didn't care to invite me! She thought. Oh, well.

Then she went skipping away down the road that led straight to her home. As she passed the familiar fork, where the Krog-Zal highway met the Gwindleton-Rumiinteomgy road, the girl spotted the two men who had been bent on destroying each other. The Krogon and Zalian had their arms slung over each other's backs and were merrily singing an old, out of tune Rumii hymn. The metal shards of their broken weapons were scattered over the dusty intersection. Apparently, they had fought until their hardware could endure no more. The girl waved happily to them as she walked by.

'Hey, phunny girl!' The Krogan slurred. 'Meet me new drinkin mate!'

The Zalian waved, drunkenly. 'Yeah! He's like my long lost brother!' He crossed his eyes. 'Except, he comes from a long line of short, fat ancestors. I heard it's passed down from the mothers.'

The Krogon's smile dissipated. 'Whaz that sposed ta mean? You callin me mother fat?'

'Uh....well...'

'Jus tel me one thing, you lumber'n son of a tree! How'l you be able ta enjoy tha weather up there, when you have no head?'

Both men jumped to their feet, instinctively reaching for their weapons, but there was none left to pull. They stared each other down for a good minute, before the Krogon burst into laughter. The Zalian relaxed, and patted the stout man on the back. Chuckling, he picked up the flask of whiskey.

'To the girl!' The lanky man shouted, lifting the flask and taking a gulp. Then he handed it to the Krogon.

'And to music, and merriment!' The Krogon cheered, before downing the remainder of the potent liquid.

The young girl with the speech impediment, saluted the two, and wandered away. The hideous tune of the once sworn enemies' rendition of 'Our Sorrows Abound No More,' followed her, then disappeared slowly, as she became engulfed by the harmonies of the afternoon trail.

"Incredibly, the girl reached her home that very same night. She found her best friend, and both of them built their own fire in her cow field. The boy with only a partial brain, danced about, throwing dirt and cow pies upward, and howling angrily at the stars. Apparently he remembered he was a baboon. After the flames had died some, the young girl with a speech impediment sat down upon a milking stool she had stolen from the barn. She set out the potion and rope the dragon had given her, and cleared her thoughts of her excitement. She knew it was now or never. Granted, the moon wasn't actually full anymore, but a waning gibbous. Still, it was round enough for her. She followed the directions of the dragon, placing the florescent purple substance in her mouth, making sure not to down a single drop. Then she tied her hands together, and bound them to the milking stool. The flames flickered in front of her eyes, as she swallowed the potion. Nothing happened. She waited a good five minutes. Still nothing; not even a tingling sensation in her throat from the strange liquid. She slumped in her seat.

'Hey.' She called to her friend. 'Come over here and untie me, will you?'

The boy stopped dancing, and stared at her.

'What?' She asked. Then she realized her voice had changed.

"Aaaahhhh!' She screamed in delight. 'It worked!' She bounced around on the stool, giggling, and crying. The boy was doing cartwheels and banging on his bare stomach like a tambourine.

'Quick! untie me!' She called to him. He rushed over and started chewing through the rope like a mouse.

The bounds came free and she danced around like a baboon with him.

'Li caln't blelievle lit wolrked!' She spilled. The boy with only a partial brain stopped dancing again, giving her a look of pity. Fear and disappointment suddenly flooded her as she realized that the speech impediment had come back.

'Li Dlonl't lundlerstland!' She sobbed. 'Li Mlust lnot hlave wlaited lonlg lenoulgh bleflore lundloing thle blounds.'

The boy rolled his eyes, and replied. 'Take your fingers out of your mouth.'

'Wlhat?'

'You're holding your tongue. Just let go.'

She looked down and saw her fingers pinching her tongue. It was so simple. All that time, all she had to do was let it go. She released her tongue.

'Hey! I think it worked!' She squealed again.

'Of course it did!' The boy replied. 'Anyone with half a brain could figure that out!'"

"Moral of the story: Never settle for cornflower rhetoric, when the stability dangled over harpy dung, foreshadows thrush laden warlords, destined for holy matricide."