"Ice Dragon (poem) Part 1" by James K Bowers

Ice Dragon

Within her cave of crystal, her lair of evergleams,
  The dragon slept, eyes tight-closed, dreaming her icy dreams.
Quite near there stood the castle, great bastion of the north,
  Yet home for highborn cowards from which no knights rode forth.
On that moonless winter night a nameless warrior came
  To test his wits and weapons, no wish for wealth or fame.
"If a quest is what you seek," the haughty baron said,
  "Then slay the Ice-cave dragon, and bring to me its head!"
Frost demons danced wicked-white and heartless windwraiths wailed.
  Through it all the warrior trudged and not one footstep failed.
Into her lair he entered, then blundered through the maze;
  He came upon her chamber — then met the dragon's gaze.
Cold eyes of northwind blue and scales pure diamond white,
  A beast of tooth and talon, with wings too small for flight,
A nameless, godless terror of countless wicked years,
  Thirty yards from tip to tip — creature of nightmare fears.
In words as cold as frozen steel, in phrases of deep jet,
  The dragon hissed her challenge (or, perhaps, a timeworn threat):
"Puny man with worthless shield and single, tiny claw,
  Give your life to me this night — my armor has no flaw."
Then she breathed a glass shard gust, thinking his fate was sealed.
  The man but staggered backward and blocked it with his shield.
Then with claws as cold as death, the warrior she engaged.
  Wounds she dealt, but none she took, yet on the battle raged.
Losing hope, still on he fought against the reptile's bulk,
  Soaking in his own red blood, his shield a battered hulk.
Fearing death, the warrior cried, "You shall bleed, at least!"
  His sword sang once, then twice, then sank into the beast.
The dragon shrieked and shuddered, in pain December deep,
  And from the wyrm's white belly quicksilver blood did seep.
Her crystal scales had lost their gleam; her azure eyes were dim;
  He thought the dragon had expired, but then — it spoke to him:
"Little man, my thanks are yours — you end this curse on me.
  Many live in fear of death, but death shall set me free.
I have fought uncounted foes and all have died in vain —
  By the nature of my curse: to slay and not be slain.
Still I had just one small hope; and now it comes to pass —
  Blessed to fall before the man with heart not steel, but glass."
Arctic winds and frozen mists escaped from dragonsbreath;
  One last heave of massive chest and then she welcomed death.
His eyes grew wide in wonder as flesh replaced wyrmhide,
  A maiden, cold and lifeless, lay where the dragon died.
Within her cave of crystal he cried his bitter tears,
  And softly spoke in whispers some words for Sorrow's ears.
Into his arms he took her and wrapped her in his cloak,
  Then lifted her lifeless form; his spirit all but broke.
Across his weary shoulder she lay in endless sleep —
  A burden he would carry back to the baron's keep.
Step by aching step he fought through drifts waist deep and more;
  In sorrow he forged onward, though at him cold winds tore.
Into the keep he entered, with pale and morbid prize,
  And then into the throne room with tears that blurred his eyes.
The baron sat proud and high, with knights arrayed by rank,
  Attended by young damsels who served the wine they drank.
"And now arrives our hero," spoke the baron in delight.
  "Pray tell us of the dragon, and valor as a knight!"
The room was filled with silence, the feast forgotten now;
  All eyes were on the warrior as anguish creased his brow.
Said he, "Here is your dragon," and lightly brushed her hair.
  Gently then he laid her down and cried, "Does no one care?"
The baron blinked and stammered, and then just looked away;
  No tears were shed by damsels; the knights had naught to say.
Then to the floor he dropped his sword and left it where it lay.
  He eyed the court in pity, then turned and walked away.
Yet unclaimed the sword remains within that gloomy hall —
  None dare touch that fateful blade, that curse upon them all...

                                                - James Kevin Bowers