The Tale of Dracon and Anarion Jones

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DRAGONS

The Tale of Dracon and Anarion Jones

 

Anarion Jones, with her dark hair flying

Walks Welsh mountainsides on tiptoe,

As if she purely skims this Earth

Yet never touches it.

 

Dreaming of flying, her long skirt rustling,

like a flurry of autumn leaves

She bathes in banks of daffodils

Their sun-warmed scent like perfume on her silken skin.

 

Here, she is herself, far from the fury of the fighting,

The joy of life surrounds her like a cloak.

The distant screams of swords and men

Are swallowed whole, an offering to the wind.

 

Nobody comes here; she is alone, she thinks

Yet, today, amongst the breezes, lies a presence.

Something different in her usual world

Something warm, mysterious.

 

“Be not afraid, my little one.”

A lilting voice speaks softly in the listening air

And eyes, the size of dinner plates,

Blink back at her from cover of a bush.

 

Anarion Jones, with her amber eyes flashing

Bounces to the bush without a fear

And witnesses the winds of time composing

A very different song of life and love.

 

The second that the maid beheld the dragon,

She knew her fate was sealed in his embrace

And long they wandered, star-struck on the hillside

‘Til dawn the waning golden moon replaced.

 

When, from the tops of mountains, sunlight glimmered

Returning warriors spied the couple there

Believed the lass to be the ancient evil

That brought the battle that had plagued their lands.

 

As Dracon slept, upon the verdant hillside,

In silence wrapped, the soldiers bound the girl.

They carried her into the waking village

Full heralding the witch who’d brought the darkness there.

 

Anarion Jones, her dark hair laying, shaven

Was naked stripped, and tied fast to the stake,

And, as the flames licked hungry at her paleness,

The maiden screamed a prayer to her love.

 

Down swooped the beast and plucked her from the fire

Her mortal breath was fading as he flew –

He paused and wrapped his huge, red wings around her

And their souls merged, forever to be one.

 

Anarion Jones now tiptoes in the fields of Erath

Her golden voice sings magic to the moons

For she is home, within the heart of Dracon

Who holds her safe, until the end of time.

 

Wendy Anne Darling 2016

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