That particular Dragon staring at you has a good part to play in BABBLING JAM HATRACK, an early chronicle written by Harpo. Feel free to read Harpo’s introduction to the Dragon.
An ordinary dragon is a scaly monster with wings and claws. An ordinary dragon can breathe fire any time it feels the urge. An ordinary dragon lives in a pit under a mountain and guards a treasure. Normally it coils its slithery tail around the treasure and snores a lot. The treasure is usually gold and jewels. An ordinary dragon is the size of one of your average small town libraries. An ordinary dragon is always cranky. Living in a pit under a mountain for hundreds of years with nothing to do but guard treasure would make any creature cranky. Am I right? Well, the dragon grumbling and groaning in this story was not ordinary.
First of all, the dragon in this story was not a dragon. It was a Dragon. Also, it was not an it. It was a she. She was a Dragon, and she lived in a pool where the Greenwilla River bends away from Villcom Wood at the edge of the Kingdom of Fiddleebod. The pool was called Dragon’s Deep Pool. It still is, these hundreds of bar years later. What else would it be called? She didn’t actually live in the pool, but under it. Under the pool in a rocky vault of a room lit only by her fiery breath and glow she lived and complained and jabbered constantly to her servant, the Princess to the Dragon. The entrance to the vault, which we can call a lair because Dragons have lairs, not vaults, was hidden. An innocent looking hill by the pool was not as innocent as it looked. An underwater passageway connected Dragon’s Deep Pool to the hollow hill. The hill was hollow, not innocent. From pool to hill a traveller might travel underwater, were he weak of mind, and wind down a long twister of a tunnel which opened into the great cavern of the Dragon. The lair, I mean. The Lair of the River Dragon. It went by that name among the citizens of both Fiddleebod and Clover.
Did I tell you the Dragon was boring? The Dragon was oh so very boring. She told long tedious pointless stories over and over again. They dragged on and on. Drag on. Understand? She knew five stories and repeated them each thousands of times to her poor servant, the Princess to the Dragon. Is it any wonder the miserable wretch of a servant longed to dig a hole and crouch in it? The stories were boring, and the Dragon spoke in a monotone. What else can I tell you about the River Dragon? Her eyes were glowing and green. That’s pretty interesting. She loved cold soup but could never get any into her mouth before her breath boiled it. She wasn’t intelligent enough to hold her breath and sip. The Princess to the Dragon could have offered the ‘hold your breath’ advice, but didn’t. I’m not surprised. Are you? Let me see. What else? The River Dragon was not the size of a small town library. She was two of your biggest fire engines stacked one on top of the other size. Big enough. She waited impatiently for the return of the old ragged Princess to the Dragon. She itched with an eagerness to see the new baby Princess to the Dragon.