Free The Return of the Dragon by Rebecca Rupp

Gawain. “And you?” it said. “You didn’t seem eager to accompany him. I thought your fondest wish was to be a knight, galloping off to battle.”
    Gawain looked down and shook his head.
    “I always thought fighting looked so glorious,” he said. “I wanted to be a hero.” He looked at his feet. “I wanted to slay a dragon too. But it all looks different when you think about the other side.”
    He sighed. “Now I don’t know what I want to do.”
    The dragon patted him kindly on the shoulder with a polished golden claw. “There are heroes and there are heroes,” it said. “You’ll think of something. You both will. Don’t worry about that.”
    It paused for a moment, gazing solemnly into their eyes.
    “It’s not fighting that’s so difficult,” the dragon finally said. “It’s deciding what’s worth fighting
for.
”
    The children shifted on the cave floor and stretched their arms and legs. It felt as though they hadn’t moved for a long time. The dragon’s voice had ceased.
    “Then what happened?” Zachary asked. “Did Gawain ever become a knight?”
    “No,” the dragon said. “He changed his mind after his stay in the forest. Instead, he and his wife became great healers, physicians. Between them they saved many lives.”
    “Who did he marry?” asked Sarah Emily.
    “Eleanor, of course,” said the dragon. “They were quite made for each other, those two. She never could manage embroidery, but she had a fine hand for surgery.”
    “What about Sir Tristram?” asked Hannah.
    The dragon gave a chortling little snort. “He rode off on a crusade,” it said, “and was captured in the middle of his second battle. He was sold into slavery in Baghdad and ended up marrying the youngest daughter of the household. Her name was Zenobia. They had four daughters and Sir Tristram became a date merchant.”
    “A
date merchant,
” said Sarah Emily in dismay. “That’s not very romantic. It’s not like the Round Table stories at all.”
    “Poor Sir Tristram,” said Hannah.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” the dragon said. “Perhaps after the bloodshed of the crusade, fighting didn’t look so glorious to him either anymore. Perhaps at last he began to use his head. I like to think I may have had a hand in bringing him to his senses.”
    The dragon gave what might have been a little giggle. “Four daughters,” it repeated. “And every one of them could wrap him right around her littlest finger . . .”
    Sarah Emily was staring at the gleaming golden fleck in the center of her right palm.
    “Did they become Dragon Friends?” she asked suddenly. “Gawain and Eleanor?”
    The dragon nodded solemnly.
    “Of course,” it said. “I was honored.”
    Zachary said musingly, “What’s worth fighting for . . .”
    “Lives,” said Sarah Emily suddenly. “That’s it, isn’t it, Fafnyr? All those people’s lives — babies and sick people. That’s what Gawain and Eleanor decided was worth fighting for.”
    For an instant, the dragon’s eyes glowed a deeper, brighter blue. Then it settled down on the cave floor and gave an enormous yawn.
    Hastily, Hannah brought up the problem of Mr. King. “The man on the yacht, Fafnyr. Mr. J.P. King. Do you know why he’s so determined to keep hanging around? Did he see something?”
    The dragon’s gold turned faintly pink. “I fear I may have been a trifle careless,” it mumbled. “I slipped out for a bit of exercise and a snack —
quite
early in the morning,” it said indignantly, “
well
before he had any business being up, and there he was, pacing about on the deck of that overblown boat. He was looking into the sun, so I hoped he was confused about what he saw.”
    “We were afraid he’d seen you,” Zachary said.
    “Not
well,
” the dragon said. “Not in all that glare. And if nothing else happens, he’ll decide that it was all his imagination and he’ll leave. It’s happened before. People are notoriously reluctant to believe.”
    “This