In days of old when the kingdom had withered
as sorcerers and seers took hold
weaving their spells with magical words
causing death and misery so cold
There came a cry heard far and wide from
Middle Earth, so it’s been told;
no incantation to stop the fire, no
payment in all of man’s gold
The magic ones had little to fear save the
courage and strength of the beast
but fear they should as the behemoth stirred and
envisioned the coming feast
Awakened from a tranquil sleep of centuries
it was, no doubt,
Aragon, the powerful one,
whose legend was known throughout
His course was set before all time as he took
to the air on the wing
three days’ journey to reach the dark forest to
kill the evil thing
no one knew the dragon was near
‘til they heard the beat of his wings
then fear gripped their souls for they knew
full well that their spells were useless things
they met at morning as the sun rose bright
but little light shone in the wood
ten against one seemed the best odds
‘til he let loose a roar where they stood
he singed them with heat and scorched
them with flame, the battle was shortly won
the kingdom restored, he set off for home
his work here at last now was done
They say he rests alone in his lair
for all time, unaware of his fame
peacefully sleeping for centuries to come
‘til the day someone calls out his name…Aragon….

Copyright by Anita Lewis Longino