Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie settled down on one of the ‘nice’ piles of hay in Griffonstone’s only library. Gilda had sent them an invitation to see how much had changed in the months since their last visit, not that Rainbow needed any more reason than to visit her friend to make the trip. Still, she had expected a little more than a few griffons idly chatting with each other on the streets, but Gilda had been bursting with excitement ever since they arrived at the train station. She had practically dragged them along the whole way into town, too, before Rainbow finally asked her what was so important.
Gilda had replied, “Grampa Gruff’s telling his stories without charging for them!”
That got Pinkie Pie on board, but Rainbow still wasn’t sure why ‘an example of griffon pride returning’ was such an exciting thing. Gilda assured her that Gruff’s selection for the day was about a battle with a dragon, so she now sat next to Pinkie and about a half-dozen other griffons in a library small enough to fit through Twilight’s front door, and by the looks of things, it had more holes in the roof than books on its shelves. When she had asked about that aspect of Griffonstone earlier, Gilda explained that its griffons weren’t exactly ‘ready’ for a community project.
Gruff took up a place in front of the largest set of shelves and cleared his throat.
* * *
Many moons— Hundreds of moons ago, were Griffonstone’s darkest days. The loss of the Idol of Boreas was devastating in more than one way…. The dragons heard word upon the wind of our waning pride and shameful failure to stop Arimaspi. In the months that followed, they ransacked our lands, claiming every trinket, bauble, and bit for themselves. Some tried to stop them, but the dragons’ taunts were too much for them.
Finally, there was nothing for else for them to take. They left. For a while.
Years later, I was a sentry of Guto’s guard stationed at Gordon’s Beak – one of our farthest outposts at the time, quite a ways west I think.... It was there that I met the dragon. I had heard about them, but it was something else entirely to hear one of their insults echoing across the valley:
“Stupidheads!”
It was enough to drive a spike of ice right through your heart! We endured taunts for days. The beasty would come out every morning, and if he caught sight of you, you were lucky if he only called you a “pushover”. None of my comrades wanted to do anything about it, of course. Dragons were terrifying creatures, and we were but a young flock of hopefuls, looking for a way out of the darkness that Griffonstone had become. In the end, we just found something worse.
It wasn’t one day past a week of this onslaught that I knew we had to stand up to him. His taunts were only growing in savagery. He even called us “scaredy-cats” at one point.
I told the others, but they wouldn’t have any of it! “Fine,” I said to them. “I’ll chase him off myself!” So I went outside, and waited for him to show himself. I didn’t have to wait very long.
I saw it speak with its great jaws before I heard its cruel words: “Fish Brain!”
He may have struck first, but I wasn’t going to let him win. I leaned forwards, and yelled my own insult back at him: “Drool Face!” I can remember the dumbstruck face he made when he heard me as if it were yesterday!
Of course, it isn’t that easy to convince a dragon to leave. He called me a “Bald Eagle” AND I STILL HAD ALL OF MY FEATHERS! He got my blood burning.
We exchanged dozens, if not, hundreds of insults, until finally:
“Smelly Tail!” I called.
“Fart Feathers!” he called back.
Never had I felt so insulted. He had crossed a line. If I was to come out on top, I had to strike hard. So I did. To take away what makes a dragon feel like a dragon is how to crush them, so I looked this mighty, fire-breathing dragon in the eye and called him a cold-blooded minty-breathed amphibian that couldn’t hold a candle to a matchstick!
I knew I had him then. He was shaking where he stood, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop himself. I still had to chase him off, of course, so I went in for the kill.
“Your mother was a fish,” I shouted, “and your father smelt of salmonberries!”
Finally, it was too much for him to take. “Aaugh!” he screamed, and turned his smelly tail and fled. It was the last we ever saw of him. My comrades were nothing less than impressed when they saw what I had done, of course. I figured that a dragon’s hoard would be a worthy reward, but search as we might, we never did find anything in the valley or any of the nearby caves.
So that’s it. The end. Story’s over. No refunds.
* * *
Rainbow sat quietly for a moment while the other griffons, including Gruff, filed out the door.
“What the hay was that?” she asked when Gruff had left.
“Awesome!” Pinkie said.
“Heh.” Gilda blushed a bit when Rainbow turned to her. “I’m sure he was just taking a few liberties. You know, kinda like how your stories grow more elaborate every time you tell them. Gramps just has a… creative and admittedly somewhat fowl mind.”
Rainbow just shook her head. “Hey, it’s still better than listening to Twilight explain the difference between Decimal Point’s, Dew Point’s, and Dew Drop’s research for an hour while I’m packing. Apparently ponies tend to get them mixed up, because they’re even siblings.
“Now how about some of those griffon scones for lunch?”
Pinkie Pie’s tummy rumbled in anticipation as the three of them exited the library.