The Ambush
By Allen Kitchen 
March 25, 2000


	The noonday sun had long since driven the morning fog 
out of the green woods, and the birds sang unseen from the 
tops of the many trees.  It was a typical summer day in the 
tiny unnamed forest surrounding  the road between the towns 
of Alvara and Dor.  That is to say that it was as devoid of 
travelers as usual.
	A fact which clearly frustrated the obese blue dragon 
hiding behind one of the trees beside the path.
	"By Tiamat's nasal spray," he quietly cursed in 
baritone.  "Where is he?  He should have gotten here long 
before now."  
	Across the dusty dirt path from him, a thin, wiry, 
white dragon's face peeked out from around the tree he 
himself was hiding behind.
	"You don't suppose something happened to him, do you 
Hardy?" he asked in a nervous, high-pitched voice.
	The fat blue head shook in negation, and the tree he 
held onto creaked and groaned.  "Not with my kind of luck, 
Laurel," he said.  "Not to worry.  Thelonious will be along 
any time now."
	"But you said that hours ago."
	"So it can't be much longer, now can it?"
	Laurel scratched the side of his scaly white head, 
thinking about what his friend said.  He didn't do it for 
long though, since thinking made his head hurt.  
	"I... suppose so, Hardy," he muttered, unsure of 
himself.  "But I still don't understand what we are doing 
here, laying in wait for him."
	Hardy rolled his large blue eyes.  "Look," he said 
impatiently as he pulled his thick tail out of the road for 
what seemed to be the hundredth time.  "It's quite simple, 
Laurel.  This traveling bard is going around telling all the 
myths and legends about us dragons to the common folks.  We 
can't let the humans know that much about us, so you and I 
have to kill him."
	"You don't mean we have to eat him!"  Laurel stuck out 
his tongue, repulsed.
	"Of course not," Hardy shot back, annoyed.  "We didn't 
bring any sauce.  We aren't savages, you know."
	Laurel nodded.  "So what are we going to do with him 
then?" he asked.
	"How many times do I have to explain it to you?" Hardy 
answered, his patience coming to an end.  "We wait until 
Thelonious gets a few feet from our trees, then we both jump 
out in front of him.  I use my Water breath on him, then you 
use your Ice breath.  We'll freeze him solid and leave him 
where he stands for some other traveler to find a few days 
from now."
	Laurel scratched at an imaginary flea on his side.  "I 
don't know, Hardy... that might kill him."
	"That's the idea," Hardy said with a resigned sigh.  
"His songs and myths about dragonkind will die with him, as 
will his tales about our strengths and weaknesses.  Nobody 
needs to know everything about us."
	"You mean like where that ticklish spot is on your 
tail?"
	"Yes.  I mean, No!  No, I don't mean about where I'm 
ticklish."
	"So, you're talking about your drinking problem then?"
	"I don't have a drinking problem!"
	"Now, now Hardy," the thin white dragon said 
admonishingly.  "The first step to finding a cure is 
admitting that you have a problem."
	"The only problem I have right now is you!"
	"Denial only makes things worse, you know."
	Hardy threw a rock across the road, striking Laurel in 
the chest with it.  The rock bounced painlessly off Laurel's 
leathery hide.  Laurel shrank away, more afraid of his 
friend's temper than actually hurt.  He leaned closer to the 
tree and lowered his gaze.
	Hardy glowered at his friend.  "Listen you!  Just 
concentrate on killing this bard, and let me worry about my 
own so-called problems, okay?"
	Laurel automatically nodded in agreement.  "Whatever 
you say, Hardy.  But tell me; does this bard travel alone?"
	"Of course."
	"Does he play a lyre?"
	Hardy shrugged.  "I don't think so.  I've heard that 
he's rather truthful."
	Laurel had to think about Laurel's reply a bit.  It 
made his head hurt more.  It was several seconds before he 
understood the confusion.  
	"What I meant is, does this bard you want to kill play 
an instrument with lots of strings of varying lengths on a 
wood base?"
	Hardy blinked.  "Does he play a what?" he asked his 
friend, somewhat confused..
	Laurel pointed down the road.  "Does this Thelonious 
fellow play an instrument like that?"
	Hardy looked down the road at the wandering minstrel, 
noting the chest-sized musical instrument the man was 
strumming.  The blue-faced dragon turned back to his friend 
once more.  "Yes," he said.  "He plays an instrument just 
like that one."
	It was several seconds before the realization struck 
Hardy like a fist to his stomach.
	"That's him!" he yelled.  "Laurel, that's Thelonious!  
Quick now, get him before he makes a run for it!"  
	Hardy jumped out from behind his oak tree and stood in 
the road a good dozen feet in front of the wandering 
minstrel.  He twisted his blue face into the most fearsome 
grimace he could make.  Laurel hesitated, but jumped into 
the road a few feet behind his friend a few seconds later. 
The musician stopped in his tracks, tugged at his brown 
cotton tunic and looked back at Hardy, not afraid and not 
surprised at all.
	"Hello," he said, as if encountering dragons on the 
road were a common occurrence for him.  "Was that you two 
making all that racket a moment ago?"
	Hardy said not a word, but took in a deep breath and 
exhaled his water breath weapon towards the young man as 
hard as he could.
	Laurel took his cue and did like he was told to do.  He 
closed his eyes, not wanting to see anyone get hurt, and 
exhaled his ice breath. 
	Right into Hardy's back.
	"Aiiyee!" Hardy cried out in surprise and shock, 
spinning around and still spraying water everywhere.  
Shaking from the sudden cold he tried to tell Laurel to 
cease and desist, but remembered too late that garish noises 
were all he could make while using his breath weapon.  
	"Nyahh!" he yelled, waving his hands in the wet spray.  
"Ngah id uuff!" 
	Laurel, completely soaked and half coated in ice, kept 
his eyes tight shut and kept his ice weapon flowing, 
oblivious to what was going on around him.  
	Hardy tried to stop his own breath, but found that the 
sudden cold caused his muscles to lock up and freeze into 
place.  His watery breath kept going, splashing and soaking 
him and Laurel both before turning to ice.  
	After a short time both dragons had finished their 
breaths and stopped.  Laurel opened his eyes at last, only 
to find that he and Hardy were both trapped from the neck 
down in a large block of solid ice.  Neither could move much 
more than their mouths and eyes.  They stood there, Laurel 
staring at Hardy in shock while Hardy glared furiously back 
at his friend.
	A moment later, a soft chuckle came from down the road.  
There came a quick chord strummed across a stringed 
instrument.  Both dragons listened helplessly as Thelonious, 
their quarry, walked past them, composing a small tune on 
his lyre as he went.

	Of red dragons, you should always fear their fire.
	Of green dragons, their poison can make you expire.
	Black dragons, I've heard, can kill with but a touch.
	Ivory dragons love having people over for lunch.
	Yellow dragons can call down lightning from the sky.
	Ruby's can make you kill yourself without knowing why.
	But of blue and white dragons, fear is not meant.
	Because blues and whites are quite incompetent!

	The man laughed a little bit as he went further down 
the road.  He tried various different chord progressions and 
rhyming schemes as he walked out of sight and finally out of 
earshot, quite pleased to have something new and humorous to 
sing about.
	When the only sound left in the woods was that of the 
birds and the animals around them, Hardy finally let out a 
sigh.  "Well," he said to his shivering friend before him.  
"This is another fine myth you've gotten us into!"