Marigold For My Tea

It was the middle of August, and the countryside was well into summer. The air was warm and slightly humid. Green leaves covered the trees, giving shade to the children beneath and coverage for those hiding in the branches. In the fields surrounding the village the crops grew tall and animals grazed, and in the kitchens jars were being prepared for pickling and preserving. The people felt good about the upcoming harvest and that they would be well prepared for the winter that would follow.

A little girl saw it first. She pointed up at the unusual bird that grew larger and larger. It glinted in the sun and the span of its massive wings shadowed the village as it circled round and round, seeking a place to land.

The dragon chose a mound just outside the town and alit gracefully on the grassy knoll. Its strong legs and delicate feet, both the color of moss, curled underneath its belly, the long claws retracting into the scaled toes. A long, green tail wrapped around up and over its back, its tip flicking back and forth.

It didn’t do anything, but rested and watched the village.

“What does it want?” the people asked each other. Nobody knew. After a bit, they sent the mayor forward to find out.

“Marigold for my tea,” said the dragon when it was asked. Its purple eyes were like twilight just before dark, and its red tongue licked the air as it spoke.

Back in the village, the mayor told the people what the dragon wanted.

“Merry gold for its tea?” they asked. “What’s that all about?”

They didn’t understand, but they decided it was better to acquiesce than to question a dragon. So they collected all the gold trinkets from their homes – things that were pretty and happy. Tiny dancing bears. Rings of leaves and flowers. The most elderly woman in the village gave up the tiara she’d won at the faire so many years ago.

They put the treasure in a jeweled box, for good measure, and sent the mayor back to the dragon with it.

The dragon looked at the contents of the box. It snorted clouds of smoke from its nostrils and bellowed, “That’s not what I asked for!” And it flew away.

The next morning, the dragon returned. It circled the village twice then went to land on the same green mound just outside the village.

This time the constable went out to ask what the dragon wanted.

“Marigold for my tea,” said the dragon, scratching at its single black and spiraled horn with a clawed toe.

The constable went back to the village. “Not merry gold,” he told them, smirking at the mayor. “It wants to marry the gold.”

The villagers knew dragons love gold, but this was something they’d never heard of. “How do you marry gold?” they asked.

Again, they decided it was better to go along with what the dragon wanted, and they sent the reverend out to the mound. He carried a bag of gold and a holy book.

“I’m here to officiate your wedding to the gold,” he said when he reached the dragon.

The dragon growled and said, “That’s not what I asked for.” The reverend’s robes fluttered in the wind when the dragon flapped its wings and flew away.

The dragon came back the next morning, landing in the same spot.

This time a young woman went to see it. She teetered in fashionable shoes and held her new dress up so she wouldn’t step on the hem. Her hair was braided and piled high on her head, and her lips and cheeks were painted red. When she reached the dragon, she curtsied and said, “I’m Mary Gold. Was it me that you were wanting to see?”

The dragon groaned, smacked the ground with a frustrated tail, and flew away.

Mary Gold walked back to the village, thinking it would only be right if the ladies let her keep the dress and shoes for her trouble.

Once again, for a fourth time, the dragon arrived and perched on the mound outside the village.

All this time, every morning, the children had watched as the grown-ups in the village tried to think of what it was the dragon wanted. It was apparent to them that adults simply didn’t understand dragons.

The little girl who’d first seen the dragon ventured out. She held her hands behind her back as she walked up the knoll. It was more like a hill to her short legs but, having played on it daily, she had no trouble reaching the dragon.

The little girl stood before the huge beast.

“Marigold for my tea,” the dragon sighed.

Smiling, the girl held out the beautiful bouquet of red, orange, and yellow flowers that she’d been hiding behind her back.

White dragon-teeth glistened as a smile spread across it’s emerald face, and its tail raised up and wagged like a happy puppy. It gently took the marigolds from the little girl and leaned forward so it could see straight into her eyes.

“Thank you,” the dragon said. “These will go perfectly with my tea.”

“You’re welcome,” the girl answered politely. “You can come back anytime. They don’t bloom all year, but you can have as many as you want when they do. And when they don’t, I’m grandmother keeps dried petals in her jars.”

“That sounds nice,” said the dragon, and it flew away.

After that, the dragon visited the little girl often. They shared tea, and she always brought extra marigold petals for her new friend to take home.

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Sorcha Monk lives in a small town in a desert near a river. She belongs to four dogs who love her, and four cats who occasionally acknowledge her existence but always allow her to feed them. Sorcha used to be a middle school teacher, but now that she has her life back she writes stories, rides a large motorcycle, dabbles in ceramics and reads a lot.

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