J. Tolkien: Farmer Giles of Ham

`I've done no wrong. I didn't mean no harm,' said the dog. `But I came on a dragon accidental-like, and it frightened me.'

The farmer choked in his beer. `Dragon?' said he. `Drat you for a good-for-nothing nosey-Parker! What d'you want to go and find a dragon for, at this time of the year, and me with my hands full? Where was it?'

'Oh! North over the hills and far away, `beyond the Standing Stones and all,' said the dog.

`Oh, away there!' said Giles, mighty relieved. `They're queer folk in those parts, I've heard tell, and aught might happen in their land. Let them get on with it! Don't come worriting me with such tales. Get out!'

Garm got out, and spread the news all over the village. He did not forget to mention that his master was not scared in the least. `Quite cool he was, and went on with his breakfast.'

People chatted about it pleasantly at their doors. `How like old times!' they said. `Just as Christmas is coming, too. So seasonable. How pleased the King will be! He will be able to have Real Tail this Christmas.'

But more news came in next day. The dragon, it appeared, was exceptionally large and ferocious. He was doing terrible damage.

`What about the King's knights?' people began to say.

Others had already asked the same question. Indeed, messengers were now reaching the King from the villages most afflicted by Chrysophylax, and they said to him as loudly and as often as they dared: `Lord, what of your knights?'

But the knights did nothing; their knowledge of the dragon was still quite unofficial. So the King brought the matter to their notice, fully and formally, asking for necessary action at their early convenience. He was greatly displeased when he found that their convenience would not be early at all, and was indeed daily postponed.

Yet the excuses of the knights were undoubtedly sound. First of all, the Royal Cook had already made the Dragon's Tail for that Christmas, being a man who believed in getting things done in good time. It would not do at all to offend him by bringing in a real tail at the last minute. He was a very valuable servant.

`Never mind the Tail! Cut his head off and put an end to him!' cried the messengers from the villages most nearly affected.

But Christmas had arrived, and most unfortunately a grand tournament had been arranged for St John's Day: knights of many realms had been invited and were coming to compete for a valuable prize. It was obviously unreasonable to spoil the chances of the Midland Knights by sending their best men off on a dragon-hunt before the tournament was over.

After that came the New Year Holiday.

But each night the dragon had moved; and each move had brought him nearer to Ham. On the night of New Year's Day people could see a blaze in the distance. The dragon had settled in a wood about ten miles away, and it was burning merrily. He was a hot dragon when he felt in the mood.

After that people began to look at Farmer Giles and whisper behind his back. It made him very uncomfortable; but he pretended not to notice it. The next day the dragon came several miles nearer. Then Farmer Giles himself began to talk loudly of the scandal of the King's knights. `I should like to know what they do to earn their keep,' said he.

`So should we!' said everyone in Ham.

But the miller added: `Some men still get knighthood by sheer merit, I am told. After all, our good Aegidius here is already a knight in a manner of speaking. Did not the King send him a red letter and a sword?'

`There's more to knighthood than a sword,' said Giles. `There's dubbing and all that, or so I understand. Anyway I've my own business to attend to.'

`Oh! but the King would do the dubbing, I don't doubt, if he were asked,' said the miller. `Let us ask him, before it is too late!'

'Nay!' said Giles. `Dubbing is not for my sort. I am a farmer and proud of it: a plain honest man and honest men fare ill at court, they say. It is more in your line, Master Miller.'

The parson smiled: not at the farmer's retort, for Giles and the miller were always giving one another as good as they got, being bosom enemies, as the saying was in Ham. The parson had suddenly been struck with a notion that pleased him, but he said no more at that time. The miller was not so pleased, and he scowled.

`Plain certainly, and honest perhaps,' said he. `But do you have to go to court and be a knight before you kill a dragon? Courage is all that is needed, as only yesterday I heard Master Aegidius declare. Surely he has as much courage as any knight?'

All the folk standing by shouted: `Of course not!' and `Yes indeed! Three cheers for the Hero of Ham!'

Then Farmer Giles went home feeling very uncomfortable. He was finding that a local reputation may require keeping up, and that may prove awkward. He kicked the dog, and hid the sword in a cupboard in the kitchen. Up till then it had hung over the fireplace.

The next day the dragon moved to the neighbouring village of Quercetum (Oakley in the vulgar tongue). He ate not only sheep and cows and one or two persons of tender age, but he ate the parson too. Rather rashly the parson had sought to dissuade him from his evil ways. Then there was a terrible commotion. All the people of Ham came up the hill headed by their own parson; and they waited on Farmer Giles.

`We look to you,' they said; and they remained standing round and looking, until the farmer's face was redder than his beard.

`When are you going to start?' they asked.

`Well, I can't start today, and that's a fact,' said he. `I've a lot on hand with my cowman sick and all. I'll see about it.'

They went away; but in the evening it was rumoured that the dragon had moved even nearer, so they all came back.

`We look to you, Master Aegidius,' they said.

`Well,' said he, `it's very awkward for me just now. My mare has gone lame, and the lambing has started. I'll see about it as soon as may be.'

So they went away once more, not without some grumbling and whispering. The miller was sniggering. The parson stayed behind, and could not be got rid of. He invited himself to supper, and made some pointed remarks. He even asked what had become of the sword and insisted on seeing it. It was lying in a cupboard on a shelf hardly long enough for it, and as soon as Farmer Giles brought it out in a flash it leaped from the sheath, which the farmer dropped as if it had been hot. The parson sprang to his feet, upsetting his beer. He picked the sword up carefully and tried to put it back in the sheath; but it would not go so much as a foot in, and it jumped clean out again, as soon as he took his hand off the hilt.

`Dear me! This is very peculiar!' said the parson, and he took a good look at both scabbard and blade. He was a lettered man, but the farmer could only spell out large uncials with difficulty, and was none too sure of the reading even of his own name. That is why he had never given any heed to the strange letters that could dimly be seen on sheath and sword. As for the King's armourer, he was so accustomed to runes, names, and other signs of power and significance upon swords and scabbards that he had not bothered his head about them; he thought them out of date, anyway.

But the parson looked long, and he frowned. He had expected to find some lettering on the sword or on the scabbard, and that was indeed the idea that had come to him the day before; but now he was surprised at what he saw, for letters and signs there were, to be sure, but he could not make head or tail of them.

`There is an inscription on this sheath, and some, ah, aphical signs are visible also upon the sword,' he said.

'Indeed?' said Giles. `And what may that amount to?'

`The characters are archaic and the language barbaric,' said the parson, to gain time. `A little closer inspection will be required.' He begged the loan of the sword for the night, and the farmer let him have it with pleasure.