Mr. Pinkerton and the Dragon

 

           


The Meeting by Stanley Morrison

The above painting was the inspiration for my latest adventure. This was a chance to spread my wings, try new things, share kippers.

If you are interested in more artwork by Stanley Morrison click HERE.  And now....

 

Mr. Pinkerton and the Dragon



 

Mr. Pinkerton awoke to the sound of trumpets. He was supposed to be helping Lady Butterwith hang herbs, but it was so nice warm in the castle kitchens that he found himself dozing off.

“That’ll be High Sheriff Appleby and Sir Geoffrey returning,” said Lady Butterwith from the counter where she was busy tying together a bunch of rosemary to be dried. “Word came that they were bringing back a dragon,” she whispered with a conspiratorial smile, knowing Mr. Pinkerton’s fondness for the mighty beasts.

Mr. Pinkerton had actually been considering continuing his nap, but immediately perked up at the mention of a dragon. He thought of all the famous dragons in songs and stories, like Morgar the Mighty, and Senilmen the Swift, and Elred the Unlucky. Actually it was probably better not to think about Elred. The small village of Foulstink still hadn’t recovered. Mr. Pinkerton also seemed to recall that the village had not always gone by the name of Foulstink.

“Well go on with you, Mr. Pinkerton. Your tail is twitching and your wings are practically fluttering in your excitement to go see the dragon. Be assured I will be right behind you,” declared Lady Butterwith.

Mr. Pinkerton nearly turned his back to Lady Butterwith with indignant indifference to her comment about his fluttering wings! He had very good control over his wings, and if they were fluttering, he had meant them to. His tail, however very often had a mind of its own, and yes, it most likely was twitching. Mr. Pinkerton looked up at Lady Butterwith to let her see his disapproval, but the barely contained excitement in her eyes, and the way she was practically bouncing in place decided Mr. Pinkerton to let it pass. She was just as eager as he to see the dragon.

Mr. Pinkerton took off out of the kitchen at a full sprint with his wings tucked in tight. He veered down the short corridor leading to the great hall, entered the hall and spread his wings and pulled up his paws and took flight. Luckily the doors leading out to the courtyard were just opening so Mr. Pinkerton did not even need to slow down.

High Sheriff Appleby and Sir Geoffrey had just ridden into the courtyard and were dismounting as Mr. Pinkerton flew out through the castle doors. It was just the two of them returning, and they were handing over their horses to the waiting grooms and…. no dragon.

Mr. Pinkerton landed in the courtyard  looking all around for a dragon. Maybe it was too large to fit through the castle gates and was forced to wait outside in the meadow. Maybe there was no dragon.

“Ah, Mr. Pinkerton,” called Sir Geoffrey. “Come to see the new addition? What do you think?”

Mr. Pinkerton looked closer at Sir Geoffrey. There was something perched on his shoulder and twined around his neck. Mr. Pinkerton stared in disbelief. That could not possibly be the dragon. But the closer Mr. Pinkerton looked, the more he realized that, yes, the thing did look like a dragon. Just a very, very, very small one.

“Welcome home, Sheriff Appleby. Welcome home, Sir Geoffrey,” called Lady Butterwith as she joined them in the courtyard. “And what a very fine fellow you have there, Sir Geoffrey.  What do you call him?”

“Thank you Lady Butterwith. I call him Scout,” answered Sir Geoffrey.

“Scout,” snorted Sheriff Appleby, but Mr. Pinkerton noticed the rather fond look of indulgence he cast over his shoulder at Sir Geoffrey.

 Mr. Pinkerton agreed with Sheriff Appleby. Scout was by no means a dignified name for a dragon; Even a very, very, very small one. He couldn’t believe he had just sprinted through the entire castle to see this dragon that turned out to be not much larger than the lizards Mr. Pinkerton hunted in the garden. He flicked his ear in annoyance, turned his back on the new arrivals, sat down tucking his wings in snug and stared pointedly up at the fluttering pennants on the north tower.

“Ah, bless, “said Lady Butterwith.  “Such a nice name for this wee handsome fellow!”

“You are all kindness, Lady Butterwith, “answered Sir Geoffrey.  “I was wondering if perchance the ever noble and handsome Mr. Pinkerton would do me the very great honor of showing Scout the castle.”

Mr. Pinkerton turned an ear toward Sir Geoffrey to acknowledge the flattery, which in all honesty was no more than the truth, but he refused to turn around.

“And I brought back kippers for you, Mr. Pinkerton,” added Sir Geoffrey.

Mr. Pinkerton turned around. Sir Geoffrey was grinning, looking much too smug as he pulled out a wrapped package from his belt pouch.

“You’ve been carrying that thing in your pouch all day?” asked Sheriff Appleby, incredulous.

“Well, yes. Anything for Mr. Pinkerton.” Sir Geoffrey lowered the package to the ground and started to unwrap it.

“Whoa! Pray have mercy and wait ‘til Lady Butterwith and I are away before you open that,” said Sheriff Appleby, suiting action to words as he backed toward the castle.

Sir Geoffrey laughed. “I’m sure Mr. Pinkerton will not object to the fragrance!”

Mr. Pinkerton could not agree more as he caught the scent of the lovely, warm fish. He padded over and waited for Sir Geoffrey to finish opening the package. Then he noticed Scout inching down Sir Geoffrey’s arm toward Mr. Pinkerton’s kippers. He froze, ears back, and glared at the little dragon, a low growl escaping his lips.

“Peace, Mr. Pinkerton! I brought enough for you both.” Sir Geoffrey handed a kipper first to Mr. Pinkerton, as he should, and then one to Scout. Mr. Pinkerton chewed on his kipper as he watched the dragon take his own piece with his forepaws and daintily begin eating.

Mr. Pinkerton finished first and immediately started licking his paws and grooming his face.

Scout, upon finishing, flew up to a nearby trough and dove in.   He popped back out, perched himself on the edge and shook, water droplets spraying Mr. Pinkerton and Sir Geoffrey.

Sir Geoffrey laughed again. “Why thank you, Scout! I needed a bath to wash off all this dirt from the road! Though I think I should probably head inside and do a more thorough job of it. I trust I can leave Scout in your capable paws, Mr. Pinkerton?”

Mr. Pinkerton glared at Sir Geoffrey as trough water dripped down his freshly groomed whiskers.

“Good!” said Sir Geoffrey cheerfully as he headed up the stairs. “Have fun. Try and stay out of trouble!”

Mr. Pinkerton looked at Scout.

Scout looked at Mr. Pinkerton.

“Meow,” said Mr. Pinkerton.

“Brrrrirrp,” answered Scout.

Mr. Pinkerton leapt into the air, spreading his wings and flew to an upper window of the castle which led into the study. This was Mr. Pinkerton’s favorite room with its many bright tapestries that he could hide behind, rows and rows of book shelves that he could perch upon, and many cozy chairs perfect for napping. He landed lightly on the sill and a second later Scout touched down next to him.

Mr. Pinkerton hopped over to the writing desk that sat near the window, knocking over a feather quill as he landed. The quill skittered a short distance before stopping just at the edge of the table. Mr. Pinkerton stuck out a paw and gently patted the feather over the edge. He watched as the feather fluttered to the floor.

“Brrrrirrp?” inquired Scout, who had come up beside Mr. Pinkerton and was also looking down at the fallen feather.

“Meow,” Mr. Pinkerton replied.

There was a thimble resting close to where Scout had landed and he reached out a tiny claw and tapped it. The thimble toppled and rolled over to Mr. Pinkerton who swatted it over the edge. It let out a hollow clink as it hit the floor and then rolled away under the table as Mr. Pinkerton and Scout watched in fascinated interest from above.

Mr. Pinkerton looked back up to Scout perched beside him. He looked into Scout’s swirling gold eyes and saw in them a glint of impish humor. Perhaps this miniature dragon was not that bad after all, thought Mr. Pinkerton as Scout swatted one of Lady Butterwith’s emerald hair pins towards him. Mr. Pinkerton finished the job with a tap that sent the pin over the edge.

“Brreow,” said Mr. Pinkerton as he gave Scout a gentle head butt and then rubbed all the way down the dragon’s soft, leathery body, dislodging a stack of correspondences. Mr. Pinkerton watched as the top-most scrolls slid over the edge as he ducked under Scout’s tail, which stroked down Mr. Pinkerton’s back to intertwine with his own tail.

“Pprrrrihr,” answered Scout.

As Mr. Pinkerton turned back around, he noticed a small ink well that had been previously hidden by the now toppled correspondences. He cast a look over his shoulder to Scout, who met his gaze with a mischievous twinkle. Mr. Pinkerton reached out a paw to the bottle and gave it a light tap. It moved barely a quarter its own width, scraping softly against the top of the table. He looked back up at Scout, who had moved along side of Mr. Pinkerton.

Scout was looking down at the small bottle, and then raised his eyes back up to Mr. Pinkerton, cocking his head in question.

“Purrrreow,” encouraged Mr. Pinkerton as the purr he could no longer contain erupted from his throat.  

Scout reached out a delicate claw and tipped the bottle over the edge.

The End

Artwork by Roxy