Most Magnificent Dragon 2023
Another dragon alights on the soccer field, and lets out a large exhalation of flame. I sigh a little as the last of the crêpe paper goes up in a tiny poof of smoke. I should have known better than to try to decorate with anything so flimsy… and flammable. The only major problem with hosting the dragon awards is that so many of them have dragon FRIENDS and they all come to the ceremony. We have to have somewhere in the ballpark of 200 dragons out there!
It looks as though most of the guests have arrived, however, and that is very good news, because it means they are finally out of my basement. Just a few more left.
My daughter was very distressed to find out we’d been housing 45 dragons in our basement… mostly distressed about not getting down there to hang out with them sooner. But she seems to have enjoyed her time getting to chat with them… ah… there she is now, and… yep, it makes sense she’d arrive with Kazul. Now where…. I glance around… ah, yes, Nathalie is with Falkor. Of course.
The boys are too young to stay up this late, and they are not happy about it. Ah well, maybe next year.
The last of the guests arrive and I give them a few minutes to get settled before I ascend the steps of the gigantic stage and then make my way up the ladder to the enormous podium.
“Welcome, honored guests!” My voice booms out over the massive sound system my husband managed to set up for the event and I wince, but none of the dragons seems bothered by the volume. “Thank you all for coming this evening to the first ceremony of the Silmaril Awards this year. We gather tonight to honor literature’s Most Magnificent Dragons…”
A dark form sweeps over the stage, making all the torches flicker ominously. A chill wind like that of a hurricane whips around me and nearly knocks me off the ladder that I am now swiftly scrambling to descend. The mighty, fearsome form of Smaug, the Great and Terrible lands on the stage behind me and he swings his head about, his fiery gaze piercing the audience. His eye comes to rest on me and his mouth opens slightly, revealing rows of sword-like teeth.
I have always loved dragons. I must admit, I’ve been quite enjoying hosting them in my house the past two weeks. But standing here face to face with Smaug absolutely freezes the blood in my veins. My mind goes blank at the sheer immensity of the creature before me. I have never stood so near such… overwhelming evil, such sly cunning, such a forceful presence that has nothing to do with his massive size.
“S… smaug,” I stammer. “Welcome!”
He gazes about with heavily lidded eyes. “I cannot believe I have been summoned here again.” He booms. “What pathetic offerings of dragons do you have for me this year?”
I hand him the notecard (okay, it’s a huge piece of posterboard to me, but it’s notecard sized to a dragon).
Smaug glowers down at it. “In last place… with a pitiful showing of 13 votes… Kazul, so-called King of the dragons, from the Enchanted Forest Chronicles.” Smaug’s voice turns into a sneer as Kazul lifts off from her seat and soars over to sit next to him. “Kazul, I presume?”
Kazul sniffs. “We have met before, Smaug.” She shows him no deference.
Smaug seems a little taken aback at her evident lack of awe or fear. “Ah. Yes. So we have,” he rumbles. “So, you are the ruler of dragons in your world?”
“I am,” she replies calmly.
“Perhaps we should chat after the ceremony,” Smaug says.
I blink. Wait… is Smaug the great and terrible… flirting? I squint at him, wondering how hard it is to take a dragon’s temperature. He’s probably coming down with something.
“I don’t think so,” Kazul replies firmly. “I cannot be away from my kingdom for long or those dratted wizards will take over. Someone has to be around to eat them.”
“Yes,” Smaug grumbles, “wizards can be such a pain.” He shoots a dark look into the audience and I hear him mutter something under his breath that rhymes with “Randolph.”
“Besides, Cimorene and Mendenbar can’t melt them all by themselves, and besides, melting is only temporary. Eating is far more permanent of a solution.” She bares her teeth in a feral grin.
Smaug peers at her curiously, “Cimorene and Mendenbar? Are they your hatchlings?”
“Oh no,” Kazul gives him a cunning look, and I see that she has seen right through him. “They are the King and Queen of the human kingdom that borders mine, and my dear friends.”
Smaug blasts an angry spout of flame and turns his back on Kazul. “Dragons and humans… friends!” He thunders under his breath. “What is the fictionverse coming to?” He looks down at the card before him.
“We have a tie for second-to-last,” he sneers. “With almost as pitiful a showing of 23 votes each, Julio Aquino and Shardas!”
Shardas soars over to land next to Kazul, all fierce pride and glittering strength. He looks Smaug right in the eye and for a moment, I think that we might be in danger of witnessing a dragon challenge right here in the middle of the ceremony. I, of course, would totally get between them and tell them to calm down… except that I have suddenly remembered I might have somewhere else I need to be.
“Tell me, Shardas,” Smaug says, “what great and mighty conquests have you done to get onto this stage tonight?”
Shardas growls low in his throat. “I have defeated usurpers of two kingdoms, and I am also a King of my people.”
“Really,” Smaug sneers. He gives both Kazul and Shardas a mocking look. “All this concern over the title of king, and it seems like they are handing it out to just anybody.”
Neither dragon king allows themself to be baited by this comment, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Just then, a rather wilted looking green-scaled dragon fwumps down beside Shardas.
“You again?” Smaug growls. “Will we never be rid of you?”
Julio hangs his head. “Apparently not,” he mumbles.
“Julio Aquino,” Shardas thunders, making the green dragon start. “You do not hang your head on this day! You are a prince among dragons.”
“But I am never winning a Silmaril,” Julio whispers, a crystal tear dripping down his long snout. “Always am I being nominated, but never am I winning. My father won a Silmaril, and he truly never lets me hear the end of it.”
“Julio,” Kazul rumbles, taking over for Shardas, “look where you are!”
Julio raises his head slightly. “Where I am?”
“You are on the finalists’ stage!” she bellows. “You are here, in the top five of all the fictionverse dragons gathered today. So you did not get a Silmaril… to be on this stage is honor enough. The fans have spoken.”
“You are loved, Julio,” I shout, stepping out from beneath the podium where I definitely was NOT hiding. “Can’t you see that?”
The green dragon’s head springs up. “I am loved!” he roars. “I am so very loved! I am mighty, and I must FWOOM!”
“No!” I yell… too late.
The green dragon spreads his wings, rises into the air, and shoots a veritable volcanic eruption into the darkened sky. The crowd, far from being bothered by this, roars their approval, and the entire park is filled with light brighter than day as hundreds of dragons rear back and shoot flame into the sky… brilliantly hot and in various colors and shades of orange.
Smaug growls, but for the first time ever, he almost seems… not irritated to be here? I wonder what it was… probably the display of draconic strength and might… surely not at the encouraging words from Shardas and Kazul.
Smaug’s eyes turn back to the notecard. “With 44 votes, in second place, we have Falkor! Oh no… not him again…” His grouchy attitude returns. “Luck dragons.” He sniffs.
Falkor glides up to rest beside Julio and nods wisely. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “You haven’t seen Atreyu anywhere, by chance? We got separated by the Nothing…”
“I’m here, Falkor!” a teen-aged boy waves from the front row.
“Ah, there he is,” Falkor says happily. “We will get back to our questing once this is over.”
“Ugh, associating with humans,” Smaug snarls. “I hope the winner is…” his eyes light up. “Aha! Yes, with 50 votes, the winner of the Most Magnificent Dragon Silmaril is… Yurgen, terror of the seas! A truly proper dragon, he is, wreaking havoc, terrorizing sailors, overturning ships. For once, you lot have picked a dragon I actually approve of!”
Yurgen swishes up onto the stage, standing very nearly as tall as Smaug. He bows his head slightly to Smaug.
I clamber up the stepladder and open the velvet-lined box. Inside, a ruby red gemstone glitters with a light to rival that of the dragons’ flame of a few moments before. The audience gasps. It matters not how many times we gather, how many times we glimpse the wonder of the Silmaril… every time is more breath taking and awe-inspiring than before. Every glimpse is like gazing into the depths of a perfect star.
Yurgen gazes in wonder for a moment, then lowers his head even further so that I can slip the scarlet ribbon over his great, scaly head (we learned our lesson last year, letting Smaug too close to the Silmaril can have some… er… undesirable consequences).
I lean down from the ladder so I can use the microphone. “Congratulations to all our wonderful, beloved finalists. And a huge congratulations to Yurgen, for being this year’s Most Magnificent Dragon! Thank you all for coming!”
Thunderous applause and more bursts of flame erupt from the field.
I climb down from the podium and swish myself behind the backstage curtain. “Thanks for being here, Eustace,” I whisper to the dragon standing there in the shadows. “It was definitely comforting knowing that you were back here to help in case things got out of hand.”
Dragon-Eustace bows his head. “Always happy to help, my lady. I am glad that things went better than planned. I can’t say I really like being back in dragon form, but it is nice to be able to fly again. And it’s much nicer knowing that it is only temporary and for a good cause, though there are plenty of good and worthy dragons here tonight who would have helped had anyone gotten out of control.”
I grin at him. “Thanks again. You’d better go find Tellemyack, he’ll help you get back to your human form.”
Eustace soars off, letting out a whoop at the thrill of flying. I smile and sneak a peek through the curtain. The dragons are all departing, seemingly without starting any epic battles at all. I breath a sigh of relief. At least now I can stop worrying…
FWOOOM!
And thus ends our first awards ceremony of the 2023 Silmaril Awards!
I am so relieved that they seem to have gone off without… much of… a hitch. Except for the fact that Julio turned the entire stage, curtain, podium, and sound system into a gigantic bonfire there at the end and… oooh boy, yep, there are the fire truck sirens. Oh dear. I have to go… um… explain? So… just… enjoy the punch, grab a brownie, and then come back each day for a new ceremony and shenanigans!