Introduction
I am writing this for Jonathon as, for several reasons, some obvious, some not, he would find it difficult to do so himself. We had thought of publishing this in the form of a poem, but most of the other races would find that more difficult to read. His own people already have a poem, indeed several, concerning his life, some of which have been published in one way or another.
This ‘story’ is written, as best I could do, to reflect the feelings and emotions that Jonathon would have had at the time of the part of the story that I am telling; as well as doing my best to match the language of the story to the language appropriate to his age and development at the time.
The original of this ‘story’ was a poem, written by Jonathon and several of his friends. I am no Dwarf, but neither do they have my knowledge of the subject, so it was left to me to translate this as best I could. I hope that this ‘story’ will help give you some understanding of the remarkable individual that we know as ‘Jonathon’.
Captured
I loved climbing. Hans and I were working our way carefully up a slope near his home. It was a hard slope, but not so hard as to need ropes and things.
“This is great!” I yelled, over the wind. Hans looked at me from just above and to my right,
“I’m glad you could come, Jonathon!” He yelled back. “I hope your Papas meetings take a long time.”
My Papa was Caleb, King of the island. And my brother was Seth, King of ‘The Day’. I was next in line for my Papa’s throne, and didn’t look forward to the prospect. Ruling looked boring to me, all meetings and things. This was much funner…
Suddenly I felt a tremendous jerk. I tried to grab for the ground, a bush, or anything, but it was no use, it had happned to fast, and everything was too far away. I expected at any second to feel the ground slam against my body. I didn’t know how I could have fallen so badly so as to be falling like this.
Suddenly I realized I wasn’t falling. I was looking down at Hans, who was standing staring at me with panicked eyes. And I was jerking, up and down over again, while getting higher. I tried to look up, but it was impossible, my jacket had pulled up over my head, and the way I was being held made it impossible to turn in mid-air.
I cried. I was the son of a King, but I cried. I was so glad my Papa couldn’t see me now, or any of my friends. If I was a brave hero like my brother Seth, then I would be doing something right now to rescue myself. But instead I cried.
Suddenly the jerking stopped. I looked down, through my tears. I was over the valley now, not the mountain. And I was moving in a slow circle.
I cried again. I know you are going to think of me as this awful crybaby. But besides the whole, ‘grabbed by some unknown creature and flying high, really high, far away from my Papa, and my Mommy, and even my sisters thing...’ I hurt. Whatever it was had a grip on my jacket, and I was desperately trying to cross my arms against my chest so my jacket wouldn’t fall off; but it also had a second grip much lower. Something seemed to have hold of my belt, and two other somethings were poking, poking deep and hard, into my bottom.
Now I had a tough a bottom as any boy my age. I may have been the son of the King, but that hadn’t stopped pretty much everybody I knew from spanking me at one time or another. But it still hurt, whatever it was.
If I hadn’t been crying, and if I hadn’t been scared to death, I might have enjoyed the view. I was getting really, really high up. I could see, like, forever. Really far, anyway.
I couldn’t see any people though. As I whirled around I looked for Hans and the others. Hans was a Dwarf, and so really small anyway, but I don’t think I could have seen a Spearman at this height. We were getting near to the tops of the mountains.
Suddenly the slow curve stopped, and our flight straightened out, and began moving faster. Faster and faster, louder and louder the wind blew in my ears. The wa mountain... I don't know if it was the mountain I had been climbing or not, came closer and closer. My heart beat faster and faster, I was sure we were going to hit it.
And then, at the last minute, we swooped upwards and landed; landed on a pile of sticks. And just as we landed the pain in my bottom increased, and the hold on my jacket stopped, and I tumbled to the bottom of the pile of sticks.
I lay there, head down, my face pressed hard against the sticks. I was going to be eaten. I was sure of it. Somehow a Dragon had made it from the mainland to here, and it, he... the creature had seemed too small for a female Dragon… was going to eat me.
Indeed, I felt something come closer, and then tear at my jacket. I screamed, I cried, I tried to bury myself into the sticks. But it did no good. I felt something grab me, and then felt something else again pick at my jacket. Again and again and eventually I felt and heard my jacket rip. My good jacket, that my Aunt Haddassah had made for me herself from Beast hide.
The jacket having once ripped, the Dragon seemed to be finding it easier to rip more. And then, having ripped the jacket clean in half, it pulled first one half and then the other off my arms.
I had stopped crying. It didn’t do any good, there was noone here to hear me and help me. I might as well go out like a man. Not that anyone would know.
Now it was ripping at my shirt, my outer shirt. This only took a couple of rips and pulls and it was gone. I had on an undershirt, and it took that off next.
I fully expected the next event to be a bite. A real bite, you know, of me. And so I was taken aback when the Dragon shifted its grip and took a tug at my pants.
This was too much. If I had to be eaten, did I have to be humiliated first? It was playing with me like a cat with a mouse. And I was the mouse!
I struggled to get up, to turn around, to face it. And I began to yell, “You stupid Dragon, leave me alone! Go away! Shoo!” I was angry now. I was still scared, scared to death, but I was angry too.
I almost managed to turn over with my first squirm, but a claw tightened on my back and pushed me down. So all I could do was scream as the stupid cursed Dragon tore at my pants.
Suddenly my world went dark as I felt the Dragon turn and... it sat on me! I was pressed down, and could hardly breathe. And it was tearing at my feet now. What a finicky Dragon, it was taking my boots off! And it took forever to do it, too. I think in the end it just had to tear them off in strips.
I tensed. Surely it would eat me now! But no, it wanted to play with me some more. I felt its weight shift, light return, and its grip relax. I was free.
I turned, ready to yell at it again. But I stopped.
This was no Dragon. This was... an Eagle! I had heard of Eagles; huge, magnificent birds that lived high in the mountains, and that came down occasionally to carry off an entire sheep from the fold. And now it had carried me off.
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Von