T‘ was early in winter, when up in the north, Old Snowscale awoke, his hatred brought forth.
For covered in ice and hidden by snow, his lair had been looted, his hoard been brought low.
With mighty a roar he leaped in the air, but circling his homestead, no thief caught his glare.
Now snowstorm and blizzard he caught ‘neath his wing. With malice in heart to the south he’d them bring.
To people and children of city and town, for stealing his hoard, he’d all tear them down.
All full of fear and trembling in fright, the townsfolk they pleaded and praised Snowscale’s might.
Oh please mighty dragon, strong noble and bold, spare us this evening, we’ll find all your gold.
We’ll gather all riches in one great big mound. Gold, jewels and gemstones, all that can be found.
Return here tomorrow to gather your hoard. But spare us oh dragon, oh generous lord.
All boasting and laughing Old Snowscale departed. Leaving villagers scrambling to quickly get started.
High up on a mountain, above their lament. Lived the Red Rider, alone and content.
His only companion, a sight rarely seen, a stately great griffon. It’s feathers all green.
He spent his days hunting. Through forests he’d roam. And talking to faeries who called them their home.
They whispered the tale of the villager’s doom and of how Old Snowscale would be coming back soon.
That good old Red Rider, he wanted to aid. But against a great dragon no war can be made.
Against a great dragon the best weapon is wit. Of which the Red Rider had more than a bit.
He knew that old Snowscale would take all they gave and immediately fly it all back to his cave.
Once huddled with all of his treasures down deep, the dragon would quickly again fall asleep.
T’ was then that the Rider ‘d creep down in a scurry and steal back the riches, without fear or worry.
It took several trips, to and fro did he race, still he stole it all back leaving nary a trace.
On that cold winter’s night, one could look at the sky and detect the red rider as his mount flew on by.
He flew by all the houses of villagers kind, and rewarded their warmth, leaving presents behind.
And as they awoke and found their reward, they called out good day and a blessed winter’s hoard.