Of all the terrible plagues that ever befell the Northlands, none were so unusual or inconvenient as this plague of well-meaning Dragons.

Plagues there have been, plagues of woolly-bear caterpillars, of black beetles, of the giant Gripewort, a pretty climbing plant with pink flowers that could pull down a castle, but the plague of dragons was really the worst.

Not that they were big dragons, or particularly fierce, in fact they were rather friendly but even their friendship was inconvenient because they did breathe fire and they weren’t any too particular what they breathed it at. Arrows just bounced off them and nothing could frighten them except other larger dragons.

Luckily the dragons were short sighted and when Olaf the Lofty approached them with a huge dragon with a furnace inside to blow fire they were filled with fear and departed at once.