Tales of Darren, Part the 2nd: The Monstrous Reason Why

Greetings Readers,
Below is the second installment in the first tale of Darren, starting up right where the first one left off. If you have not read the first one, simply check below this one for it.
Thank you.

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A beastly Drake all coils and teeth,

It's flame about its snout a wreath,

Its breath poured forth upon the town,

Flame to burn it to the ground,

And monstrous claws and teeth and tale,

Did smash and crush, through cottage flail,

Brave Darren seeing such a beast,

On the souls that lived their feast,

Did once again spur his mount on,

And charged without his bright helm donned,

The Dragon from the wreckage heard,

As Darren cried challenging words,

"Turn thou now, thou beast of black!

Show me thy face now, not thine back!"

And as the Brave sir knight did shout,

The beast of black turned then about,

And then did knight meet Dragon there,

Thrust out his blade to Dragon tear,

Such a battle did rage then,

As long gone from the world of men,

And when at last the fray had ceased,

Victor was neither knight nor beast,

The Brave Darren had battled strong,

And he and beast had battled long,

But now they scarce had strength to crawl,

Away from the place of the brawl,

The Drake did to a river slink,

And into its dark waters sink,

There to recover his lost might,

Then once again to wage the fight,

While Darren lay upon the earth,

With scarce the strength he had at birth,

His armor smoky-black and bent,

And by the Dragon's batt'rings rent,

Brave Darren's once bright shining blade,

Lay smoking hot there in the glade,

And close by it the knight's steed lay,

 Its dead coat with the ash now grey,

Yet as the knight lay all-but slain,

There came the miracle of rain,

It purged the ash and his face bathed,

And his burns in fresh coolness swathed,

So that soon the knight awoke,

And his deathly stupor broke,

And rose again to stand upright,

A peer off with uncertain sight,

To survey a sorry scene,

The place where once a town had been,

Brave Darren saw a blackened waste,

With bones of men and charred-wood laced,

The all scarred and furrowed deep,

Like grain-sown fields, never to reap,

And out across the darkened dell,

Up from the river as from Hell,

Rose plumes of burning smoke and steam,

There from the Dragon in the stream,

Darren swore then to the dead,

That he would never know a restful bed,

He was on the beast revenged,

And all their deaths had been avenged,

Yet that fine day he could not fight,

Not battle the black Dragon's might,

For he himself was wearied sore,

And scarce could now go back for more,

And so Brave Darren took up sword and left,

There from the land of life bereft,

And turned his feet upon the road,

To there where men made their abode,

And so it was that Darren came,

To there where none knew of his fame,

A town far from the greater towns,

Here were more smiles and less of frowns,

Brave Darren was wearied from walking,

And could scarce move lips for talking,

But managed then at last to speak,

Through bone-dry lips, with words now weak,

"Pray help me, good townsfolk," he pled,

"For I am wearied, all-but dead,"

And then with these words spoken meek,

The knight collapsed, his knees now weak,

And thence was carried by the men,

Out from the cold, into an Inn,

~To be Continued~