Dragon Vòlkan

.chapit youn (1)

Chanm trezò dracos

(the dragon’s treasure)

Violette looked around full of confoundment. She had been captured by Orc bandits on the high road. She had failed to see them in her anger. The young Moon Elf was often told ‘anger is punishing oneself for someone else’s bad actions.’ This happened when she left her Elven Forest of mushroom trees after a horrendous fight with her Governess Of Divine Magick. She should not have been out there alone; her bow had been useless since they took her when she slept. Her plan had been to return home before dark but a heavy downpour of rain had stopped her. It had rained so hard, so quickly that a flash flood had filled the road home.

In her state of panic, she climbed into the tall crook of a tree. It was not one of the tall mushroom trees. But a large cedar so wide that three mushroom trees could have fit in the base of it. She kissed the tree thankful it had been there despite the struggle in the thick branches so high up only several leaps were necessary to keep going. An eagle had been happy to share his home for a few dried strips of jerky from her knapsack. The two had kept one another warm in the starless night as the wind thrashed the less sturdy branches of the tree around.

This was how they had found her, she partly felt responsible for the brave eagle’s death for they cooked him that night with only a delight an orc could understand. It turned her own stomach foul. They had beaten her. She had prayed to her god, Correllon Laurethean, first for escape, then for strength and finally for death. She refused meat, so they did not feed her anything she wanted for two weeks as they traveled across the sea and into the mountains. Food had lost its taste by the time it was given to her now she only ate what they had shoved into her mouth like mush.

Her spirit had broken bit by bit with every beating, sleeping potion, and foul, formerly living thing she had been force fed by the end. The Moon Elves worshiped the life of all things and never ate a former living animal that was not from The Sea.

They had put her to sleep with a draught the last night along a bridge late at the base of a cliff. She had seen the mountains from a distance on the trip, and she was sure they were volcanic. There was an aged tan basket that was operated by a series of pulleys to take it up to the summit. The last thing she remembered was the leader, Drago, the only orc who had two eyes of the group, due to his large size and refusal to let the group bite or bully him, placing her roughly with a high pitched “whoop!′ into the basket. His breath had been exceptionally unpleasant.

Violette was now surrounded by golden treasures: cups, forks, coins, gold chests that presumably had more gold in them. It was vast, beyond her imagination. In her 70-year lifetime she had only been let into the Moon Elves home base treasury once. She helped the Governess deliver barrels of gold from distant lands along with small donations of the moon tribes from Temples.

She had been traveling from place to place with the other training healers for moon cycles. She mourned this loss with dejection as there was no time to grieve about the others. It was cold here and the wind howled around her, but she was mostly protected from its effects in this room with walls of treasure. She sat up causing the coins to tinkle, a wave of nausea and dizziness passed above her. She heard what sounded like a ‘yummy’ sound and heard the movement of something huge.

Still using what energy she could muster she began to crawl along the sea of golden coins to get to a few things. Such fine tapestries and chairs as well as pillows, rubies and a golden tea set. With all the energy she had left she gathered things to make a small fort from the persistent wind. Her bones had felt the chill of what felt like death in them. She cured up with the intention to sleep the draft off if she had time yet she was interrupted.

Presently the head of a giant ultramarine dragon appeared above her. He was massive with lighter scales of cerulean· around his features. His tail and underbelly held a dark iridescent green that faded away into seafoam on his tail and underbelly. She had never heard of a dragon like this before. He not only was massive (the size of a rangers spotting tower) he had no front legs, only the two back ones. His body was long and slender with curves to his long neck. His face held sharp whiskers that matched the claws on his wingtips and tail.

She shriveled up and raised her hands waiting to be eaten or consumed by a fiery blast. She was completely defenseless and the draught had not completely worn off so that she could not yet stand, much less run.

“If I’m going to eat you,” the dragon said in a strangely pleasant tone, “the etiquette is to press your hands firmly to your sides so that you don’t poke me. It’s only one chomp and you go to sleep right away. It’s also easier on me. I won’t have to rip your body apart with my sharp wing claws.” This greeting was the most bizarre she had ever heard in her life. Her wits were far from collected, but she managed a response, “I didn’t know that.” She added hopefully, “Did you say ’if?”

“’If’, yes hypothetically, but of course I shall not. At least not with you being so thin.” He smiled at what he regarded as a clever joke, but she was too frightened to appreciate it. “Actually, I was hoping we could strike a deal. The men who were so kind to bring you here said they had made you a slave even that I could do with you what I liked, but I was more looking for an intern.” The dragon scanned her, his head weaving from side to side on its long snake like neck. For some reason she was mesmerized by the pale green eyes rather than the foot long razor-sharp teeth and glittering ultramarine to green scales.

“I didn’t know dragons had interns…” she replied. Keeping the conversation going seemed like a good way to stay alive.

“I may be the only one who sees that as good business, but it’s the future or at least I think so. My name is Wakhangli. The advertisement I put out said that I wanted a dwarven maiden...” the dragon sounded a little tentative.

“I’m an Elf not a Dwarf. Dwarves have beards, even the girls, and they don’t have smooth skin or violet eyes as you see I have.”

“Hmm, yes, I was afraid of that. Still, you do like shiny things, don’t you?” he offered hopefully.

Violette picked up a handful of gold coins and let them slip through her fingers as she contemplated this question. “I prefer flowers.” she stated bluntly. She could see the dragon was displeased, its tongue darting out now and the motion side to side seeming more agitated. “However, I love animals... books... magic….”

“I was hoping we could talk about shiny things,” the dragon sounded bitterly disappointed “but... I do have books and magic and many frogs live here. We are very high up in the mountains for flowers. Getting bundles delivered would be difficult, but again, not entirely impossible.” His tail flicked back and forth as he thought about this conundrum. What would they talk about if not his vast and amazing wealth? There were always his good looks, that should provide plenty of stimulating conversation he supposed. She didn’t look impressed at any of it at the moment, perhaps it was the fear. Surely, she knew that if he was talking, he wouldn’t be eating, and if he was eating, he wouldn’t be talking. It was simple etiquette.

Violette wondered why the dragon was bargaining. He obviously had every advantage he could do anything he pleased. Nevertheless, it seemed that he wanted her to like him. “I like sea treasures,” she offered, “pearls, curious creatures, shells… that sort of thing.”

The dragon smiled, it was a start.