Friday Sketch

(Just a little sketch for fun. Not sure if I'll do anything more with it, we'll see)

     "Are you sure you want to go in there?"

    I glanced at Jamie and squared my shoulders, offering him a short nod.  His brown hair fell into his eyes.  I'd need to trim that later, if I came back.  No. Not if.  When.  When I came back, I would trim his hair.  And maybe make him shave.  Yes.  Jamie could use a shave.  

    "Theia.  Let me rephrase this.  There's a dragon in there.  The last five people haven't come out alive.  I'm not sure what a five-foot tall warrior-storyteller can do," he rolled his eyes.

    "Oh right," I checked my satchel to make sure my writing materials were safely stowed.  With a satisfied smile I nodded, before mentally running through all the extra knives I had.  Then I slipped my sword out of my sheath. "Look.  I'm going in.  All I want is to talk."

    "What are the weapons for, then?" he asked.

    "Well..." I hesitated.  "Insurance." I sheathed my sword, and hefted my shield on my arm. "I'm off."

    "Good luck then," he nodded and took a step backwards as I started up the hill. 

    I looked back once just as I entered the cave, to see him waiting at the foot of the hill. I saluted him, and then turned to the gaping black hole, bravely entering into the dark.

    I walked with only a torch to guide me for fifteen minutes.  The first thing that struck me was that the cave was immaculate.  Little to no cobwebs.  Few dripping pools of water.  No bones or bodies, which I had been warned about in the village.  Half of me wondered what else they'd said that wasn't true.  The other part was already describing this place.  The cave was oddly clean, an illusion of the monstrosity it hid...

    I was so distracted by mentally drafting this, I almost missed the change between the tunnel and the cavern in front of me.  I blinked in surprise.  The cavern was brightly lit, and oddly full of people.  Not that there were many people.  Only about six. But that was still six more than I had been expecting, and after what had felt like hours wandering in an empty cave, it seemed like a crowd.

    One woman was at an easel in one corner, studying a painting as if wondering how to fix it.  I knew the look, I'd studied my writing that way on many an occasion.  A young lad sat at a spinning wheel, spinning hay into gold.  I blinked in surprise.  No, that couldn't be right.  But indeed, it was.  A girl in a bright red dress was humming to herself as she danced across the floor, light on her feet.  Her partner was a strong older gentlemen, easily lifting her up over his head.  One other man was in what could only be a kitchen, and that is a loose word for it, making some kind of food.  

    What truly caught your attention, however, was the young man visiting each person, adjusting a posture here, pointing out the problem there.  He tasted whatever was being cooked, laughing with it's maker.  He praised the boy at the wheel, mentioning something about golden cloaks being the most durable against the elements.  I watched in confusion, hovering in the doorway, suddenly unsure of myself.  I longed to be inside that room, something about it felt right.  And yet...and yet there was a nagging worry I didn't quite belong.

    The young man spotted me standing there, with my sword strapped to one half of my belt, and my writing accouterments to the other.  He smiled and crossed the room to me, not disturbing anyone else.

    "Are you lost?" his voice was rough, like the roar of a fire.

    "N-no," I shook my head.  "Or at least, I don't think so.  I came to see the dragon."

    "Ah," he nodded, glancing at my sword again.  His gaze traveled from the top of my head to soles of my feet, taking in every inch of me.  I got the sense that he knew exactly where all my hidden weapons were.  "Well.  Can I interest you in a mug of cider?"

    I warily nodded, following him to an empty table.  I watched him as he waited on me, holding my chair like a gentlemen, his movements bespoke of practiced grace. I was puzzled, and absently pulled out my journal to begin scribbling it out, getting my thoughts onto paper.  I am surrounded by geniuses and artists and magicians, with one man able to help them all.  One man orchestrating it all, pushing them in their fields so they grow and yet still their friend.  One mesmerizing being to help them succeed.

    "So which is mightier, then? The pen or the sword?" the young man set down a mug in front of me.  "As I can see you use both."

    "The pen will always be my first choice," I said slowly. "But in some cases, the sword is my only recourse."

    "Wise woman," he nodded, taking a sip of his cider.  "So. The dragon."

    "Yes," I nodded, taking a tiny sip of my own.  It was delicious, but it burned on it's way down my throat.  I almost set it aside, but held on, so as not to be rude.

    "Why do you wish to see the dragon?"

    "The dragon, it is said, has the ability to amplify the gifts and abilities of anyone who bears one of his scales," I said slowly. 

    "And you wish for a scale? You wish to challenge the beast, and slay it for it's magic?" Fire rose in the young man's eyes. Fury hid there, but I could see resignation and a tiredness in his posture that hadn't been there before.

    "No," I shook his head. "Well. I would love a scale if he were to give me one, but I wouldn't slay him for it."

    "The sword?"

    "Is for those situations when I can not avoid other recourse," I shook my head. "It is not wise for a woman to go around unarmed."

    "So the world is still unforgiving then," the young man sighed. "Than what do you wish from the dragon?"

    "I wanted to know why none of the five had returned," I waved my hand around me. "Although I see why, now.  And I wanted his story.  I wanted to know why he came here, and if the rumors were true.  I wanted to ask for his wisdom, and I wanted to write it all down so it wouldn't be lost."

    "You, miss, are very uneasy," the young man told me.

    "And you, sir, are very tired," I shot back. "Or perhaps, I should call you Lord Dragon?"

    The fire in his eyes burned, and a puff of smoke squeezed between his lips.  He seemed unaware.  "How did you know?" his voice had become the sound of a forest fire, raging and crackling and snapping.

    "Your eyes betray everything," I took another sip of my cider. "You have skill with everything, and they all blossom under your tutelage.  And, well. You have scales hiding just under your hairline."

    "Well spotted," the dragon nodded, for so he was. "Shall you prepare yourself for my story, then?"

    I smiled, and pulled out the fresh notebook I had prepared for this occasion. Oh, how Jamie would live to eat his words later. My plan had worked, without the slightest hint of danger at all.