Hayve
Reptilian eyes focused coldly on the action below, following the lady with the crown.
“Follow the Lady, follow the Lady,” said the man with scrubbed face and dirty ears, crooked yet charming smile, fast voice and faster hands, as he whisked three cards back and forth on a makeshift table at the edge of the Market.
In his hidey-hole, the dragon smiled. This was an easy game!
The farmer boy - someone said he was “Rube” - pointed at a card once they stopped moving. Dirty Ears flipped the card. The Lady! The little dragon suppressed an expression of glee. And a copper coin was pushed across the table to Rube.
“Now that you’ve mastered the game, let’s put some real money on it,” fast-talker said. “Imagine, doubling your gold in an instant!”
Rube frowned. “I’ve got no gold,” he mumbled. “Just this silver piece.”
A very shiny coin was in the boy’s hand. The dragon salivated. His little paws twitched. Must… not…
The card-man swiftly took the coin and slapped it on the table. Then just as quick, he made the cards dance again. Back - forth - back - forth. What’s this? Too quick for man-eyes, but easy for the dragon to see, the Lady was switched for another card. Where’d the Lady go? He wanted to see the Lady again. The man’s hands stopped, three cards resting on the table. But, the Lady? Rube hesitated, then pointed.
As the card turned, the dragon didn’t see a Lady. So he made the Lady appear anyway.
Rube, and the crowd that had gathered, shouted with joy. But for some reason, the man looked angry. He picked up the card, looking closer at it, then shook it - oh, hard to keep the picture steady…
“There’s glamour on it!” the man shouted, then grabbed the boy’s shirt in his fist. “You working magic on me, boy?” he roared.
The dragon stifled a giggle.
A man next to the angry man, this one with a skull-cap of an apprentice mage, quickly pulled a glass circle from his pocket and peered through it, scanning the area. Uh-oh.
Before the magic-user could spot him, the dragon darted toward the table, a blur of green and purple.
“A fae dragon!” someone shouted. Well, yes, the butterfly wings kind of give that away. He puffed a misty breath into Dirty Ears’ face, which then spread into a dazed silly grin with unfocused eyes.
The man let go of the boy, who shouted, “That’s mine!” to the dragon clutching the shiny shiny coin. It was his now. The little drake grabbed a tarnished gold coin from the now-giddy man’s pocket and tossed it to the boy - an unfair trade as it wasn’t as shiny, but the lad didn’t complain, taking it and running away.
The young mage nearby was about to do something stupid, the dragon sensed. This wouldn’t do, as hurting the magic man, even in self-defense, might get him in trouble with Daddy-man, who had told him to “Be hayve,” and this didn’t feel like hayve.
With another light burst of euphoria gas and a shout of “FUN!!!” he darted up and zipped away deeper into the tents of the market, and the bustle of people too busy to notice him.
In a minute he was resting, letting his glamour blend him into the pattern of a hanging rug. The nearby merchant, a thin and friendly-sounding man, haggled with a couple of elves over prices for various brightly-colored bolts of cloth - something the dragon had little use for.
He craved more Fun. That was his favorite word in the Common Tongue of Men, so was about the only word he said. The faerie dragon, size of a housecat but nine times as curious, is nearly impossible to tame or control, unless you look into its eyes the moment it hatches, which somehow his Daddy-man had managed (accidentally, but what’s done is done). The man’s companions weren’t entirely pleased. The dwarf had said, “This is gonna be fun” in a grumpy voice; but for the dragon, it was! At first, he thought that meant “fun” was his name, but it wasn’t, still, he liked saying it anyway.
This was in what would be known as the Last Great Age of Dragons and Magic. For the men (and elves, dwarves and halflings) it was an era between empires. Hundreds of small kingdoms battled for what little power their minor monarchs could hold onto, while the ruins left by past rulers and mages were scattered about the countryside, luring young folk of all races to join in adventure bands to investigate their manors and caverns, keeps and dungeons. It was a time when blah blah blah history blah boring big-forehead narrator keeps going on blah blah -
- - - - -
Do you want me to tell your story or not?
“Fun?”
Okay, we’ll get back to the fun. Just let me have the narrative back. You’re supposed to behave, remember?
“Hayve.”
Yes, be hayve.
- - - - -
The fae dragon, who had been still far too long for his taste, looked out over the neighboring market stalls. He let out a gasp. Not far away was a display with the shiniest shinys he had ever seen.
His muscles acted before his quick little mind could catch up, swiftly carrying him to the brilliant treasures. His hands, anticipating the grasping of fine jewels and polished metals, forgot to hold on to the shiny coin they were carrying. None of him noticed it fall. But his brain - committed to being hayve - stopped him as his eyes noticed the shimmer. He landed on a shelf just below the shiny shinys and stood there, contemplating how to get past that pesky nearly-invisible magic barrier.
The merchant, a big man with big beard and dark eyes, had seen none of this. He was occupied with the boy whose wrist was in his vice-like grasp, his gaze fixed on the tiger-eye bracelet in the trembling hand, then on the pale, panicked face of the thief.
“Try to steal from me, will ya!” he roared. “What do ye have to say fir yerself?”
The boy stammered, “M-m-my mother…”
“She ain’t gonna help ye here, boy!”
“I-it’s her bir-birthday…”
“And you thought ye’d ‘pick up’ a present,” the man sneered, “without payin’. You know what I does to thieves that think they can take from me? I’m gonna…”
“Excuse me,” a smiling halfling said, holding the silver coin he had just found on the ground, “but I think he dropped this. It should be enough for minor gems such as that.”
The man released the boy’s wrist. “Be gone, then. It’s yours.” The boy clutched the bracelet to his chest and ran.
“So,” the halfling said, turning to the center display, “How much for that faerie dragon statue?”
The dragon froze.
The merchant -- wise enough to not say, “What statue?” as any knickknack that some fool left in his stall was fair game for him to sell for a quick copper - turned to see three small green dragons, displaying identical purple-with-gold-detail butterfly-style wings standing on the shelf below his best merchandise.
“Nice pose,” the halfling added, amused. “It’s like they’re all lusting after your good stuff.”
“Fat chance,” mumbled the big man, knowing his jewels were safe. He reached out to grab the statue on the left.
As his hand passed through the illusion, the “statue” on the right disappeared as well, and the center one, with an excited “Fun-fun-fun-FUN!” flew just over his head, then up, and away.
When the merchant recovered from the startle, he noticed the little man was gone as well. And did he ever hand him that silver coin?
The dragon hovered above the market, pleased with himself. He hadn’t gotten in trouble once, so far. He was being hayve.
Then he saw something back at the edge of the market. Something shiny.
He let the air currents drift him closer to the glinting light. He could see glass prisms, hanging from wires, held up by a man who looked familiar. Skull-cap man. Magic-man.
The dragon sensed something not right, not hayve. Still, it’s so shiny. Those wires look heavy; are they iron? Cold iron is bad. But, shiny, shiny is good. Maybe get a little closer. More shiny. Prism rainbows. Could be trap, got to stay back, this isn’t hayve, must be hayve. But so, so shhhiinny. So close…
“Kaos!” Daddy-man’s voice from their telepathic link boomed in his head. He instinctively flew upward, barely hearing the loud SNAP! of cold-iron bands coming together below him and someone swearing like something had failed. “Kaos, time to come back. We’re right outside the Bloated Toad. Looks like we’ve found a quest.”
“Quest” was a word loaded with potential Fun. The dragon eagerly flew through narrow streets to land on the shoulder of Daddy-man, who gave him some jerky. “There you are,” his master said.
“Looks like ‘fun’ has joined us again,” the dwarf said, only half-disappointed. The ranger with the interesting scar grunted in agreement.
Daddy-man’s cousin, elf-lady Kira (Daddy-man is a half-elf), stepped out of the pub. “The mage is getting us the map,” she said to the gathered party, then to her kin, “Lyle, I see your pet made it back. From what, I can only guess. Probably some tomfoolery.”
Kaos shook his head. He didn’t meet anyone named Tom.
Lyle turned his face towards his dragon. “Did you behave?”
Smiling, Kaos confidently nodded. The day’s adventures were a blur in his mind, but he was fairly sure -- no, absolutely sure - he was hayve.
- - - - - - -
This is my entry for LJ Idol Exhibit A, Week 3, Topic: “ Shenanigans!” The critter is based on one of my favorite D&D characters.
“Follow the Lady, follow the Lady,” said the man with scrubbed face and dirty ears, crooked yet charming smile, fast voice and faster hands, as he whisked three cards back and forth on a makeshift table at the edge of the Market.
In his hidey-hole, the dragon smiled. This was an easy game!
The farmer boy - someone said he was “Rube” - pointed at a card once they stopped moving. Dirty Ears flipped the card. The Lady! The little dragon suppressed an expression of glee. And a copper coin was pushed across the table to Rube.
“Now that you’ve mastered the game, let’s put some real money on it,” fast-talker said. “Imagine, doubling your gold in an instant!”
Rube frowned. “I’ve got no gold,” he mumbled. “Just this silver piece.”
A very shiny coin was in the boy’s hand. The dragon salivated. His little paws twitched. Must… not…
The card-man swiftly took the coin and slapped it on the table. Then just as quick, he made the cards dance again. Back - forth - back - forth. What’s this? Too quick for man-eyes, but easy for the dragon to see, the Lady was switched for another card. Where’d the Lady go? He wanted to see the Lady again. The man’s hands stopped, three cards resting on the table. But, the Lady? Rube hesitated, then pointed.
As the card turned, the dragon didn’t see a Lady. So he made the Lady appear anyway.
Rube, and the crowd that had gathered, shouted with joy. But for some reason, the man looked angry. He picked up the card, looking closer at it, then shook it - oh, hard to keep the picture steady…
“There’s glamour on it!” the man shouted, then grabbed the boy’s shirt in his fist. “You working magic on me, boy?” he roared.
The dragon stifled a giggle.
A man next to the angry man, this one with a skull-cap of an apprentice mage, quickly pulled a glass circle from his pocket and peered through it, scanning the area. Uh-oh.
Before the magic-user could spot him, the dragon darted toward the table, a blur of green and purple.
“A fae dragon!” someone shouted. Well, yes, the butterfly wings kind of give that away. He puffed a misty breath into Dirty Ears’ face, which then spread into a dazed silly grin with unfocused eyes.
The man let go of the boy, who shouted, “That’s mine!” to the dragon clutching the shiny shiny coin. It was his now. The little drake grabbed a tarnished gold coin from the now-giddy man’s pocket and tossed it to the boy - an unfair trade as it wasn’t as shiny, but the lad didn’t complain, taking it and running away.
The young mage nearby was about to do something stupid, the dragon sensed. This wouldn’t do, as hurting the magic man, even in self-defense, might get him in trouble with Daddy-man, who had told him to “Be hayve,” and this didn’t feel like hayve.
With another light burst of euphoria gas and a shout of “FUN!!!” he darted up and zipped away deeper into the tents of the market, and the bustle of people too busy to notice him.
In a minute he was resting, letting his glamour blend him into the pattern of a hanging rug. The nearby merchant, a thin and friendly-sounding man, haggled with a couple of elves over prices for various brightly-colored bolts of cloth - something the dragon had little use for.
He craved more Fun. That was his favorite word in the Common Tongue of Men, so was about the only word he said. The faerie dragon, size of a housecat but nine times as curious, is nearly impossible to tame or control, unless you look into its eyes the moment it hatches, which somehow his Daddy-man had managed (accidentally, but what’s done is done). The man’s companions weren’t entirely pleased. The dwarf had said, “This is gonna be fun” in a grumpy voice; but for the dragon, it was! At first, he thought that meant “fun” was his name, but it wasn’t, still, he liked saying it anyway.
This was in what would be known as the Last Great Age of Dragons and Magic. For the men (and elves, dwarves and halflings) it was an era between empires. Hundreds of small kingdoms battled for what little power their minor monarchs could hold onto, while the ruins left by past rulers and mages were scattered about the countryside, luring young folk of all races to join in adventure bands to investigate their manors and caverns, keeps and dungeons. It was a time when blah blah blah history blah boring big-forehead narrator keeps going on blah blah -
- - - - -
Do you want me to tell your story or not?
“Fun?”
Okay, we’ll get back to the fun. Just let me have the narrative back. You’re supposed to behave, remember?
“Hayve.”
Yes, be hayve.
- - - - -
The fae dragon, who had been still far too long for his taste, looked out over the neighboring market stalls. He let out a gasp. Not far away was a display with the shiniest shinys he had ever seen.
His muscles acted before his quick little mind could catch up, swiftly carrying him to the brilliant treasures. His hands, anticipating the grasping of fine jewels and polished metals, forgot to hold on to the shiny coin they were carrying. None of him noticed it fall. But his brain - committed to being hayve - stopped him as his eyes noticed the shimmer. He landed on a shelf just below the shiny shinys and stood there, contemplating how to get past that pesky nearly-invisible magic barrier.
The merchant, a big man with big beard and dark eyes, had seen none of this. He was occupied with the boy whose wrist was in his vice-like grasp, his gaze fixed on the tiger-eye bracelet in the trembling hand, then on the pale, panicked face of the thief.
“Try to steal from me, will ya!” he roared. “What do ye have to say fir yerself?”
The boy stammered, “M-m-my mother…”
“She ain’t gonna help ye here, boy!”
“I-it’s her bir-birthday…”
“And you thought ye’d ‘pick up’ a present,” the man sneered, “without payin’. You know what I does to thieves that think they can take from me? I’m gonna…”
“Excuse me,” a smiling halfling said, holding the silver coin he had just found on the ground, “but I think he dropped this. It should be enough for minor gems such as that.”
The man released the boy’s wrist. “Be gone, then. It’s yours.” The boy clutched the bracelet to his chest and ran.
“So,” the halfling said, turning to the center display, “How much for that faerie dragon statue?”
The dragon froze.
The merchant -- wise enough to not say, “What statue?” as any knickknack that some fool left in his stall was fair game for him to sell for a quick copper - turned to see three small green dragons, displaying identical purple-with-gold-detail butterfly-style wings standing on the shelf below his best merchandise.
“Nice pose,” the halfling added, amused. “It’s like they’re all lusting after your good stuff.”
“Fat chance,” mumbled the big man, knowing his jewels were safe. He reached out to grab the statue on the left.
As his hand passed through the illusion, the “statue” on the right disappeared as well, and the center one, with an excited “Fun-fun-fun-FUN!” flew just over his head, then up, and away.
When the merchant recovered from the startle, he noticed the little man was gone as well. And did he ever hand him that silver coin?
The dragon hovered above the market, pleased with himself. He hadn’t gotten in trouble once, so far. He was being hayve.
Then he saw something back at the edge of the market. Something shiny.
He let the air currents drift him closer to the glinting light. He could see glass prisms, hanging from wires, held up by a man who looked familiar. Skull-cap man. Magic-man.
The dragon sensed something not right, not hayve. Still, it’s so shiny. Those wires look heavy; are they iron? Cold iron is bad. But, shiny, shiny is good. Maybe get a little closer. More shiny. Prism rainbows. Could be trap, got to stay back, this isn’t hayve, must be hayve. But so, so shhhiinny. So close…
“Kaos!” Daddy-man’s voice from their telepathic link boomed in his head. He instinctively flew upward, barely hearing the loud SNAP! of cold-iron bands coming together below him and someone swearing like something had failed. “Kaos, time to come back. We’re right outside the Bloated Toad. Looks like we’ve found a quest.”
“Quest” was a word loaded with potential Fun. The dragon eagerly flew through narrow streets to land on the shoulder of Daddy-man, who gave him some jerky. “There you are,” his master said.
“Looks like ‘fun’ has joined us again,” the dwarf said, only half-disappointed. The ranger with the interesting scar grunted in agreement.
Daddy-man’s cousin, elf-lady Kira (Daddy-man is a half-elf), stepped out of the pub. “The mage is getting us the map,” she said to the gathered party, then to her kin, “Lyle, I see your pet made it back. From what, I can only guess. Probably some tomfoolery.”
Kaos shook his head. He didn’t meet anyone named Tom.
Lyle turned his face towards his dragon. “Did you behave?”
Smiling, Kaos confidently nodded. The day’s adventures were a blur in his mind, but he was fairly sure -- no, absolutely sure - he was hayve.
- - - - - - -
This is my entry for LJ Idol Exhibit A, Week 3, Topic: “ Shenanigans!” The critter is based on one of my favorite D&D characters.