Sunday, April 29, 2012

Week 2: Write a page of dialogue between a dying but powerful dragon and the boy who stumbled into his lair in search of something with which to save his people. (Inspired by The Riftwar Saga)

Garthanax woke up from his nap. His eyes, already blurred and covered with smoke couldn’t make out anything in his dark cave. He could smell something however, a tiny mamailain smell. Probably a rat, or maybe a dog had wandered into his lair. His teeth hurt and he was in no fit state to chew, despite the rumbling in his stomach. Annoyed he closed his eyes, wanting to drift back off to sleep. He might not wake up again, but it would be a relief. He had already lived for nearly 3,000 years. He had seen all there was to see in the nine realms, he had amassed a large fortune that he kept in his lair. He supposed dwarves would be making off with it after he was gone. His only regret was that he had never fathered a child. There were plenty of dragons however, his loss would not be that tragic.
    He heard the scrape of metal against metal, and then a sharp intake of breath.
    “Who is that? Some little doggy, coming to steal my collection of golden bones?”
    There was no response. Garthanax may have bad eyesight, but his hearing and smell was still good. The heartbeat wasn’t right for a dog, and now that he concentrated on it, neither was the smell.
    He grew agitated. “Tell me your name or I will fill this cavern with fire, killing you and melting my gold.” He expected to hear a scurrying towards the cavern entrance, but there wasn’t.
    “Please, great.. dragon.  If you please. I’m Dante.”
    “Hmmm, well, Dante. Why have you come to steal from me? Come to impress your friends? Come on a dare? Or have you come and to try and kill the Great Garthanax?” Garthanax chuckled. The sound of Datne’s voice, he couldn’t be more than a frightened elf.
    “No, most mighty Garth-”
    “Gartharnax.” The dragon pounded his fist, sending coins flying in all directions.
    “Gartharnax.” The little elf was stumbling over his words, he could be no mighty warrior and he was alone. “You see, we had heard you were dead, else I’d never presume-”
    “So you are a grave robber then? How do you know I’m not dead, perhaps I’m the ghost of the dragon Gartharnax.”
    The elf didn’t seem to know how to respond. He kept stammering. Gartharnax could smell the scent of fear, and urine.
    “So, tell me why you decided to rob the dead, and I may let you live.” He was keenly aware that this might be his last conversation with any living thing, he was eager to drag it out.
    The elf took a steady breath. “I”m Dante, I come from Tremial Village, the last human settlement in the nine kingdoms.”
    A surprise, perhaps the last one of his life. “A human, I thought all of you were dead.”
    “Almost, great Gartharnax. That’s why I’m here. I am but a boy, our village is preparing to defend itself against the Dwellar. They will be on us by the next full moon. My father says Dwellar are almost impossible to kill. They are like demons.”
    “That they are boy, that they are. I’m afraid you really don’t stand a chance against them They have skin and muscle thicker than armor and bones like steel. Still, you could always make a run for it I suppose.”
I ran a little long here and didn't have time to grammar check it. Plus there as a lot of stuff going on in my house at the time.

1 comment:

  1. You should finish this one. It's pretty good