Bristle Vale

There weren’t always dragons in the valley, the elven lord told the children of the east.

***

And there never will be again, the Dragon, Garamond, instructed his young in the south. “And the Elves didn’t dwell forever in the vale,”

***

“Yet there we are never to return," The lord tutored the youths. A sentry came running that fateful day, and told me of shadows on the edge of the sky from the west, from Thoron. The dragons had appeared on the horizon, with the blood-red dawn following behind. A murmur came from the city, news spread fast. I ordered a party down to the beach and told them to be ready for a confrontation if things went ill. It took us the better part of an hour to reach the shoreline even at a gentle run, but none of us was out of breath of course. The dragons were nearing the shore as we arrived, but we took up our position a distance from the water so as to leave them room to land. As they approached our Valley, an almost golden glow adorned their figures. The glow seemed to come from their eyes, snouts, and throats. But most of all, from threads of shimmering light wrapping about their bodies. They were beautiful, but whether it was a dark beauty could not be told by looks alone, the elven lord stated.

***

When we saw the elves on the shore, our gloomy moods only grew darker. The dawn light shone on their armor and glinted on their spear tips. I never had gotten used to the strange bodies or weapons of Wobblers, all those races with but two feet on the ground. We noticed with hope that the elves had stood back from the water, leaving us room to land, and hopefully room for peace. We had come to leave war, not start a new one. At the end of the valley we had seen a shimmer, yet not until now had we realized it might have been an enchanted shimmer, and by elves no less, Garamond said. When we came to the ground their leader hailed us, querying: "To what do I owe this possibly unpleasant encounter?"

“We come to escape our land of war and tyrant leader," I remarked to the snark query from the elven lord.

"Well in that case come we shall celebrate your journey to our fruitful valley of Bristle Vale with a feast of fine foods and well-aged wines," the lord exclaimed!

***

But when I offered this the dragon quickly replied, "We must set up camp first for we must rest our weary wings."

"Well let us help you, for the job will go quicker with many hands," I offered, but the lizard was quick to turn me down as if he was afraid we would discover something. I invited them to come at sunset, and they agreed, if hesitantly, so we returned to castle mount. I did however instruct a few of my scouts to keep an eye on them, for I felt deep down something was not right, said the elven lord.

***

"Well that went great," Nunito sassed. "You definitely didn’t make it seem like we had dark secrets and no trust for the Elves. And it was very inconspicuous the way you deliberately sidestepped to block the view of the Glow-Wing crate."

"Do you think I want those wobblers to know everything about us the moment we landed here?" I retorted. "Blind trust has not done me any favors yet, Nunito blind trust was what brought us here, to the most remote island known to Thoron."

"But creating webs of mistrust between us and our last hope of survival is NOT going to help," she replied. "It’s doubtful any wobbler race could use our Glow-Wing silk at all, let alone against us. Do you think they"re going to try wearing it themselves to shoot tiny rivulets of flame at us?"

"No, but if we lost our fire, we would be helpless against their numbers."

"Garamond, we’re done with war, you hear me? This is why we’re here. For peace. When we get there, when we’ve finished our meal, we tell them everything. Everything. Alright? Who we are, why we came here, and what the Glow-Wing silk is."

Your mother looked into my eyes, and of course I couldn’t say no. You two were on your way, and we couldn’t afford a life like we’d had. I had no idea how wrong we were, Garamond said.

***

Of course we knew the dragons were hiding something from how shiftily their leader had reacted to anything and everything I told or asked him, but we decided to wait until the feast and watch their actions. Unbeknownst to me, my people were exceedingly curious as to whether the legends of dragon hoards were true. A few were even so curious they went to find out for themselves, departing the city in the early evening. The feast was a success, at least before the Disaster, the lord remarked sorrowfully.

***

"Garamond, my silk is fading. I’m going to replace it and come back. Wait till I get back for the confession," With that she flew off towards our camp. The beach was dark when she arrived. She later told me she could hear the shift of the sand beneath her feet, the calm of the crashing waves, and the skittering patter of feet, running away, away with the silk. Her roar split the night, ears, feast, and any peace that ever stood between dragon and elf.