Dragons in the Valley: Chapter Two

Reeva was doing her best to hide behind a small thicket of trees.

She had left the village in the early hours of the morning, setting off just as the sun rose. It had been a beautiful day; there had been a soft mist lying gently across the lower reaches as she began her journey, which had given way to beautiful sunshine during the long trek into the depths of the valley. It was a mild day, and Reeva hadn't needed the scarf Berta had insisted she take. Still, though... she couldn't help but feel that she would have enjoyed it more if she hadn't been walking towards almost certain death. She had mused on this while she ate her lunch, a traveller's fare of dried goat meat from Winfar, the goat-herder, and a small block of cheese. Pessimistically, she hadn't packed much in the way of food; what was the point? She doubted there would be a return journey.

It had taken her all day to reach a spot just above where the dragons had made their home, and the sun was setting. They hadn't seen her yet - or at least, they weren't acting like they had seen her - and she was absolutely not going to meet the creatures in the dark. It would be bad enough in the daytime; there was no need to add extra worry onto an already worrisome task. She chewed on her lip, rubbed her face with both hands. What am I thinking? I could just leave, start a new life, never have to get any closer to a dragon than I already am. Reeva sighed and looked back at the dragons. They were quite beautiful, really, for all that they were terrifying too. Their copper and bronze hides were shining dully in the last of the daylight, scales moving fluidly as they moved their great heads back and forth; judging by the rumbles Reeva could hear, they were deep in conversation. She frowned slightly. All the old tales told about dragons agreed - they were supposed to be gleaming, glowing almost; great gilded statues atop their piles of gold. These dragons were... dimmed. Perhaps the old tales were exaggerating, Reeva thought, perhaps people's fear of them coloured their memories. She shrugged her shoulders, leaving the thought behind. It mattered not how shiny the dragons were. She was here to finish a task, and she would finish it, one way or another. Smiling a little at her own stubbornness ("bull-headedness", her mother would have called it), she laid out her bedroll to try and find some rest before she had to steel her nerve for the dawn.

* * * * * *

Reeva didn't sleep well. Eventually, after she'd awoken too many times to count, she simply sighed, sat up, and reached into her pack for some breakfast, only to stop after a few mouthfuls, stomach churning in protest. Anxiously she rubbed at her neck, willing her shaking legs to lift her up and start preparing for the longest walk of the journey; down the rest of the slope and towards the nest of dragons. It sounds so simple, she thought, just wandering down to exchange pleasantries with monstrous lizards. Still unwilling to meet them in the dark, Reeva decided to wait until the sun was high in the sky before she- before she-. She took a gulping breath, bringing her trembling hands to her face and clasping them over her mouth so she could scream quietly. She moved to lean against the nearest tree, feeling the rough bark against her temple, using the sensation to ground herself. Slowly, slowly she began to calm. She gathered herself, stood up straight, shook off the panic and picked up her pack. She could go now. All she had to do was walk down the hill; the dragons would decide what happened next.

She set off. Right foot first, then left, then right again... well done, Reeva, keep going, keep going. So far, so good. So far, so good. So far, so good. Ahead, the dragons were stirring, the cool morning making them drowsy and slow; but not slow enough that they missed the small human figure emerging from the treeline and making its way down the hill. Reeva could feel the rumbles of dragon speech rolling along the valley floor, raising goosebumps on her arms, making every nerve in her body start screaming run, fool, run, but she marched on, one foot after the other, bound now to her fate and the fate of her village. She kept her head high, betrayed none of her terror besides in her shaking hands clasped tightly around the straps of her pack. By the gods, they're massive. Even more massive this close - I wonder if anyone has ever been so near to them before? She choked down that thought before it could end with "and lived". Whatever happened now would happen. One of the dragons lumbered forward and Reeva stumbled, letting loose a low whimper, but kept on her course. The dragon was a dull golden-bronze colour, dark eyes cold and calculating but calm; as it moved towards her, Reeva could see the spurs on the tree-trunk legs that meant this dragon was male. She stopped where she was, her feet finally refusing to take her any further, and the dragon stopped before her, bending his great neck down and peering at her through one ridged eye. They stared at each other for a short while.

"There are not many of your kind who are bold enough to come this close, little one", he rumbled. Reeva's mouth was dry. She swallowed, and swallowed again, and tried not to think about how clearly amused the dragon was at her struggle.

"My- I've been sent- we, uh", she stammered. She cleared her throat and tried again, steeling her nerve.

"I've been sent here to ask what you and your folk want from this valley", she said firmly, "my village is poor, and we can- we can offer you nothing like the riches of the south".

The dragon's eye narrowed slightly.

"There are many things a dragon might desire other than gold, mortal", the dragon sniffed, "and we have plenty of that already. Tell me your name and your village".

So you can add it to my gravestone? How kind, she thought.

"I am Reeva of Westmeet, in the hills above the river Benmere", she told him, bowing slightly as was custom during an introduction. The dragon made a rumbling noise.

"I am Faalsotgram of the southern skies, Reeva Westmeet", he replied, "I have heard much of your village". She raised her eyebrows in disbelief; so few beyond the valley had ever heard of Westmeet. The village saw few travellers, and rarely from further afield than the town of Cairnfell, not ten miles east.

"You have... heard of my village?" she questioned. Surely Faalsotgram was thinking of another Westmeet, somewhere larger, busier, with more traders and coin. The dragon rumbled again, deep in his throat, and Reeva began to wish she knew what that noise meant.

"What do you see, Reeva Westmeet, when you look at me?"

She blinked. She wasn't sure how to answer beyond the obvious. What was she supposed to say? She didn't want to offend him. Sensing her indecision, or annoyed by the lack of an answer, the dragon spoke again.

"You see a dulled version of what I should be, mortal. My scales should gleam in this sunlight - you should be almost blinded. We should all be shining, and it offends us that we no longer do. This is why we need your village".

"But how can I help? she asked, frowning. She was off-guard; this conversation was very different to the one she'd been imagining.

Faalsotgram tilted his massive head slightly, and - unless Reeva was much mistaken - seemed to smile, in his own reptilian way.

"We wish to shine again, young one. Westmeet is known for its soap-making, is it not?"