[NaNoWriMo] Last of the Dragons [T(?)]

Well, I signed up for it, and so shall attempt to update this thread every day with as much as I have written at the end of each day. Currently, that less than 1,000 words, which means I'm already falling behind. Gah!

Comments and constructive criticism will be appreciated, as I intend to clean this up once NaNoWriMo is over.

Last of the Dragons

The elven woman had lost her horse several miles back, just after crossing the river. Something in the raging blizzard had startled it, making the animal throw her from it’s back and race off into the forest. With it had gone most of her supplies, including all of her fresh meat and most of the water she had been carrying. The heavy cloak she wore to ward off the worst of the weather had been blown away by the strong winds shortly after, exposing her slender frame to the full force of the fierce blizzard. How she had managed to stagger on through the sparsely covered woodland since then, she didn’t know – all she knew was that she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other, or the blizzard and exposure would kill her.

Her foot caught on an exposed tree root she hadn’t seen, making her stumble and fall to her knees. The fiercely driven snow immediately started piling up in her long brown hair and against her body, numbing her further and draining her energy reserves. It was all she could do to shake the snow off and stand again. Her eyelids were heavy, and her muscles would have burned from fatigue if it weren’t so cold. What little breath she was able to draw came in through her mouth, little gasps that pulled in as much snow and ice as it did the oxygen she needed.

The elf managed to stagger on from where she had fallen for a few more metres before her legs gave way. She collapsed into the snow, her arms buckling as swiftly as her legs had when she tried to brace herself against the ground. She felt as if her blood had turned to ice in her veins, stealing all of the warmth from her body and sucking the strength from her muscles. She was too far gone for any but the most basic of thoughts to run through her head.

The last thing she saw before her hazel eyes closed and consciousness fled was a dark winged shape too large for the blizzard to hide moving down towards her prone form.


When the elf eventually woke up several days later, the first thing she noticed was how soft and warm the bed she was lying in was. Her first thought came as she stretched under the blankets, thinking how much better the bed was than the blizzard she had been caught up in.

Her second thought followed swiftly on the heels of the first, making her bolt upright and snap her hazel eyes open. Bed?

Gasping at how cold the air was against her now-warm body, she squeezed her eyes shut and burrowed back down beneath the covers. She huddled there for a few long moments, shivering, before realising belatedly that she had been stripped of her clothing before being ensconced in the bed. The thought jarred her mind out of the stupor she had been in and into full wakefulness.

Breathing deeply, the brown-haired elf opened her hazel eyes and stared around her. A small fire a number of feet away from her bed provided the only light to see by, only illuminating a small part of what appeared to be a very large cavern. Most of the place was shrouded in shadows, ranging from deep and impenetrable in what she supposed were the farthest corners to light and dancing closer to the fire.

Looking around at her surroundings, one of the things that immediately caught the young woman’s eye was a large wooden table that was almost directly behind her, sitting next to the bed she was lying in. Everything that she had been carrying when she collapsed in the blizzard was piled on top of it, as well as most of what her frightened horse had carried off when it bolted and a fresh set of clothing. She stared at it for a moment in disbelief before scrambling off the bed towards it, making sure to keep the thick covers wrapped around her body. The uneven floor was cold beneath her feet, but she ignored the sensation and almost dove for the heavily-laden table.

Good start. Your use of the word 'ensconced' is forced. Remember, never overcomplicate your story with unnecessary verbage. And keep at it.

Very nice beginning! I'll try and follow this. Gah, one problem, now that I've started undergoing the biggest writing challenge of my life, I'm also getting interested in everybody else's stories, and wanting to keep up with them! Lol. ^_^

Thanks for the encouragement, people. It's much appreciated.

Originally Posted by pipking

Good start. Your use of the word 'ensconced' is forced. Remember, never overcomplicate your story with unnecessary verbage. And keep at it.

Okay. I'll remember that for when I start editing it.

Now, here's the next bit. It's only 850 words long (grumble), but it's all I've got for now. Oh, and the first post was part one of the first chapter, which I've called "Rescue". Should be obvious why. I've included the heading for Chapter two in the appropriate spot.

The elven woman spent a while dressing herself, being careful not to let the covers slip for more than a moment at any given time. She was almost shivering by the time she was finished, but she felt much better with more between her bare skin and the cold air than a set of sheets she had removed from a bed. A small smile played across her pretty face as she turned her attention to the food stacked near where her clothes had been, followed swiftly by a frown as her empty stomach complained bitterly about the current state of affairs.

One hand pressed against her stomach, the elf carefully pulled herself up onto the table, still holding the bed covers close around her body. When the wooden table didn’t immediately spill her onto the stone floor, she shuffled forwards and sat in front of the pile of food that her unknown rescuer had apparently left for her. A few strands of her long hair escaped from within the confines of the covers and fell to frame her face. Heedless of this, the young woman started to eat, forcing herself to go at a slow pace to avoid making herself sick. It was hard – she kept wanting to gulp the food down and wash every mouthful down with as much water as her full-lipped mouth could hold.

Without a working timepiece to consult – hers had been lost in the river, before her runaway horse had thrown her and bolted – she didn’t know how long it took before her stomach stopped growling, but when it did, she only just managed to tear herself away from the food. Nothing had ever tasted so good to her, whether it was the simple fare of her childhood or the rare and exotic treats that she had been able to barter for on her travels over the past few years. She knew that at any other time, the half-stale bread and salted meat would have been an unwelcome necessity, not to mention the flavourless water, but for now, every mouthful tasted like it was straight from gods.

Satisfied with the impromptu meal, the elf shuffled off the table and padded slowly back to the soft bed she had first found herself in. Intending only to rest there for a few moments before attempting to explore the cavern she was in, she closed her hazel eyes for a moment and rested her head against the pillows. Lulled by the gentle, rhythmic noise that filled the cavern and echoed off every firm surface, always in the background, she was asleep in moments.

On the other side of the cave, in the deep darkness that her eyes and the meagre light from the fire could not penetrate, the source of the rhythmic sound that echoed through the chamber moved silently and opened one large, dark eye. It regarded the sleeping elf for a moment before the eye closed again, and the creature’s steady breathing continued.

Chapter Two – Painful Memories

The elf stretched where she lay on her soft bed before throwing the light covers off and jumping to the thickly carpeted floor of her room. For a brief, sudden moment, the thought that she was dreaming flitted across her mind, but the early morning sunlight streaming in through her window promised a day too good for such thoughts. Besides, it was the end of summer, and everyone in the small community would be getting ready for the harvest in a month’s time, and she had her own duties to attend to.

Dressing quickly in a light-coloured tunic and skirt, the girl almost bounced down the steep stairs to her family’s well-furnished living room, her brown ponytail flying along behind her like the string of a kite. She hastily shook her long hair out before walking happily into the warm kitchen, where her mother was almost finished preparing the family’s breakfast. Anyone who didn’t know the two of them would have had a hard time telling which was the mother and which was the daughter from their appearances – both shared the same pretty face with long hair and dark eyes, and neither seemed to be over twenty years of age. Such perfect aging was the famous gift of the elves, something many of the other less long-lived Races envied them for.

“Could you take this through to your father, Sylvia?”, her mother asked “The healers didn’t want to move him from the inn last night, and you know what he thinks of the food served there.”

Carefully taking the warm pan from her mother, Sylvia smiled quickly and turned for the door. Passing through the living room, she shouldered her way out into the cobbled street and walked briskly towards where the village inn stood nearby. A few of the other people in street called out to her in greeting, sometimes with a joke or comment that she just had to reply to. Despite that, it wasn’t long before the young woman was shouldering aside the door beneath the faded sign of a hunter in the forest and calling out for her father.

Needless to say, this isn't all of Chapter Two - I'm still writing it. That's 1,550 words total now. Still behind, but not quite as bad as before. :disappoin

Hmmm... For some reason, the book Eragon echoes through my mind. It bares little, if any, resemblence to the story, and yet I can't chake that feeling...

Oh well. Anyway, it's really good so far. I like it! *grabs own hat in preparation*

Heh, thanks for that, ZFP. Appreciated.

I'm not too sure I see a connection to Eragon here, but that's a pretty good book, so no probs with that.

Anyway, just thought I'd post what I have done since then. This is the rest of Chapter Two, and will explain why it's called Painful Memories. It is also 1,870 words long, which brings my total to 3,420 words.

I'm back on track!

“Dad, Mother sent some food over for you!”

Her raised voice shattered the veil of silence that rested over the Hunter’s Rest, bringing audible curses from a number of the rooms on the inn’s second storey as well as the common room. Sylvia fought back a vicious smile, remembering that a lot of the men in the village had been celebrating long into the night and would have some serious hangovers by now.

A hand waved from behind a table in the common room’s far corner, beckoning the young woman over. “I’m here, Via,” her father said, purposefully raising his voice unnecessarily to remind the inn’s other occupants of why drinking too much alcohol was generally considered a bad idea. His voice was deeper than most would expect from an elf, and his body generally larger as well. In fact, the only way that most people realised he was an elf were his pointed ears that were revealed by his short hair, and his apparent youthfulness.

Stepping carefully across the common room floor, Sylvia received venomous glares from some of the men lying around the place when her footfalls were louder than they needed to be, the sounds echoing painfully in their skulls. She let a smirk at their discomfort play across her full lips for a moment, thinking that they deserved the pain for allowing themselves to get so carried away.

When she handed her father the still-warm pan of food, he assumed a stern expression. “That’s enough now, Sylvia,” he said. “Let these people sleep their mistake off in peace now.” There was sill a twinkle in his green eyes as he said it, though, and his voice was, once again, much louder than it needed to be.

Trying to look suitably chastised, Sylvia lowered her eyes and curtseyed briefly to the older elf before turning to leave. She made sure her footsteps on the way out were lighter than before, but still heavy enough to cause those who had the more serious hangovers severe pain.

Back in the street, she saw Raynold Karman walking towards the Hunter’s Rest, his staff and symbol of office held easily at his side. The blond-haired elf was a powerful and high-ranking magician, and a large part of the success that the village had celebrating. Smiling, she curtseyed to the older elf out of a mix of gratitude and respect.

“How does your father fare?” he asked, returning the smile briefly. They both stopped a little way off from the inn’s door.

“He is well, thank you, and enjoying everyone else’s discomfort while he has the chance.”

Chuckling dryly, Raynold shook his head slowly. “I would imagine he is.” His expression turned serious. “Do you think he will be fit to travel this afternoon? I know the healers didn’t want him moved last night, but I would like to collect what we can from the corpses before too long, and he has a right to be there and claim something for himself.”

“I’m not sure what the healers will say, lord Karman,” she replied, “but I can tell you Father will be willing to attempt it whenever you are ready.”

Waving his free hand, the mage said, “Please, enough of this ‘lord’ business – I’m just a man with a few extra talents. Use my name.”

Inclining her head slightly, Sylvia brushed some of her hair back behind one pointed ear. “Is that an order, my lord?”

Raynold raised one eyebrow. “Now you’re just mocking me.”

Sylvia widened her eyes and tried to look innocent. “Why would I ever do that, my lord?”

Laughing suddenly, the mage put one hand on her shoulder. “Off with you now, woman,” he said, grinning, “before I lose my temper with you.”

Smiling, Sylvia offered one last curtsey and turned back towards her home and the piping hot breakfast her mother was sure to have finished preparing by the time she arrived there.


The morning passed by swiftly, a mix of preparations for the expedition to retrieve anything valuable from the carcasses of the beasts the mage and his companions – including Sylvia’s father – had slain a few days earlier, and preparations for the coming harvest. Sylvia herself was flitting from place to place, her perfect memory making her an invaluable aid for many of the different projects that were in progress.

In fact, she was kept extremely busy right up until everyone called a break for lunch and the village mayor had the communal area turned into a large barbecue. She was sitting in some of the rare shade, eating and talking with the other villagers, when the dark-haired stranger walked into view. He stopped Sylvia’s mother in the street and asked her in a quiet voice where he could find the mage Karman, and thanked her when she pointed towards where he sat by the inn.

The stranger walked to within a few dozen feet of the mage and stopped, studying him wordlessly. Raynold looked up from the conversation he was involved in and met the tall figure’s dark-eyed gaze, one eyebrow raised in question.

Apparently satisfied about something, the stranger began to speak. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried to the ears of everyone present and killed every conversation.

“Magician-Adept Raynold Karman, under the law of the Magician’s Guild, I accuse you and diverse of the unlawful murder of a mother and her young daughter three days past. How do you plead to this?”

Sylvia stared in shock at the stranger and the mage, almost unable to believe what she had just heard. Raynold, a murderer? And who from the village – her village – could have possibly condoned such a thing to happem?

Raynold stared into his accuser’s dark eyes for a moment before answering. “I say I am innocent, mage. On what basis do make this accusation?”

His voice a little deeper, the stranger answered in the same tone he had accused the mage with. “I have seen their bodies and the mark of their murderer’s aura, and have followed the trail here. The aura matches you.”

The village mayor stepped forward from behind the barbecue, dry-washing his hands. “This is a serious accusation, gentlemen, and it affects the people of this village as much as lord Karman here. Perhaps we could adjourn and discuss this in private?”

Raynold shook his head. “There are set rules for this, Mayor Brummon. Unless one of us is willing to back down and admit the other is right, it will be decided by a trial of magic.” When the mayor appeared confused over this, he added, “Essentially, we will fight to the death with magic as the only weapon.”

Paling visibly, Mayor Brummon turned back to the villagers. “Clear a space!” he shouted, gesturing widely with his arms. Everyone immediately moved to what they deemed was a safe enough distance – no-one wanted to be caught in the middle of a magical duel.

Standing and facing the stranger in the middle of the street, Raynold inclined his head politely. “You appear to have the better of me, mage. Perhaps you could state your name and rank before we begin?”

Snorting, the black-clothed stranger flexed his hands. “My name is unimportant, murderer,” he said, “but as for my rank…” He studied Raynold for a moment before continuing. “I am a Merlin.”

In the crowd, Sylvia jerked suddenly, a horrible feeling creeping into the pit of her stomach. Merlin was the name given to those whose sheer power and near-perfect control made them second only to the gods themselves in magical ability. If Raynold were truly facing such a being…

Startled by his opponent’s declaration, Raynold threw up a shield of pure force between the two of them and hurled a fireball at the dark figure. The Merlin brushed the attack aside as Sylvia would have an insect and pointed his other hand at the Magician-Adept, then closed that hand into a fist and raised it to his shoulder. Raynold was lifted off the ground, straining against the magic that held him. Sylvia could hear bones cracking in the elf’s chest as his enemy squeezed, apparently expending no real effort.

In desperation, Raynold Karman threw a larger, stronger fireball at the Merlin, only to have it turned upon himself. He screamed as the magical fire ate away at his body, the searing agony washing any coherent thought from his mind. Sylvia backed into the wall behind her, one hand covering her nose and mouth to try and hide the stench of burning flesh that rolled out across the village. She fought to avoid retching when the Merlin, completely unaffected by the stench, tossed the Magician-Adept’s burning carcass to one side and turned towards the crowd of villagers.

“The murderer was accompanied by six others of the elven Race when he returned here. They are to share his fate.” The voice was no louder than before, but instead was far deeper and more menacing than anything Sylvia had heard in her life. Her mind raced to try and work out what her friend could possibly have done to earn the ire of such a person as this, and who the others slated to die could possibly be.

But all thoughts in her head froze when she saw the stranger’s shadow. Although it was only a little after noon, it stretched out behind him, far larger than it had any right to be. Wings came up over the shadow’s shoulders, bracketing a neck too long to belong to any of the Races that walked on two legs. Claws were evident on the end of each hand where only fingers should have been, and a shadowy tail lay coiled between his legs.

“Dragon!” she creamed. “Dragon! Dragon!”

After that, everything was a blur. The people she had grown up with ran screaming from the monster and his victim, while the beast himself shrugged off the human form he had been wearing and snapped his horned head down at one of the people who had killed the gold dragon three days earlier. The black creature brought death and destruction to all who stood in his path, exacting his vengeance in blood ten times over.

The next thing Sylvia knew, she was cradling her father’s head in her lap, weeping uncontrollably. Her tears fell into his blood-matted hair, unheeded, as her hands traced around the massive wound in his side where the tip of the black monster’s tail had smashed into him. Feeling something watching her, she raised her tear-streaked face and met the dragon’s dark eyes, seeing hatred burning in it’s twisted soul. She cried out in a mix of fear, anger, and pain, hurling every curse she had ever heard at the thing that had destroyed her life.

Screaming, the elven woman jerked upright in the bed, tears sliding down her cheeks. She stared around herself wildly before remembering where she was, breathing hard. Sylvia closed her eyes and moaned softly, her grief undiminished by the six years and more that had passed since that dreadful day.

Finally noticing the cold, the young woman sank back into the thick covers and buried her head, allowing her tears to soak into the soft pillows.

Is a good an compelling drama you're building - I'm at work so I'll have to make this short. Really good stuff. Will read the rest as you post it. ...I was going to ask a random question - but I'll wait to see where this goes. - see ya later

This is an excellent entry! The action, and the elf woman's memories, are thrilling, and well depicted, and I love your use of language. Great stuff. I am eager to see where this goes!

- Selah

Awesome Tiroth! You've done an excellent job so far, and I can't wait to read your next post!

P.S. You stole my person's name! Lol, jk. ~_^

Thanks, people. ^_^ Good to see you're enjoying my pain and suffering.

Here is the first part of the third chapter. I'll have the rest up (hopefully) by the end of the day. 1,325 words.

Chapter Three – Prisoner

Walking about the area of the cave that was lit by the dying fire, Sylvia pulled the thick cover she had wrapped around her body closer in an attempt to ward off the chill in the air. Tear-streaks lined her pretty face where she had been unable to remove them, and she rubbed at them occasionally in irritation.

She had remained in the bed for a while after waking, letting her grief and pain run it’s course before doing anything else. The recurring nightmare always left her feeling drained and tired, and this time was no exception, but Sylvia was determined to look around her surroundings and see what she could learn, so the young elf forced herself to leave the comfort of the warm bed. She added the thick, heavy cover as an afterthought when the cold air immediately raised goosebumps on her arms.

Since she began her inspection, Sylvia had been able to learn precisely nothing. The area lit by the fire’s glowing embers held nothing in them but the bed and table, while the floor and walls were simply uneven rock. There was no extra fuel for the fire, nor any way to start another one beyond the battered tinderbox she carried in her pack. Even peering hesitantly into the gloom further out into the cavern revealed nothing that could help her – no food, no water, and no sign of whoever it was that had pulled her out of the blizzard.

Beginning to worry, the elven woman returned to the table where her possessions were piled and forced herself to eat some more of the food from her horse’s saddlebags. She didn’t feel hungry – another charming side effect of the nightmare that had plagued her for the last six years – but she knew that she needed to eat something.

After that, she carefully picked up her backpack and carried it back to the bed, being careful not to let the cover open much so she could keep warm. Sylvia sat cross-legged in the centre of the bed and pulled the rest of the covers up around her before opening the largest part of her bag and pulling out a thick sheaf of papers. A smile flickered across her face when she saw that the snow hadn’t managed to get inside the bag and ruin her sketches and spare paper before she began to shuffle through them, pausing every few moments to look over her favourites. There were shaded sunsets stretching across a page and strange, fantastical creatures cavorting in play beneath the majestic heights of a great waterfall. On another, a trio of gryphons flew through the skies together, feathered wingtips almost touching.

Sylvia stopped at the bottom of the pile and gently brushed her fingers across the sketch. The travelling artist that had started her drawing had made it for her and her parents as a way of thanks for letting him stay in their house. It showed her two parents standing side-by-side, with a grinning young Sylvia standing in front of them. The paper was black at the edges where the fire that had destroyed her home when the dragon attacked had damaged it, but the main body of the sketch was intact. The picture was her most treasured possession, and had a lot of different memories tied up in it – most of them good.

The elf closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. Until that day, her life had been as close to perfect as she could imagine. No wars, no diseases, more than enough food, the love of her family, close friends scattered throughout the village that had been with her through everything…and then, the dragon came. Her home destroyed, her family shattered beyond repair, her friends wrecked in mind and body as she herself had been, forced to travel the roads of the world…

Brushing away a tear, Sylvia placed the drawing with her own and returned them all to her bag. Putting aside her melancholy feelings, she rose from the bed and let the heavy covers fall from her shoulders. Shivering slightly at the sudden cold, she walked over to the table and took the single wooden torch that her rescuer had managed to salvage from her horse’s pack. The elf flipped it in her hand so that she was holding the correct end and strode over to the dying fire, plunging the head into the glowing embers. Sylvia paused for a moment as she waited for it to light, then turned resolutely to the dark parts of the cavern. Walking forward, she waved the lit torch from side to side to shed as much light as possible on the shadowy areas.

Most of her inspection of the rocky expanse showed nothing more than that of the area near the bed and fire had. The floor and walls of the vast chamber were made of uneven rock, with the odd pitfall standing out here and there. But something puzzled her about the place – the deep, rhythmic noise that had floated at the edge of her consciousness for some time seemed to get louder the deeper she moved into the great cavern.

Looking back over her shoulder to make sure the fire hadn’t gone out and she could make her way back to the bed and table easily enough, Sylvia advanced slowly on the deepest, darkest part of the cave. The noise was much stronger here than elsewhere, possibly indicating that she was about to find it’s source. Nervously, the elven woman looked around at the limits of the torch’s meagre sphere of light, wondering what she would find.

Abruptly, the bubble of light she walked in stopped moving forward as she did. What appeared to be a cracked, sloping wall of jet-black rock stood in front of her, stretching away to either side for as far as the torch’s light could reach. Sylvia walked up to it and ran her free hand along the cracked and pitted surface, jerking back in surprise after the first few moments. The rock was warm, and it moved!

Backing away, the elf stared at the thing that stood before her, desperately trying to rationalise it. Yet the thing defied all explanations save one, and that one was confirmed when a horned head as long as she was tall on a serpentine neck moved into the torch’s sphere of light. Black lips pulled back to show hugs white teeth in the creature’s mouth while it’s dark eyes seemed to stare into the elf’s very soul, rooting her to the spot.

Dragon! her mind screamed. DRAGON!

The beast before her shifted slightly, breaking eye contact with the elf for a brief moment. Suddenly finding herself able to move again, Sylvia threw away her torch and ran blindly away from the monster. The screams that erupted from her throat surprised even her as she fled, stumbling on the uneven rock surface. The sounds of the dragon moving after her only lent more terror-fuelled speed to her legs, making her run faster than she ever had before.

Somehow, the elf shot across the cavern’s entire expanse before the beast she had inadvertently roused could catch up with her fleeing form. As luck would have it, she reached the wall right next to the chamber’s cavernous exit, and was able to feel her way along the passage.

Tears filled Sylvia’s eyes as the chase wore on, tears of grief and pain, hate and rage. The only thought in her mind was to escape from the monster that had destroyed her life before it destroyed her, too, as it had come so close to doing six years before. It did not matter that the two beasts were undoubtedly separate monsters – a black dragon had shattered her home and family, and a black dragon was chasing her. She could hear the beast behind her, thankfully unable to find the much smaller elf in the pitch-black tunnel.

Sylvia could hear the fierce wind howling outside the cavern. Pulling her wits together enough to realise that it presented a route away from the dragon behind her, which was doubtless getting closer by the moment, she scrambled along the rough wall towards the sound. It gained in volume as pulled herself along, hugging the wall so she didn’t lose track of her direction.

Turning a sudden corner, the elf almost cried out when the dim light from outside reached her eyes. Tears welled up at the sudden stab of pain, but the sight only made her move even faster, running across the centre of floor and straight for the exit and escape from the black-scaled monster that had destroyed her life and captured her.

Hearing the beast behind her storming around the corner she had passed only moments earlier, bellowing in rage, the young elven woman threw herself towards the cavern’s opening and out into the fierce wind that thundered in her ears. Still caught in the grip of her terror, she barely noticed when she landed on a tree that grew at an extreme angle on the mountainside, and failed to grip the rough wooden branches hard enough to avoid falling further. Sylvia tumbled from tree to steep rocky slope and back again, each fall battering her body further and forcing the breath from her lungs. Terror turned to panic as she realised the danger she was in, and panic faded into nothing as the constant, jarring pain of her rapid descent knocked consciousness from her limp body.


When Sylvia finally woke, she groaned and tried to move. A short, sharp pain centred on her left right jabbed into her mind, making the woman scream and snap her eyes open. A low, menacing growl sounded from above her, but she ignored it and twisted her head desperately to see what was wrong with her leg.

When she saw the mess her body was in, she almost screamed again.

Wrapped almost entirely in bandages made from what appeared to be one of the heavy bed covers, dark stains on the thick cloth showed the many places where her blood still leaked from her many wounds. What little skin was left uncovered showed signs of bruising, and from the way Sylvia felt, they covered almost her entire body. One of her hands seemed to be missing two digits – swallowing thickly, she hastily made sure the hand she drew with was still intact – and her opposite leg, the one that had been so painful when she moved, was broken. Despite the death and destruction she had seen in her relatively short life, Sylvia had to look away hurriedly from the white piece of bone jutting from beneath the skin to avoid throwing up.

Only when a black claw reached down towards the bone did she realise the monster she had discovered in the back of the cavern was standing over her. Shrinking down as far as she could into the bed’s mattress, the elf stared up at the beast, her sudden mind-numbing fear washing away the pain of her injuries. The thing’s dark gaze met hers for an instant, and a sense of the creature’s sharp anger washed over her. The elf almost sobbed out loud.

Then, the dragon pushed the broken bone back into it’s proper position. Sylvia went rigid, screamed, and fainted.

EDIT: Finished the chapter off now. Seen as no-one's replied and I don't want to double-post, I just edited this one. ^_^ That's an extra 563 words.

Ah, well I still say it reminds me of Eragon, though it hasn't had a single same event. It doesn't matter much... maybe it's just the mood of things in your story. It can be well linked to Garrow's death in a way.

Anyway, nice job! Too bad she got so beat-up. So is she missing some fingers, or did it only seem like it? It sounded like you were saying her hand that she didn't write with was beat-up, while the other was intact. I can guess a few things, though they wouldn't get me anywhere even if I mentioned them. I would also like the dragon's name, merely because it is probably mystical or cool in some sense. Then again, I consider all names that way, except for Bob.

Anyway, keep on writin'!

Great job Tiroth! This story is captivating, I can't wait to read the next bit! ^_^

ZFP, what about Fred? Lol.

Good to see I have some dedicated readers here. ^_^

Yeah, Sylvia is now missing two fingers from her left hand, and has a lot of other injuries as well. As for the dragon's name, that will be coming up in future chapters, as he winds up with a more important role than scaring the hell out of the elf. Just not quite yet.

Anyway, this next chapther is 1,302 words long, bringing my cumulative total to 6,612 words. Not bad for four days' work.

Oh, and I think someone should really teach those dragons how to care for wounded people properly...

Chapter Four – Fever Dreams

Sylvia had no way of knowing how much time passed while she lay on the soft bed, prisoner to the beast that had pulled her broken body out of the snow where she ad come to rest. What felt like hours to her could have been mere minutes spent in the near dark, possibly even days, for all that she knew or cared. Her time was spent curled up in the gloom as much as she was able, her broken leg always pointing out away from her body, thinking. When she slept, her dreams were full of her past, from the memory of joyous springtime in her village home to winters spent in various towns she had visited, each with plenty for an inquisitive mind to do and learn. Her treacherous subconscious portrayed each and every experience in the best light possible, emphasising the difference between them and captivity to a dragon with no hope of escape.

Worse even than this was the rare times when she could drag her mind away from her current predicament, because she always inadvertently turned to her bleak future. The one burst of anger she had seen in the dragon’s eyes after attempting to escape from it’s clutches was transmuted by her imagination into a whole host of different fates that ranged from eternal servitude to the undying beast to the sacrifice of her body and mind to some blasphemous god once her injuries had healed. Sylvia couldn’t escape admitting that both horrifying scenarios fit what she knew. Neither could she decide which possibility was worse – to be used as a sacrifice, or be enslaved by a monster that could be kith and kin with the one that had destroyed everything she had known as a child?

Depressed by these thoughts and her dreams, Sylvia ate sparingly of the food that remained piled on the table near her bed, which had been moved closer so that it was within her reach the first time she woke up after the dragon set her leg. She didn’t care that hunger pangs would sometimes shoot through her body, only ending when the beast that stood silent guard over her forced the food and water down her parched throat. After the first three times, though, she made sure she ate enough simply to avoid the monster putting it’s great black claws anywhere near her. She did this even when the dragon was strangely absent upon her waking from sleep, somehow knowing that the thing would return to keep it’s vigil over her.

Time passed, and the elf began to spend more and more time asleep. She lay in the bed, unmoving, her makeshift bandages almost glued to her body where her blood had soaked into them. After a while, Sylvia’s thoughts became less and less coherent as infection spread to her wounds and poisons entered her bloodstream, despite the monster’s constant vigil and the frigid temperature inside the cavern.

Before she had woken for the dozenth time since attempting to escape the dragon, the young elven woman had slipped into a deep fever.


The world span before her gaze, changing slowly as the colours blended. When it stopped, Sylvia stood in the ruins of her home village, watching everyone she knew go about their daily lives in the shattered remains of their homes. Everybody was there, even those she knew had died on the day their lives had changed or in the years since, talking with each other cheerfully. None seemed to see the young woman, appearing to look straight through her at times. She tried to attract their attention by waving her arms or shouting, but didn’t seem to notice anything she did. The feeling of joy at seeing everyone alive – Mayor Brummon, Raynold, and most especially her father – soured and shrivelled as they continued to ignore her.

Then, as swiftly as the vision of her friends and family had come, it was gone, vanishing in the same swirl of colour that had produced it. When the world cleared again, she stood on a mountaintop she had visited three years before with one of the many human nobles who had taken a fancy to her pretty face and elven heritage. Except now, she stood there with the Magician-Adept the dragon had murdered, looking out across their world’s wide expanse. This time, in this vision, he was willing enough to talk, and the two of them were soon laughing over the misfortunes of life. Raynold even went so far as to ask how life had been treating her since they parted – he refused to admit he had died – and expressed his sorrow at the loss of her two fingers.

When the swirling colours came this time, Sylvia tried to fight the shift with every fibre of her being. She begged the magician not to go, to stay with her a while longer, but he just laid one hand on her cheek and bade her farewell as he had so many times when leaving on the Guild’s business. Tears ran down her face as the shifting world claimed him, plucking the two elves apart and landing them on separate sides of death’s door once again..

The third setting was a familiar one with unfamiliar faces. Fierce winds snapped her long hair out like a banner, howling down the length of a small valley that had been turned into a battleground. Bodies littered the ground around her in a circle around the foe the army of five united Races had fought and killed – a great dragon with scales of purest silver that shone in the late evening sunlight. Almost every person in the army was dead or dying, their ranks devastated by the dragon. It was a scene Sylvia wished she could forget as devoutly as the day the beast attacked her home; what made it worse was that she knew the butcher’s bill would have been far less had she convinced the travelling battle-shaman to stay and aid the army. She fell to the ground, sobbing, and felt a wave of relief wash over her when the world changed for the third time.

Next came a meeting of the few elves that lived within the human town of Arradon, called to decide what they were going to do about the blatant racism many of their human hosts displayed. Sylvia found herself screaming incoherently at the utter stupidity of her peers, yelling herself hoarse and hacking up blood before the colours returned and slammed her into a new place, a new memory. Faces of men she had hoped forever lost in the mountain passes during a deceivingly calm winter came into focus and leered at her, making the young woman run as she had from the dragon until everything changed once again.

As the tide of fever-fuelled visions of her past and alternate possibilities rose and fell within Sylvia’s mind, she sometime felt the presence of a guardian watching over her. She never saw it, no matter how hard she tried, and the feeling waxed and waned almost as often as the world before her eyes did, but she was sure it was there. When the changes were coming hard and fast, it became an anchor for her mind, a way to keep herself centred and avoid being overwhelmed by what she saw and heard. Waves of despair threatened to drown her when it wasn’t there.

Thus was the battle for Sylvia’s life waged against the fever that threatened to rip her apart, both mind and soul – with whispered companionship and the devastation caused by six years of sorrow. And through it all, the dragon stood watch, his great black head hanging over the comatose elf lying naked in the soft bed, covers drawn up around her to ward off the cold.

O.O Very nice! Can't wait to see the next bit! Gah, I wish I was feeling as creative towards my story as you apparently are. Lol. ^_^

Actually, Chapter Four is only really there to fill a gap between the beginning and what I have planned for later on. It took me a couple of hours to come up with the idea of giving Sylvia a fever due the dragon's ineptitude with hospital procedures, and another hour and a half to write it. Just remember - everything is not quite as the elf thinks...

You've already hinted that, I believe. Either way, it is a good way to go about any business.

And Southern Belle, Fred is a name I barely ever see these days. I would be less mystisized by Matt, however. For some reason that has become a very unoriginal name.

As for the story, I like it so far. I can understand how the though behind all of that took some hours... I have had similar problems before.

Sylvia had no way of knowing how much time passed while she lay on the soft bed, prisoner to the beast that had pulled her broken body out of the snow where she ad come to rest.

had*** instead of "ad"

She didn’t care that hunger pangs would sometimes shoot through her body, only ending when the beast that stood silent guard over her forced the food and water down her parched throat.

did you mean pains instead of "pangs". Sorry I am not familiar with this word. Is it one that is used in the U.K. and not in the U.S.? I apologize for my ignorance in advance.

Great story by the way. For some reason, I feel as though I am right by the fire in the cave. The story warms my body up and I feel the dim glow of the fire on my skin. That might just be because I am cold. Nonetheless, excellent story. I will be keeping up with it so expect more replies.

No probs on correcting my mistakes - I need it doing. ^_^

I don't know if they use "pangs" in the US, but they do over here. It means about the same thing in ths context.

Gah...takes me three days for a new update, and it's only a little over a thousand words. I'm getting WAY behind now...

Chapter Five – Unknown Title

Sylvia groaned and shifted in the strange bed. She didn’t know if this was another of the twisted dreams her tortured mind had thrown up, but whatever it was, it felt a lot better than anything she had experienced recently. The comforting presence still hovered over her still form, only more substantial in her mind this time. It was almost as if her guardian were now standing beside her, close enough to touch where it had always been a struggle to know it was there before.

Breathing deeply, Sylvia stretched her body out, then huddled back beneath the covers when her bare skin encountered the cold air in the cavern. She mumbled something unintelligible into the back of one hand, her eyes squeezed shut and muscles tensing.

As if reading her mind, a deep voice that came from somewhere above her answered the unspoken question in her mind. “You have recently recovered from a fever that held you for very nearly ten days. It was five days before that when you were first removed from the dangerous weather outside.”

The elf’s hazel eyes flew open and stared up in horror at the thing that stood over the bed she was in. The dragon’s expression was unreadable, his dark eyes blank slates that could have hidden anything within their obsidian depths. Sylvia squirmed where she lay, trying to burrow into the soft mattress, to move as far away from the beast as she could possibly get.

It was only when her gaze moved over her hand that she remembered all that had happened recently. Forgetting the monster staring down at her for a moment, the young elven woman frantically felt over her body, and almost shrieked when her hands ran over the break in her leg. The slightest touch brought a great deal of pain, making her jerk her hands back – yet it had not bothered her as she squirmed beneath the covers.

Again seeming to read her mind, the dragon’s deep voice washed over the elven woman. “Your leg has been held in place with magic, but it can only hold as long as it is not touched.”

Trembling from a mix of fear and pain, Sylvia stared up at the monster’s head high above her and licked her lips nervously. The thing met her gaze for a brief moment before sighing and turning his head away in disgust. The elf squeezed her eyes shut and listened to her thundering heartbeat as the dragon moved away from the bed, returning to the area where she had originally found it. Thanking the many gods that shone in the sky at night under her breath, she relaxed her body and waited for it to stop trembling.

Stretching, Sylvia swivelled in the bed and moved to get up from it, meaning to take the covers with her as she had before in order to preserve both her modesty and warmth. Instead, she found that she couldn’t move her upper body more than a few inches above the level of the bed, while she could barely move her legs from the floor at all. Contact with the cold floor sent shivers up the elf’s spine, adding to her sudden frustration.

Sounding completely bored with the situation, the dragon chose that moment to speak up again. “I already informed you, young one, you have been lying in that bed for close to ten days. Your body is weaker than a newborn’s at this moment, and likely cannot support your mass.”

Forgetting her discomfort and predicament for a moment, Sylvia shot an angry glare in the monster’s general direction. She didn’t know what the thing wanted with her, or why he apparently was attempting to keep her alive, but the beast was most definitely beginning to get on her nerves. Jerking her limbs, she swiftly pulled her legs back onto the bed and re-settled the heavy covers over herself, muttering all the while about how irritating monsters could be. As she reached for some food from the table beside the bed, almost as an afterthought, the monster in question snorted in resignation and settled down, obviously able to hear Sylvia’s flow of insults.


It was three more days before the situation between the two changed – at least, the elf thought it was three days. The food piled on the wooden table was beginning to run low, something that was beginning to worry the young woman. She didn’t dare mention it to the beast standing watch over her – she either muttered something deliberately unintelligible or completely froze up every time she noticed it looking at her. As such, she didn’t leave the bed much, and only did so to try and exercise her greatly weakened muscles when she was absolutely certain the dragon’s attention was elsewhere.

It happened when the beast got up from where he had been lying for the past few days and walked past the elf towards the cavern’s exit. Just before leaving, he looked back at the gaping elf, and said, “You will require extra food in a short while. I intend to return with it shortly.” The elf blinked and stared at it for a moment, her mouth open, and it was gone.

The cavernous space inside the mountain felt empty with the dragon gone. She could see every nook and cranny of the huge space now, as the beast had lit it with magic during her fever, and it wasn’t quite as vast as she had at first thought – but it felt like it were the entirety of the mountain itself now that she was the sole occupant. The feeling both surprised and unnerved the elf.

Doing her best to shrug the unexpected and unwelcome feeling off, Sylvia ate the last of the original pile of food from the table beside the bed and waited for the dragon to return, hoping that he would somehow do what he had said he would. And so it was that, when the beast flew back in several hours later, the bodies of several large animals clutched in his sharp claws, his elven charge was there watching for his return. She mumbled a thank you to the large creature when he set the carcasses down beside her, then turned her attention to how she was going to get her next few meals out of the dragon’s offerings.

Eventually, though, the elf gave up on her efforts and turned, trembling slightly, towards the dragon. She cleared her throat nervously, then froze when the thing focussed his attention on her.

Sensing her discomfort, the dragon snorted again. “If you wish to speak, then you should speak.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before Sylvia spoke up. “I…can’t eat raw meat, my…” she swallowed thickly, “…my lord.” When the dragon didn’t respond, she somehow plucked up the courage to continue. “I have no way to skin it, and…” Coughing lightly, she dropped her eyes so she didn’t have to meet the dragon’s stare. “Raw meat doesn’t work for elves. We can only eat it cooked without having problems.”

It took a moment for the elf to realise that the strange sound coming from the dragon was laughter. When she did, her head jerked up, cheeks flaming and eyes narrowing. The beast was shaking it’s black head from side to side, mouth hanging open to display a very impressive set of white teeth. The reminder of why she feared the creature so much cut her glare short and made her cheeks pale almost as fast as they had brightened.

With one last rumble, the scaled monster rose from where he lay and moved towards the young elf again. “Understanding of the shorter-lived Races appears to be hard to come by,” he said, a hint of amusement still buried in his tone.

1,305 words. The chapter ain't finished yet, but I REALLY need to get moving now.

I was wondering if you had given up on this story... It was still a good chapter though. Keep on writin'!

With that said, I still wonder what the dragon's name is...

Here's to hoping it's Fred!

Originally Posted by Tiroth

No probs on correcting my mistakes - I need it doing. ^_^

I don't know if they use "pangs" in the US, but they do over here. It means about the same thing in ths context.

Gah...takes me three days for a new update, and it's only a little over a thousand words. I'm getting WAY behind now...

1,305 words. The chapter ain't finished yet, but I REALLY need to get moving now.

Slacker... -oh wait..no that's me , hmmm.

NO RAW MEAT!!! oh my - still reading - posting randomly - as per usual (so how many words all together is this?)