The Dragon Lover

Jarla has always loved the dragons from the fairytales.

She had been told they could breathe fire, do magic, and help villages. But their wonders could also be their crimes. In the land of Regsawlar, dragons are more often than not villains, not heroes. In the last decade, the only talk about dragons had been what villages they had tormented.

There were the villages that were completely destroyed, like Thornmoor or Northhold or Stagdrift. There were the villages that were rebuilding, like Snowhollow or Mossfront or Ragefair. And plenty were currently being tormented, like Steepfront, Frosthill, Falsepass, or Rosecliff.

Now that Jarla was a knight, she had to follow orders. One of those orders was to slay a dragon that had been eating sheep, killing townsfolk, and setting things ablaze for about a week or so. Jarla loved dragons. Everybody knew that. So it had been suspicious that Jarla had been the one to volunteer to kill what she loved most.

Jarla hoisted herself over the edge of the cliff. She had been climbing it for about thirty minutes or so. She stood up and smiled nervously at the mouth of the dragon’s cave. She couldn’t help but feel like she was invading. After all, this was its home. Its nest.

She walked in, her knees trembling, silently praying that her plan would work. She knew it probably wouldn’t, but why not try? She had always wanted to meet a dragon, anyway.

The cave narrowed, and Jarla crouched down on her hands and knees and crawled through. It opened back up so she could stand again. Her hands shook as she reached down for the lantern hanging from her belt. She lit it with the help of a match, and Jarla gasped.

The dragon was massive. It curled, sleeping, its tail wrapped around three eggs as big as Jarla. Its green scales glistened in the lantern's light, and the dragon stirred. Jarla froze.

Now that she saw the dragon, she realized her plan was a bad idea. Nonetheless, it was a plan. If she didn't follow through, it wasn't only the dragon that would die—the eggs would, too.

Jarla carefully stepped over bones, presumably from humans—that crunched under her boots. She cringed and winced at every step. After Jarla was a few meters from the dragon's face, its eyes snapped open.

"What are you doing here, human?" the dragon rasped. Jarla froze. It talked? "Oh, don't act so innocent. I know what you're doing."

"I come for peace," Jarla responded. "And. . .and a warning."

Silence fell over the pair. The dragon didn't move. Jarla didn't move. The only noise that filled the void was Jarla's breathing.

"Well, go on," the dragon said impatiently.

"The knights—they're coming to kill you. I volunteered in order to stall them, but there's no doubt they're suspicious of me." Jarla scratched the back of her head. "I suggest you find a different village to torment."

“Hey!”

Jarla turned to see her fierce colleague, Maera. Maera typically was the one to go on the killing sorts of missions, so of course the knights had sent her. Jarla’s breath hitched. Maera was clearly going to kill the dragon.

“Maera, please,” Jarla pleaded, but she was pushed aside by Maera. “Maera! Give it a chance!”

Maera stared into the eye of the dragon. She grabbed her sword and took it out, getting into a fighting position with two hands on her sword, her feet spread apart. She scowled.

The dragon stood. Maera stayed. The dragon pushed its eggs away. Maera stayed. The dragon roared. Maera burst into action.

Maera ran towards the dragon and jumped onto its tail. The dragon tried to flick her off.

Maera stabbed the dragon’s tail and held onto her sword tightly, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Eventually the dragon weakened and tried grabbing Maera like the dragon had an itch on its back. Maera dodged the dragon’s grasp and slid down its arm, then jumped for the heart, the sword’s edge pointed towards it heartlessly.

“No!” Jarla called, but it was useless.

The sword dug into the dragon’s heart.

Nine months later

“Jarla!” Olivia called from the chicken coop. “Jarla!” she repeated. Her big sister finally emerged from their small house and jogged across the yard.

“What is it?”

“Guess,” Olivia answered, putting her hands on her hips. She watched with amusement as Jarla struggled to think.

“Miss Betty gave birth?” Jarla tried cluelessly. Her little sister laughed.

“No! Try again. Two more tries.” She watched with a smile as Jarla tapped her chin.

“The eggs have been eaten by hogs.”

“No.”

“You’re trying to annoy me and nothing really happened,” Jarla joked.

“No.”

A screech emitted from the small ramshackle coop. Jarla rushed in, Olivia short behind. Jarla smiled at the large open egg, with a baby dragon inside. The miniature dragon looked very similar to her mother, the one Maera had mercilessly killed nine months ago. The other two eggs had been smuggled to the Ice Caps, where the elves would raise and train them.

“What are you going to name it?” Olivia asked curiously, shutting the door so a hen wouldn’t rush out.

Jarla thought for a while. What would she name it? She remembered all the dragons from the fairytales she had read, either recently or as a child—Daiza, Padra, Zediss, Tissoa, Xotie, Iepe,

and—

Rumru.

Rumru had been a dragon from a fairytale called The Lands of the Mighty and Small, Jarla and Olivia’s favorite book as little girls. Their mother would have them curl up beside her and she would read to them a lengthy story about a princess and a prince that fell in love but couldn’t marry, a mother dragon and her three babies, and a little elf from the north lands.

The mother dragon had been named Ponaet, and she taught her children properly and loved them dearly. She had two sons: Akyn and Tyko, and her daughter, Rumru. Rumru had been the eldest of the trio and once her mother died, she was separated from her brothers. She learned to shapeshift into a young woman and spent her life endlessly searching for her brothers.

Jarla thought it was perfect.

Jarla picked up the dragon gently, which was half the size of Jarla, and heavy yet able to hold. She smiled.

“Welcome to the world, Rumru.”