Chapter Nine: The Dragon Smitty's

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After a night of extreme bingeing and far worse singing, Bibbo and the dwarves (or what remained of them) headed up the side of the mountain. Gander remained behind on grounds of being too old for the hike.

The dwarves puffed and sweat as they trekked up the bloody huge mountain. Bibbo gave them an odd look. “I thought you dwarves liked mountains and shit like that?”

“@#$@#$#,” said Boff you in the Head.

“We like to go under mountains,” said Glowing. How the @#$@#$ do you think I got my name?”

“Touché.”

At last, they arrived at the back side of the mountain where a small bird was striking a snail mercilessly against the wall of rock. They all stared at it a while.

“Murderous little bugger, ain’t he?” said Bibbo.

“Isn’t,” corrected Glowing.

“Shut the @#$#$@# up,” said Bibbo.

“Oh damn,” said Thrashing, the king, did anyone remember to check if it was New Year’s day?

They all shook their heads.

“Dang it, dang-it, dangit,” said Thrashing as he stomped up and down on the ground. In fact, he was in such a rage that he nearly did a rumpelstiltskin and ended up buried halfway up to his belt in rock. He crossed his arms and pouted.

“Who cares what day it is?” said Bibbo. “The stupid rock can’t tell the difference.”

“Ah,” said Glowing, “but only when a bit of light falls through that oddly circular piece of rock and onto the stone, can the keyhole to the invisible door be revealed.”

They all pondered this for a while.

“So use a mirror,” said Bibbo.

There was a further pause. “We have none,” said Glowing.

“Shit.” Bibbo sat down on a rock and then leapt up. “Hang on, you lot built this stupid door, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Thrashing over his crossed arms.

“Well, apart from the obvious question of, why the @##$$% did you?, if you built it; where is it?”

“He’s got a point,” said Thrashing.

Several of the dwarves walked over and found the keyhole in short order. They picked it with a piece of string and then gazed at the opening.

“Well?” said Bibbo. “Aren’t you going to slay the dragon?”

“Thief,” yelled Thrashing. “Your time has come!”

“Get off it,” said Bibbo.

“No,” said Thrashing. “As king, I order you to go in and steal a minor trinket from the dragon to piss him off.”

“Your plan doesn’t make sense on so many levels,” said Bibbo.

“Just do it!” yelled Thrashing. All the dwarves started shoving him in. Despite his best efforts, he was forced inside. They closed and locked the door behind him. He pounded on it.

“You can come in,” came a muffled Thrashing, “when you’ve gotten a trinket for us and pissed off the dragon.”

“So you lot are just going to wait there until I get back even if I die?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” said Thrashing through the rock.

“And you’re ‘outside’ you moron, not inside.” Bibbo headed down the passage before he could get a reply. He fumed heavily under his dense, curly hair. The nerve of those stupid dwarves. This was completely idiotic. He remembered his magic ring and put it on to become invisible. That ought to save him from instant death, anyway. Little did he know that a dragon’s sense of hearing is 13,434,234,234 x normal.

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