Princesses, Dragons, and Elves, Oh My!

Princesses, Dragons, and Elves, oh my! pt6

And he was going to, right up until he asked for his sword back the next morning in case of predators. Lana was still sleeping and he and Glen were at the edge of the entrance talking.

"Mm..." Glen mulled it over, "I've first got a question for you that's been bugging me."

Resisting the urge to sigh, Gill looked up, "Must you?"

This felt eerily familiar to when he was abruptly picked up against his will. What now?

"I won't be angry," Glen assured him, only confusing the elf, "I like you. But see. Ever since you stipulated that you're afraid of flying, but not heights, I've been wondering 'How did he fly? With what creature? Did he ever actually fly before?'"

"Please don't." Gill interjected weakly. Here it came.

"So," Glen looked down, "What did you ride? Or were supposed to ride?"

Gill momentarily searched for some unfathomable way to avoid the question, change the subject. He looked out at the pool of water, the early dawn sky. But if Glen "won't be angry," he pretty clearly already knew the answer.

With a sigh, Gill looked up, "Dragons."

The dragon now before him nodded sagely, "Ah, yes. You are a very strange, unusual individual, Gillian," He stated, "Seems a lot of your misfortune lies with us."

Gill inhaled, held it, then exhaled, "I've met a couple I had positive interactions with. Or as positive as could be expected" he replied, "But so far my troubles started with being born into the wrong tribe. And so far they end with you and this whole situation." he scratched his head and moved outside into the light and onto the outcropping of rock, "Eklar tribe, Northern faction."

"Hn, not as bad as the others." Glen mused.

Gill paused and looked back, "What do you mean?"

Glen shrugged, "From what I've heard down the line they're the more regimental ones. Actually fierce to contend with. Unlike the others with those sorry embarrassments to dragon-kind who can barely fly. Still, all embarrassments to submit themselves to living with elves and allowing them to ride them like horses." he snorted, smoke bursting out and rising into the air, "Runty little things."

His voice was filled with disgust. Gill smelled the acrid scent after a few seconds. He wasn't sure how to respond really, "I don't care for-" he started to agree when the dragon continued over him.

"I ought to kill you," Glenn added on to what he was saying in a very matter-of-fact tone, "For being part of that disgrace. Taming' dragons. Daring to bring them down to your level."

That put Gill on edge. It wouldn't surprise him if Glen flipped like a switch and smashed him or ate him in a moment of dragon whim. He realized his completely vulnerable state, and he tensed for some kind of action. Of course Glen wouldn't give him his sword back. Not after knowing such a thing, and the animosity between the Wild Dragons and the Riders.

"It's the principle of the thing, you understand." Glen stated more than asked, head lowering closer. He sounded as if he had made up his mind on the matter. He wasn't angry, yes, but what did that even mean? He

was simply doing what was logical to him.

"The principle." Gill echoed weakly, feeling the adrenaline building as he readied to move, do whatever it took to survive even for a few seconds.

"But what do you think, Gill?" the dragon asked in a somewhat condescending and musing tone of voice.

Gill's eyes darted from the dragon's maw to his claws, trying to anticipate which would come for him first.