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Composer : Oscar-Go Title : "Hibernarion" Time : 2:15 Formation : Eleven |
Today, once again Defnael drowsed, guarding his treasure, secure in the fact that none would dare take it from him. His lair smelled musty. He had not left it for almost a year. The harsh winter pitilessly imposed sleep upon him, as it did on all cold blooded creatures. But, several days ago, he had started to notice, far off, at the entrance to his lair, a ray of light which heralded the arrival of Spring. He was thankful, for his body's reserves were running low and he knew he could not go much longer without food. Hunger gnawed at him. Furthermore, as is the case with most dragons of his size, Defnael possessed a ferocious appetite. However, though his need for sustenance had become a constant torment, he slept again. The hour had not yet come for Defnael to awake and feed.
The view from Defnael's Lair.
The cave where the dragon slept was due north of the town of Ripewood. Defnael had only vague memories of Ripewood. It was a long time since he had any dealings with the place and whenever he thought about it, it invoked in him nothing more than the faintest recollection of a sickening smell, no doubt caused by the presence of the multitude of dwarves which infested the region. Defnael disliked dwarves, they tasted almost as bad as they smelled. He preferred to dine on elves or, at a pinch, young humans, less tasty but almost as tender. Unfortunately , the last time he had wrecked havoc on the surrounding countryside the inhabitants had leagued together against him. Still, from somewhere deep in his mind a name surfaced, a name he associated with the image of Ripewood, Kettlefiller or something of that ilk, a dwarf, little more than a child last time they had met, who would doubtless be in his prime today.
Defnael turned in his sleep remembering that day long ago when, just as he had started to destroy a human village, he had suddenly noticed, on a nearby mountain, a young dwarf being attacked by a band of Drows who had materialised seemingly from nowhere in the manner of their kind. Naturally the burning village and it's terrified inhabitants had suddenly ceased to interest him for, after all, Drow flesh is a much rarer delicacy than grilled peasant. With one sweep of his powerful wings Defnael swooped down on the unsuspecting Drow, burning three where they stood and sending the others fleeing back to their underground sanctuary. The young dwarf ( maybe his name was Kettleburner) had not moved. Rooted to the spot he watched the magnificent dragon devour his prey. Defnael, watching him from the corner of his eye, had not yet decided if he would let him live , however, with his hunger satisfied, he turned to the dwarf and rumbled :
-"Boy, you stink enough to put me off my food! Remove yourself from my sight if you want to go on living!
To this inauspicious opening the dwarf had replied that he had before him the strongest and most beautiful creature that he had ever seen in his life and that the opportunity to gaze on such a wonder was worth a little risk. Now Defnael, like all dragons, was not a little vain and adored to be flattered. He was suddenly filled with compassion for this puny, insignificant being who watched him with such adoration. After all, it had been a good day and, just for once, he was feeling generous. And so he decided not only to let the dwarf live but also to grant him his most fervent desire.
Taking his courage in both hands the dwarf replied :
-"Let me mount on your back and fly with you just once"
The dragon smiled, proud of the admiration he inspired in the dwarf. He flew Kettleburner ( yes, that was certainly his name) back to the entrance to the caves where his people lived. Defnael remembered that the king had demanded of him that he leave the region, but since Defnael took orders from no one he had ignored the pretentious ruler. However, on that day, Kettleburner had asked the same thing of him and, since it had been a very good day, Defnael had accepted.
And now Defnael drowsed, remembering again that far off time, and in his sleep he smiled happily. He would like to meet Kettleburner again, for effectively, in all his long life he had never felt the same way towards another creature. Was this what the elves called respect ? or was it perhaps... friendship... or even... tenderness... ? In any case he was to tired to think about it anymore. And he fell into a sleep so deep that not even dreams came to trouble him.
At the same time :
