The Dragon’s Quest for Hopper starts off as any other low brow elf seeking a real place in life. He didn’t think the real place would be babysitter to a dragon. Part of him wishes the dragon mother decided on eating him instead of shoving him into this new role. What was he thinking getting involved with Linda or Hartliebe or thinking he deserved more in life than running a beer company. Beer is his life. Or it was. His life now seems a lot different. And scary.
Genres: Adventure, fantasy
Dorothy and Dominik
“His name was Mark.” I chase him down again. The dragon does not seem likely to remember the shepherd’s name. I doubt I want to even remember it. I would much rather he forgot it completely.
We seem to catch the shepherd as he reaches his grammy’s house. The sheep race inside which I would consider a bad idea. Sheep munch on everything. Mark crosses his arms at us as we come up. His strong sturdy glare has me wishing the dragon forgot him.
“Where is Terrick, shepherd?” Cyro drops to the ground. He may look like a non elf. His actions speak of elfin upbringing without being an elf. I would bet anything Cat raised him when his mother was too bored to.
“The where to what now?” His eyebrow raises like we asked who painted the sky.
“He doesn’t know.” I grab at Cyro’s arm, but the dragon grumbles forcing me to let go. “Dragon Cyro, you cannot just barge in…”
The dragon tosses Mark to the side at his lack of knowledge and heads in after the sheep. “I will take a sheep for your lack of knowledge.”
“Hey now, that’s not fair.” Mark does not stop Cyro. He waves his arms around wildly, but does not get up to protect his stock. I help him up. “Why he doin’ thi’? I ain’t got nothin’ but me sheep. An’ Grammy.”
“Sorry. I wish I knew too.” I look at where the dragon went. I have to follow. The wand can be used to stop him from eating all the sheep. But how does one use a wand? I never took a magic lesson. I even failed my writing class which is precursor to magic. Spells are so far beyond me I would die before reaching them.
“Save me sheep!” Mark shakes me. A scream blanches the field elf. “Save me Grammy!”
“Alright, alright.” I step into the house assuming I need to do something.
What I see is anything but. The grandmotherly elf has a frying pan and is hitting the dragon with it. The sheep are gone and by my general guess out the back door. “Dragon Cyro?”
“Get her off me!” The dragon waves the frying pan away, but the woman just sticks to her guns whacking him several more times. “This creature is…”
“Protectin’ her home. Get yerself out of my house.” Dorothy has some skill with the frying pan. Actually I am a little nervous to move closer to her. “No body comes in here without greetin’ me properly first.”
I wince at such words. Old and frail does not suit Dorothy. “Miss Dorothy.” The honor of a title has her slow her whack, but it still connects. “Let me apologize for the child. He is young yet and has yet to learn all his manners.” I bow my head. When I come back up, Cyro has moved behind me. “We are looking for Terrick. Have you heard of it?”
“That legend?” She pulls back collapsing in a chair and looking old and decrepit. I don’t believe that for a second now. Her frying pan drops to her lap with a loud sigh. “I miss me old pirating days. Seekin’ Terrick’s treasure. Never found it, before getting’ too old, I mean. So many swore it didn’t exist. Liars, the lot of ‘em.”
Cyro perks up from such a tale. I sink a little inside. Cyro will make a friend of the woman who beat him with a frying pan. Frail woman indeed. She was a pirate!
Females are even more vicious than males when it comes to pirating. She could even be from that old crew: Mad Hatters. It was a band of all female pirates. They took down so many ships it made male pirates feel inferior. For decades. If you want to make a male pirate feel insecure talk about the misdeeds of the Mad Hatters.
“Ah, me days have slowed since then.” She looks down at Cyro adoring face. “Mark!” The shepherd walks in still terrified. “Make some tea and bring out the biscuits. We have guests.”
“Yes, Grammy.” Mark bows lowly basically touching the ground while heading out of the room. I watch him go while the old not frail grandmother begins her tale.
“The rumor started that Old Pops found an isle. That isle had more gold than you could count with all the time in the world.” She sighs looking to where her grandson went. “Where’s the tea!?”
I gulp as Mark shuffles into the room with a tray. The shaking disturbs me, but Cyro is already enamored by the tale. He frowns in the space it takes for the male to serve.
“Where was I?” She sips her tea a moment. “Oh yeah.” The tale begins again. The Old Pops, who was a pirate long before the Mad Hatters, found the isle on one of his many trips. The gold drew him, but the ghosts kept him away. Only once he landed. “The ghosts, he said, chanted, ‘Once you come to Terrick, you may never leave.’ Most would get creeped out by such, but not me. Not us.” She nods prideful. “Me crew and I would tackle anything together.”
I have to ask. “Who was your crew?” Cyro glares at me for interrupting the story.
“Perhaps you heard of the Mad Hatters, then?” She grins and I gulp. Who hasn’t? “That was me crew. Actually, Mark isn’t even me own grandson. He was one of me daughter’s son. After she died, I kinda saw the end to us Mad Hatters. We traded in life inland. Many who live keep in touch. I miss the old scallywags.” She frowns touching her frying pan absently. “Some visit. But back to the tale.”
All in all, we end up with just enough information to give Cyro an idea of where to go. And who to talk to. Tea and biscuits end with us giving a good bye. Soon enough, the crazy dragon returns to his journey by heading for the sea. Having a brief understanding of where we are, I know we have four days of travel overland. Why did Hartliebe not eat me when she had the chance?