Elven Star

40

“I thought they’d never figure it out!” stated the dragon in exasperation. “I took my time getting up there, then they made me wait and wait. There’s only so much slavering and howling one can do, you know, before it loses its effectiveness.”

“Complain, complain. That’s all you’ve done,” snapped Zifnab. “You haven’t said a word about my performance. ‘Fly, you fools!’ I thought I played that rather well.”

“Gandalf said it better?”

“Gandalf!” Zifnab cried in high dudgeon. “What do you mean, he said it ‘better’?”

“He gave the phrase more depth of meaning, more emotive power.”

“Well, of course he had emotive power! He had a Balrog hanging onto his skivvies! I’d emote, too!”

“A Balrog!” The dragon flicked its huge tail. “And I suppose I’m nothing! Chopped liver!”

“Chopped lizard, if I had my way!”

“What did you say?” the dragon demanded, glowering. “Remember, wizard, that you’re only my familiar. You can be replaced.”

“Chicken gizzard! I was discussing food. I’m extremely hungry,” said Zifnab hastily. “By the way, what happened to all the rest of ’em?”

“The rest of who? Chickens?”

“Humans! Elves, you ninny.”

“Don’t blame me. You should be more precise with your pronouns.” The dragon began to carefully inspect its glittering body. “I chased the merry little band up into the citadel where they were welcomed with open arms by their fellows. It wasn’t an easy task, mind you. Blundering through the jungle. Look at this, I broke a scale.”

“No one ever said-it would be easy,” said Zifnab, with a sigh.

“You’re right there,” agreed the dragon. His fiery-eyed gaze lifted, went to the citadel, shining on the horizon. “It won’t be for them, either.”

“Do you think there’s a chance?” The old man looked anxious.

“There has to be,” answered the dragon.