“Dragon Flute”
With movements too swift for someone of such old age, Creacher landed a sharp poke with his walking stick, right into the side of young Drake.
"Get a move on you!" Even with the youth trying to dodge him, he managed to get another smart smack on the lads arm.
"Grandfather! Stop that! I'm going as fast as I can!" Drake rubbed the bruise he knew would soon be forming and cursed under his breath. Dropping the armload of tinder he had been carrying, he turned on the old man.
"Do you want me to gather your firewood or not? Cause if you want to do it yourself, your welcome to!" Drake knew full well that his cranky grandfather could do no such thing. It had been years since the old man had done much of anything, except tell tall tales, and repeat long lost legends.
Grumbling under his breath, Creacher answered in his scratchy voice, "You were supposed to be done an hour ago. What am I supposed to do when it starts to get cold? Are you going to let your dear grandfather freeze?"
Drake sighed and shook his head, "I WOULD have been done an hour ago if you hadn't asked me to clean out your fire place! And in case you've forgotten, its spring, and it's only going to be getting warmer-"
Creacher interrupted him be crunching his stick into the ground and growling, "I know full well that its spring you simpleton! It's my bones that tell me were going to have a cold snap, I can feel it! Bones of steal they say! But I can feel it coming!" With that Creacher turned his back on Drake and went into his small hut, still rambling on about his bones and how strong he was. Shaking his head, Drake continued to gather tinder.
Drake was a burly young lad of 15. He had scruffy short hair, and was rather small in stature for his age, with wiry strong arms and legs. He had striking green eyes, that had the startling affect, of making people listen to him. It wasn't magic, or some kind of curse, it was just in the way he looked. He commanded a kind of respect that was well beyond his age.
With a groan, Drake stretched his soar muscles, and shut the lid to the wood box. Side stepping a large hole next to the hut, that his grandfather refused to fill, Drake cupped his eyes and looked into the only window in the small hut. The small dwelling was built by his grandfather after his wife of forty years had died. Stricken by grief, he had fled the house they had lived in before she was even in the ground, and built the little hut on the outskirts of town. It was just big enough for a single bed, a small wood stove, and a rocking chair. For some reason he seemed to think her death was his fault, going on about a shield, and how he had failed at something.
Though the window was rather dirty, Drake could see that his grandfather had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake him, he took his leave, back up the path to his fathers house. He lived in large town for that region, of about three hundred. Not many people dared to live so close to the Darigan Woods, but his village had prospered, and no harm has come of it. This day was like every other day of his 15 year long life. He got up, did the chores around his own house, then was sent over to help his grandfather. This started when he was about ten years old.
So far as he was concerned, nothing exciting ever happened, not to him anyway. Jenkins four houses down, who was a year under him, went through the crisis of having his house catch fire. As bad as that sounds, Jenkins was ecstatic when he found out what had burned, the only thing had been his older brothers room so that now he had to sleep in the barn with the goats until it was fixed. Finnegan on the north side of town was recruited for the kings army, and his older brother Gordon had gotten into the fur trade and left to find a teacher. Nothing exciting has happened in his family, his father was a farmer, his grandfather has been a farmer, and even his great grandfather had been a farmer. About the only weird thing was that they had all lived along side the Darigan Woods. As he came up the path to his house, he noticed that his father was out in the field with the ox plowing, and his mother had all the windows open in the house doing spring cleaning. He didn't want to be anywhere near the house when his mother got to his room, so he went out into the field to help with the stubborn ox.
“Drake, time to wake up honey, you still have chores to do.” What he woke up to every morning, except this morning was different, cause his mother had one more thing to say, “Your present is on the table, happy sixteenth!”
He had forgotten, with all the work he had to do, he was too busy to remember his birthday. Jumping out of bed, he quickly pulled on his cloths and dashed out into the kitchen. There on the table where two lumpy packages wrapped in soft leather. Before he could even take a step closer, his mother came up behind him and whispered into his ear; “Your going to eat breakfast first, right?”
Drake jumped and spun around to find himself in a tight embrace, grumbling he shrugged her off, embraced that he had jumped so bad. His mother was laughing lightly as she added, “You can open your presents after your done breakfast and your chores, and before you go to your grandfathers. Now hurry up and eat before it gets too cold.” With that she picked up a large basket and went to hang the cloths out side.
With a grumble, he set to work on the large bowl of porage that had been set in front of the presents. When he was finished his breakfast, he attacked his chores until they were done. He had to feed the animals and make sure they had water, he also had to exercise the two horses they had. With those out of the way, he stumbled into the kitchen to find his mother and father waiting for him.
“Well, you certainly finished your chores in record time. Wish you were like that every day.” His father sounded serious, but the laughter in his eyes gave him away. “Sixteen, thats when things start to change, think your ready?” His father asked this question every year.
And his answer always was, “Bring it on!” This always made them laugh, and it was no different this year.
“I think you'll open my present first, it should help if your ever in any trouble.” Turning at his waist, his father scooped up the smaller of the packages and handed it to him.
With shaking fingers he pulled at the string that was holding the leather together, and watched with bated breath as the leather fell away to reveal, a brilliantly carved flute with metal insignia along its length.
This was a little disappointing, he had expected a hunting knife, or maybe something else, but not a flute. Looking up at his fathers bright and proud face, he wasn't able to tell him what he really thought, so he pulled a smile and said; “Thanks dad, it's really cool.”
“I'll show you how to play it later, if your grandfather doesn't beat me to it.” He said this with a wink then turned again to pick up the second package, he swapped the flute with said package and winked again.
With obvious happiness in her voice, “I'm no proud of you, sixteen, and your going to get your-”
His father interrupted her, “Honey, let him open your gift.”
Unsure of what just happened, but not caring at the moment, he opened the slightly larger package. As the leather fell to the floor, a pair of thick gloves and a large heavy cloak was revealed. This was another surprise, once again he had been expecting something else. He was usually fairly good at guessing his presents each year, but this year seemed different.
Under his mothers watchful eye, he tried on the cloak and gloves, they turned out to be a perfect fit. The cloak had a hood to pull over his face, and really thick padding on the shoulders, while the gloves were tough and strong. He asked his mother what they were for, but she simply said; “You'll find out soon enough dear.” And he never got anything else out of her.
Tucking the flute into the pocket on the inside of the cloak, he was sent off to his grandfathers. As he came up to the small hut, he knew something was wrong. It was all together too quiet, he could hear the door creaking in the wind, and his grandfather never left the door open. Sprinting the rest of the way to the hut, he wrenched the door open the rest of the way, and tried to look through the darkness for Creacher.
“Grandfather!” He panted, as he noticed him lying on the bed unmoving. He rushed to is side, not knowing what to do, and grabbed his grandfathers hand. It was still warm, and as he did this, Creacher opened his eyes and looked blurredly at Drake.
In his scratchy voice, barely above a whisper, “Not to worry, Drake. I'm sure you'll make a splendid guardian,” He paused and took a shallow breath. “Promise me you'll take care, take care of....” Creacher squeezed Drake's hand, then gave a peaceful sigh, before his hand went limp.
“Grandfather!” Drake shook his shoulder, but it was no use. Drake backed away from the bed, tears sliding down his face as the reality hit him. He had never gotten along with his grandfather, but he didn't hate him. Sure he was cranky and grouchy, but he was still family, and Creacher had taught him so much. And now he was gone.
As Drake stood there trying to get the tears to stop, he heard a soft melodious sound coming from next to the bed where he had been kneeling. Looking he saw the hole in the floor that was connected to the hole outside the hut. And there next to that hole was what looked like a large bat, but with a long slender neck and sharp claws, and was a dark purple blue. The creature had its head hung, and was whistling a mournful and saddening song of utter sorrow. When it's song was finished it turned and looked Drake strait in the eye. A shudder went down Drakes spine as he realized what the creature was, a diminutive dragon. It was about the size of your average house cat, and that was with its wings folded up against its sides, with its wings unfurled it would be about the size of a small dog. They continued to stair at each other until the tiny dragon gave a dismissive snort and gingerly crawled down into the hole. Dazed and confused, Drake dashed outside and watched as the creature took flight and landed in a large grisly tree on the edge of the Darigan Woods. It seemed to be beckoning him to follow, though he had no desire to, he found himself entering the foreboding forest.
DragonOfThynHeart Community Member 
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