Got another one for you
It’s a well-established fact that humans normally do not get along with other cogniscent species.
The Dragons know this. They teach their hatchlings.
Beware the humans. They have made extinct almost every other creature larger than them. The ones that they don’t make useful. And becoming useful to a human means that they will make you and your kin docile and stupid.
Dragons are proud and independent creatures. This much is true about them. They tend to be vain, but not all are so. The thing about hoarding gold is strictly a fable that many a Dragon has died for.
Gold is a soft metal. Dragons much prefer harder things to nest in, but they do have a penchant for shiny things.
But, by and large, Dragons to not meddle in the affairs of humans. They’ve learned that humans frequently come with pointy things.
Yes, the one about dragon hide being especially tough is a complete fabrication. It’s just fireproof and dragon-claw resistant. That’s about it.
So it was beyond a shock for Quickwing the Puny to discover a maiden literally under his wing when he awoke from slumber. And that she’d evidently had the time to furnish the cavern and make it… prettier.
Quickwing the Puny carefully moved himself away from the tiny human. She did not seem to have any pointy objects.
“Uhm,” he rumbled. “Hello?”
She jumped and backed away, but only enough to make movement convenient to him. “Oh. Ah. Hi there. I’m Rosemary. Uh… Listen. I’m sorry about taking over in here, but… I needed to escape.”
“So you came here?” said Quickwing. “Don’t humans try to escape from dragons?”
Rosemary sighed. “I wanted to escape from humanity,” she began. She climbed up to a platform she’d made. So she could look him in the eye. “Being a maiden is not what I’m cut out for, but everyone’s always the same about it.”
“Really?”
“Really. All the poets go on and on about ‘golden hair and tresses fair’, or 'locks as dark as ebony’ or -and this is a rare one- 'her darling sunset locks’. That’s it! Blonde, brunette or redheads get all the glory. Nobody sings songs about hair the colour of mud, but I still have to wash it in the morning dew and do one thousand strokes. Do you know how long that takes?”
“Uh. I don’t–”
“Four hours! Washing your hair in the morning dew seems poetic and lovely, but all it gets you is grass seeds and bits in your hair! And then you have to pick them all out again before you can even think of doing the thousand strokes, and let me tell you that half the brushes they have available are absolute rubbish at getting the knots out. I mean look at this! Look at it!” She waved a thick plait in the air. It reached the middle of her thighs when it hung down her back. “They tell me it’s my crowning glory and I should be proud of it, but it weighs a ton and it gives me headaches in more ways than one and I’d much rather be rid of it, thank you very much! And don’t get me started on the 'skin white as snow’ nonsense. Do you know what you get for having skin as white as snow?”
“Er.”
“Rickets! You have to stay out of the sun your entire life and that wreaks hob with your bones. And just look at these feet!”
Quickwing did. “They -uh- seem like very serviceable feet…”
“They’re huge. They say a proper maiden’s foot should be dainty enough to fit in a man’s hand. Well excuse them! I like to walk. I like the sunshine. I adore climbing trees and I only ever washed my hair in the morning dew because they made me and my hair’s so thick that I need to make a special brush every month or I wind up with these horrible mats under the surface and I’m sick of people telling me who I should be and what I should be doing and the second I find a decent set of shears, I’m cutting my hair and you can’t stop me!”
That seemed to be all she had to say. She remained, panting and flushed, in her place on her platform. Seemingly waiting for judgement.
Quickwing moved so that he could inspect Rosemary. Which required closing one eye to gain proper focus. Her face was wet and her eyes spilled more water down her face. “You… Do you do that all the time?”
“…what?”
“The water on your face.”
She bought out a cloth to mop it up. “It’s called crying. It happens whenever I get over-emotional about things. Maidens are s'posed to weep. I cry.”
Quickwing did not understand the difference. “So you are escaping all of that?”
“Yes. And if you don’t want me here, you may as well eat me. Because I’m not going back to being a maiden.”
“What? Dragons don’t eat humans. We merely chew in self-defence.”
“And I noticed that you don’t have any gold.”
“That one’s a complete lie. Gold’s too soft to be useful. It sticks in our scales and makes any itches worse.”
“I settled here because nobody messes with a dragon,” said Rosemary. “At least… nobody with any sense.”
“All right. I understand,” said Quickwing. “But you must understand that I’m the smallest of the Dragons. They call me Quickwing the Puny.”
“You? You seem immense to me.”
“And you seem to be an extraordinary human to me.”
Together, they said, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me!”
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