Dragons Don't Drink Tea

CHAPTER 1.

There weren't always dragons in the valley, but there has always been an ugly goat.

You see, here in Gnome Valley two things have always been certain: Gnomes lived here with our pointy little hats and suspenders, and we were home to the kingdom's one and only "Ugly Goat Contest!"

Each year all the races of the Fae and even some of those short-lived humans would bring their ugliest goats here in the summer for a fortnight of partying and festivities. Food vendors from every corner of the kingdom would bring their wares, acrobats, fire eaters, jugglers and every other kind of entertainer you could think of would perform each day and every night everyone would gather in and around "The Ugly Goat Bar and Inn" to drink themselves stupid.

Except for me though.

My father owned the Ugly Goat Bar and Inn, so instead of partaking in the festivities, and getting blotto like everyone else, I had to spend each night serving drinks to the raucous crowds, and my days out in the woods trying to catch the elusive ugliest, and meanest goat ever seen.

For years everyone in had heard the rumors of this prize who was reported to live in the steep mountain cliffs above Gnome Valley. Fae and human alike had scoured the hills trying to catch him, and some had even claimed to have come close only to have their butts handed to them.

So each morning a bunch of still drunk men and boys would raise themselves from their beds, stamp into their boots, chug down a few cups of java and head for the mountains, just to come back down and start drinking again. Some never stopped drinking, which had led to more than a fair share of accidents happening, which kept the town doc pretty busy during this week also.

This Gnome girl though, well I spend my days not in the rugged mountain cliffs risking breaking my limbs or neck, but in the clearings to the far end of the valley where no one lived, because I have a theory that the goat lives there during the summer, and I am determined to win this year's prize! Then everyone will associate the name Sparrow with being the one that caught the old, ugly goat, and maybe stop pinching my bottom when I'm serving drinks at night. My bum hurt each morning and I'd had just about enough of that kind of behavior from these drunken sots.

This particular morning, I woke up feeling nearly as hungover as the jerks I served last night, without having had the pleasure of doing any drinking myself. OK, that's a bit of a lie. I did get a sip here or there, or was enticed with outrageous tips to drink with a group of three during the night. I mean, a girls got to make a living, and I usually made enough from the festivities to hold me pretty tidy during the rest of the year. One thing that can be said of drunken, bottom-tweaking men of every species ... They usually tipped really well! Was that a progressive attitude, or a good example to set for other young girls in the village? No, but it was practical. Besides more than a few bottom tweakers had woken up with a headache that was less from drinking, and more from my cudgel to the upside of their stupid heads.

I could hear the men folk downstairs stomping around, putting on their boots, banging around cups haphazardly trying to fill them with java or the hair of the dog that bit them, as I quietly slipped out the window of my room and descended the ladder toward the ground below.

"Need help there?" Came a voice from below me.

I was so startled, my foot missed a rung, and I nearly fell off the ladder, but strong hands caught me, one on each side of my waist lowering me gently to the ground.

"Good thing I was here to catch you," the male voice that I didn't recognize said to me.

"You wouldn't need to catch me in the first place if you weren't standing beneath a ladder like a creeper trying to a look up a girls skirt!" I said fairly exasperated.

"Well, for one thing, you're wearing pants, and I wasn't waiting, but merely passing by," the stranger said.

Turning around I got my first good look at the ladder creeper. He was about a hand taller than me and had the brightest shock of read hair on his head, really deep green eyes, the beginnings of a red beard ... And was a Dwarf!

Dwarves were the worst customers when it came to drinking from a waitress point of view, but my father would say the best customers because they drank nearly all night long, never seeming to get as blotto as the other races, but ready to fight at the drop of a pin. Then again, from what I understood about them, they were that way drunk or sober. The best thing that could be said about them is that they never pinched my bottom. Humans were the worst bottom pinchers.

My father usually spent most of the year after the festival rebuilding furniture that the Dwarves had ruined with their fighting. Heck, a good ten percent of our profits went to replacing all the mugs and glasses they broke!

"I don't recognize your face from the drinking and fighting in the bar this week," I said gruffly as I started to push past him using my best waitress moves.

He smoothly slid out of the way letting me past, but quickly and easily matched my stride as I headed toward the stables.

"That's because I haven't been in the bar all week," he said. "I've been stuck at the camp taking care of the goats we brought with us. It's what I had to agree to for my father to agree on letting me come to this years festival.

I get to go see the sights of the festival all day, but each night I have to keep watch over the goats, especially my father's prize ugly goat, the one that's going to win this year's contest."

"Harumph," I offered noncommittally.

"Did you just 'harumph' me," he asked.

I slyly answered, "Did I?"

"I think most assuredly that you did," he stated.

Smirkedly I replied, "Well, if a boy thinks he has been harumphed, then he should probably take that as a sign that he has most assuredly been harumphed."

"Well I have never been harumphed in such a charming way before, so it's hard to be sure if actual harumphing has taken place," he quipped.

I did have to admit that as far as Dwarves went, this one was pretty cute with his red hair, his wide, sturdy stance, and his short red bead, which to be sure, was a sign that he was fairly young for a Dwarf, and he had more than half a brain on him, which was a nice respite from last nights customers.

"So miss harumph, where are we headed to on this lovely morning in Gnome Valley. I have all day to see the sights, and it seems to me a local girl would be just the person to show me around to see the sights, especially one that is pleasant on the eyes to be seen with," he asked.

My ire came quickly to my mouth, "Oh you were doing so good there for a bit, little boy, but then you had to go and make it weird... Er, weirder, by trying to use a line on a waitress that has heard every line ever uttered."

I expected chagrin to show on his face as he realized he had lost any chance of accompanying me, but instead he smiled the biggest smile I think I had ever seen, and it was a right pleasant smile too. Damn him.

I had to figure some way of getting rid of him, not because he was unpleasant, but because I had business to attend to in searching the low land flats at the end of the valley for my ugly goat.

Yes, MY ugly goat. No one else was going to catch that old Billy but me!

We arrived at the stables and I headed to my pony, Butters. He was an older hand-me-down pony that had seen a few years, and he tended to nip strangers if they got too close, but I didn't care, he was mine now and the two of us had spent many hours together looking for this particular goat.

"Well, thank you for scaring me nearly to death, and the nearly pleasant conversation, but I have to get Butters ready for our ride," I dismissed him.

"What kind of Dwarf would I be if I didn't help you get your tack ready," he said as his eyes scanned the stable tack room and settled on a saddle which he handily picked up. "I assume this one with the sparrow tooled into the leather is your?"

Without waiting for an answer he strode quickly over to Butters and slung the saddle over his withers, quickly and efficiently cinching it in place, even knowing to give Butters a firm, but gentle knee in the ribs to let out his air so the saddle was correctly cinched in place and wouldn't slip off to the side while I was riding.

The stupidest part was that Butters let him without even a hint at a nip to this stranger.

Butters and I were sure to have words on the trail today.

Carrying over the halter and bit, I gently put it on Butters, but with a mean look in my eye for his betrayal!

While I was putting on the halter, this Dwarven stranger had the audacity to skim through my saddle bags. "Harumph, I see some goat feed in these bags, and a lasso on the pommel, he observed. "You wouldn't by chance be going out looking for the old ugly goat that has been rumored to live in these hills for years, now would you?"

"First of all, these are mountains," I replied, "and secondly, I am pretty sure you just 'harumphed' me."

He laughed a big, boisterous laugh. One of those friendly laughs that came easily to someone who laughs a lot. The kind of laugh that made everyone want to be friends with the person who can laugh like that. Oh man, I was really beginning to hate this Dwarf.

"Missy, these are merely hills," he scoffed. "Real mountains are where we Dwarves live. And if a girl feels she has been harumphed, then she most assuredly has been harumphed!"

Oh, the nerve. Using my own words against me.

I quickly slung myself up atop Butters. "Oh, and the name is Sparrow, not missy," I said as I heeled Butters on both sides and took off at a gallop out of the stables leaving the cute, red haired Dwarf in my dust.

The problem was that Butters could only run so far before she began wheezing, which made the whole running off into the distance leaving him behind not nearly as dramatic as it had been in my head, but hopefully he got the hint.

It did not take long for me to realize that he had not, in fact, taken the hint. Apparently Dwarves who lived in cities dug into the side of mountains that extended for miles and miles underground weren't very good at sneaking through the woods with their big, clunky feet snapping every single twig and branch they came across. It was the kind of thing that Gnomes and Elves joked about all the time, and had been the cause of thousands of fights in my father's bar over the years.

It took well over an couple of candle notches for me to get clear out to the end of the valley where I suspected the old Billy was hiding out and eating fresh green grass during the summer months. I had seen sign for a while that goats had been through headed this way, but there was a lot of ground to cover, and the old Billy was the cagiest goat that had ever lived. He's had to be to keep all the hunters from catching him.

I didn't think today was going to be the day that I would find him, not with clod foot stalking me, thinking he was being quiet. Every squirrel and deer looked our direction and gave me a look like there was a ten piece brass and drum band following me. I quickly grew tired of shrugging my shoulders in their directions as if in apology for disturbing their morning peace.

Finally I couldn't take it any longer, so I turned Butters around with the intent that if Butters had been a proper warhorse instead of an ageing pony I'd run that boy down and be done with it once and for all. Instead Butters and I walked slowly up to him until he nearly walked right into Butters nose.

He looked up sheepishly with those big blue eyes, "Oh... Heyyyyyy there. What a coincidink. You here. Me here. What a small forest this is..."

"Oh just leave it Dwarf boy, I could hear you the whole time. You're not exactly an Elf in the woods, more like a troll with two boulders strapped to it's feet," I began chastising him.

He was just looking up at me on top of Butters with his mouth hanging open. It felt good being taller than someone for a change.

"Ummmm... Uhhhh... Holy... Dungbeetles... Dragon?" He stammered and stuttered.

"Yes, nearly as clod footed as a dragon stomping through a brush berry patch," I considered thoughtfully.

"No. DRAGON!" He nearly screamed and then pulled me off of Butters into the tall grass just as Butters was grabbed from above.

With him on top of me covering me with his own body, I watched as my beloved Butters flew away in the claws of a humongous dragon.