The Dragon and Her Orc

Geldwen, an amethyst scaled dragon, snaked her body through the clouds, her wings tired from fighting the wind all afternoon. The morning was to her liking, as the air was still and felt no resistance, the sun glistened against her scales, making them shine like gems. That is, until the sun reached its peak. A hollowing tempest came from the east, followed by flashing light and rolling thunder. It slammed against her wings, straining her flapping ability, and drove her towards the approaching forest. She scanned the ground below, not sure if there was a safe place to land, or one big enough to fit her full adult-sized body without disturbing the condensed trees. Her violet eyes shifted above and saw dark clouds rolling her way like ocean waves. Their size was massive, like looking upon mountains from the valley floor. Her cave was close, but with that storm approaching, her confident dwindled. She wouldn’t arrive before the storm’s full-strength gusts forced her landing.

The wind continued its bombardment against her wings, coming down. I don’t know how much more I can take, she thought nervously. This storm will tear my wings from my shoulders. Then a clearing, small as it might be, caught Geldwen’s attention. She let the tempest guide her body towards her future rest, using her wings to slow her descent. It was not enough for her standard landing, as she hit the ground like catapulted rocks. Her talons gave way, her grip desperate for slowing her pace, and landed on her shoulder. Her wing missed becoming caught between her body and the soil by a hair’s breathe. The dragon laid there a few moments, gasping for air and not wishing to move from her rough landing. She heard a voice in her mind, one whose gravel voice set her heart dancing with joy.

Ruk-Dur, her life-mate, always said, “Never lay motionless in places you are not familiar. Breathe deep and recover quickly, for your departure may be more imminent than predicted.” He always knew what to say, his stoic features watching the horizon for a threat or a meal. His metallic silver and blue scales rippled, his muscles tensed and tightened subconsciously, arousing his mate. Geldwen lifted her head and surveyed her surrounding, all the while wondering if he knew her playful pouncing often happened during his serious staring. She had laid half a dozen eggs, which as double the amount of the average dragon her age had, and didn’t expect to stop anytime soon.

Nothing was in sight, save for the forest boundary around her, but grass, dirt, and overturned sod she crashed through. She sighed at her clumsy behavior, knowing full well Ruk-Dur would not let her hear the end of it. She rose and tested her front, right leg, which absorbed the brunt of the impact, while keeping her wings pinned against her back. The wind was not nearly as strong as in the sky, but Geldwen didn't take any unnecessary chances. Besides a slight ache and knowing there would be bruising later, the amethyst dragon limped into the trees and forced her way toward her cave.

The wind’s howl softened as she pushed through the tree line, and a small voice, soft and far away, touched her ears. It was distressed and young, like one of her hatchlings calling for her. Distracted by the cries, she wondered toward the calls of despair. She climbed over fallen tree trunks and under the more youthful canopies before she found the wailing source. It was little green child, hiding inside a large, hollowed out log. Its hair, or what the dragon thought hair looked like, clung to the youngling’s face and the log itself.

The dragon inhaled deeply and found from the scent that the little one was a female, as she smelled the hormones the child released through her fear. Her small fingers gripped wood so tight the knuckles turned almost white. Her ears had pointed tips, and Geldwen guessed a few of her teeth would be just as sharp. She was confused at what rested on the little thing’s body, as it hid her torso, legs, chest and shoulders but revealed her arms, hands and face. The child’s feet were even covered with something different than what lay on her body; the dragon didn’t understand the purpose of them especially. The child’s eyes were clamped closed, and only cried out when thunder rolled its powerful sound across the forest floor, along with shock-waves pulsing through everything near the storm’s center. The dragon realized that the being before her was an Orc, a species of humanoid affiliation located far north from her cave. That was what Ruk-Dur had told her.

Geldwen pattered her large feet closer and stopped far enough away to extend her neck, leaving her head just in front of the log’s entrance. She watched the orcling blink and gaze at the dragon before her. Instead of pulling back in fear, as dragon expected, remained where she crouched, frozen before the magnificent amethyst dragon.

In a rhythm familiar to her own children, Geldwen hummed a melody so light and warm she forgot the raging storm around her. It was a song to ease her hatchlings from whatever they fussed over, a sound that brought her bond-mate to her side and he would add his voice to hers. The orcling’s tense expression eased into confusion, then its eyes softened as the song embraced the little one’s ears. It swayed its little head with the changing notes of the dragon’s throat, and Geldwen heard the orcling’s heart slow its pace. The child loosened her grip and pulled herself out of its hiding place, but stepped forward cautiously.

The orcling closed the distance until they were a hair’s breath away. The little thing shivered from the chilling winds, and Geldwen puffed warm smoke from her belly into the air and it engulfed her presence. Its tiny coughs amused the dragon, as she knew not to blast the dark clouds like she did for her own children, and the orcling was lightly covered in soot. The dragon unfolded her wing and covered the little one, as she caught her breath. The child looked around fearfully, but the dragon continued her rhythmed hums and the little girl accepted the action. Though the clouds raced towards the sun, its light shone through the thin membranes and onto the little thing before the mother dragon. The trees moved alongside the wind’s current and danced the light inside her wing’s protective barrier, and wonder filled the child’s face. Opened mouthed and wide-eyed, it circled the scenery around it and the colors glancing in and out of focus like flickering violet stars.

Finally, Geldwen ended her song and the orcling slowed her spin as she faced the dragon again, her eyes unafraid. The child reached out her hand and slowly walked forward. The dragon eyed her curiously and extended her massive head so their flesh touched for the first time. The orcling’s hand felt much softer than her own hatchlings, though the amethyst dragon remembered that every humanoid being has weaker skin than herself. “Draco,” the orcling said over the muffled wind.

Geldwen blinked twice, trying not to puff smoke again, as the softness of her voice reflected the frailness of her flesh. The dragon nodded her head, recognizing the word of her species. When she said the word in her own language, it sounded rough and deep within the throat, as most Draconic words were. The word Draco spoken in any other tongue, however, especially like the child’s, it sounded gentle, tame, things a dragon should never be. The child slowly moved its hand across Geldwen’s snout, and her fingers gliding against scales tickled the dragon. The orcling stopped with her hand on the dragon’s cheek, her eyes gazing into the Draco’s right eye. Their curiosity of each other seemed to simmer down, as the child seemed to forgo her fear and the dragon recognized the girl as more cognizant than a primal animal.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Geldwen, causing her head to dip suddenly and the child jerked back. She realized that where she laid was the place she would rest, she moved her body as best she could to curl around, while keeping a protective wing over the orcling. The child did not resist, nor did the dragon feel she understood what was happening, but her care was depleting as quickly as her alert mind. Her eyes closed by their own initiative and the powerful gusts of wind graced her ears, influencing flying dreams with Ruk-Dur and their growing children.

When Geldwen awoke, she nearly jumped up disoriented. She was not in her cave, and no one she loved was around her. Then she remembered yesterday’s flight, then the storm, and realized that its forceful winds blew the maelstrom aside, as no rain had fallen throughout the night. The sun shone brightly, and the amethyst dragon closed her eyes before bathed in its glorious radiance. After a few moments to herself, she gazed at her surroundings. The green-leaf trees were still, and the wildlife around them whispered from the brush surrounding her. No wind was felt or heard, and she puffed nostril smoke with gratefulness. A half thought touched her conscious about the orcling and she lifted her wing, seeing if she was still beneath it.

The child laid sound asleep, her small body nearly touching the dragon’s side. That moment was the first time Geldwen truly saw the orcling as one of her hatchings, not in the sense of claiming her as her own, but as something more than alien. A being who had more to offer than the primal, animal-like species she demanded respect from, someone who had a family and a life that could affect the world around it. She, ever so gently, nudged the girl’s arm until she woke up. When she did, the orcling responded almost parallel as the dragon, though she scurried a short distance away from Geldwen. She did not look as though she would settle down, so the dragon snaked her head slowly, steadily towards the small thing. This time, the dragon closed her eyes and waited for her to make the first move.

She felt the orcling’s tiny hand against her snout’s tip and she hummed with joy. When she opened her eyes again, the girl held a smile and her face shone like the sun. Then it faded quickly and fear replaced her expression. She dropped her hand and backed away again, but only to look into the dragon’s eyes. “Tribus,” she said sheepishly, her miniature voice kissed the mother dragon’s ears, though she could not understand her language.

“Tribus,” she said again, with conviction this time. “Casa.”

“I do not know what you say,” Geldwen rumbled as softly as she could. Her voice, as Ruk-Dur remarked many times, could be heard from their cave, across the mountains and into the valleys. She did not wish to scare the child more than she already had from towering over her all that time.

“Draco, tribus, casa,” the orcling said, pointing at the dragon, then back toward the place Geldwen few against the earth.

“Is that where your home is?” she asked, keeping the same tone as before. When the child repeated the gesture again, she guessed her words were correct. She nodded her head and dipped her wing against the ground. Then she tossed her head toward her back.

“Equitare?” the little girl asked, confused. When the dragon repeated her own gesture, the orcling carefully stepped forward until she stood before the wing. Geldwen nodded and the child placed her foot carefully on the membranes as she climbed onto her back. She found a spot between the dragon’s shoulder blades, just before the nape of her neck, and plopped herself down carefully.

Geldwen, satisfied with the orcling’s bravery, arose and began testing the shoulder she landed on. Feeling that she suffered no real damage, the dragon stepped toward the child’s first direction. She refused to fly because she was not certain the little girl would remain riding her and she would fall to an untimely death. The fact that a child on her back wasn’t trying to nip at her was a huge relief, as any of her hatchlings would and she would throw them around or get Ruk-Dur’s assistance. He would only growl at them and they would immediately stop, though it did not last long before they were at it again.

The clearing was further away than she expected, but she knew it was the right one as she saw her footprints and the overturned earth her body made from her controlled fall. She padded her way past it and to the other side of the treeline. She continued forward until the orcling shouted, “Orientem!”

The dragon stopped and looked at the child blankly, and the little girl pointed toward the sunrise. Geldwen puffed smoke from her nostrils and she turned east, pushing past the forest around her. The sun rose ever higher into the sky and the orcling had not said anything else until midday. The smell of firewood and cooking meat engulfed the dragon’s smell and she quickened her pace, nearly forgetting the child she held on her back. Her tiny hands gripped what they could, and Geldwen didn’t feel her weight fall away. The comparisons of the orcling girl to her own hatchlings surprised her. Granted, she had never met a child who was not a dragon, but the similarities between them put her beside herself. How are the hatchlings? she wondered. Ruk-Dur would do well taking care of them in my absence. I hope there is nothing amiss—

The dragon finally burst through the tree line, before finishing her thought, and came face-to-face with a full-size orc male. Both creatures froze, acknowledging the other’s presence and marveled. The male was significantly larger than the orcling, by threefold, and Geldwen the slightest sense of fear built up in her chest. He looked as though he could take a bear without struggle, she thought. His coverings were distinctly similar to the child and a large metallic weapon hung at his waist. His bottom two teeth protruded from his lower lip and looked as sharp as his pointed ears. His pale green flesh hugged his body tightly, as his muscles bulged and tensed, ready to pounce any moment. “Garrus!” the orcling cried suddenly and slid from the dragon’s shoulders.

“Livia?” the orc exclaimed, pulling the little girl into his arms and took her away from the amethyst dragon. They spoke their language furiously between each other and Geldwen padded toward their right flank and laid down with her arms crossed and her tail wrapped around her body’s left side, watching them curiously. The adult orc looked toward the dragon; his eyes suspicious and unconvinced by what the child told him. He sat her down and held a hand against his weapon, but remained where he was. Her eyes trained on him, Geldwen heard footsteps approaching, more than she could count. She turned her head slightly and noticed more than two dozen orcs approached her, both male and female alike, all brandishing weapons similar to who the little one called “Garrus”. They surrounded her and each orc glanced at the male standing beside the orcling, waiting for something.

The lead orc stepped away from the orcling and drew his own weapon. He did not have time to raise it, as a deafening roar was unleashed, halting him in his tracks. Geldwen did not make the sound, but she knew who did and she knew that these beings should be afraid. The beating of massive wings pounded the air, and a combination of silver and blue light reflected onto them. Ruk-Dur landed behind orc-band with a thud and growled certain death towards them. Geldwen also heard a faint crackling behind the growl, the sounds of warming dragon-fire, and she leapt to her feet. “Don’t burn them!” she said.

“They intend to kill you,” he retorted, “They deserve to die.”

“I was bringing back their lost child.”

“They wished death upon my deepest treasure,” Ruk-Dur growled. “That cannot go unpunished.” He let his building fire up to his throat. Its light revealed itself to her and the orcs, its color changing from orange, to blue, and Geldwen knew white would unleash her bond-mate’s wrath.

“You will not kill them,” she stated firmly, and walked between the orcs and her bond-mate. They stared each other down, and the air shimmered around the dragons. Their stubborn resilience released a heat that would only calm when one conceded and chose humility. Out the corner of Geldwen’s eye, the orcs backed away from them and edged toward the tree-line. She caught a glimpse of the orcling and the blatant fear embedded in her expression brought her protective, mother dragon to the forefront of her defiance.

The physical difference between the bond-mates was prevalent, as his towering head stared down at her and she craned her neck up at him. Dragons, when finding bond-mates, normally wanted one who was around their age, or similar sizes, as a way of growing together as parents and physically growing together. Despite their deep love, their anger flared as a dragon’s independence resisted the other's decision and that moment was no different. Their century age difference caused conflicts but balanced their relationship.

Ruk-Dur’s eyes raged, but he swallowed his flames and grimaced. While her expression remained fierce, guilt stabbed at her heart. Withholding dragon fire was like swallowing burning coals or eating magma, while surviving the experience. He did not turn away, but gazed past Geldwen at the orc band behind her. She tried to catch his attention, even stepped gingerly toward him and nuzzled his chest, just as he liked. He did not acknowledge the gesture. His posture was as still as mountains, and she could not read his expression.

He closed his eyes and started changing his appearance. His size shrank and his spikes, horns, tail, and wings retracted into his body. His talons shifted and the bottom one rotated into a hands and feet similar to the orcs. His scales seemingly disappeared and were replaced with flesh, a pale green color. Before she knew it her bond-mate turned into an orc.

She tried her hardest to not recoil at the transformation. She knew that all dragons had this ability, but had never seen the ability enacted before. The present orc Ruk-Dur stared up at the amethyst dragon, then walked toward the orc band. She did not follow him. She didn’t know what he planned to do. The orcs stared uncertainly at him, not knowing what to do like Geldwen. He stopped before them and started speaking their language fluently. Half the orcs dropped their weapons and the rest didn’t move a muscle.

The lead male, despite his own shock, stepped forward to meet the dragon-turned-orc. There was silence between them, then Ruk-Dur spoke the orc’s native language again. He spoke too quickly for his bond-mate hear his words, but the lead orc’s reaction was enough to know he understood him perfectly. The orc male paused every time the dragon spoke before he responded, which Geldwen noticed her bond-mate voice grew irritated as the discourse continued. Finally, Ruk-Dur exclaimed something that brought the orcs to their knees. The amethyst dragon reared back impulsively, knowing if he had said the words in Draconic, the nearby mountainsides would give way and an avalanche would crumble into the valley below.

Ruk-Dur stepped back from the orc band and turned toward his bond-mate. She gazed into his pale, blue eyes, the only remanence of the dragon he was, as they kept their slit irises. He fell onto all fours and grew rapidly back to his massive size and stared down at her. Uncertainty filled the smaller dragon’s heart, but she held his eyes stubbornly. “What did you say to them,” she growled hollowly.

“The truth,” The silver and blue dragon replied, his tone kinder than before. “That we are decedents of their gods and they are unwise to threaten their protectors.”

“Are we their protectors?” Geldwen was unconvinced. “Or are you making them your playthings?”

Her bond-mate sighed, and hot steam engulfed the scales. She shivered, welcoming the heat and surprised to receive it. “You have already claimed them as playthings when you protected and returned the orcling to her tribe, my jewel.”

“I didn’t intend for that.”

“And yet I made it so.” He padded past her, but affectionately rubbed his side against hers. “We are now responsible for far more than our six hatchlings. I hope you’re ready for the responsibility of worshipers. They will rely on our assistance more than their own survival skills before long.”

He surged forward and leapt into the air, his powerful wings propelling his skyward ascension. Geldwen hesitated, and looked back toward the orcling. All the orcs had risen by that time, and she moved forward and stood beside the lead male, holding his hand. The dragon caught her eye and both orcs bowed deeply before her. When they raised their heads, she returned the gesture and said, “I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”

They looked on her in awe, not knowing her words. She turned without another word and followed her bond-mate home.

Our cave looks as though a large creature ripped through the center of the mountain, Geldwen thought as she glided stiffly toward home. She had the description imprinted in her mind since she joined Ruk-Dur when she agreed to be his bond-mate. The entrance rupture was once an active volcano, as her bond-mate had told her, and its molten rock flowed freely until it emptied itself dry. He said that there was a time where the valley below was a great lava lake, the rock boundary surrounding them kept its expanse controlled. Then the magma geyser stopped, and it slowly hardened and allowed nature its beautiful effect. The trees grew stronger and taller, the wildlife blossomed quickly, and bought with it a dragon storm, or a contest of who gained the territory as their own. The silver and blue dragon said he was victorious, but never how he won. She pressed him several times, but his face turned stony when she brought it up and he remained silent until she conceded the topic.

She had another hard landing, but she did not fall against the ground. Her talons gripped the rock underneath her for stability, cracking the mountain and causing her children to rush to her. She padded enough away from the cliff edge and embraced her six growing hatchlings as they pounced on her. She allowed herself to roll onto her side and they affectionately nuzzled and nipped at their beloved mother and she hummed gratefully. They showed her that almost all of them could breathe a small stream of fire, save for her littlest one, who had just learned how to flap his wings and glide from one rock to another. She looked for help as they continued their swarm and Ruk-Dur picked up two hatchlings with his talons and carried them to their resting corner of the cave. They cried in protest, but it was enough to get the other hatchlings’ attention off Geldwen.

She rose and followed her family, as she was still recovering from yesterday’s venture. Her feet fell heavy on the mountain floor, her talons scrapping against the rocks and sent echoes down the cave walls. When she reached the resting corner, she found Ruk-Dur wrestling all six hatchlings. They tried climbing on his thick legs, some even tried slamming their bodies against his lower neck, but he would not budge. She chuckled watching the exchange and padded into the fray. She intercepted two flying hatchlings and pinned them down quickly, then gripped another one, her smallest, in her arm as he tried squirming away. The assistance she gave was enough for her bond-mate to pin the remaining three and they growled stubbornly. After a short while, they calmed down and were allowed up by their parents. They quickly fell on tip of each other and fell fast asleep, their energy spent. Ruk-Dur leaned against the mountain wall and Geldwen joined him, though she leaned against his side.

“How did you find me?” Geldwen asked. She felt an amused snort against the back of her head, as his chuckled deep in his throat.

“You are not as small as you main believe, my jewel,” he replied, then paused. She waited patiently before he finished his reason. “Your scales shined beautifully in the sunlight, and the light nearly blinded my vision after I went searching for you in the morning. The orc band’s scent also helped, as you found, it is unique and recognizable if you know the association.”

She sighed and rested her head shifted her head against his foreleg. “I saw your forced landing, too,” he added. “Could have been better, more controlled.”

She nipped his neck playfully and he chuckled again, then nuzzled his head against her affectionately, before he laid his head down for sleep. They were quiet for a while and another thought occurred to her, one more pressing they anything else she could think of.

“How did you do that?” She asked softly, just as he tried sleeping.

“Do what?” His voice was equally soft and he opened an eye, awakened from his slumber.

“Change into an orc,” she said. “I thought that wasn’t possible anymore, that only the first dragons could walk among mortals unnoticed.”

“It was always within our power, my treasure beyond treasures. I didn’t know it would be important to teach you as our species has not interacted with orcs or any other two-legged creatures long before your birth. I did not know any still lived until today.”

“Then will you teach me?”

“Not tonight, no.” He closed his eye again.

“Tomorrow?”

“If that is your wish, my gem.”

“It is, my stormbringer.”

“Then let it be so.” His faint voice was only heard because of Geldwen’s head resting on his neck. He succumbed to slumber after that, and she listened to his slow, rhythmic breathing. She laid there thoughtfully, seeing what the world was bigger than she imagined. When she fell asleep, however, she had a last thought. How much of our world do I not understand, if there is truly life outside of dragonkind?