Taffan was short, even for an elf. Standing barely four feet tall had made him the shortest in his age-range all through his life by a full two inches: a significant sum of height for a creature as small as an elf. His light feathery black hair had been trimmed, by himself, in a very unfashionable and matter-of-fact method in a straight line over his ears and eyes strictly for function. His sleek little stature looked as though it had never and could not ever support anything as heavy as a muscle. He had great circular eyes that were as dark as mahogany wood and that made him look all the meeker for their babyish appearance. But they had warm curling lines on the outside which made them appear to twinkle when he smiled and could put even the hardest heart at ease.
He had always dreamed of being the biggest or the fastest or the strongest or the bravest, but after many years of being none of these he had humbly subscribed himself to the stinging reality that he was quite insignificant in every way, and would be required to live out his days lacking the glory or fame he had so long desired. As such, he retired to more pragmatic pursuits such as reading and studying and had been even further separated from the popular whole of the community who largely regarded him as strange and irrelevant. He reflected on this truth as he let his tiny toes dangle loosely in the warm rippling waters of the pond beyond the meadow behind his cottage.
He knew he was supposed to be elsewhere. It was the time of the monthly village council meeting and all elves within the community were expected to attend. Taffan knew, however, that his opinion would be ignored if he were to be foolish enough to offer it and that his absence would likely be overlooked, as it usually was. One of the great advantages of being a lesser member of the community was the knowledge that he would scarcely be missed from such communal activities and that the governing of the community was better left in the wise hands of the King and his politicians.
Instead, he decided to make the best of such a beautiful summer afternoon by daydreaming lazily on his back in the sun-warmed short-grass of the meadow, with the water spiders tickling his feet as they dipped in and out of the pond water. As he looked skyward, the trees which encircled the little meadow seemed to tower gloriously above him. They created a hole in the foliage towards the sunlit heavens in an otherwise seemingly impenetrable forest wall to his semi-inverted point of view in this horizontal position. He felt cozy and protected in his little circle and felt that no danger or evil could ever reach him in this happy fortress.
That is what made the events that ensued all the more shocking.
And that is where his journey took a definitive turn for the worse. In all of his fumblings he had gotten quite turned about and in what he thought to be the direction back to the path, he headed in what was exactly the opposite direction and deep into the forest. He would not see his village again for much longer than even his worst fears had imagined.
Having the map was one thing, but following it to its end was quite another. What all of the other elves had overlooked in the excitement of its discovery was the final location of the wizard’s prophecy. It was very obviously located within the desolate region of the mountain forests beyond the great water. Not even a bird could safely navigate such a perilous journey, much less a tiny band of helpless elves. Taffan began feeling that overwhelming fear of futility come over him again, when suddenly he had an idea. It was an idea that was as fearful as it was obvious. Clearly, the map had been written by, and would require the assistance of, a Dragon!
“Trust me, Elf. You don’t want to trouble yourself with a dragon.”
“What is your name, Dragon?”, asked Taffan.
“What?!”, snorted the dragon, quite in disbelief. No one had ever bothered to ask him his name. “What care you for my name, elf?! You need only worry about the terrific suffering thou shalt undergo at the hands of my hungry vengeance.”
“What vengeance canst thou have for me, Dragon?”, asked Taffan quite innocently. “Why, I have never met you in this life or any other I can remember. For what crime against you could an insignificant elf such as myself possibly be worthy of your vengeance? The whole idea seems perfectly ridiculous to me, I’m sure.” Taffan checked his boldness and decided to hold his tongue for the moment. Although he was still full of wonderment at the Dragon’s anger towards him, he remembered that stories of Dragons rarely lead to any prosperity for the individual encountering them and decided to give the Dragon an opportunity to respond without enduring any further of Taffan’s inquisitive verbal assault. To the surprise of Dragon and Elf alike, there was a long silent pause. The once confident and powerful Dragon had been fully disarmed by the pure innocence of this tiny elf that was hardly wise enough to know his place. In the long silence, Taffan suspected that his end had come and that the Dragon would surely gobble him down presently. But instead, in what sounded like a much friendlier voice to Taffan, a very different response presented itself.
“Aminon”, puffed the Dragon. Again, Taffan was surprised enough to respond directly.
“What does Aminon mean?”
“My name”, the Dragon quickly and uneasily quipped. “You asked me my name. My name is Aminon. It has been ages since I have heard it spoken by myself or anyone else. To be honest, I had almost forgotten it.”
“I assure you Drag..Aminon. I will not soon forget it.” Of course, Taffan meant he would not forget due to his current terror, but whether or not the Dragon knew that was unimportant. He was merely pleased to let himself believe that the little elf would not forget because he chose not to rather than from dread fear.
“You will live through this night, elf, and if you’re lucky...”
“Taffan”, interrupted Taffan, again to the surprise of both Dragon and Elf alike.
“What?”, asked the Dragon.
“My name is Taffan, not ‘elf’”. The Dragon chuckled and realized his own error. He began again.
“You will live through this night, Taffan, and perhaps through tomorrow if you keep me company by my fire for a time and do not try to kill me while I sleep.”
“I have had no such desire or intention to try and kill you, Aminon, as I shall soon tell you, and I am beginning to suspect that you have no great desire to kill me. I will be your companion by your fireside tonight, and tell you of my journey thus far, if you do not try to kill me while I sleep.”
“You have my word, Taffan”, promised the Dragon and Taffan believed him.
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