Post by Elloria on Jan 15, 2011 1:15:07 GMT -5
Niko shivered. It was a remarkably chilled night in Ilirea and he wasn’t particularly pleased with having to stand out in the open like this. Not only that, it was late and he hadn’t been sleeping particularly well of late. As much as he loved his job and cherished working with dragons, right now he loved and cherished sleep even more. He decided that if Melatoth didn’t arrive soon, he would simply leave it to his master to deal with settling in the new eggs. A moment later, he changed his mind. He suddenly felt guilty for his previous thoughts. Not many were fortunate enough to be able to work in such proximity with the dragons and their eggs while not holding the status of Rider. It was a unique opportunity and he was blessed to have it available to him.
He yawned. But blast it all, it was late and cold! He should’ve worn a cloak was his idle thought as he leaned against a pillar outside the Sacred Font’s entrance. He didn’t engage the guards in conversation, as he usually did. He wasn’t feeling particularly sociable. He gave a large yawn, almost missing the familiar beat of wings. A few moments later, the large silvery form of Salien was hovering in the courtyard, his powerful wings kicking up dust with every beat. Squinting his eyes, Niko rushed out and swiftly relieved the dragon of its burden - a small cloth satchel. As soon as he had secured the satchel, he was back out from underneath Salien so the dragon could land. Once the proud dragon had settled, Niko looked up to the equally proud Rider astride him. “I trust your journey went well, Melatoth? Salien?”
Melatoth leaned forward and patted Salien’s neck. “Uneventful, as usual. Though Salien grumbled the whole way back. I think he likes the late hours less than you, Niko.” The older elf climbed out of his saddle and made his way down Salien’s leg. He jumped the last few feet, landing nimbly before Niko. Do I look like a creature of the night? I am not and never have been nocturnal. It’s too cold after the sun sets, Salien remarked snarkily. Melatoth simply laughed. He had once confided to Niko that he loved the night. It was one of the more minor things the Rider and Dragon were sometimes at odds about. It briefly stirred that deeply buried longing in Niko to share in that incredible bond. But it died as quickly as it had welled up. The odds were against him now, after all. It was rare for an elf to find a dragon by this age, after all. The best chance was in childhood when they first walked through the Font.
But no matter. At least he could remain close to them like this. He smiled. “I’m glad all went well. If you would like to retire, I can take over from here. Your flight was long and, though uneventful, I’m sure you would like to rest.” At least THIS elf has some sense in him, Salien stated.
Melatoth did not return the jibe. “Naught keeps you here, Salien. If you’d like to head to our roost, I’ll join you once this is done. It’s not every day we receive new eggs.” Salien snorted, but didn’t argue. With a powerful sweep of his wings, he was airborne and winging towards rest. With a gesture to Niko, Melatoth entered the Font. Niko was not far behind. It was still and silent inside, a somewhat unsettling sensation for Niko as always. He was used to the Font bustling with elves tending to the eggs, cleaning, and generally keeping the whole cavern in good condition. In the wee hours of the night, however, there were only guards patrolling in silent squads. It was eerie. “So how many this time, Melatoth?” Niko asked, seeking some distraction. He still wasn’t able to tell how many based on weight, though he could ascertain there was more than one in the satchel.
“Quite fortunate this year. You hold three new eggs. Quite fortunate indeed.” They descended the winding staircase, heading for the deepest vault of the Font. As a rule, new eggs were always placed at the ‘bottom’ of the pile, as it were. The hope was that they would get the older eggs out first, rather than leaving them to gather dust in some ‘forgotten’ corner of the Font. “Do you have enough nests made up?”
Niko shook his head slightly, focusing back on his master. He had been immediately distracted by the countless eggs they’d begun to pass upon entering the vault. His hands had passed over every one of them at some point in his years working here. And yet none had ever hatched for him. It was a depressing thought, which he quickly pushed from his mind. “There are two nests prepared, as always, but it will be no trouble to prepare a third.” His voice mingled with their echoed footsteps as the two elves strode up the hall. “Good, good,” Melatoth replied good-naturedly. No more was said for a time until they drew abreast with the empty nests. Melatoth knelt between the two and Niko stood beside him. He opened the bag and set it down so that Melatoth could remove each egg and place it in its nest. As his master did this, Niko moved to the right and also knelt. He began to move the sand around, using a combination of his hands and magic to create a depression with shored-up walls for the egg to rest in comfortably. As he’d said, it wasn’t difficult and he was soon finished.
As he made a few final pats to it, he heard sand shifting and turned to find Melatoth holding out an egg to him. He didn’t raise an eyebrow in curiosity - he usually refrained from handling eggs bare-handed when they first arrived - and simply took the egg, placing it in the nest. His hands lingered upon its smooth surface, suddenly reluctant to depart from it. He did, though. As Melatoth gently reminded him, it was time to get going. He neatly folded the cloth sack the eggs had been carried in, tucked it into a pocket of his scholar’s cloak, and stood.
They had only gone a short way back up the hall when a sudden tapping sounded behind them. Both elves froze. They both recognized the sound - hadn’t they heard it many times before? Melatoth turned back with a confused frown, but Niko couldn’t move. Not until he heard several sharp cracks reverberating through the vault, not until Melatoth gripped his shoulder tightly. Only then did he slowly turn back, gradually pulling free from his master’s hand. His eyes widened as he saw a small hatchling shaking itself free from the farthest nest - from the egg his fingers had lingered upon. It flopped down out of the depression with a small squeak before looking directly at Niko. As if it were silently demanding that he return to its side. Without thought, he strode quickly back the way he came and dropped to his knees beside the hatchling. Melatoth was not far behind.
The hatchling looked up at him, intelligence shining in its reptilian eyes. Had it really hatched for him? Well, who else could it have hatched for? Melatoth already had a dragon he was bonded with. He hesitantly reached his right hand out towards it. His hand shook with eagerness, with fear. Could this really be the moment he had dreamt of since first arriving in Ilirea? Since seeing his first dragon? He stopped a few inches from the hatchling, waiting. It studied his hand for several moments, as if not quite sure of what it was looking at. Niko waited patiently - after all, he’d waited over two centuries for this moment. He could wait a little longer. Heavy silence filled the vault, as Melatoth and Niko both held their breaths, waiting.
Niko’s patience was rewarded when the hatchling stretched out its long neck and gently nudged his palm with his snout. A sharp, blinding pain shot up his arm and he cried out in shock. It was far more painful than he had expected, despite witnessing it so many times. He felt an overwhelming presence in his mind, nearly blocking out the pain. Nearly. But between the pain and the presence, it was a bit too much for Niko at that moment. He lost consciousness and collapsed.
Melatoth was beside him in an instant, catching him before he struck the sand. He gently set Niko on the ground and waited for the younger elf to awaken - shaking his shoulder occasionally and calling his name. It was almost an hour later before Niko regained his senses. He was surprised to see Melatoth beside him and the dragon curled up on his chest, vibrating with a pleased rumbling. He let his head fall back into the sand, closed his eyes, and prayed this was no dream - or rather, that it was a dream at last realized.
He yawned. But blast it all, it was late and cold! He should’ve worn a cloak was his idle thought as he leaned against a pillar outside the Sacred Font’s entrance. He didn’t engage the guards in conversation, as he usually did. He wasn’t feeling particularly sociable. He gave a large yawn, almost missing the familiar beat of wings. A few moments later, the large silvery form of Salien was hovering in the courtyard, his powerful wings kicking up dust with every beat. Squinting his eyes, Niko rushed out and swiftly relieved the dragon of its burden - a small cloth satchel. As soon as he had secured the satchel, he was back out from underneath Salien so the dragon could land. Once the proud dragon had settled, Niko looked up to the equally proud Rider astride him. “I trust your journey went well, Melatoth? Salien?”
Melatoth leaned forward and patted Salien’s neck. “Uneventful, as usual. Though Salien grumbled the whole way back. I think he likes the late hours less than you, Niko.” The older elf climbed out of his saddle and made his way down Salien’s leg. He jumped the last few feet, landing nimbly before Niko. Do I look like a creature of the night? I am not and never have been nocturnal. It’s too cold after the sun sets, Salien remarked snarkily. Melatoth simply laughed. He had once confided to Niko that he loved the night. It was one of the more minor things the Rider and Dragon were sometimes at odds about. It briefly stirred that deeply buried longing in Niko to share in that incredible bond. But it died as quickly as it had welled up. The odds were against him now, after all. It was rare for an elf to find a dragon by this age, after all. The best chance was in childhood when they first walked through the Font.
But no matter. At least he could remain close to them like this. He smiled. “I’m glad all went well. If you would like to retire, I can take over from here. Your flight was long and, though uneventful, I’m sure you would like to rest.” At least THIS elf has some sense in him, Salien stated.
Melatoth did not return the jibe. “Naught keeps you here, Salien. If you’d like to head to our roost, I’ll join you once this is done. It’s not every day we receive new eggs.” Salien snorted, but didn’t argue. With a powerful sweep of his wings, he was airborne and winging towards rest. With a gesture to Niko, Melatoth entered the Font. Niko was not far behind. It was still and silent inside, a somewhat unsettling sensation for Niko as always. He was used to the Font bustling with elves tending to the eggs, cleaning, and generally keeping the whole cavern in good condition. In the wee hours of the night, however, there were only guards patrolling in silent squads. It was eerie. “So how many this time, Melatoth?” Niko asked, seeking some distraction. He still wasn’t able to tell how many based on weight, though he could ascertain there was more than one in the satchel.
“Quite fortunate this year. You hold three new eggs. Quite fortunate indeed.” They descended the winding staircase, heading for the deepest vault of the Font. As a rule, new eggs were always placed at the ‘bottom’ of the pile, as it were. The hope was that they would get the older eggs out first, rather than leaving them to gather dust in some ‘forgotten’ corner of the Font. “Do you have enough nests made up?”
Niko shook his head slightly, focusing back on his master. He had been immediately distracted by the countless eggs they’d begun to pass upon entering the vault. His hands had passed over every one of them at some point in his years working here. And yet none had ever hatched for him. It was a depressing thought, which he quickly pushed from his mind. “There are two nests prepared, as always, but it will be no trouble to prepare a third.” His voice mingled with their echoed footsteps as the two elves strode up the hall. “Good, good,” Melatoth replied good-naturedly. No more was said for a time until they drew abreast with the empty nests. Melatoth knelt between the two and Niko stood beside him. He opened the bag and set it down so that Melatoth could remove each egg and place it in its nest. As his master did this, Niko moved to the right and also knelt. He began to move the sand around, using a combination of his hands and magic to create a depression with shored-up walls for the egg to rest in comfortably. As he’d said, it wasn’t difficult and he was soon finished.
As he made a few final pats to it, he heard sand shifting and turned to find Melatoth holding out an egg to him. He didn’t raise an eyebrow in curiosity - he usually refrained from handling eggs bare-handed when they first arrived - and simply took the egg, placing it in the nest. His hands lingered upon its smooth surface, suddenly reluctant to depart from it. He did, though. As Melatoth gently reminded him, it was time to get going. He neatly folded the cloth sack the eggs had been carried in, tucked it into a pocket of his scholar’s cloak, and stood.
They had only gone a short way back up the hall when a sudden tapping sounded behind them. Both elves froze. They both recognized the sound - hadn’t they heard it many times before? Melatoth turned back with a confused frown, but Niko couldn’t move. Not until he heard several sharp cracks reverberating through the vault, not until Melatoth gripped his shoulder tightly. Only then did he slowly turn back, gradually pulling free from his master’s hand. His eyes widened as he saw a small hatchling shaking itself free from the farthest nest - from the egg his fingers had lingered upon. It flopped down out of the depression with a small squeak before looking directly at Niko. As if it were silently demanding that he return to its side. Without thought, he strode quickly back the way he came and dropped to his knees beside the hatchling. Melatoth was not far behind.
The hatchling looked up at him, intelligence shining in its reptilian eyes. Had it really hatched for him? Well, who else could it have hatched for? Melatoth already had a dragon he was bonded with. He hesitantly reached his right hand out towards it. His hand shook with eagerness, with fear. Could this really be the moment he had dreamt of since first arriving in Ilirea? Since seeing his first dragon? He stopped a few inches from the hatchling, waiting. It studied his hand for several moments, as if not quite sure of what it was looking at. Niko waited patiently - after all, he’d waited over two centuries for this moment. He could wait a little longer. Heavy silence filled the vault, as Melatoth and Niko both held their breaths, waiting.
Niko’s patience was rewarded when the hatchling stretched out its long neck and gently nudged his palm with his snout. A sharp, blinding pain shot up his arm and he cried out in shock. It was far more painful than he had expected, despite witnessing it so many times. He felt an overwhelming presence in his mind, nearly blocking out the pain. Nearly. But between the pain and the presence, it was a bit too much for Niko at that moment. He lost consciousness and collapsed.
Melatoth was beside him in an instant, catching him before he struck the sand. He gently set Niko on the ground and waited for the younger elf to awaken - shaking his shoulder occasionally and calling his name. It was almost an hour later before Niko regained his senses. He was surprised to see Melatoth beside him and the dragon curled up on his chest, vibrating with a pleased rumbling. He let his head fall back into the sand, closed his eyes, and prayed this was no dream - or rather, that it was a dream at last realized.
