Hamlet Thriving (Black Lake book 2)

Chapter 13
Tae

~

Carryin’ Aedwin on my shoulders is special, but today we soared with purpose along the edge of the foothills bordered by the emerald-green plain saturated with the season’s frequent drizzles that lasts days, searchin’ for a stake to call our own. Every other furlong, a cabin and matchin’ barn dotted the landscape, homesteads of one of Aedwin’s clan. Equally spaced, they were not equal. Those higher in the social hierarchy claimed those places with a runnin’ creek, space enough to pen a flock as well as set out a garden.

The clan would have to approve wherever Aedwin selected. If it was too nice, there was little chance she’d get that important approval, since she’s a mere hen, unmated, besides bein’ from a family woefully low in the social strata. Ogre kind is oddly—judgmental. The center of the clan’s range meant power. Distance from the center would be a benefit for approval of our selected stake. So we had one benefit. Distance is nothin’ for a dragon rider.

I know Aedwin’s biggest concern is physically buildin’ our homestead. Status assured the clan came together to assist. Who’d reach out to help an ogre hen, the third child in a family that lived at the farthest extent of the clan’s border? I hesitated tellin’ the young ogre hen her future was best tied to my sedge. I appreciate my bonded mate’s pride, but I had to speak more honestly. I tilted my wings and headed for a tall rise, so we could chat, without needin’ to shout over the sound of the wind.

“Why did ya stop here?” Aedwin asked as I settled.

I didn’t have a clue what words to use. My chest constricted with emotion—a double anxiety, since she’d be feelin’ my pain. Puttin’ the words together might quash the ogre’s dreams. Pride. I felt my head weavin’ with frustration. Aedwin slid down my shoulder and gave me a hug.

“Ya fell in with quite a worthless ole ogre, didn’t ya?” she asked. “I know it looks bleak. I’m without resources, not reason. I don’t know what else to do. Ya fill me with such hope. I can’t imagine sleepin’ before my parent’s hearth until I die, ya miles away in yar lair.”

I lowered to the ground, settlin’ my chin on a rounded boulder, overwhelmed by her distress. Her own kind left her little future, unless she caught the eye of a prosperous ogre bull of the clan. I thought how well the Lake Hamlet keeps care of their own, regardless of clan, how dwarf Coedwig is there to assist every settler—despite bein’ an outright grump. I thought of Coedwig’s empty barn, how Gladys and Eina set out the Inn’s garden every spring, only to let it go to weeds within the month because they’re so busy with their duties. There—would be a niche for my sweet hen.

“Do ya have some good winter gear, for the mountains?” I asked Aedwin.

“No, not really. Ya thinkin’ of draggin’ me to yar Black Valley ya like to talk about so much? I thought ya were tired of the cold? Enamored with Ash’et’s new place on this side of the Range.”

“It is indeed cold, but I have two bull siblings, and a queen sibling, there. I’m tied to the little Hamlet, and I know ya would be welcomed.”

“Showin’ up in the winter with nothin’ to offer is a bad way to begin,” she said. Her face turned, in that odd way the two-legged manage when not happy.

“If they’ll risk their lives to save a dozen orcs buried in the snow, and help them start a new life, they’ll be willin’ to feed ya through the winter and put ya to work in the spring.” I explained my thoughts about what role she could take on once winter broke. “We’ll go pick up yar belongin’s.”

“I don’t really have anythin’ to collect.” She stared down at the stones she was kickin’ with her bare toes.

“A coat?”

She shook her head.

“A sleepin’ fur?”

“A blanket,” she offered.

“One? Can you accidentally bring another? It’ll be cold flyin’ over the peaks,” I said.

“I’d be willin’ to be real cold, not to have to face my mama,” she said.

I thought about the western pass. The peaks are more modest there. It’s out of the way, but it would be easier on her. No, I decided. The elevation rose more gradually, but she’d simply be cold, longer.

“Ya need to put on every stitch of clothes ya own, my sweet hen,” I cooed at her.

She looked up, tears wellin’ in her eyes, and nodded. My chest swelled that she was acceptin’ the enormous life change I was thrustin’ upon her, with just a touch of fear and apprehension. Such a brave little ogre. She trusts me. I better be right about this.

~

Thankfully there was no confrontation with her family like she feared. They walked out of the very modest cabin with her, wearin’ smiles. Her papa gave her several pelts, her dowry, the ogre said with a cough, before he turned away. After another round of hugs and good byes with her mama and siblings, Aedwin climbed up on me, and I launched. The ogre hen pressed her face into my hide. Her mixture of excitement, fear, elation, and sadness bubbled in my own chest.

I stayed close to the trees to avoid the serious cold for as long as I could, and flew hard, pushin’ harder as I entered the peaks. Even to me the wind felt icy cold. Aedwin shivered against it. Her discomfort gave me the energy to press my pace.

It was only mid-day when I was able to relax and soar toward the broad valley below. The gray sky and slate surface of the frozen Lake mirrored each other. Only a white line of fresh fallen snow, prolly from the previous night, interrupted the image.

My anxious trumpet assembled the Inn’s residents across the veranda as I landed within a couple feet of the railin’.

“My rider needs yar help,” I called out before settlin’. Her pain radiated across my chest.

The trolls, Yoso and Eina, were there first, reachin’ up to pull Aedwin down from my shoulders.

“This youngling is frozen, Tae. What were ya thinkin’?”

The troll hen’s harsh words sliced through my heart. I dizzied, head swayed. My gut twisted as I watched Eina run up the stairs with Aedwin in her arms. My little hen never turned to look back.

What did I do?

“Calm down, big fella,” Yoso said. The giant stroked my neck. “My mate can be a bit abrupt. Like, usually. Don’t over think it. Ya’re a bit cold yarself. Come along. Let’s get ya in the barn where it’s a tad warmer, out of this blasted-cold wind.”

The troll gave me a nudge to encourage me to follow. The elf and his human partner, Braes and Bick, led the way. I would have preferred to flutter over, but the giant walked before me talkin’, so I waddled along.

I hate movin’ about on the ground. The only time dragons don’t feel like rulers of the Earth is when we have to draw our talons across the ground, where we lack a lot of coordination.

Inside the dark barn, Bick, the human, forked several feet of hay down from the loft as Braes looked on, and Yoso continued to talk non-stop, with news of every sort, most of it the most trivial. He asked a question of me from time to time, but rarely paused long enough to get an answer. He was most interested in the queen’s welfare. When I answered she was well, he replied with more vigor than seemed necessary, upsettin’ the several scores of goats penned at the other end of the barn. Stinkin’ little beasts.

As he talked on, I noticed the base of the old troll’s dreadlocks are solid white now. The two-legged ones change so much every season. Except for the elf. Braes, as solemn as ever, looked as he did the first time I saw him. How long had it been? Ten years? Eleven?

“As soon as I know how yar friend is, I’ll come a runnin’ and let ya know,” Yoso said.

The troll waved an invitation to me to climb into the hay and relax. I didn’t feel like relaxin’.

“Ya wouldn’t have risked bringin’ her here, now, if ya didn’t have plans,” Braes said.

“Oh, shush, elf,” Yoso groused. “Give the young dragon bull a chance to rest and warm up. Ya don’t have to be so practical every minute of the day.”

“How can I welcome him and his rider, if I don’t know how I can help them,” the elf snapped.

“Don’t get snippy, ya little wart.”

The human, climbin’ down the ladder from the loft, laughed loudly. “I side with the ugly troll,” he said. “Anyone who holds up their own has a home here. Always has, always will.”

“Who ya callin’ ugly, ya short-legged rat?” Yoso growled.

I figgered their attention was significantly shifted from me, and waddled deep into the hay, diggin’ into it.

Bick could have shoveled a little more from the loft.

~

I struggled to open my eyes. Was the hardest thin’ I’d done in ages. Had been in a good dream. A loud laugh gave me a twinge of incentive. I recognized Aedwin. She slid off my shoulder.

“Yoso said he couldn’t wake ya up. When I started feelin’ a little overly toasted at the hearth, I decided to come out and try wakin’ ya myself.”

“Ya sound well,” I said.

She laughed. She’s so quick with humor. That overly-serious Ike could learn a thin’ from her. “Get yar eyes open and ya can see for yarself.”

“I’m tryin’. I’m so sleepy,” I complained. May have come out a bunch more whiny than necessary.

“Maybe it’s the elevation up here in the Range. I’m excited. Everyone is so nice. I’m glad we came. Is there always snow on the ground up here?”

I looked about. It was dark. But Aedwin wasn’t carryin’ a lantern, so maybe the sun wasn’t down. Just winter-dark.

“There are some good cooks here too,” she continued.

My stomach gurgled.

“Sounds like ya need to hunt.”

“Let me sleep for a few days, and I’ll consider it when I wake.” I felt myself driftin’ off. It was easy, knowin’ Aedwin is well, and happy. “I love ya, Aedwin. Glad ya’re happy here.”

As I maneuvered my face under my wing her arms encircled my neck. She may have said somethin’, but I couldn’t concentrate. My mind ached to return to my dream. Never, ever feel this sleepy on the plain.

~

The barn door was rolled back and sun streamed in. It was surprisingly warm. I uncurled my neck and looked about. A dragon’s snout poked in. I yawned loudly.

“So, ya’re awake. Come out and enjoy the sun. First bit of it we’ve seen here since fall,” my sibling Tir said.

I would have buried my head again, but my body informed me it had functions I had to perform. I shook off some of the hay.

“Met yar rider,” Tir continued. “Asr and Torc are properly impressed. Evidently she’s proven some merit at checkers, so Birs completely accepts her.” Tir waddled a few steps into the barn, and lowered his voice. “It will be interestin’ what Ren thinks of her, when she gets to the North Shore.”

“This—is not—a competition,” I said, tryin’ to clear the fog in my head.

“Ya hungry? I was thinkin’ about lookin’ for an elk or two. Think we should leave yar Aedwin over at Ren’s? Be good to get the two queen-hens together early.”

Hadn’t realized Birs’ eldest is considered the Hamlet queen. Oh. Tir was referrin’ to my bonded mate as a queen. That’s—raisin’ her standin’ a bunch. “Ya sound overly involved in the social strata of the ogres,” I suggested.

“Ya know in the winter here in the Hamlet, there isn’t much more to do but gossip. It’s not only the hens who do it. The bulls, over their checker boards, make up as many lies as the females, Asr tells me.”

“Ya should go spend more time with Ash’et. That would get this new compunction of yars out of yar system.”

Tir said, “If this weather stays nice for a couple days—”

“It will not, ya know it,” I interrupted him.

“Well, if it does, I’ll fly north with ya for a visit. I’ll bet Kyn is lovin’ the attention of bein’ the last one in the lair.”

“He’s content, but I’ve been with them still every night, except for last night,” I said. “His happiness, ya horrible boor, has nothin’ to do with the absence of the three of us. It’s the queen herself. She’s different. Pleasant.”

“May it last,” Tir offered.

I growled, feelin’ as though I should protect my queen’s honor in some way. I waddled toward my sibling. Tir struggled to back up, unable to turn around inside the barn entrance. Mitts with eight-inch talons aren’t conducive to backin’ up on the ground. I bumped him in the chest with my head. Tir growled, and I pushed him harder out of orneriness. Tir’s butt sank into the wind-blown bank of snow at the doorway, talons stuck in the frozen ground.

Tir trumpeted in anger, but I kept walkin’ forward, pushin’ my sibling, until I was nearly climbin’ on top of him. Tir beat at the air to stay upright, but I didn’t give him the chance to catch his balance. Tir flipped onto his side, his right wing pinned underneath him in the snow. Frantic, Tir bugled and growled, and thrashed at me with his head, sunk his talons into my chest. My scream punctured the clear mountain air, and every beast on the North and South Shore bleated in agitation. In retaliation, I sank my teeth into Tir’s shoulder, perhaps more roughly than necessary, and Tir’s scream echoed back off the near structures.

Tir flopped flat on his back, wings spread flat in the snow, helpless. But his talons gripped my sensitive belly.

“Are ya gonna kill each other, or what?” The stern words abruptly interrupted our battle.

Both of us bulls looked over to see the scowlin’ face of the troll hen, Eina—who’s truly the Hamlet queen—and the smilin’ line of onlookers standin’ on each side of her. Aedwin had her fists on her hips, but her smile was clear enough.

I struggled to back off my sibling. There was no escapin’ for Tir. He might as well have been an overturned tortoise on a slick rock. He was stuck. As I waddled backward, deeper into the barn, Tir whined. I’d never heard that particular noise before. Sounded more like an orcling’s whimper. I would have trumpeted with mirth, if I didn’t feel somewhat the fool myself.

“Can I have a little help,” Tir growled to the spectators.

Birs, Yoso, and Bick crossed to him, at a loss for how to help.

“Push, at my shoulders,” Tir suggested.

He squirmed, but he couldn’t right himself.

“A second,” Bick said.

To get into the barn, he had to crawl over Tir’s belly in order to stay off his fragile wings. Inside, the human pulled a length of rope out of a long wooden box. He handed one end to me, to take in my teeth. He got the other end to Tir.

I backed up, pullin’ with all my might. My sibling didn’t budge. All the two-legged folk lined up and pushed, and slowly Tir rolled forward, tail flippin’ out of the way. The two-legged ones cheered, and laughed. I held no inclination to trumpet. Dragons are the most feared creatures on the planet. But we two proved we can’t get off our own backs.

How humiliatin’.

It took Tir a moment to waddle around and get out of the barn’s openin’. Covered in mud and muck, he lurched forward and launched into the air without a word. I followed him a moment later.

Tir was right. The sun did feel good. But the anxiety wouldn’t leave me that Ash’et might learn of our silly roughhousin’, of our display of vulnerability. Even in the mood she’d been in lately, it put a bit of fear in me.

~