A Homecoming Presentation (Open)

[Merril]

The air crackled, and Merril once again felt awe washing over her body. Jormungandr had been breathing fire for nearly 4 months now, and the sight of him setting fire to the air itself still gave her chills. She laughed and clapped from her seat on the ground, reaching out with her mind toward her stunning Drake.

"Don't you want to save some energy for the flight, you handsome brute?"

The dragon finished his fiery trumpet and turned one bronze eye toward the slight elf who had become his most beloved. He nodded and chuckled; the sound of gravel scraping against a river-bank. 

*The hunting here is good, my love. I'll have no trouble keeping my strength up. I do wish you would partake of the spoils with me.*

Merril's stomach almost turned as Jormungandr nodded to the charred bear carcass at the outskirts of camp. She still sang a prayer over every one of his kills, thanking it for its life. She had come to appreciate his need for flesh, but even after nearly a year she found it unsettling. This annoyed Jormungandr greatly. Having hatched at nearly the size of a horse, and after growing at an accelerated rate, fueled by the power in the pommel of Naegling, Jormungandr had lived scarcely a weeks before he began hunting on his own. 

*With your bent and pointy sticks you'd make a fine hunter. Then you could stop eating sea-grass every time we find water. Fish is far better to the taste.*

"I'll take your word for it, darling. Are you ready?"

Jormungandr nodded a bowed, allowing Merril to leap off of his fore-leg and into the saddle she had crafted in Silthrim. By now, flying together had become second nature to the pair. Merril had hardly strapped herself in before Jormungandr took two massive leaps, once off the ground, and once off of a boulder, propelling them into the air and toward Ellesmera.

[Brenton]

A hiss-thud and then the quivering shaft of an arrow appeared next to his face only centimeters from his jugular. Even with the arrow being so close to the vein that brought so much blood to his head, the blonde elf simply stood there with a glare on his face. He directed it at the young elven boy who was actually only half elf and was coming to the land as a newcomer hoping for training. The boy was a mockery to the entire elf nation though, for he could not even fire an arrow into a target ten paces away from him without shaking with fear of missing.

So Enduriel had thrown his own bow down and stormed over right next to the target on the right side, the side favored by all the missed arrows. Now the boy was going to either hit the target or his body and it was that simple. Luckily the young elf seemed to catch on and calmed down for Enduriel looked and the arrow was buried in the second ring from the center.

Now that's what you do all the time to hit the target from now on, imagine that your ally is standing there next to the target. Imagine it is success or a friend's death, blood flowing through your fingers. Enduriel was being harsh but there was a reason he was the commander of the Elven Army under Brenton Bromsson who had actually reinstated him as commander after a misunderstanding. He knew how to get his point across in battle and in training and there was no other way to put it.

[Merril]

*Elves shooting at Elves...hmhmhm...*

Once again Jormungandr's superior vision from on high left Merril feeling slightly behind. It was usually several seconds before her eyes could catch up with his, so she muttered her incantation and used his eyes instead. Jormungandr had found the sharp image below to be humorous. Merril found it puzzling.

Before she could give her input, Jormungandr began to swoop lower.

*You'll hit the trees, love!*

As the dragon sped toward the clearing, he extended his wings and all four legs, turning his body into a parachute. He slowed so quickly that Merril could feel the strain of his wings. His tail clipped a tree, knocking loose several of its branches as he landed, but otherwise, Merril was impressed with the maneuver. With a massive thud, Jormungandr and Merril arrived in what appeared to be a training field.

Jormungandr tucked his wings proudly and lifted his head over the scene and he turned to give Merril a better vantage point. She kept her longbow close, just in case this were truly a fight that Jormungandr had dragged her into. She spoke in the ancient language.

"Hello, strangers. I am Merril, and this fellow is my life-mate, Jormungandr. Tarry now, and cease to fire. We are friends in our homelands."

[Brenton]

Enduriel glared at Merril for a second before deeming it necessary to wave his hand in acknowledgement. The elf boy was already packing his bow up and the commander nodded to show that practice was over for the day. No sense in letting this rider think there was going to be problems when there sure as heck wasn't. "He wasn't aiming for me in the first place so silence yourself before you speak of friends and foes. This boy was only training and missing so many times that I took matters into my own hands. The name is Enduriel, commander of the Elven Army directly under King Brenton. If you say you are friends of the elves then I will accept that but do not think I cannot signal for the assassins around here to take you out without being seen by Jormungandr."

Enduriel was being harsh in his words still so he breathed in a few times before exhaling to release the tension. "I'm sorry, m'lady, for my brusque behavior. It is not normal for someone such as yourself to interrupt a training and so I was not prepared for your words. Please forgive my words and do not take offense to them." His words were also in the Ancient Language, tongue of the elves.

[Merril]

Jormungandr was slightly unnerved by the threat against his rider, but Merril quickly soothed him with the soft touch of her mind before sliding lithely out of the saddle. She knelt and bowed, placing her bow down in front of her.

"Lord Enduriel, I fear that I know you by reputation, if not by face. I apologize for the interruption. I am traveling to the great city that I may present myself and my brother for King Brenton's service."

Jormungandr puffed up proudly, scales catching the sunlight. He sparkled like a river-bank with clear water running over flecks of gold. The hilt of the sword Naegling gleamed from the saddle sheath. He spread his wings before finally bending his front leg in a bow to Lord Enduriel.

(I apologize for being away for so long. I was matriculating.)