Timothy wiped the rim of his earthen mug and wished he hadn’t. Thick brown
grime coated his index finger. Sighing, he brushed his finger on his faded brown pants
and brought the mug to his lips.

      Warm, oily liquid filled his mouth. A bitter taste coated his tongue, but he
swallowed, willing his stomach to hold its contents. Timothy licked the film from his
teeth and set the vessel on the worn wooden table, shoving it away. A wave of water
heaved over the top and spattered onto the table, filling in the many zigzagging cracks on
the surface.

      The tavern door opened, sending a gust of wind into the room. Timothy wrapped
his shawl more tightly about himself and studied the newcomer.

      Tall, an impressive build. Muscles bulged underneath a too-tight leather vest. The
man’s chiseled torso left no doubt; the man knew how to show off. Thick arms swayed at
his side, brown hair just beginning to bristle. A man in the prime of youth. Timothy
frowned at the man’s face. Bright eyes hid under bushy eyebrows, and his thin lips
stretched tight. He carried himself with authority. Timothy squinted. False, he assumed.

      “Bartender, give me the strongest drink you got!” The youth’s rich baritone
drowned out the myriad bawdy conversations being carried out in the room. Two score
voices hushed and almost twice as many eyes (some patrons didn’t have a pair) turned his
way. He strutted to a table occupied by three middle-aged men and winked. “Can I sit
here?”

      The one nearest him, who wore a hooded cape, shrugged and scratched his
graying goatee. “Sure.” He kicked out a chair. “Sit.” The newcomer thanked him and
settled in. “So what brings you out here?” the man asked. “Don’t get a lot of strangers in
these parts, just you and that old man there tonight.” Timothy scowled and took another
sip. Water dripped onto his meager beard. “Guess you’re just passing through?”

      The youth nodded. “Yeah.” A matronly woman plopped a mug down. “Thank
you,” he said, bringing it to his mouth. Timothy watched with interest. The youth’s eyes
bulged, but he downed it. He exhaled. “Ah! That’s good.” He propped his elbows on the
table and looked around. “I slayed a dragon.”

      Timothy choked. He reached down to the floor and picked up his old gray
walking staff, then he stood it upright. The thud it made when it hit the floor could be
heard, the tavern had grown so silent.

      “Yew didn’t kill no dragon!” A gap-toothed farmer stood and pointed a shaky
finger at the youth. Drunk. “Y’ain’t got no sword!”

      The main grinned and dismissed the complaint. “Rest assured, I did. What, did
you think I would bring my equipment with me?” The farmer didn’t move for a moment,
then shook his head stupidly. “Old Drake? Yep, my best sword is stuck in his flank.”

      “Ye’re joshin’ us. Ain’t no way ye killed Drake!”

      Timothy’s staff pounded the floor with every step. “Slew a dragon, eh?” He put
his weight on the rod and slouched. “Do tell. What did he say to you?”

      “Aw, don’t encourage ‘im!” the first man said.

      Timothy did not acknowledge him. “Well? He spoke to you, I am sure of it. They
often do, even the corrupted ones—before they kill you.”

      The youth smirked. “Drake didn’t even put up a fight. ‘Matt!’ he said. Surprising
enough that he seemed excited to see me, doubly so when he spoke my name.”

      A splinter dug into Timothy’s palm, but he did not flinch. “He gave your name?”
He placed equal emphasis on each word. Someone sniggered. “What else did he say?”

      Matt waved his hand. “Oh, some nonsense about being chosen for this-or-that task.
Didn’t make sense.”

      Timothy raised his staff and swung it. The rod hit Matt’s head with a mild crack!
Not enough to hurt, but it got his attention.

      Matt rubbed the point of impact. What was that for, old man? You itching for a
fight or something?” He rose from his chair.

      “You fool!” Timothy forced him down again. “You do not even realize what you
have done!”

      Matt crossed his arms over his chest. “Amuse me,” he said, a defiant glint in his
eye. His cheek had begun to swell.

      “Drake was never a threat to anyone. He is still pure!” Timothy stamped his foot
in frustration. “He is a farmer, for God’s sake!”

      “Shut up, old timer!” A drunk in the corner sneered. “We didn’t come to hear no
wives fables.”

      Timothy pointed his index finger at Matt and ground his teeth. “You listen. My
words may have passed from the popular scene, yet truth remains. He Chose you as his
own. He likes you!”

      Matt raised an eyebrow. “Drake likes me? What did I do to him?” Timothy knew
the youth mocked him, but he said nothing.

      Timothy’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Was he dead when you left?”

      “Well, ye-yes, of course!’ Matt glanced at the quasi attentive men surrounding
him. Timothy raised his staff in warning. Matt shook his head. “No. No, he wasn’t. Close,
but not dead.”

“Then there’s still time.” Timothy scowled at the youth one last time, then he hurried out
the door.  


      ***
      All the locals knew Drake made a temporary home in the cleft between two
house-sized boulders. Timothy stumbled to the entrance and called out. “Drake!” A low,
mournful note shook pebbles loose from their perch above Timothy’s head. “Are you
well?” He rushed into the cave, confident the fire-breathing reptile would not attempt to
harm him. “Drake, I heard what happened. Please, answer me!”

      “Who speaks?” The sound of the dragon’s voice shook the man to his bones.
Deep and powerful, yet sad, as well.

      “A friend. I should be in the main chamber in a moment.” On cue, Timothy
stepped into the dragon’s sanctuary. He gasped at the sight before him. “A sleek green
dragon fully ten cubits in length gazed at him, eyes unblinking. Yellow irises shone,
illuminating rounded pupils.

      The dragon’s forked tongue sampled the air. “I do not know you.”

      “I am Timothy, noble drake.” Timothy bowed as he spoke. “The sword, does it
still...?” Drake lifted his head and looked to a corner. A blood-stained sword reflected the
light emanating from the dragon. Timothy took a step closer. “Are you badly hurt?”

      Drake sang the same mournful note that Timothy had heard only moments before.
“I am well in body, though I fear my heart has suffered a mortal wound.” The dragon
stood and limped to the human. “Why, Timothy?” the dragon asked. “What drove my
beloved to act in wanton violence toward me?” When the dragon sighed, a flurry of
wayward sparks drifted to the rocky floor.

      Drake was an arm’s length away, now. A tear trickled down Timothy’s cheek and
nestled in his beard. “I cannot say. Matt does not know the legends. Or rather, he learned
the wrong ones.”

      Anger seeped into the dragon’s voice. “My corrupted brethren have destroyed the
fair reputation once bestowed upon us. Their stories have tickled Matt’s ear, you say?”
Drake bowed his head. “Then I mourn for him all the more.”

      Timothy stroked the fine dragon’s smooth scales, running his fingers along the
ridges between the armored plates. Pure dragons had always been this trusting of another,
so spoke the old stories. Drake would not harm him; indeed, the thought would likely
never cross his mind. “I am glad the stroke did not cause undue harm.”

      Drake’s ears perked up. “Silence!” he commanded. “The lad comes.”

      Timothy bowed to the dragon and moved to the wall of the cave, hoping to blend
into the darkness. The sword continued to reflect the light, a beacon in the opposite
corner.

      "Matt!" Drake bowed his head low. "You have returned." Excitement seemed to
radiate from the dragon's body. Drake took a step forward. "I want to apologize for
whatever it was I may have done to you. What?"

      Matt rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Why do you mock me, dragon?" The
creature backed away. "I came to kill you, yet you remain alive! And you know my
name." Matt drew his sword and held it before him. "Now I'll finish the job."

      "But Matt, I..." Drake's gaze flickered to Timothy. "I do not understand. What
have I done to you? I have wished you no harm." Timothy wanted to call out, to help, but
he knew to do so would be wrong. It was rude enough to listen to the conversation.

      "There was an old man at the tavern. Because of him I'll be a laughingstock if I do
not return with your head." He glanced toward Timothy but saw nothing. "Tell me why
you should live."

      Drake had not heard. His thoughts were turned inward. "I Chose you," he
mumbled. "I swore on that day to ensure your happiness." Sparks littered the floor, and
Matt jumped back. "Does this mean I have failed?" Drake lowered himself to the ground.
"Then kill me, for I have abandoned my oath."

      Timothy blinked. He had not expected this!

      Neither, apparently, had Matt. "This is trickery, I know it!" Matt breathed heavily
but did not attack. Second thoughts?

      The dragon moaned. "You are not happy, Matt? There is nothing I can do to
restore some of the joy I sensed in you that day?"

      Matt's sword arm lowered, as though the instrument had become heavier. Hope
sparked in Timothy's heart. Perhaps he would leave! Then Matt's troubled expression
changed to one of fierce determination. His arm found strength once more. Drake glanced
at the youth for a moment before returning his gaze to the floor.

      Timothy's jaw trembled. It was not his place to interfere, yet he could not bear to
see the destruction of an innocent creature! Soul overcame mind. "Enough!" he shouted.
Matt's sword clattered to the ground; he had dropped it in shock. Timothy's voice
reverberated through the chamber, giving the impression of a giant speaking. The old
man stepped from his hiding place. "Keep your hands where I can see them!" he barked.
His staff tapped against the stone for each step he took. "I will not have you lay a hand on
Drake."

      The dragon sighed, his hot breath buffeting Matt. "Timothy, what is this you have
done?"

      Timothy bowed. "My apologies. I could not watch in silence while a fool slew
you." He shook with rage. "And you, I hope, will not be foolish enough to die due to one
child's ignorance!" He glared at Matt. "Should you kill this creature, I will hold you
responsible for driving the most noble race to grace this earth to extinction!" He set his
foot next to the sword and slid it away.

      "What's it to you? I don't see what you have to lose."

      Timothy swatted at Matt's leg. The youth jumped just in time. "Do you truly know
nothing, boy? You owe your very existence to creatures such as he!" he said, jabbing his
finger toward Drake. "What is more, he Chose you. Do you know what that means?"
Matt shook his head. "I thought not. That is as close to a statement of servitude as one of
his stature can get!"

      Matt laughed. "You mean he would do whatever I told him? You are a lunatic."
      "I said servitude, not slavery. And do not speak!" he snapped at Drake. "This is no
longer your concern." Timothy stooped and picked up the sword. "A nice blade," he said
as he tested it. He presented it to Matt. "Take it. Good. Now I want you to do something
for him."

      Matt rolled his eyes. "Will it make you leave?"

      "Yes. Now. I want you to look Drake in the eye and say, 'I am honored that you
Chose me, yet I humbly ask that you seek someone of greater worth than I.'"

      "Like you."

      "Just do it."

      Matt sighed, shook his head, and spoke: "I am honored that you Chose me, yet I
humbly ask that you seek someone of greater worth than I."

      Timothy nodded once. "Good. Drake, you are no longer bound by oath to this
buffoon." He pointed with his staff. "And you, young man, should leave. Drake now is
under no obligation to keep you alive."

      "But--!"

      Timothy arched his eyebrows. "You want to risk it? You are a fool."

      Matt sheathed his sword. "Fine. You win." He pointed at the dragon. "But I will
get you one day!" Timothy watched him leave the chamber and listened until the echoes
ceased.

      "There we are. And look, he left his sword. I am sure you can pawn it, Drake."
The dragon stared at the entryway. "Drake. He is gone. And by his own words, he is no
longer chosen by you."

      "I suppose. Timothy, will I find someone else?"

      Timothy shrugged. "Perhaps. But you may want to educate the next one first.
Speaking of, I take it he was your first?"

      Drake's ears pinned back in embarrassment. "It was. I will know better next time."
      "There will be a next time, good. Do not be intimidated by this one mistake. And
now I should be going. You are certain you will not suffer further physical injury?"

      "Yes. Thank you." Timothy hobbled to the exit. "And Timothy, when will you
clothe yourself in scales once more?"

      Timothy pondered this for a moment. "In time. It is easier to spread the truth
about us in this form." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, and one more thing. You should
probably consider leaving soon in case Matt returns. Humans are predictable that way."

      "Yes, Timothy, I will." The dragon bowed. "Thank you."