Short Story: Merlin and the Dragon Queen chapter 1

[milo]

Intriguing Milo’ it’s like a ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream/Arthurian Legends crossover’! Although, they already share some of the same magical characters. You have done your homework on the references. You may want to edit this, as you have a couple typos and some fragmented sentences, but I think they are OK. I know you like to write your stories ‘off the cuff.’ I like when italics are used for ‘thoughts’ to distinguish them from the narrator (just a suggestion). I sprinkled in some notes here and there:

Merlin felt the blood slowly seep back as his consciousness and awareness of his physical senses return*ed*. He lifted his head slowly and propped himself on his arms. He had slept long and deep, he felt that in the bruised soreness along his shoulder blades and numbness of atrophy throughout his muscles. Merlin rarely fell into accidental dream states - his term for the random visions that came to others when they slept - or at least he didn't remember them, but he felt the vague recollections of something similar churning just below his consciousness. Oh well, he thought, there would be time to contemplate that soon enough.

He tenderly turned his neck first to the left, then to the right, relishing the pops and cracks as life slipped back into the joints. How long had he slept? He remembered barely making it to the crystal cave that was his sanctuary and crawling on his hands and knees through the tight channels that led deeper and deeper until he came to his linen bedroll, laid out along straw in the middle of a flat circular area that was set in the very heart of the cave.

He rose to a full sitting position and placed his hands palms down against the smooth stone beneath the straw to feel the warm thrum of power vibrating through the cave. He could feel the power of the crystals and as his eyes adjusted*comma* he could see the dim light emanating from the walls, a faint pulsing glow that revealed the small chamber in a delightful rose red. The crystals were a remnant of the days when Oberon inhabited the British Isles, when his power wove through the rocks and the trees, trickled like laughter through the brooks, drove the rainbow’s paths toward veins of gold, caused sprites and fauns to have their orgies where the bright light of the moon cast clearings in the middle of the dense forests. Merlin wasn't sure if the crystals had been laid here by the Aelfish or if the might of Oberon coursing through the stone had burst them forth into existence but he was thankful they were here - without them he would need to sleep for years drawing power from the earth after the ill-advised exertions he tended to subject himself to.

As sleep faded away, he felt the power coursing through him in tendrils. He imagined he could see sparks at his finger tips as it struggled to be free. He burst into a grin like a sudden summer shower and allowed the power to do just that, laughing in delight as sparks bounced wildly off the walls and the floor where he had been sleeping. Oh, oh!! The sparks set some of his straw bedding on fire and he quickly lay back on top of it and rolled back and forth to extinguish the short lived flames. That wouldn't do at all! He rose to his hands and knees and began the crawl toward the surface. This portion of the cave was less than four feet high and Merlin preferred to crawl than stoop his long frame as he made his exit. The power started flowing spilling over again manifesting as sparks from his fingers and even some from his knees making it look like an odd grinding wheel was approaching along the long series*along the long of tunnels that led to the surface. It seemed he had been asleep long enough to grow a long *long...long* beard and he had a momentary vision of it bursting to flames beneath him as he crawled. He chuckled to himself - fitting end to a ‘great wizard’, burned alive by his own flaming beard! He carefully tucked it into his robe and continued his crawl, quietly chuckling to himself at his own joke while scolding himself to be more careful.

He exited the cave through some harmless looking shrubs that concealed the opening and stood tall, raising his arms and stretching himself to his full height beneath a crisp moon. When he went to sleep the moon was full as well*comma* which meant he had slept in cycles but the question remained - how many months had he slept? He slid his robes over his head revealing his long naked body in the moonlight. His ribs poked at the skin of his bony frame but the skin was pure and pale - almost glowing alabaster in the full moon - if not for the long*long...long* beard and shaggy flowing hair a casual observer would guess him to be a fifteen year old boy. A malnourished and freakishly tall boy but a boy nonetheless. He strode toward the brook that burbled along not more than twenty yards from him. Approaching he saw a glowing sphere bouncing fitfully along the edge of the brook, occasionally diving at the surface and bouncing off. He picked up his pace a bit, trying to force his long slender fingers through the tangle of a beard *six beard mentions*.

He was almost jogging along as he closed the last few feet and called out, “Abalone! What are you doing here?” smiling so large the power brought a luminescent glow to his cheeks. The glowing sphere resolved itself as a sprite and bounced over to the edge of the brook where Merlin was waiting with is palm outstretched to catch her. Abalone hovered just over his palm, gazed at him coyly, then allowed her wings to stop their constant flutter and fell gently to his hand, folding them neatly behind her and pulling herself up to her full height of just under four inches.

“There aren't any handsome wizards in Avalon!” Abalone flirted, twisting gently to let her gossamer dress shimmer translucently. Merlin was reminded of his nakedness as he caught the barest glimpse of a robust nipple poking through. He flushed warmly and his smile grew larger as the blood rushing to his face joined the excess of power already flowing there sending a brief crackle of sparks from the edges of his beard. He was also reminded of the sourness of his sweat, fermented from (how many?) months of sleeping.

“Come,” he said, “let me bathe my man stink off while we gossip,” and walked resolutely to the free running brook. At the edge sat the statue of some impish woodland god with a pewter bowl sitting on his lap. Merlin cupped his hands to pull some of the clear flowing water up, first pouring some into the bowl (with a light nod and an ‘after you sir’) and then drinking some himself, after which walking right into the crisp cold waters of the brook itself, sitting on a submerged mossy rock, splashing a good bit of the water over his face and drenching his beard and then holding his hand out palm upwards for Abalone, allowing the waters to continue to flow over him. The sprite stopped fidgeting in mid-air with mock impatience and flew over to regain her position on Merlin’s palm.

Merlin was eager to hear about Avalon and Oberon’s children as he knew he would have business there soon but he also knew that sprites loved to flirt and Abalone was perhaps the flirtiest. Also, he had been asleep for a long time and he was bursting with the joy of being alive and being powerful and drunk on the beauty of the moon and the woodland clearing so he was more than willing to push his impatience to the side and indulge her playfulness.

Abalone did a light pirouette, allowing her short dress to rise *(rise or raise?)* enough to barely *[/b] , “do you like my new dress?” *yes, or what lies beneath* Merlin was once again reminded of his nakedness and the brisk flow of icy waters over him as he pursed his lips appreciatively. And rightly so. The short dress shimmered in changing shades of emerald, the lacing at the edges consistently diffusing as sparkling dust and regenerating. The dress seemed to shimmer barely between existence and out, the contours parting and reforming to continuously suggest the barest exposure of her feminine parts. Abalone had already started narrating the events of her and her sisters finding the material and designing the outfits going into the intricate details of them infusing them and the selection of the correct shape for the booties that she wore on her feet. Merlin sighed and allowed it continue for some time as Abalone brought the story of her garment to life with gesticulating hand gestures *gesticulating/gestures?* and the occasional pacing or bursting into moments of flight only to float back down to his palm. Often she would stop and check to see if he was paying attention by pouting or coyly twisting her hair or blowing it away from her eyes*drop one of those or's*. Finally, she wound to a close, by this time relaxing in a sitting position on Merlin’s palm. “And what of Avalon?” Merlin finally asked.

“Well, you know Oberon and Titania are fighting,” she started.
Merlin rolled his eyes, “well, it’s only been a hundred years or so, I am sure there is still some spark in it.” The domestic battle between Oberon and his *queen,Titania,* rippled through the Aelfish court with such fury it was said to affect the weather.
“but did you know Mab’s gone crazy?” she continued, redirecting his interest on to her by suggestively playing with the ends of her dress. “She took her children and left for the mountains of Borea where they live in caves, defying Oberon’s decrees.”

This was interesting news. Merlin considered this for a bit as Abalone acted out the march of Mab’s children down into the mountains in accentuated detail and then puffed out her cheeks to mock the rage of Oberon. On the one hand, it would be nice to have Oberon distracted to allow Merlin to slip onto Avalon with the mists. On the other, it wouldn't do for him to be in a foul mood should Merlin be caught**

“umm . . . and have you heard anything of Aelphaba?” Merlin asked offhandedly. Either Abalone was not fooled by his nonchalance or she was genuinely distressed over the mention.

“OOOooo . . . the dragon queen?” Abalone rose up and fluttered 3 inches off Merlin’s palm in agitation. “She is very angry right now. Vengeful. Oooohh.” Abalone regained her composure and re-took her perch on Merlin’s palm. “You remember how Oberon demanded she remove all dragons from the British Isles?” Merlin, of course, didn't remember as it happened centuries before he was born, but nodded anyway, “well, she has them all nesting in Ischilith*(is this real, Icelandic; mythological or your own creation?)*, the volcano, and occasionally they forage along the coast and eat fauns and . . . and sometimes faeries, though we . . , uh, they don’t really make a meal, mostly for sport!” Merlin nodded soothingly. “Well, one of them ate an Aelfish and Oberon found out and struck it out of the sky in rage. He stripped the meat from its bones, mounted the skull behind his throne and had a mighty sea vessel built from the cage of its ribs and do you know what he named it??!!” Abalone was growing so excited now that she was glowing, shining almost nude through the sheerness of her dress. “The Great Skyship Aelbraeth!!” Abalone collapsed onto Merlin’s hand after this final exultation.

“That is a great insult indeed.” Merlin nodded, rising up out of the water now and heading for the bank, his legs numb and clammy with the cold and tingling slightly with the pins of sitting in the brook too long. This could be problematic. Merlin needed Aelphaba to be in a receptive mood. He would have to consider. “Let me tell you what Arthur did . . .” Merlin started.

Abalone rolled her eyes, “Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, always boring old Arthur,” and with that, she shook her head impudently and flew off, fading to a glowing sphere and then just another winking firefly in the clearing. Merlin returned to his robes and slipped them over his head. There were still several hours of night left and Merlin didn’t need the sleep so he sat next to a moss covered old tree and started meditating. Tomorrow, he would need a plan, for he had need of a dragon.

It's pretty good milo; Abalone is a sexy charmer!

Thanks for the editing notes, i will go through and fix the errors on my next pass.

It is true, I tend to just write my prose and post it. I really should pay it the proper respects. Perhaps I will start writing thoughts in italics.

Thanks again.