Druid and the Dragon

      There was the racket of wooden wheels on dirt, rackety axels, and the rhythmic thudding of horseshoes on dirt. The muttering of passengers, aggravating with their whispered pitches and hissed low voices. It was enough to make anyone want to tear their ears off.
      But tearing off long Elven ears would be painful. Golden eyes tried their best to avoid looking over at the group of passengers, instead staring outside. An older man, with curly white hair and a receding hairline, a long and well-kept beard, sat across from the Elf. Beneath the beard, the human smiled calmly, and could tell that peripheral sight was much better with Elves with their overall better eyesight. The Elf seemed like the complete opposite. Compared to the rounder faced humans. Copper (seemingly perfect) skin, silvery long silky hair, a narrow young face, eyes that angled slightly upwards at their tail end, and a slightly long narrow nose. The Elf was garbed in black leather armor, one leg crossed over the other so he could rest his elbow on his knee to prop up a hand to rest on his chin. The unusual trait to him was the light silvery goatee that decorated the Elf's chin, facial hair was nearly unheard of on Elves.
      He could not be past 200 years old, he looked much too young for it. The old man, at last, turned his gaze outside of the cart with an unwavering warm smile.

      Past the courteously whispered voices, the old man's was warm and giving off the inviting comfort of a fireside story reached Zephaniah's ears. "Ah, there is the Dire wolf. It had been such a pest in the area lately, our poor livestock stood no chance!" The Elf had been about to let out a sigh of annoyance when, as if on queue, he spotted the downed body of a massive wolf. Three villagers were busying themselves with breaking down the creature for usable parts, the creature's empty eyes stared off at nothing. What was impossible to miss was the  wound to its skull, a clean and expert cut that more than likely ended the battle quickly. "We're thankful of the mercenary that arrived at our quiet little village. Had it not been for her, it may have gotten more midnight snacks!"

      A woman in the cart audibly scoffed as she shifted her child in her lap, pulling it closer protectively "I'd rather not deal with that vagabond! I've heard that if you stare into their eyes for far too long, you'll be cursed like any other dragon out there would curse you!" At her words, the cart became more lively with commentary. One man said he was happy that someone took care of a small group of pesky critters of varied types. Another said he had heard that the mystery vagabond had killed a man for looking at her wrong, another wondered if she had left town. Zephaniah frowned with the commotion, confused at their varied commentary. Then he heard the word "Dragonborn" amongst the chatter, making Zephaniah's long ears twitch.  They were an uncommon species, but it explained why this mystery wanderer seemed so strong.

      Again, with unnaturally coincidental timing, the old man spoke to Zephaniah "Ah, there she is now! You seemed eager to see a Dragonborn!" He pointed outside, and golden eyes quickly followed the trail.

      She was hard to miss.

      A towering Dragonborn walked on the side of the road, greatsword still in hand and slung over her shoulder. The first thing he noticed was her bright red skin, that almost gave off a faint metallic sheen in the sun. She also had two horns that curved back and up, two small and sharp upward tusks sticking out of her lower lip, scales decorated her head, and ended with four smaller horns at the back of her hair. Her cheekbones ended with a sharp edge that stuck out, unlike his, partially protecting fin-like ears that poked out behind the sharp features. He had to remember what she looked like, dark burgundy dreads with golden clasps in them, she seemed strong. The Dragonborn wore a worn and tattered faded red fabric around her neck as some sort of makeshift scarf, and her armor had various layers to it. The top had circular clasps on her chest piece, with simple metal shoulders that sat atop a shirt that showed the hint of fine strong metal chains beneath it in a decorative display. As he looked on, the Dragonborn's eyes locked on to Zephaniah's briefly. They were striking gold eyes, and blue pale scleras that stared back. It wasn't so much how her eyes looked as so much how the expression in her eyes looked.
      They looked so... Heavy.
      Yes, she seemed very strong, that's what he needed. Strong. Powerful, intimidating.
      He nearly stood in the moving cart as the Dragonborn's heavy eyes now looked ahead, indifferent, continuing her slow walk back to town, carrying a large hunted bird in her other hand.

      Yes. Strong. Good.

      Zephaniah settled back down as the cart full of passengers began to chatter about possibly the only exciting thing that had rolled into town. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember every detail, this was perfect. The older man spoke up once again "She's been staying at the local tavern, at night she's usually in the corner, avoiding everyone." When he looked up at the elderly villager, the human still had the warm smile from earlier on his face "I'm truly glad I got to see a Dragonborn in my lifetime, especially this far out."
      This at last made Zephaniah respond. "That's the thing, what's a Dragonborn doing all the way out here ?"

      The town came into view, but they had passed the slow walking mercenary, beating her to the entrance gate. Zephaniah felt an urgency well up within his chest, he just had to find that Dragonborn.

......

      The tavern was lively and full of drunken guests, having gathered for the celebration of the dispatch of the town's nemesis. The would be hero sat in a corner, quietly watching past an empty plate and refilled jug of ale. There were songs, clashing loud conversations, laughter, all distant and worlds away. The hazy veil that seemed to cover everything in the large room made reality feel like a faint dream, she barely sometimes realized she was hungry. Karith halfheartedly lifted a hand to gesture a polite wave to a man with reddened cheeks, who lifted his seventh  cup of ale in her honor. A farmer who lived at the edge of town beside a large plot of crops, he had been the first to run up to Karith and thank her in tears. He lived with his wife and newborn, fearing daily that the Direwolf would hear their child's cries of fear, and suddenly gain a new favorite snack.

      They all continued celebrating, lost in their merry stupors, but her view of the tavern was interrupted by a black outfit, faintly glistening with the sheen only leather gave off. A sack of coins loudly dropped in front of her on the table, and Karith's eyes trailed upward, making eye contact with the Elf she had seen pass in the cart earlier. He wore a serious expression, unlike the rest in the tavern, and his golden eyes were sharp and bright, like that of an owl. "I need a bodyguard." The Elf stated bluntly, straight to the point. Karith tilted her head as four clawed fingers grabbed the bag and opened it. Gold coins. "You know just as well as anyone that magic casters are not so hardy in close combat. I need a bodyguard." She looked up at his words, a somewhat sinister smile revealing sharp teeth. He didn't seem to react much, mostly focused on hiring her instead.
      "And you'd trust the likes of me with that?" she growled faintly, yet the Elf seemed unfazed.
      "I'm an excellent judge of character. No one with a cold heart would kill a menace like a Direwolf after being told they're cursed by their indirect employer." He finished speaking and motioned towards the bag "One-hundred gold. I need a bodyguard."

      Karith motioned for the Elf to sit, and he did so with elegance, yet stiff,  movements only his kind could probably mange. She sat back in her seat again, resting her arms on the large seat "Karith Rialga. You better not be expecting the luxury tour, princess." The Elf didn't react to the jab, instead calmly resting his arms on the table as he interlaced his fingers together.
      "Zephaniah Singreil. I've been travelling for long enough, a Druid's luxury is the shade of the trees, and the company of the forest life." As the festivities continued around them, the two spoke business.
      Well, whatever she could manage to get out of him, anyway. He kept it shortened to "I'm looking for a spell, and I've been travelling for it." The lack of detail wasn't so much necessary as it was infuriating. This Zephaniah seemed like an interesting fellow, there weren't many that wanted to travel with her, even less so an Elf. She looked like the enemy, a reminder that a scaled monster could easily raze an entire town. As far as she knew, Elves and Dragons never got along.

      The two spent the rest of the night discussing the route they'd take. Whatever her new employer chose would work, she had no set goal in mind. When Zephaniah motioned to her sword, resting against the wall he commented "That's not a common pattern, that belongs to a knighthood." At his words, Karith smiled once more, but it did not reach her eyes. She could feel the clouded over look she was getting. Zephaniah didn't flinch as she cautiously said "For all you know, I took that off a dead knight." She leaned forward, resting a forearm on the table. Instead, the Elf raised his intertwined hands to rest his chin on his thumbs.
      "You could have, and you could have also killed all these innocent, drunken civilians without them knowing any better. Yet here you are, protecting them."
      He wasn't wrong, seeing through her intimidation tactics.
      She was normally good at scaring people off, but it wasn't working on him.
      Karith sat back, resting her arms on the back of the chair again. "This is going to be interesting." she grinned, but it did not reach her eyes. This all was a distant dream, faint and covered with a thin black veil.