SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Gilbert Ch 2 - Crossbows & Kegs

Hasha opened her cute reptilian eyes and stretched her wings.  She turned her head to one side, and peeked out of her cave at the new day breaking outside.  A low mist hung over the tree tops, like a giant lake covering all the plain below.  A thin column of smoke rose in the far hills, marking the spot where a village lay.  All around, birds twittered in the trees, and butterflies danced the sky as they greeted the morning.

“Ribbet!”, called a frog, which started a chorus among the other frogs in a nearby pond.

“Needeep!”  “Ribbet, Ribbet!”, they sang.

Suddenly, a huge roar bellowed forth, as Hasha yawned.  It rumbled and echoed about the hills like a clap of thunder, frightening a flock of birds who’d been singing in a nearby bush.

“Serves them right for waking me with that horrible squawking!”, she said to herself grumpily.  “And stop that awful croaking or I’ll boil your nasty swamp and cook the lot of you!”, she screamed in the direction of the pond, where suddenly all went quiet.  “And that goes for your ugly tadpoles too!”, she added for good measure, just to make sure they got the message.

“Oh dear”, Hasha thought.  It was the end of the full moon, and all the local inhabitants were quickly learning that this was not a good time to annoy Her Majesty, as they jokingly called her.

Her mood now easing for the time being, Hasha retreated deeply inside her cave and began to make plans for the day.  She examined the scratch marks on the wall that made up her diary.  Today was marked with a large “X”, she noted with a tinge of excitement.  She began to preen herself, periodically checking her gorgeous reflection in a puddle on the floor.  Today was a special day, and breakfast could wait.

* * *

On the other side of the mountain, Gilbert was now very much awake, as he eyed Dingbat and the wooden barrels suspiciously.

“Hey, you’re not going to go drinking that stuff and banging into things again are you?”

“No”, replied Dingbat with a mischievous grin, “We all are!”

“What?”, exclaimed Gilbert.  “I’ve never drank before in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.  Especially after what happened to you last week”.

They all glanced at the large bruise on Dingbat’s nose.

“I told you, it was those darned elves who did this, magicking up cliffs out of nowhere.  I’d burn them all to cinders if I knew where they were hiding”, protested Dingbat.

“More like drown them”, said Drakken.  “You were so full of ale it’s a wonder you could fly at all!”

“Ok, maybe I did have one too many for the sky.  But Gilbert, it’s your hatchday!  And what better way to start the celebrations!”

So, at the urging of his friends, Gilbert tentatively picked up one of the wooden barrels in his jaws.

“Now, count to three and bite down hard”, instructed Dingbat.

“Unnn”, mumbled Gilbert, who was finding it difficult to talk with the large wooden cylinder wedged in his teeth.  “Dooo”, he muttered, and Dingbat started to giggle.  “Dreee”, he coughed out, and snapped his jaws shut, forcing razor sharp fangs through the timber casing.

Laughter burst forth all around him as he felt the cool gush of bitter foaming liquid explode in his mouth and shoot up his nose, while he tried to spit out pieces of wood.

“Arggghh!” roared Gilbert, coughing and sneezing, while Drakken and Dingbat rolled around on the floor in hysterical giggles.  “Arggghh!” he roared again, as froth oozed from his nose and his eyes glazed over.

“Isn’t there an easier way to drink this stuff?”, queried Gilbert, as his head began to feel light and a somewhat pleasant warmth began to circulate through his huge body.

“Not really”, explained Drakken, “the dwarves use goblets, but they are so small it would take you a week just to drink one barrel!”  “And we certainly wouldn’t want to use those!”, he added, looking directly at a jewel-encrusted urn laying on the floor, which caused Gilbert to start blushing again.

“Actually, there is a better way!”, said a squeaky voice behind him.

He looked around and there was Lucinder, Drakken’s twin sister, folding her wings as she alighted in the cave entrance.

“Oh dear”, she said, “this must be your first time”, as she surveyed the puddle of froth and splinters surrounding a rather peeved and slightly tipsy dragon.

Gilbert always got annoyed when Lucinder showed up.  She was skinny, with buck fangs, pink eyes, and not like a dragoness at all.  All she did was follow them around and ask endless questions in that grating voice of hers.  Why couldn’t she hang out with other dragonesses? Gilbert wondered.  Why couldn’t she be like Hasha?  No, thought Gilbert, nobody could be like Hasha, especially Lucinder.  Hasha was wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous, loveable.  Lucy was, well, just Lucy, and damned annoying at that!

“Hello Gilbert, darling!”, she squeaked.  “Happy hatchday!!!”, and she leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on his right cheek, rendering Gilbert’s best efforts at evasion a complete failure.

“Care for another?”, she squeaked again.

“No way!”, replied Gilbert, pointedly wiping his cheek with his wing.

“Not that, silly!  Another ale is what I meant!  Here, let me show you how it’s done.  I call this the cross-bow!”, she announced proudly.

They all watched as Lucinder picked up a barrel in her jaws, and thrashed her long neck side to side, as if killing a large serpent.  She stopped shaking, then turned the barrel in her fangs until it was pointing directly down her throat.  Carefully, she leaned back her head and extended a single front claw.  A sharp jab in the lid, and a jet of brown ale squirted down her throat, emptying the barrel in a matter of seconds.  She ripped out an enormous belch, accompanied by a burst of searing flames that just missed Dingbat’s head and charred the far wall.

“Wow!”, exclaimed Gilbert, forgetting for a moment whom he was praising.  “That was cool!  Can I try it?”

“Me too!”, interjected Dingbat.

“Sure!”, replied Lucinder.

Drakken just shook his head with embarrassment.  Sisters!

Before long, Gilbert and Dingbat were cross-bowing like experts, and even Drakken relented and joined in the fun.  Schnorkel couldn’t quite get the hang of it, so just sat there scrunching his barrels instead. Lucinder kept up with the pace, and before long the ale supply was nearly exhaused.

“Whatsh say we play a game?”, slurred Dingbat, after downing what must have been his tenth keg.  “How about Brush-Dwarf Roollett?”, he added, not giving anyone an opportunity to disagree, not that they would have.

He wobbled over to the remaining barrels, then violently shook one until it began to creak under the strain.  Then, shielding them from the drunken eyes of the others with his wings, randomly rearranged them in a rather crooked line.

“Ok, who’sh firsht?”, he pondered out loud.  “Drakky!  Get your tail over here!”

Drakken staggered over and selected a barrel to his liking.  He tilted his enormous head to one side so that his ear hovered just above the lid, then smartly jabbed a hole in the top with his claw.  Nothing happened.  Drakken drained the barrel, then bowed deeply and moved aside for the next round.

Schnorkel went next, and smiled confidently as he casually pricked a hole in his chosen barrel.  The barrel erupted and a great spout of ale shot straight up his ear!  The roars of laughter were so loud that the townsfolk in a nearby village panicked and rang their alarm bell, to warn of imminent dragon attack!

Schnorkel just shook his sodden head and collapsed in a heap in the corner, as ale dripped from his ear, forming a small puddle on the floor below.

“Oh dear, all gonesy”, said Drakken sadly, as Gilbert and Lucinder made short work of the last two barrels.  “Hey, I know another game!   Come here for a second, Sis”, he called to Lucinder.

Lucinder lurched over and Drakken whispered something in her ear that made her smile.  She shot a quick glance at Gilbert, then giggled.  “Shhh!”, whispered Drakken.

“Ok, don’t go away, we’ll be back in just a mo”, he called out.   With a great beat of wings, Drakken and Lucinder took to the sky, and all living creatures below hid themselves in terror.

What next? wondered Gilbert suspiciously.  He knew Drakken well enough to know that whatever game he was planning, it certainly wasn’t “Quadscotch” or “Singe the Tail off the Donkey”.