You will need to know the pronounciation of these names:

Banuer: BAH-'NOO-ER
Brangsloð: BRANG-'SLOTH
Dorrgarir: DOR-,GAWR-'EER
fürið: FOOR-'EETH
Gruldirfin: GROOL-DEER-'FEEN
Hûmikuld: HYOO-,MEE-'KOOLT
Ilga: EEl-'GA
Insimrôda: EEN-,SIHM-'RAWDA
Kjolþa: KYOL-'THA
Krifôss: KREE-'FAWSS
Larsrün: LARS-'ROON
Mæsira: MAY-'SEERA
Myar: MEE-'AR
Nalssi: NAL-'SIH
Ordi: ORDIH
Ôtti: AW-'TIH
Sdrídüri: S-DRIHT-'OORIH
Vangræ: VAN-'GREY
Ysgall: EESS-'GALL
Yvásmitr: EE-'VAWS-'MEETER

Children’s Voice

Kjolþa had fallen to the water at such a velocity, that it knocked her out cold. She awoke much later, when Ôtti started to peek.

She got to her knees with a groan, cradling a maimed head in her hand. Her fur was wet, but not drenched. Beneath her was more fur, a sort of pink red in colour, and also just as moist, as if it had been drying for a while. On each of her sides was a jutting horn, stag-like, yet, not like anything she had seen before, each one with a pointed ear underneath. She was on the head of Insimrôda, who was moving along at a leisurely pace.

”Are you up?” She heard his ocean deep voice ask. “You are moving, I know it.”

Kjolþa didn’t know what to say. “…Where did you come from?”

”One of my people saw you hit the water,” Answered Insimrôda, “they saw you sink. They took you and held you above the water so you could breathe. But you were heavy, they say. So, I took you, and you’ve been on my head since last night.”

Once again, Kjolþa was speechless. Sitting down, holding her knees close to her chest, her wings folded against her, she wondered what prompted the starspawn to aid her in such a personal dilemma. He always seemed so cold, so intent on matters of politics and other such things that came with being king. In a way, she was touched.

”You don’t strike me as a swimmer.” Began Insimrôda again. “What were you doing that landed you in the middle of the Roknar?”

What was she to say? “I was out with a mother fürið, looking for her kittens, and Banuer showed up. She was very low to the ground, and crushed the fürið mother under uprooted debris from her flapping. I…got angry…and went after her.”

”You flew after Banuer?!” Bellowed the great leviathan in surprise. “I understand your feelings, but Banuer never kills on purpose. If you were to avenge the death of your fürið ally, you may want to find out what made Banuer fly so close to the ground in the first place.”

Kjolþa thought about what he had said. She remembered, when she was in free fall, that Banuer looked distressed, even scared. Though, Banuer was freakishly mighty, an unmovable behemoth of the skies, if something had scared her like that it would have to be big. Looking out towards the watery horizon in front of her, she knew she would have to tell the rest of her band of all of this, Larsrün and Vangræ would have to…

Something was wrong indefinitely. Her third eye could see Larsrün, but not Vangræ! Even if the half grown kitten were dead, she would know. But she could not see him. Was it like in the battle at Hûmikuld? Was someone using magic to block her sight?

About to fly off to look for Larsrün and Vangræ, the thought of her band waiting back at Hadimi brought her back, they deserved to know what had happened. But what of the invisible Vangræ? She could not leave those two behind either. If she could not avenge the death of Yvásmitr, she should at least find her kittens.

She debated the whole matter for very long, torn between her band, and the stray fürið that were so dear to her. Finally, she made her painful decision. She would find the brothers first, take them back to the band, then find Banuer and get her to tell her what had made her so nervous.

Insimrôda felt Kjolþa leap off his head.

”Don’t get into any more fights with Banuer!” He called over to her. “No matter how powerful we are, there’s always going to be someone more powerful!” Then, he submerged back into his underwater kingdom.

Kjolþa only paid the slightest attention to his waning words as she flew off over the water and towards the mainland.

---

Larsrün woke upon his roost to find the troll dead, and his brother gone. Hovering off the tree, he inspected the body. The troll did not contain electrical marks, nor talon and teeth marks, obvious to him it was not Vangræ that finished it off. Instead, the body was covered in huge single gashes and single gouge marks, the sign that the troll had been beaten with blades and spears. Larsrün sniffed the ground around him. Wood elves. There was no argument that it had been them that had killed the troll, but what of his brother. Searching around the area, he could find no evidence that Vangræ had escaped, or was even killed.

A trend common to the elves at the time was to kill fully grown fürið, as had been the way for so long, but to capture young, or half grown kittens, get them fat and groggy, then harvest them for their plumage as soon as they had gotten all their adult feathers, killing off those that don’t get that bright blanket. A sad note, as only the males got the bright feathers. Females, though they were the bigger gender of fürið, did not get the bright feathers.

Fallowing the scent of elves, Larsrün headed along on foot.

---

In a remote village somewhere in the forest, Vangræ awoke, his legs in two pair fetters and his long neck in a chain link collar connected to a tree. Several wooden houses were in front of him. He could see children: wood elven children; playing some sort of hiding game. A couple of elf women were outside, one looked to be washing clothes, and the other was carrying something.

Testing his wing, Vangræ found it still a bit tender, not like he would have been able to fly away if he could. The fürið fingers were not properly made to be prehensible, but he tried fiddling with the collar around his neck regardless. He fiddled with the lock, trying to pick it with his claws. Never, did he notice the children closing in to look at him, their mouths agape in awe at the strange creature before them. When Vangræ did notice them, he became jittery, letting out a warning screech for them to stay away. This alarmed the children, but not as much as the parents. Running out from the sodden houses came three men, two were very burly, and one was carrying a muzzle. They seized Vangræ, holding him still with their muscular arms. As the fürið began to struggle, one of the men slipped the muzzle over his mouth, snapping the lock into place.

They all let go. Rolling on the ground, the fürið tried in vain to push the muzzle off with his talons.

The children, still curious of the new beast, were lead away by angry and concerned parents.

At the end of the rows of small houses was a greater hall, the abode of the elf chief Gruldirfin, his wife Mæsira, and their two children.

One of the local men, whom had helped to subdue Vangræ, rapped on the huge hall door. Answering it, the man shoved a rebellious little boy towards his Mother.

Gruldirfin sat outside the hall, sharpening his spear against a rock. Mæsira came out to look for him, tapping him on the shoulder.

”What is it?” The chief rumbled, setting his spear down.

”It’s Krifôss. The men caught him in front of the fürið you caught. They say he was nearly eaten by the beast!”

”Then let this be a good lesson for the boy: Don’t get too close to a fürið.”

”But husband, you do not understand. Every child in the village was next to the monster!”

Gruldirfin smiled at his wife. “Ahh, children are getting bolder now-a-days. Let’s get ready to usher in a new generation of warriors.”

”The children are getting deviant! Can’t you see? Krifôss is starting to talk up to us like we’re competitors. Several of the other children were caught steeling, and the young Nalssi girl broke the best of our wooden spears!”

”It’s those goblins.” Started Gruldirfin, holding up his spearhead to admire his work. “Their children play to close to our children, and they pick up bad habits. Don’t worry.” He reassured his wife, putting down his spear to place a loving hand on her shoulder. “They may have the numbers, but we have the better weapons and armour. We’ll drive those Krallüwild out and stick the heads of a few prisoners on our spears as an example.”

”And what happens if that doesn’t work?”

”Oh, Mæsira. I think you might be getting those ‘Motherly Jitters’ everyone talks about.”

”Now you’re just changing the subject.” She inquired, inspiring a chuckle from her husband.

---

Larsrün fallowed the scent all the way to the river, and stopped. The scent had vanished.

It’s possible they would have just crossed the river. It was plausible, they had just taken off with a half grown fürið kitten, they would want to elude any angry parents. But, they could have taken any way from there: could have crossed the river and kept going, could have gone downriver by boat, or up. They could have made various turns from the river. Larsrün tested his options by sniffing the ground on the shore, making sure that the elves didn’t try something like getting their feet wet, then come back onto the same shore just to cheese him off.

”If you want a fish, they’re going to be in the water.” Piped a sarcastic remark from above.

Larsrün stopped, perking his ears, but not locating where the voice came from. He continued to sniff the bank.

The voice continued. “Now that I think about it, maybe you’ll find a nice slug, or some mushrooms in the mud.”

Now, Larsrün had located that. Looking up, he saw a peculiar sight. Dangling from an evergreen limb hung a pink and purple creature by its feet. It had the cat-like face of a fürið, with huge, saucer width eyes that shone like the scales of a fish out of water. Its stubby wings were sinuous like a dragon’s, and probably just as strong.

The pink creature looked down at him. “Morning. My name’s Dorrgarir. May I ask what a fürið is doing up at this time of day?”

”Not until you tell me what you are!” Demanded Larsrün. “You have the face and tail of a fürið, but your wings look like that of a dragon, or an imp!”

”I am an Yndrasvin.” Answered Dorrgarir with a curt wave of her wing.

”You’re not an Yndrasvin!” Larsrün pointed out sternly, hovering over the river to land right in front of the tree Dorrgarir was hanging from. “I know an Yndrasvin, and you are not that!”

”Am too.” The pink creature defended. “At least that’s what those elves called me.”

Larsrün’s attention peaked at the mention. “Elves? Are you referring to elves that passed by here a few days ago, or elves in general?”

”Both by all I care.” Dorrgarir answered, stretching her wings about her. “Saw some come by just last night. They threw rocks at me.” She started to laugh at the memory. “They said: ‘aaaah, an Yndrasvin’. Would have been more hilarious if it weren’t for those rocks.” Finishing her sentence, she wrapped herself in her wings once again.

”Just last night!” Repeated the fürið. He scaled the tree, stopping only when his face was right in front of the wing curtain Dorrgarir hid herself in. “Were they wood elves?” He asked, poking his muzzle in between the wings. “Did they have a fürið with them?”

When Dorrgarir refused to answer, Larsrün nudged his entire head into her wing’s cover. “Answer me you silly creature!”

Dorrgarir’s wings parted, revealing that she was none to pleased of the intrusion. “If I answer you, will you go away?!”

”Well, if you didn’t want to be disturbed, you wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

Hanging silently for a moment, Dorrgarir grumbled in annoyance. “Fine. But I can’t tell you what kind of elves they were. I can’t tell the difference between the two wood elves and mountain elves.”

”Ice elves.” Larsrün corrected.

”Beg your pardon?”

”Ice elves. The two types of elves are wood elves and ice elves. Wood elves look more like humans, only with pointy ears, kind of grey-ish skin with darker spots. Their hair is darker, either brown, green, grey, and some are dark blue. Have four fingers and a thumb on each hand. Ice elves…also look like humans, their ears are more like wolves then wood elves. They’re the ones with the bone white skin, most have white hair. Three fingers and a thumb on each hand.”

”Oh, well that’s a much better comparison then the one I got.” Started Dorrgarir with a chuckle. “Make’s more sense. Of course the ice elves would look more like ice. Then those were defiantly wood elves that came by here. They had lousy aim.”

”Was there a fürið with them?”

”Fürið? You looking for someone?”

”Yes. I’ve lost my brother, Vangræ. He still has some of his kitten coat, and his plumage isn’t as bright as mine.”

”Vangræ, eh. Vangræ…” Dorrgarir pondered the name for a second. “Sounds more like a name you would give a girl. You sure you’re not looking for a sister?”

”Why do I get the feeling you’re changing the subject on purpose?”

In anger, Larsrü hopped onto the branch Dorrgarir was hanging on, staring down at the creature hanging underneath him.

”Vangræ…” She repeated, not seaming to have heard him “Vangræ, hm…Vangræ…”.

The fürið gave her an annoyed eye role. “Are you going to give me a straight answer, or do I have to use my talons?” He threatened, bearing his large talons in front of her face.

”WHOAH! Easy. No need to use those things. But, you see, it’s daytime…”

”What about it?”

”Well, during the daytime, there are dragons and gryffons. I do not get along with dragons and gryffons.”

”Why would that be? You’re too small to be any concern to them.”

”Oh, I can piss others off. Oh, how I can piss other’s off.”

Really, I wouldn’t have thought about that. Larsrün sarcastically thought.

”Why, just last week,” continued Dorrgarir, “I was looking for a really nice piece of metal to give to Dlilmrûni, cause…”

”Wait! Wait.” Larsrün snapped. “You know Dlilmrûni?”

”I know Dlilmrûni the metal worker. She’s kind of hard to get to, since she lives inside a mountain. Anyway, I stole this big ol’ plate of gold from this huge hoard I found in a cave. Must have been a dragon scale, because I was flying out of there with an angry dragon at my tail. I…sort of lost the dragon scale in the grand escape.”

”If I get you a gold dragon scale, will you give me a straight answer?” Demanded Larsrün.

Dorrgarir lifted her lower body to look up at the fürið. “You would do that…for me.” Her mouth was a quivering smile, it looked like she was about to cry.

”Why not. I know several dragons. Maybe they have some shed scales in their hoards.”

”Oh, thank you, you wonderful fürið.”

”My name’s Larsrün!”

”Larsrün…brother of Vangræ…” She slipped into her daydreaming voice again.

”Yes! That’s right! Now, are you coming?!”

Dorrgarir snapped out of her trance. ”Say wah?”

”I’m not leaving you here by yourself! For all I know, you may just be pulling my leg! So, are you coming, or do I have to take you in my talons roughly?!”

”Coming Larsrün, brother of Vangræ!”

The fürið flew off first, with the pink Dorrgarir fallowing behind. Her flapping wings were much more silent then that of a dragon, and Larrsün was concerned that she was not fallowing him at first. With her tiny wings, she had to flap them fast to keep any aviation, but she was still quite agile with them.

Odd creature. Thought Larsrün, And here I thought imps were hard to talk too.

---

Ordi searched the sky above. Ôtti shone bright in his sensitive, beady eyes. Where was Kjolþa? Where was Yvásmitr? Shouldn’t the two fürið brothers have come back?

Ysgall saw how Ordi plodded about on all fours, contemplating in the direction of the bright sun, his wings were slightly unfurled as if he were about to take off.

”Ordi.” Started the young imp. “You pace. Why do you pace?”

”Kjolþa’s gone.” Squeaked the elder. “Yvásmitr is gone. Larsrün and Vangræ haven’t come back yet.”

”I think you’re overreacting.”

”I think you’re under reacting.”

”Why would Kjolþa leave with Yvásmitr?”

”Go ask Ilga.”

”It’s daytime. Vampires are nocturnal”

”Are you quite through?”

”I never started.”

”Then start.”

”I just did.”

Ordi didn’t like his tone. “You didn’t start, I did!”

”Can’t start what doesn’t stop.”

”I stopped long before I started.”

”Does that explain why you asked me to stop.”

”Exactly.”

Ysgall stopped whatever it was he started. Just sitting where he was, he continued to look at Ordi. “Have Kjolþa and Yvásmitr come back yet?”

”No, I don’t think so?”

They both stared vacantly out into the bay. It was Ysgall who spotted the two flying overhead first. The imp perked up, getting onto his knees and staring straight ahead like a cautious rabbit. Two figures flew overhead. One defiantly looked like a fürið. The other was smaller with a fürið head, but the wings of an imp.

”Oh, look,” Began Ordi, “there’s Larsrün.”

”How do you know that’s Larsrün?”

”If it wasn’t, then why would it be heading here?”

”Could be Vangræ.”

”Vangræ isn’t stupid enough to fly alone.”

”Larsrün isn’t alone.”

”That’s not a fürið.”

Ysgall turned towards the two in the sky again, now landing. Truly, Ordi was right. There, Larsrün was in his brilliant plumage, with an alien looking pink and purple beast, sporting the head of a cat, the wings of an imp, the tail of a wolf, odd feet with talons that were rather stalky, and no arms.

The new visitor caught the curiosity of the little goblin Myar and the three wyvern hatchlings. Stumbling out of his tent, he held out his hand for Dorrgarir to sniff, as his father had told him to do for animals. The pink creature sniffed the little brown fingers. The goblin child giggled slightly at the familiar action.

From his little nest of rocks and scales, Brangsloþ he had heard Myar giggle with his incredible dragon hearing. Dorrgarir took one look at the metallic beast and shuddered. Brangsloþ lowered his head to look at her closely. Backing up as his snout approached her, Dorrgarir’s thick little legs gave out and she fell on her back.

”Larsrün,” Brangsloþ started, “what sort of creature traded places with Vangræ here?”

”I’m and Yndrasvin!” Dorrgarir belted out proudly.

”She says she’s an Yndrasvin.” Repeated the fürið.

”My name’s Dorrgarir!” She flapped her stubby, but powerful, wing in a show of aggression.

”She says her name is Dorrgarir.” Repeated Larsrün.

”I know, I can hear…her.” Stated the dragon. He turned his snout back towards the pink flyer. “I know Yndrasvin, and you are not one.”

”Says who?” Dorrgarir defended.

”Says me, and everyone else among us. Yndrasvin on Idraffi are thrown out of Hãrùldið by Grald’s Fierce Three. Have you ever been tossed?”

”Don’t recall.”

”Then you’re not an Yndrasvin.”

”How do you know? Maybe Fritrûk kicked me so hard I lost my memory?”

Brangsloþ gave that explanation some thought. “Well…you’re still not an Yndrasvin.”

The two curious little imps heard the commotion and wondered over. Ysgall took to the air, flying around Brangsloþ’s head.

”Who’s not an Yndrasvin? It can’t be Kjolþa, she’s not here.” The dragon constantly swatted at the pesky faerie.

”Annoying vermin.” Growled the dragon. “Stay still! Like everything else!”

”I’m an Yndrasvin!” Shouted Dorrgarir, flapping her wings like the flying imp.

Ysgall flew down to look at her, hovering in front of her face. “You can’t be an Yndrasvin, they break mirrors.”

While Brangsloþ muttered a witty retort over that remark, Larsrün turned to Dorrgarir with a more serious tone. “Now look! Regardless of what you are, you should get your golden scale now…”

”GOLDEN SCALE!” Ysgall squawked, doing summersaults in the air. “Just because we have two, doesn’t me you have any.”

”’Course I don’t have any.” Answered Dorrgarir, flapping her wings and hopping about. “I haven’t met your two.”

Ordi did not take the visitor in such an open manner. The creature was an unidentified entity, neither Kralläwild nor Éuwild. It certainly wasn’t an Yndrasvin, and he did not have enough experience to distinguish Oelürd.

To a crag in the rocky island hills, Ordi flew in a hurry. Hopping along the grey rock of the cliff, he called to the huge black and silver dragon sleeping in the shade.

”Sdrídüri!” He shouted, winded from his hurried flight. The old wyrm woke up with a groan, looking towards the intruding imp with a lazy gaze. “Larsrün brought something with him from the mainland, and we don’t know what it is!”

Yawning and stretching, Sdrídüri pondered what Ordi was getting at. Blinking lazily at the rock, his old, grey, glowing eyes seeming to stare out into the domain of knowledge that only dragons of his age seemed to see.

An unclassified creature. Thought the dragon with fascination. Larsrün simply ‘brought it back with him;? I must see this being with my own eyes before I can say anything.

”Take me to this creature.” Bellowed Sdrídüri, his bones cracked, and his scales crinkled as he stood up, lumbering up the cliff and fallowing the over energetic imp.

---

Myar had gotten friendly enough with Dorrgarir that he had started to scratch her belly, which the pink thing apparently loved. Falling onto her back, her wings unfurled in a joyful manner, the young goblin continued to give her a belly rub, even though her claws were flailing about as she laughed uncontrollably.

They heard the footsteps away off before they saw the old silver dragon lumbering towards them, Ordi flying just behind him. As the imp settled on a moss ridden stump, Sdrídüri looked first towards the giggling goblin and his laughing companion.

”Myar.” The voice of the elder dragon boomed. “It’s late, you should be in bed.”

To Dorrgarir’s disappointment, the child stopped his tickling to give Sdrídüri a defiant glare. “I’m not sleepy!” He crossed his arms and stuck out his lip to show he was cross.

”Now, now,” continued the dragon in a softer tone. “little children of any kind need their sleep. Or else they become cranky and start wanting to swim.”

”You’re lying!” Myar defended.

”Oh, am I? Now get along before I tell your Mother you were up late.” With his horns, he nudged the goblin child away. “Go on now, before your parents realize what’s happening.” Myar obeyed, though hesitantly, grumbling as he stomped back to his family’s tent. The dragon sent the three wyvern hatchlings away with a growl, back to their Mother. Though, as Sdrídüri turned his head away from all of them, the goblin merely hid behind one of the large island boulders, looking on quietly to see what the grown-ups were going to talk about.

Before she looked up at the wyrm, Dorrgarir looked over to see Myar heading away, looking a bit downtrodden, but lightened up quickly. With Larsrün at her side, she turned to the fürið “Sweet boy, look after him will you Larsrün.” Lowering her voice more, she leaned in closer to whisper something in his pointed ear. “I’ve heard the children on the mainland are getting extra rebellious. I’d seriously watch your back over there. I saw a handful of vampire children beat a grown man to near death…”

”Who are you?” Roared Sdrídüri, lowering his face to Dorrgarir, the slim muzzle dipping in close to her face. In fear, she stumbled backwards, loosing her footing and falling on her back once again. The elder dragon was very heavyset, making him look so much larger then he really was. Too large, his enormous belly was, for him to fly. The scales on his body, most noticeably the larger scales on his head, arms, back and legs, had lost much of their silvery lustre, becoming as black as if the silver were tarnished. Even the shine that was showing through on his head had long since been discoloured, looking more like brass then silver. Though, his time alive did allow his horns to grow thick and vicious looking. Two horns were placed at his temples, curving down towards the direction his snout pointed in, as well as three horns on his head. Once, they may have been slim and shining like knives, now they had become thick, gritty, and black like the club a giant. The fine hairs that grew between the scales of his kind had grown long and matted. But the eyes, they were glowing with the knowledge and wisdom that stretched back millennia. Grey irises could be seen in that white.

”Your name?!” Sdrídüri roared again, snapping a wary Dorrgarir to attention.

”Dorrgarir!” She answered with much more confidence, standing up straight and puffing out her chest.

”Dorrgarir.” Started the old dragon, easing his head upwards again, laying his enormous belly on the ground. A soft quake was created as he rest his gut on firm soil. “You do not know what you are?”

Flapping back a few more steps to get more distance between her and the dragon, she looked up at him with an odd, curios look. “No.” Answered she in a rebellious, childlike manner.

”Then where did you come from?”

Dorrgarir’s expression perked up with that question. “Good question. I was born to iron crags, in the centre of it all. I fought the fires, I fought the stones, and I lived to fight the things! THE THINGS! They thought they could put me down, but I always got up on me feet!” She mimicked a fight scene as she flew into the air and began punching the air with her feet, bobbing and twisting on the spot as she did so. Ordi fell over backwards, sure that he had just been hit in the head by one of her punches, but saw that Dorrgarir was still up in the air, many meters away from him.

”And then,” she continued her story, “I changed. Back and forth, back and forth. I became better, smarter, stronger, weirder, and my craving for melons increased. And then, I became Dorrgarir! I felt great! I felt invincible! Until the Collector came and I was locked up.”

Sdrídüri lay there with a bewildered expression. “Well, it seams to me you are describing a past life.”

”Or a really dramatic play.” Added Ordi, crawling back onto the stump.

”What’s a melon?” Ysgall asked.