Dark was falling, the clouds lowering, fearful people cowered in their homes. The Dragon Lord was coming, he would take slaves this month and they knew it. Only in the morning would they go out into the world again.
Aging grandfather Drulk hesitated as he closed the shutters to the cottage. He had been lucky and his son and grandson had stayed safe. He was a blacksmith and so was his son. He kwew how to keep them hidden, using strong iron to stop the Dragon Lord sensing their presence. But his son had been on a hunting trip and this was the first time his grandson has gone along. They were overdue. No sound entered the cottage, but if Hirst, the Dragon, came to it they would hear its beating wings many seconds before it arrived.
A knock at the door, Drulk opened it carefully. His grandson stood there, shaking, his clothes torn. They have father, was all he could say.
Drulk held his grandsons shoulders, what happened, he pleaded. We were at the edge of the forest, I tripped over a root and my head hit the ground. Father was trying to help when the Dragon grabbed him in his claws. He is gone….
In Flar Castle, their son and father stood before the Dragon Lord. You are now my slave, you will serve me. Never, said Drulk’s son. I will not serve or help you…..
I’m not sure where to go with this story I don’t write fiction very often… Maybe I should say ‘to be continued?’ I’m not sure about naming characters, it’s hard to decide what to call them…