Sir George and the Dragon…

The knight watched from around the corner of one of the vertical supports as the young woman approached. He figured she might be of similar age to Daffyd, perhaps a year or two older. She certainly was fair of face, the light dancing off her pretty emerald colored eyes, long dark tresses possessed of a curl swaying as she moved. From his vantage overhead, he found he had clear view down her cleavage, flesh pushed up nicely by her bodice. His lips curled up into a smile.

Craning forward, he watched as she tested his hand crafted rope and then tied it to her lantern before reaching up to climb the ladder.

She stopped as soon as they made eye contact, a shriek erupting from her as she pushed back and fell, landing on her bottom amidst a cloud of dust blown up into the air.

Raising an arm, she pointed a finger at him, “You’re one of the wee folk!” she accused, voice pitched high, full of surprise, eyes big and round.

He frowned and shook his head. He hadn’t heard the old dialect in some time. Wee folk? Did she mean Fey? Obvious the girl was either a dullard or addle witted. Under normal circumstances, that might play into a night or two of some ribald fun. Letting out a sigh, he waved a dismissive hand, “Nay,” he said, “I’m not one of your wee folk. I am Sir George, Knight of Renown,” he introduced, bowing slightly.

Climbing back to her feet, the girl moved closer, as if approaching a small bird which at any moment might take flight, a look of wonder in her large green eyes. “I can’t believe it,” she mumbled.

“I understand you are overcome with awe in my presence, diminished by sorcery as it may be, but for now quit your blathering girl and come hither and get me down from this height,” he instructed, motioning her closer as he stepped away from the support timber.

Using both hands, Alexa scaled the ladder slowly until her head was above the level of the landing where he stood. He was so tiny, so very like a person, except impossibly small.

To him, up close, she was much larger than she seemed from afar, her mouth open, pink tongue tucked into the left corner, eyes sparkling as she beheld him. “How are you called girl?” he asked unflappably, standing so close to her.

Looping her left arm through the uppermost rung of the built in ladder, she reached up with her right, moving slowly.

Shaking his head, “I say good woman of simple disposition, by what name are you called?” he repeated, brow furrowing and eyes darting to his left as her hand approach. At least she was going to get him down.

Again she did not reply, moving quickly and snatching him up in her hand.

Despite her large hand being soft and without callus, the force she was holding him with squeezed the air from his lungs, making it hard for him to breathe as she hastened down the ladder.

“Not so damned hard girl,” he wheezed from within her grasp. Often simpletons were unaware of their strength he mused, struggling within her grasp.

Feet back on terra firma, Alexa knelt down near the lantern, slowly opening her hand to examine the little prize contained within.

Lying in her palm, her fingers still curled like a trap ready to snap shut, the knight, pushed himself up onto his feet, a frown on his face. “What is your name child?” he asked, carefully and slowly enunciating each word as if the girl were indeed feebleminded.

She grinned. “This is amazing,” she breathed, eyes alight.

“Of course it is, shall I just call you girl?” he asked, not bothering to conceal the sarcasm.

“Alexa,” she said, “My name is Alexa,” she repeated. “Are you by yourself?” she queried, looking back up toward the loft.

“I am for the moment bereft of my young squire, Daffyd. I am currently seeking him. He is about my height, narrow of hip, brown hair. He may have come through here in the unfortunate clutches of a dragon,” suggested the knight solemnly.

“Really,” replied the enormous girl, dragging the word out. She had seen the little dragon out here, but she hadn’t seen another tiny person. More than likely the little monster ate whoever this Daffyd was the little man was on about. But if not, then maybe Ivy knows something. She had been acting odd. If she didn’t have a little treasure of her own at the moment, she would have confronted her step-sister.

George frowned, judging from the look on the girl’s face she was obvious having some difficulty processing the information. Inclining his head slightly and snapping his fingers, “I see by your dress you are a gentlewoman perhaps of some lesser stature, in what kingdom am I currently in. I would have words with your monarch?” he inquired, again still speaking very slowly.

“Queen Maeve rules here,” answered the girl, turning her hand left and right to better inspect her prize.

Maeve? Sir George frowned, the name was unfamiliar to him. “What is the name of your country?” he inquired.

“Targard,” she provided.

This did not make any sense. In the nine kingdoms, none were called Targard. Perhaps the stupid girl was mistaken?

He was about to suggest she take him to someone of normal intelligence, when she closed her fingers around him, throat emitting a squeal of delight as she unfastened the tether to her lantern and rushed out of the carriage house, nearly bowling Ivy over in the process.

“Watch where you’re going!” blurted Alexa, bringing a fist to her bosom.

“Sorry,” replied Ivy, stepping back out of the way. “I was just coming out to check on where you said Ella was in the carriage house,” she added.

“What? No, it doesn’t matter. I just checked, everything was fine, you should just go back into the house,” she said, moving in that direction, the pausing.

“Yes?” Asked Ivy.

“Daffyd,” Alexa said, watching closely for any sign or indication the word meant something to her.

Ivy frowned and didn’t betray the sudden stab of fright in her belly, “Sorry?” she inquired.

Frowning, Alexa nodded, “Nothing, just checking,” she said, turning and skipping back toward the main house.