While the townsfolk were still puzzling over their newfound fascination with "art," Eric was already back in his fortress, preparing for a very different matter.
He gathered what he thought he might need: sword, pickaxe, and axe—the old reliable trio. Then came food and supplies, potions, a golden apple or two… and, as a last resort, a few blocks of TNT.
If Saruman decided to turn dark earlier than expected, Eric had no qualms about being the sort of unruly child who blew things up just to prove a point.
Satisfied, he slept like a stone that night and awoke refreshed. And it was just as well, because what he saw next made his pulse quicken.
The lava pool he had been using to incubate the dragon egg… had stirred.
On his morning inspection of the sealed chamber, a sharp crack rang out. A fine fissure spread across the surface of the egg.
Eric immediately hurried over, breath caught in his throat. Light from the lava glowed through the shell, illuminating the restless shadow of something alive within.
For a moment, Eric was tempted to help it along, but he knew better. For creatures born from eggs, breaking the shell was a test of strength. If it could not manage that, then its chances of surviving the outside world were slim.
So he waited.
The cracking and straining went on all day. Eric sat by the lava pool, listening to the slow peeling of the shell until, at last, the egg gave way with a soft crunch.
A thin, wavering cry followed. From the fragments emerged a small creature, crystalline in its beauty, its scales gleaming as if forged of glass. Two delicate wings twitched uncertainly on its back as it blinked open its eyes for the first time.
When the hatchling looked out into the world, it saw only a dark figure towering over it. The warmth of the lava faded against his presence. Then the shadow spoke in a tongue it could not yet understand:
"Fancy some fish?"
[Young Fire Dragon – 10/10 HP]
The tiny creature was fragile and unsteady. It tottered forward until it collapsed onto Eric's boot, as though it needed that touch to feel secure.
Once settled, it tilted its head to peer around, bright eyes wide with wonder at its first glimpse of the world. Red rivers of molten rock and jagged black obsidian walls—that was all it knew of life so far.
Eric studied it closely, recalling what he knew of dragons in Middle-earth. They had been bred by Morgoth himself, filled with malice and avarice from birth. Their very nature was corruption, their cunning unmatched, and their hunger for treasure insatiable. They were the embodiment of evil, abominations to all that was good.
Yet this one…
Eric carefully lifted the hatchling into his palm. Its eyes, though wide, held no malice, only innocence and curiosity. Its body gleamed soft and translucent, not jagged or cruel like Smaug's twisted visage.
If this dragon were truly one of Morgoth's brood, Eric would already be fending off sharp little teeth. Instead, the hatchling simply gazed at him, calm and trusting.
"Perhaps you've been touched by something else," Eric murmured. "Cleansed, maybe."
He pulled out a roasted fish and held it near the hatchling's nose. The little dragon sniffed, confused. It looked at Eric as if to say, What now?
Eric exaggerated the gesture, taking another fish and biting into it with great ceremony. He chewed, swallowed, and patted his stomach.
The hatchling blinked, then mimicked him perfectly—opening its jaws, sinking its teeth into the offered fish, and tearing away small chunks.
When it swallowed, something lit inside it. The warmth of its first meal spread through its body, and it let out a tiny, contented trill.
Eric chuckled, then pulled out a gold ingot, curious. He set it down beside the hatchling.
The dragon ignored it.
It ate its fish to the last scrap, belly round, then glanced briefly at the ingot, sniffed once, and looked back up at Eric expectantly.
"Well, that's different," Eric muttered.
The dragon had no interest in gold. Instead, its gaze followed his every movement with unnerving intensity.
Eric froze.
Oh no.
It was copying him.
This was not raising a child. This was raising a dragon.
To test his suspicion, Eric theatrically bit into the gold bar. His teeth jarred painfully, and he nearly swore. The hatchling, ever dutiful, tried the same and instantly recoiled in misery.
From that moment onward, gold was no longer considered edible in the young dragon's world.
Eric grimaced, rubbing his jaw. "Brilliant. I've just taught a dragon to despise treasure. That'll make the bards scratch their heads."
Still curious, he pulled out a cabbage, crunching noisily into it. The dragon sniffed the other cabbage, hesitated, then began munching away. In short order, the vegetable was gone.
"Right. So you eat anything I eat. At least you're not picky."
And so, under the glow of the lava, Eric began the most unusual education in dragon rearing.
By the following day at noon, he carried the hatchling out of the obsidian chamber. The little creature blinked at the sudden flood of sunlight. It flapped its wings clumsily, chirping in delight at the grass and the sky and the new smells all around.
Its cries quickly drew attention.
In Roadside Keep, people always noticed their lord first, no matter what he carried. So when Eric emerged, everyone greeted him politely.
"Good day, my lord."
Only then did they register the creature in his hands.
"Dragon… a dragon!"
The shout was enough to send the hatchling shrinking back, pressing itself into Eric's palm with a frightened squeak.
The townsfolk, however, were more alarmed than it was. A ripple of fear swept through them, and some even reached for weapons. Had the creature not been perched so trustingly in their lord's grip, panic might already have broken out.
"No need to panic," Eric said calmly, stroking the dragon's head.
"This little one is mine. It's not like the northern wyrms of legend. Its nature is pure, untainted by greed or malice."
He smiled faintly, producing a leaf of cabbage and offering it to the dragon. The hatchling eagerly crunched away, tail swishing.
"It doesn't crave gold or flesh. Truth be told, it rather likes roast fish and vegetables."
The villagers stared, dumbfounded.
A dragon… eating cabbage?
Legends spoke of monsters that devoured livestock, toppled towers, and burned cities to ash with a single breath. Dragons were death and ruin incarnate, feared since the First Age.
Yet here, before their eyes, was a hatchling happily chewing greens, scales gleaming like crystal, wings quivering with delight.
No tale had ever prepared them for this sight.
And for the first time in living memory, the people of Roadside Keep found themselves wondering if perhaps… not all dragons were monsters.