Flintheln

I had this flash of inspiration. It was a flash alright, as in micro-fiction or sudden fiction...Over the next few weeks, I have a few of these Sudden Fiction stories to share with you. If you've read the first two books in the Song of Glædlond series, you'll enjoy these as little moments with the different characters of Bloom of Beorg and Arrow of Ebbadane.

Flintheln never thought for one minute that he could actually die from loneliness. But now he wondered if there could be some truth to it. His heart was sore from thinking of her and the constant prodding at the closeness of a dragon egg. The search hadn't gone as easy as he hoped. His hands and back were just as hurt as his heart—raw, and bleeding. Every day from dawn to dusk he turned stones and dug through hillsides of shale, and found nothing.

His campfire flickered pleasantly, reminding him of better days when he had his friends nearby. At first, it felt good to be alone in his own thoughts. No constant chatter from Mydlenlass, no endless philosophical expounding from Efealdore. And no more annoying songs in dwarfish from Biddy. He didn't think he'd ever miss Biddy's gravely voice carrying on over the virtues of a dwarf maid. What he missed was the girl and the feeling she gave him. If truth be told, he missed her chatter terribly. He daydreamed of Aldervale and all his plans for building a home for Mydlenlass.

The air in the Highlands was crisp of an evening, even in the summer. He pulled the woolen blanket tighter and watched his stew simmer in its pot, loathing the flavorless broth wrought by his hand. A sigh escaped. The summer was passing too quickly. He wanted to be in the lush, green valley of Aldervale, not frantically traipsing the Beorg Highlands.

The prodding in his chest told him the dragon egg was here and here was a big place. It was only half a league from the precarious trail he and Mydlenlass followed last winter. It was then it occurred to him that his heart had become too noisy. Complaints and longings whirred around and around. This won't do! I could be here until I die. He willed himself to be still—so still he could count the drops of water as they trickled over the stones. His thoughts were drawn to the water. He let its steady rhythm quieten his mind.

Just sounds and images—as through water.

Water.

He blinked his eyes and shook his head. So strange. Been alone to meself far too long!

Tomorrow he would poke around the stream that flowed nearby. How could a living dragon egg hide this long under the water? Unless...it was swept under during the rains and spring thaw! A sprinkle of hope renewed for the next day's search.