III

Sunlight filtered through the lone window above Balto’s worktable, creating a perfect square of light on the dirty floor of the shed. Strands of light splintered off dust into infinite directions, softly illuminating the rest of Balto's home, and even Balto himself, partially covered in an old blanket with Mr. Watson's opened book under the dragon's chin.

I'm so tired...

Balto let out a loud yawn and stretched out of the confines of his nest for a moment, feeling and looking rather cat-like as he did so. Looking around his shed, eyes oddly strained and blurry, the dragon felt confused for a moment, unconsciously shutting the book and sliding it safely under his nest, right where his stamps would have been.

Hey, at least you didn't sleep in late.

Heading towards the main house, the scent of cooked bacon and pancakes drifted through the air lazily on the morning breeze. The dragon, feeling playful, placed himself against the outside wall and snuck around the foundation until he came to a window leading directly into the dining room.

Father and Mother, who dutifully fed Leslie from her breast with a blanket covering the act, spoke to each other about Susie while they ate, and Harry ate wordlessly. That didn't mean he was quiet about it though. The dragon reared up onto his hinds, planted both forepaws on the windowsill, a few feet from the ground, and smiled directly inside.

Nobody noticed him until he whispered “boo”. Father jolted in place, his back towards Balto, while Mother, who saw him from across the table, laughed quietly, continuing to feed Leslie. Harry was left momentarily stopped but he did not relent on his meal.

“What are you doing, Balto?” Father grumbled, feigning coolness as he smoothed his hand over his morning shirt. “Come get breakfast or you’ll be hungry on your route. Also I need to speak to you before you head out.”

“Yes, sir,” the young dragon replied, hopping down from the window and making his way back to the rear of the house.

Prancing inside lightly, Balto found a plate waiting for him at the table. He didn’t dare try eating at the table again, especially after noticing Father’s eyes wandering over to him as he pretended to look at his morning paper. Instead, Balto took his plate, set himself down in the doorway to the hall, and ate there.

“What did you want to talk about, Father?” Balto questioned, making sure to swallow his first bite of pancake and bacon before speaking. He even licked the syrup about to drip off the front of his snout before it could stain the floor. He wasn't particularly fond of syrup, but he was too hungry to care.

Maybe he’s going to let me eat at the table.

“Well since you’re already here, I guess I’ll tell you.” The man turned in his chair and looked directly at the dragon. “I need you to detour to Dursly today during your morning route.”

Balto, mid-bite on some more syrupy pancakes, looked at Father confusedly...then worriedly, a minor tremble forming at the tip of his tail.

“What about Carville or…”

“You’ll still do your normal route, but I need you to deliver to Dursly first. I am going to give you a letter that needs sent to the post office as soon as possible so it can get sent out with the rest of it. Can you do this for me, Balto?”

“Yes, sir,” Balto replied, trying his best to sound calm and not at all terrified of returning to Dursly so soon. Dursly wasn’t even supposed to receive mail that day, giving Balto a nice day or two to not worry about the brothers tormenting him.

“I know you don’t like going there, but this is important.”

"Don't like" isn't close at all.

Despite himself, Balto sat up on his haunches and nodded dutifully. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Now eat your breakfast so you can get going. I'll be right back.” Father folded his paper shut, set it on the table, and left the dining room for his office.

Harry glared across the table towards Balto. “You’re a suck up.”

“Harry!” Mother snapped quietly.

“I mean he is.”

Balto looked down at his plate and whispered, “I’m just doing what I’m told.”

“Ya know what they call people like that?”

“Harold…”

“Suck ups.”

Balto didn’t make eye contact. He simply continued eating, a little more dejected than he liked to feel.

Mother shushed Leslie as she fussed, and scorned Harry with a few seconds of harsh stares. He shrugged it off and continued eating with a quiet “...just a dragon…” under his breath.

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Balto sighed but kept eating.

Father eventually came back with a large manilla envelope and set it beside the dragon. “It’s got some business documents in it that need to be delivered to a partner of mine, so be careful with it.”

“I will, sir.”

Father sat back down, Balto finished eating, and Harry kept smirking to himself, finding his own thoughts funny.

+++

The dragon went gliding over the endless plains of growing wheat and corn, over the scattered houses and farms, each one attended to by small families and livestock. The dragon cast his eyes in every direction, eyeing the landscape and letting his imagination run wild with fantasy battles and adventure. He watched the road below whip past him, thinking of the long trek Frodo and his fellowship had before them.

And before himself.

Balto straightened himself mid-flight, putting on a show of bravery like the brave Strider.

Coming up to Carville first, the closest town by far and on the way to Dursly anyway, Balto scanned the roads for Mr. Bunsen. While he wasn’t hoping that Mr. Bunsen was having car troubles again, Balto hoped he would find the man in need so that he may lend a claw to assist. He knew it was selfish, but the dragon didn’t dwell on the feeling for too long.

He was feeling brave and ready to do battle with the forces of evil…

...or the forces of faulty mechanical engineering. Balto would take either one.

Balto excitedly yelped when the sight of Mr. Bunsen’s truck appeared in the distance, not stuck in the same spot as before, though he tempered himself, reminding himself that he shouldn’t have wished for misfortune in the first place.

That didn’t stop Balto from smiling to himself and feeling full of giddy excitement.

Circling above Mr. Bunsen, who was alone this time, Balto called down with, “Is something wrong, Mr. Bunsen? Is there something I can do to help?”

Please say “yes”. I can help. Let me help.

“Actually there is!” Mr. Bunsen shouted back. “Can you land on the road and help push my truck outta this damn hole?”

“Yes I can!” Balto cried, finishing a rotation in the sky before leveling with the road and descending to the tar and asphalt below. His footing faltered, still partially gliding as a gust of wind blew him sideways, and the dragon found himself falling forward and rolling awkwardly onto his back in a daze.

The dragon shook his head, got back to his feet, and hurried to Mr. Bunsen’s truck. He planted his front paws on the tailgate, ready to push, and watched the old man in need as he climbed back into the cab. The back right wheel was stuck in a hole born in the shoulder of the road. It was deep and dangerous looking.

“What happened?” Balto asked. “This hole looks pretty big. Did someone dig it up?”

“No, I’m just an old man who swerved into the shoulder by accident. Damn governor won’t fix our little roads if they don’t connect to the highway.”

“Well, at least they aren’t that bad right now,” Balto added.

“For now. Are you ready?”

The engine sputtered to life. Groaning metal gears and oiled joints jostled the whole vehicle. Balto nodded to Mr. Bunsen’s reflection in his door mirror.

“Push!” Mr. Bunsen screamed, pressing his foot on the gas. Balto threw all of his might into his hind legs and pushed on the back of the truck. Balto let out a grunt and growled as his hinds scraped and gouged the dirt below, dragging tiny, sharp rocks under his claws.

But the truck lurched forward suddenly, sending Balto forward awkwardly again. He landed roughly on his chin with a grumble and watched as Mr. Bunsen waved his hand back at Balto, hollering, “Thank you!”

Balto waved back with a paw, but not as goodbye. He waved wildly, crying as loud as he could manage, “Can you give me a ride?!”, but Mr. Bunsen was already too far to hear him. The dragon’s ears flattened sadly, and he let out a quiet whine before straightening himself up.

Balto thought back to Mr. Watson’s book and something he had read: “Dragons don’t whine.” He wasn’t about to prove it wrong. Dragons didn’t whine, Balto repeated to himself and began the trek towards Carville on foot, feeling like a modern day, one-dragon Fellowship.

The young drake put on that same brave face that Strider would have and walked on.

+++

The young dragon took his first step into Carville with uncomfortable paws and a mighty thirst. He spent most of the distance in a daydream, battling orcs as they ambushed him from behind cornstalks, even beginning to dance around invisible attacks and parry savage sword swipes with his wings. The dragon laughed to himself before composing himself again. He had letters to deliver.

Stopping by the Bunsen’s house first, Balto found Mr. Bunsen eyeing the tailgate of his truck.

“Hello, Mr. Bunsen,” Balto started, placing a paw on one of his pouches. “I just came to check on you. I don’t have any mail for you today.”

Mr. Bunsen shook his head a few times, running his fingers over a set of jagged scratches in the tailgate’s paint. The dragon looked a little closer, realizing the must have formed from his pushing.

“Oh...I’m sorry,” Balto whispered.

“It’s alright,” the man replied, shaking his head. “I should’ve realized this would happen. Just...get going. I have to paint this up before the missus sees it.”

“I...I can help you if you want…” Balto told the aging man, but received a stern, angry rejection that made the young drake recoil. “O...okay. I’m...I’m sorry…”

The dragon hurriedly left Mr. Bunsen’s driveway and headed towards the rest of his route, ears a little flat against his head. He went from house to house receiving his usual treatment of head pats and cookies that brightened his mood, but the lingering thought of damaging Mr. Bunsen's truck still stung.

Heroes weren't supposed to mess up like that. It was such a stupid mistake, and Balto knew he should have been careful with his claws. He knew he was overexcited to help the man and it made him make a mistake.

About halfway down Crawford street, a few blocks from Mr. And Mrs. Bunsen's home, Balto stopped to inspect his claws angrily.

"Stupid...stupid paws…" he snapped at himself. After a moment of quiet self-contempt, the dragon sighed, forced a change in expression, and continued his route. He made his way to the town's flight balcony, and made the worrying flight to Dursly, quiet…

...but still smiling.