4.1

Jewel tried to muster herself the will to try again.

So far every other time she had attempted had been a tangled disaster of limbs.

Disaster and bruises for everyone involved and a terrible time all around.

She was not yet abandoning all hope, but to date she was beginning to recognize a very sad reality.

No matter how long she practiced or worried at the problem there was not going to be a different conclusion.

And she did not have three nor two seasons to practice.

Jewel did not even have a full season to worry at this unfair curse upon her.

The weather holding bright and dry suggested that the wheat harvests that closed the season would happen within no later than five days.

Five days at the latest before work would begin to take in the wheat grains.

And after harvest work finished, the gold grain festival would begin.

And Jewel could no longer dance!

The ability had been stolen from her by her endless growth.

And the time she had been able to hold it was far too brief.

When she was younger she had been quite a bit too small to properly do it.

Not tall enough or long enough in any dimension to manage to join hands with dancers to either side of her.

Not coordinated enough to avoid being a terrible hazard of tripping when she inevitably stumbled out of place and underfoot.

But over the years she had grown larger and more supple in limb.

She had grown into a grace that her Mother still assured her was incredibly fine and properly majestic for a Lady.

And so for a wonderful time she had been just barely the right size to dance the carola at Hungry Summer’s end.

Awkwardly balancing on Wyrmflame coursing through her body and wings?

Yes.

Fore legs out at an awkward angle to clasp with the hands of children and a few brave teenagers?

Yes.

Only just graceful enough to manage the undulations of her hindquarters and tail needed to get her hind limbs to stay in place below her without getting any of her length underfoot of the other dancers?

Yes!

She'd never been particularly good at dancing the carola.

But she had been able to dance in four of the hungry summer festivals before!

Though she had been an absolute disgrace of a disaster last year.

And it was so much more awkward now then it had been even then.

Over the seasons the simple fact that she grew longer than a draft horse and her neck was making her taller than any man but Father had made dancing difficult.

And then she had just kept on growing — it was to the point that any attempt to join into the circle would end in her shoving or barreling over all involved simply trying to get into place.

Nevermind taking the proper posture to join hands.

Today’s attempts at dancing practice proved that point.

She’d ordered up a bunch of the footmen to practice with her in the courtyard and they had made the attempt.

Jewel really owed all of the poor men for the injuries her attempts at dancing involved.

They had made several attempts and much to her embarrassment and shame all had been such catastrophes that it was deeply fortunate they wore their leathers and gambeson.

Quite a few of her more spectacular tumbles had seen heaving coils big around as a war horse thrown into their midst and scattering them like leaves.

They had tried to joke it off.

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“Not to worry Lady Jewel, it’s good combat training at least! Wouldn't want us to go soft eh?”

But this was not supposed to be a bout!

Jewel was supposed to be having a proper dance and merriment!

This was supposed to be fun and frivolity for all!

And now they had to stop because Jewel was so embarrassed she could not keep her wings at her sides!

No, in her shame and frustration they were stuck flared out and she had to stomp off away from the scattered footmen to go and hide in the hallway and try to breathe calmly and deeply until the pressure to pull her neck back in a tight curve and bare her teeth in fear diminished.

There were also the tears.

As a lady it was not as shameful to shed tears she thought.

But why could dragons even cry regular tears?

Jewel was certain she had read in a book she was not supposed to be able to.

Either for being a heartless beast who felt no pain or remorse.

Or that they were supposed to be gemstones of some kind?

Or was it pearls?

Maybe fire?

There was a lot of nonsense written down about dragons.

Nevermind that despite being a lady and a dragon, here was Jewel huddling in a less often used hall (out of the many ones that never even got dusted unless guests were around).

Crying like a coward, listening to the drip of her tears in a puddle on the old stone which, while friendly and welcoming, could not understand her sadness.

Stone did not get embarrassed or ashamed or even understand wanting to dance.

Wanting to be able to share something with her family and subjects.

Stone for all its venerable age and soft stable appreciation for her and all that had strode over it in ages past did not really want things like that.

Stone was just perfectly pleased to be stone.

There for her of course but not the best equipped to even have an inkling of an idea of how to help.

But being a good collection of smooth rock cut apart and then fitted together. Content and welcoming to sit on and catch her tears regardless of having no proper concept of how it could help besides that.

There in the unused hallway, Jewel felt like she must have wasted hours of everyone’s daylight.

She hoped the footmen had gone off to do something better with their time then collect bruises and stunned heads from her lumbering foolishness.

What kind of Wyrm danced the carola?

What kind of oversized snake, or fish or whatever cursed source spawned her egg wanted to frolick and spin in a circle like she had managed to just a few years ago?!

Jewel sobbed hard and could not hold back the words any longer and just roared them into the empty hallway.

Voice so cavernous it seemed to barrel over any echo that might dare to respond. Buzzing and rough and hardly words at all but for her own knowledge they were spoken.

“THIS ONE DOES!”

The silence that filled the hall probably felt a bit more profound than it was.

She could not pull her wings in close as Jewel realized that everyone in the manor almost certainly heard that.

But there were no admonishing voices coming down the hallway.

Just the light pitter-patter splash of tears still running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.

Only silence until a familiar and round voweled voice broke it.

“Well then, it sounds like my services as court-wizard are required.”

Jewel startled then looked down into the embarrassingly substantial pool she had shed onto the floor.

A pool that even as she watched was turning silty and black with the imminent arrival of Tsulogothulan Bog Weird and court Wizard of Rochford.

Silt that turned thick and muddy and then reedy before twisting into the black peaked cap and then in a truly stomach-churning, twisting, wet tearing, it peeled up from the flagstones, dragging moisture and mire up in thick ropey strands around the brim.

The sound of tearing roots ending with bone jarring and grinding creaks as the entire mass gave a shuddering twist and the fleshy blue veined scythe of a nose popped audibly free.

The last affront to all sense of flesh, bone and body was the sudden peeling open of the Wizard’s far too large violet eye directly out of the side of the ‘nose’.

Jewel noted in her distant feeling of shock and mortification at being interrupted while having such a shameful sobbing that apparently Tsulogothulan did not actually reliably keep the eye on the same side of its nose.

As it was now on the opposite one (and a little further back) from the last time she had seen it.

A few audibly wet pops of eye blinking and then a general shaking out which somehow shook loose the boneless arms and fingers of the Bog Weird finished the arrival before that round and wide accent slipped free with just the most common and almost bawdry lilted speech.

“So then, My Lady wishes to dance?”