Cináed was sour. He could hear the muffled pounding of his feet following him out of his room. In the kitchen, he ran into his mother preparing breakfast as she spoke to him. Cináed’s mind noted that nothing said required action on his part and he merely grunted in response as cool air hit him and he started to trudge towards the barn.
The barn door opened and he grabbed the feed he needed as his mind shifted to this afternoon. He was not excited at all, today he participated in the mid-summer tournament. It was probably laudable compared to a mid-summer tournament in the city, but they were no were near a city. It was more of a ramshackle event to see who could hit the farthest target or leave the biggest bruise with a fat stick, that was Cináed’s option anyway. Even though Cináed could have started to participate when he had turned sixteen, he hadn’t. It was not something that had interested him. It had been two years since and his mother was the reason he was finally attending. She was worried because he had no friends, apparently, and no girls were even looking in his direction. His mother, lovely as she was, could be annoying.
“Just show them what you can do,” she said, “They just need to know you exist”.
But that wasn’t the problem at all, everyone knew who he was – Cináed the boy with the dragon. It was because of Wisely, the before mentioned dragon named so by a young Cináed. The name had been a compromise that came about when Wisely introduced himself as “The Wise Old Dragon” and Cináed had immediately called him “Wisely the Dragon”.
It was all silly to Cináed, anyone with a brain could tell the old dragon wasn’t going to eat them. He insisted on his food being cut up and portioned out for him for crying out loud. It made it easier to chew and digest in his old age. Or so he claimed.
“In my younger day, I could easily eat meat with fur, skin, and bone attached. Now that I am older and wiser, I know I don’t have to since I have a boy to remove those annoyances for me.” Wisely would say.
Cináed had asked Wisely if he would come with him to the tournament, his mother had asked the dragon if he would stay away. Cináed knew she was worried he would scare away interested parties or something. The goal was to let everyone see his hunting skill with a bow and how far he could throw some big rocks showing off his farm trained muscles, or something. Cináed thought about how his mother had won the argument, she hadn’t even tried to reason with Wisely only mentioning how loud the tournament would be and that she would be baking today, Wisely, of course, could sample. There was no way to win after that.
Finishing the rounds, Cináed made his way inside to breakfast as his muscles finally loosened up with their morning movement and he finished grumbling under his breath about the rest of the day.
..…..
It was a disaster. Or that’s how Cináed saw it anyway. Sure, people were friendly and far more willing to get close to him since Wisely wasn’t there. And yes, he had done well in the strength competition, not the best but better than most. It had consisted of a few different ways to show strength, starting with the lifting of heavy objects. Cináed wasn’t the strongest but he managed to do so well because he had used his brain during the competition. It appeared to him as if no one else had a brain. They had started by lifting rocks of increasing size before moving on to lifting logs. Almost everyone tried to lift the logs from the center using their arms and backs. Cináed worked one side up and shifted to the center in order to use his legs to lift. Sure, it didn’t look as impressive, but it got the job done. And when they threw the rocks almost no one bothered to build up momentum. Did Cináed look silly spinning in place? Maybe. Did he do well in the competition? absolutely.
The archery event was in Cináed’s favor, he had learned first from his father and then through trial and error. What he didn’t like to admit was how much Wisely had helped. Wisely was defiantly not an archer himself, but he understood how objects moved through the sky and wind. Besides who else had to learn to use archery from dragons back?
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Girls spoke in hushed tones as they pointed and giggled. Cináed felt a little sad that none of their fingers pointed at him. It was just a stupid contest, but he couldn’t help and be upset that no matter how often he hit his target, how far he through his rock, or how well he did at anything else, people seamed to still avoid him. And the easiest way to avoid him was to ignore him.
..…..
Gaven watched with pride as his son showed his skill with the bow, he came in second, but the Mills family boy had always been great at archery – and nothing else in his option. He could tell Cináed wasn’t enjoying himself and was happy his mother hadn’t come. The other contestants were glaring at Cináed as if he didn’t belong, but only when he wasn’t looking. Mostly they just ignored him.
..…..
Wisely had been enjoying his nap, after eating pastries he certainly needed one. Then his head jerked to the side as he shifted to his feet. Cináed was in combat, this feeling had only happened twice before when hunting and they had run into something that wanted to fight back. Like the bear, but Wisely had been there and the bear had run away after he roared. This time Wisely could feel a need to be with Cináed, it was not right that Cináed should fight while Wisely slept snug in his barn. He needed to go and be by Cináed’s side. Strange enough, even with the distance, Wisely was certain he knew exactly where Cináed was.
Wisely lumbered out of the barn, turning to lock the door with the latch made just for him. He knew Cináed was at some competition, he knew he was probably fine and didn’t need Wisely, and so he could currently survive as Wisely closed the door. Or so the wise old dragon reasoned to himself in order to hold back the need pulling him to leave it be and fly as fast as he could to Cináed.
It was good that he was so old, he thought, a younger dragon would not be able to control themselves as they flew through the sky and circled the mass of people below. Wisely stayed high above, a dot in the sky. He had the strength to resist the need calling him to land amongst the humans all hitting each other and fight by Cináed’s side. A younger dragon would not have been able to resist. Or at least that’s what Wisely imagined a younger dragon would do. After all something had to replace a dragon's strength as they got old why not wisdom and strength of mind?
Wisely watched as Cináed was hit, again and again, it looked nice. It reminded Wisely of how Cináed would pound on his back with sticks in a rhythmic manner moving up and down losing those stubborn muscles. Wisely wished he could stand in the middle of all those humans and be massaged, as Cináed called it. Wisely watched as Cináed flew back and landed in the dirt, he was sluggish as he got to his feet. He appeared to have difficulty holding up his hands, and his quarterstaff. Wisely was surprised he hadn’t lost the stick in his hands yet, it almost happened multiple times, but Cináed held on. Wisely could see how exhaustion weighed Cináed down, Cináed’s face showed great pain. Yet there was that determination between his brows, for a brief moment Wisely was uncontrollably proud of his young rider.
Wisely circled high above, unnoticed as everyone was watching the melee. He wondered if he should stay and watch. Then he was noticed, and it was by Gaven, who had been checking the sky for some unknown reason to Wisely. When their eyes met, he could almost hear the sigh Gaven gave. Gaven motioned home with pleading eyes and Wisely complied, the melee was over and Cináed had survived. Although, despite his effort, it did not appear he had done well. Cináed would need more time practicing, Wisely decided he would volunteer as the target for more massaging.
..…..
Wildemere shook his head as he approached this backwater village. They were all stumbling home from their said excuse for a mid-summer tournament. He made his way towards the local inn; the innkeeper wasn’t there yet. Did they not know who was waiting for a room? Of course they didn’t. No one would recognize his station in this backwater, even with the symbol of the knights on his cloak.
The innkeeper finally approached his own inn and Wildemere did not bother to even acknowledge his apology. The man went on about not usually seeing visitors and even tried to engage Wildemere in conversation. Wildemere’s glare ended that. He got the best room they had, a sorry thing in Wildemere’s option. He would sleep in the next morning and when he was good and ready, he would get up and do what he had come to do.