The Charm of Short Legs
"Haa..."
Lakia let out a long sigh and let both shoulders sag.
The festival that had filled the gorge with noise had already come to an end.
Only a short while ago the Orcs' cheers around the wrestling ground had shaken the cliffs, and the drums and laughter had ridden the wind all the way to the far end of the valley.
Now the drums were silent, and only countless footprints remained scattered across the wrestling ground.
The Orcs moved barrels of drink and empty plates, clearing away the traces of the festival, while the little ones, still full of energy, refused to go home.
They did not hold out for long, though.
One by one the children were hauled off by the ear or the scruff of the neck.
"I wanna play more!"
"Play tomorrow!"
"No!"
"Inside!"
Lakia watched them and smiled faintly.
"...Some things are the same no matter where you go."
Even if the race was different, children were still children.
They ran themselves ragged and still wanted more, and the adults wore themselves out dragging those children into bed.
In hundreds of years she had met countless peoples, yet this particular scene had never really changed.
The smile that had touched Lakia's lips faded just as quickly.
"...I'm exhausted."
The day had been unusually long.
She had watched the Orcs' festival, discovered Dragon Speech that had lost its meaning on the wrestling ground, and spoken with Canefisara about Liberia's future.
She had even received a report that the patrol which had gone outside had returned after cutting down humans.
She herself had not moved her body much.
Yet listening to so many people, answering them, and making decisions had drained her more thoroughly than finishing a battle.
Lakia swung her limp arms and walked deeper into the gorge.
Thud.
Thud.
Her footsteps rang long along the stone path.
On either side of the road stood the houses the Orcs had raised in a single day.
Roughly dressed stone walls supported thick log pillars, and red cloth hung from roofs and doors.
The shapes were crude, yet smoke rose from every chimney, and laughter and the clink of cups spilled through open windows.
She could hear the voices of warriors still talking about the day's wrestling.
"I just slipped!"
"Says the guy who planted his face in the dirt first!"
"One more match!"
"Tomorrow! Tonight we drink!"
Laughter burst out all through the village.
A little farther off, young Orcs tucked wooden sticks into their belts, mimicked wrestling holds, and then tumbled into a single tangled heap.
Lakia glanced at them and snorted a quiet laugh.
"...They look happy."
The farther her steps carried her into the gorge, the fewer Orc houses there were.
The noisy voices faded, replaced by vast caves and sheer cliffs.
The rock paths the dragons had climbed for centuries were polished smooth by scales and claws.
The inner gorge was always quiet.
If the Orc village was filled with the clashing sounds of countless small lives, here there flowed only the low resonance of enormous beings breathing and sleeping.
Not far away, Alduin lay curled on a boulder.
Each slow rise and fall of his folded wings sent warm breath drifting on the wind.
He looked completely asleep, yet the tip of one ear twitched the moment Lakia passed.
"...Sleep well."
When she smiled and walked by, the tip of Alduin's tail gave a single lazy sway.
A little deeper in, several dragons rested in whatever postures pleased them.
Some sprawled on sun-warmed cliffs drying their wings; others dozed at cave mouths with their chins propped on their forepaws.
On a high rock a few young dragons were still practicing flight.
Flap.
Flap.
Their wingbeats were strong.
Their landings were still clumsy.
One hatchling lost its balance in midair, dropped onto the sand, and rolled over and over.
The others who followed down prodded the fallen one's head and belly with their forepaws.
Peep!
Pee-eep!
The teased hatchling scrambled up and bit another's tail.
In moments three hatchlings became a single rolling ball of sand and scales.
"...As long as nobody's hurt."
Lakia watched for a moment, then walked on.
When she entered the deepest part of the gorge the air grew cool.
High cliffs enclosed every side so that no harsh wind could enter; only the soft air Gargantua had smoothed brushed between the strands of her hair.
Lakia closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.
"...Nice."
She did not want to think any more today.
Not about humans.
Not about Orcs.
Not about nations.
Not about laws.
Even the troublesome future Canefisara had spoken of—she wanted to push it out of her head for a little while.
And whenever she felt that way, the place that rose first in her mind was always the same.
The deepest heart of the gorge.
The great Hatchery that stood side by side with Lakia's own dwelling.
The place where countless baby dragons ate, slept, fought, and ran wild.
The tension in Lakia's face slowly eased.
"Right."
Strength returned little by little to her steps.
"Time to go to the Hatchery and get some healing."
At the end of the familiar stone path her house came into view.
It was a small house she had tended countless times through long years of wind and rain.
Beside it the deepest, safest cave in the gorge opened its great mouth.
From inside the Hatchery a tangle of cries drifted out.
Peep.
Pee-eep.
Kiiing.
There were high, thin cries, and lower ones that sounded like a child just waking and fretting.
Then came the sound of something toppling over.
Crash!
After a brief silence a chorus of cries erupted all at once.
Peeeeeep!
Kiiiii!
"...They knocked something over again."
Lakia smiled and stepped into the Hatchery.
Warm heat drifted gently through the cave.
Soft sand and dry grass were spread thickly across the floor, and nests large and small lined the walls.
The hatchlings that had been chasing one another's tails only moments before heard Lakia's footsteps and turned their heads one by one.
Dozens of pairs of eyes fixed on the entrance.
Peep?
A short silence fell.
The little fire dragon nearest the door recognized Lakia and flung both forepaws wide.
Pee-eep!
Its short legs hammered the floor in a frantic tattoo.
Starting with that waddling charge, every hatchling in the Hatchery heaved itself upright at once.
Peep!
Kiiing!
Peeeee!
The one that had been wandering around with an eggshell on its head, the one rolling pebbles, the one dozing in its nest—every last one of them surged toward Lakia.
"Whoa—"
The first hatchling wrapped itself around her leg.
The second climbed onto her instep; the third clamped its jaws on the hem of her robe.
Those that came after shoved the ones in front aside and plastered themselves against her.
"Wait."
Peep!
"One at a time."
Pee-eep!
"Come in order."
Kiiiing!
No one listened.
To the hatchlings Lakia was the mother who had finally appeared after far too long.
Whoever was waiting ahead of them, all they wanted was to be held first.
Four of them were already clinging to her calves; another used her thigh as a foothold and began to climb.
Behind her one hatchling latched onto her robe and hung there.
"...If you were even a little bigger you'd crush me flat."
Peep!
The hatchling in front wagged its tail in pure delight.
The one beside it took the blow full on and went tumbling across the sand.
It bounced right back up and charged again.
This time a hatchling that had spotted Lakia's silver hair opened its mouth.
Chomp.
"Hey."
Lakia gave a gentle tug on the lock of hair.
"That's not food."
Peeh...
The hatchling opened its mouth with clear regret.
The one next to it pinned the dangling strands with its forepaws and flopped its belly down on top of them.
As if it had found the softest nest in the world, it narrowed its eyes and curled into a ball.
"...Here we go again."
Lakia sighed, yet she did not push the child away.
When she reached out and slowly stroked its back, warm, smooth scales slid beneath her palm.
The hatchling stretched its neck long and gave a low rumble.
Purr.
Hearing that sound, the others shoved even harder into her arms, demanding their own share of pets.
In the end Lakia never managed more than a few steps from the entrance before she sank down onto the floor.
"...Fine."
She opened both arms and laughed.
"I lose again today."
As if they had been waiting for exactly those words, the hatchlings poured into her lap all at once.
Waaah.
The one that claimed her knee let out a satisfied cry.
Waaah.
The one beside it immediately copied the sound.
Peep.
Waaah.
Pee-eep.
In moments the Hatchery was filled with every kind of cry.
Someone gripped her finger with its forepaws; someone else shoved its head inside her robe.
An impatient hatchling tried to shove another off her knee, overbalanced, and rolled sideways.
"Whoa—"
Lakia shot out a hand and caught it.
"You okay?"
Waaah!
The hatchling wagged its tail as if it were having the time of its life.
"...Guess I didn't need to ask."
Lakia stroked its head and looked over the children gathered in her arms one by one.
"You've grown a lot again."
Peep.
"And you still haven't broken the habit of biting the nearest tail first."
Peeh...
"Your scales are darker than yesterday."
Her hand moved toward the next hatchling—and stopped.
"...Hm?"
There was a face she had never seen before.
A small dragon was trying to squeeze out from among the others at the edge of her lap.
Its body was about the same size as the rest.
Roughly the size of a large dog, with a plump body and a round head.
What stood out most were its four legs.
Even compared with the other hatchlings they were unusually short.
The little dragon hurried toward Lakia on those short legs.
Waddle.
Waddle.
With every step its whole body rocked from side to side.
If it tried to go any faster it looked as though the weight of its head would tip it over and plant its chin in the floor.
"...What is this."
The corners of Lakia's mouth rose of their own accord.
"Why are your legs so short?"
Waaah.
The hatchling answered with a cry and kept walking with determined effort.
Tap.
One forepaw stepped on the edge of Lakia's robe.
The hatchling could not even clear the height of a single layer of cloth and ended up with its belly flat on the floor.
Its short legs flailed in the air a few times.
Waaah.
It refused to give up; gripping the robe with its forepaws, it wriggled its whole body.
After a long struggle it finally hauled itself up onto the fabric and gave its tail a vigorous wag.
Waaah!
It was the triumphant cry of a job well done.
"...Pfft."
Lakia could no longer hold back her laughter.
"You are ridiculously cute."
As if it understood the praise, the hatchling's eyes curved into happy crescents.
It shoved its way between the other hatchlings on its short legs and flopped down on Lakia's knee.
Even when the one beside it pushed, it did not budge.
With all four legs splayed as wide as they would go, it clamped onto her knee and held its ground.
Lakia looked down at that round head.
"...I've never seen you before."
Her hand settled between the tiny horns.
"When were you born?"
Waaah.
Instead of answering, the hatchling butted its head against her palm.
Warmth flowed into her fingertips.
Lakia naturally began to stroke the small head and back in slow, gentle passes.
The short-legged hatchling closed its eyes in contentment and pushed its body deeper under her palm.
Purr.
Not to be outdone, the other hatchlings crowded into her arms once more.
"...All right, all right."
Lakia laughed and wrapped both arms around the children.
"I'll get to all of you, so stop shoving."
The complicated thoughts had already drifted far away.
Liberia's future.
The new laws that needed writing.
The countless races that would come seeking them from outside—none of it rose in her mind now.
On Lakia's knee lay the short-legged hatchling she had never met before, and dozens more children clung to her chest and shoulders.
She had come to the Hatchery to rest and recover from her fatigue.
Yet Lakia still did not know.
That this small, plump hatchling she had met today carried a special power that would, before long, turn the entire Hatchery upside down.