I took my pen out from my teeth and straightened out the notepad I had been carrying under one arm. I winced a little at the sight of all the dust and mud that had accumulated on my coat during the climb. There went a good first impression.

I looked doubtfully at the gigantic wooden door in front of me, hoping this was the right place. The thing looked like it had once been the part of the side of a barn. I don't know how it managed to stay up. This cavern opening must have been the largest for miles around.

There was a bit of rope hanging from a root of the dead oak tree that grew atop the cave. From this hung a badly dented helmet, which I supposed was supposed to serve as a knocker. I took a few wary steps toward the door, noticing the sharp smell of brimstone in the air. Oh what one must do for a good story!

"Erm, Mr. Dragon, Sir, are you there?" I called with a hand cupped near my mouth. There was no answer, and I looked about, listening carefully for the rustling of wings or a roar or growl. It looked like I'd have to use the grotesque knocker. I grimaced, grabbed the thing, and banged it sharply against the stone several times. My bones felt like they were going to vibrate themselves to pieces and I promptly dropped the helmet as it rang. It scraped and banged a little more against the wall before coming to a rest on the end of its rope.

"Yes?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. The blaring voice was heavy even though muffled a bit by the door. I regained my composure and fought the alarmed look off my face. It would do no good to look like a slack-jawed idiot.

"Erm, yes, Mr. Dragon, I am a journalist of sorts for The Weekly Report. I'm here for that interview we discussed?" The creature behind the door sighed heavily and the brimstone smell intensified. Oh the things I get myself into!

"Ah, yes, come in then, come in. Thankyou for using the knocker, most humans don't get it. Stand back, would you?" the voice boomed. I hastily jumped out of the way of the door. The dragon apparently slammed it rather hard, for it flew out a few feet onto the path, if you could call the almost vertical rocky slope a path. It did not stop there and slid down the mountain side with many heavy thuds. The back of it had apparently been covered in some sort of stone, and it must have been quite heavy. The fact this dragon had flung a five-foot-thick stone chunk down the side of the mountain did not reassure me.

"Ah, Gods take it, that's the third time this month," sighed the dragon heavily. His voice was even louder now without a considerable block of stone to go through. I turned, a little shakily, to have a look at him. It is difficult to describe his size. The dragon was almost thrice my height and his head was at least five feet long, two gnarled ram horns growing on either side.

His eyes surveyed me with a mix of contempt and curiosity. They were an unnerving acid yellow, slit pupiled and cat-like. The dragon rustled his huge, tentish wings. These were a dusty, rusty orange red that contrasted sharply with the muddy black-and-green of his scales. I would suppose he was fairly old by the way he carried himself, legs slightly bowed.

"Now, come in. It's quite alright, I gave up eating your lot a few centuries back," the dragon laughed, showing broken teeth that had probably once been white.

"Erm, yes, thankyou," I said awkwardly. The dragon stood and turned to head back into the cave.

I followed carefully, trying not to step on the arrow-head tip of his long, lizardy tail. Walking behind a dragon, in full view of a set of very formidable talons, is not a comfortable experience.

"Ah, yes, here we are. A little dark for your tastes, human, but the big chamber should work well," said the dragon, his voice magnified painfully in the stony tunnel. I grimaced.

We arrived in the big chamber the dragon had spoke of and I wrinkled my nose a little in distaste, standing by the dragon’s shoulder. The cavern had even more of a brimstone scent than the hall before, it also smelled of mildew and something vaguely spicy that I supposed was a slightly more subtle dragon smell. It was quite dark and I could not see my hand when I waved it in front of my face. The dragon's eyes glowed in unnervingly like a lion's. He laughed and I nearly jumped out of my skin for the second time that day as a jet of fire shot out of nowhere. Several torches on the walls caught the flames and flickered to life.

I had probably expected to see mountains of gold in this room. I did not. The floor was actually earthen, filled with deep claws marks from the dragon. I noticed smaller boot-prints among these, about child-sized, but I decided not to ask.

"Ah, that one will need replaced." I turned in time to see another jet of flame at a torch that was barely guttering along. It burst into flame for a few seconds and then went out with a soft fizzle. The dragon growled a little in slight annoyance and lashed his tail.

"Lannek, come in here would you?" he shouted. I was afraid my ear drums would burst.
"Ai, what happened?" a boy poked his head out of one of the tunnels that lead off this large room. He appeared about eight years old, but his short hair was grass green and his eyes appeared grey. I didn't need to see his pointed ears to know he was a wood elf. They rarely came into the city but one would see them sometimes. I was rather surprised, needless to say.

"Lannek, go fetch a new torch for that bracket please. Oh, and while you're at it, grab a chair for our guest," the dragon told him. Lannek saluted him, grinning, and took off down the tunnel.

"That's Lannek, my assistant. Often more trouble than he's worth," my host explained. He yawned and stretched his enormous wings. I looked at all the other tunnels and raised my brows a little. Then I remembered why I was there, opened my note pad, and jotted down a few notes. Helmet knocker...Stone/barn side for door...Wood elf...

"Got it!" Lannek came back, dragging a wooden stool behind him. He handed a bundle of cloth soaked in some sort of oil to the dragon. The creature carefully plucked it up in his talons and placed it in the bracket on the remains of the old one. With another little burst of fire, it was alight. Lannek dragged the stool to the middle of the room and left it there.

"Here you go, sir. Welcome to the caves of the dragon Morav!" the elven boy threw up is arms as if presenting a magic show. Before I could thank him, he was already gone. So I took my seat, noticing that the stool wobbled a bit, but I balanced my notepad on my knee and readied my pen.

"So, your name is Morav?" I asked the dragon. He nodded his head patiently.
"Yes. Although you humans have become quite fond of calling me "That demon on the mountain" as you may know," he replied good humoredly. I was a little relieved he didn’t seem to be resentful as I jotted that down too.

"So, how did you come to live here?" I inquired. Morav snorted.
"Just about the way all of us do. Grow out of our old cave, maybe get chased about by some silly little humans on horses, or just find a decent spot with a good view. Gethen isn't a particularly interesting country, but it's quiet. A rather nice place to retire," he replied. I nodded and scribbled.

"You said you're retired. Does that mean you once did terrorize cattle, kidnap princesses, and the like?" I asked expectantly, looking up at Morav. He chuckled, a deep noise somewhere in his huge chest. I tried not to flinch again.

"Oh yes, I was quite an evil little thing when I was younger. Ah, I'd chase all the cows in the village off into the marshes, and watch while they tried to get them back." The old dragon's eyes shown a little in happy memory, "Oh, did you ever hear of the case of the Princess of Oringund, Belinda I think she was called?" he asked, apparently for no reason. I looked up at the dragon quizzically. Everyone had heard that story, even though it had been a few hundred years before.

"Yes. Was that you?" I asked. Morav laughed again.
"Ai, that it was! Silly girl paid me to carry her off for a few days," he said, bright eyed. I was skritting furiously on my notepad.

"She paid you?" I asked in alarm, not sure what to believe. Morav snorted.
"Of course, she gave me this nice crown. Got the idea into her head that if a dragon carried her off a handsome knight would show up to save her." I laughed. This was actually funny. It had in recent years become quite a trend for young girls to be willingly carried off by dragons and trolls or the occasional griffin in the hopes of a good marriage.
"So, did the knights try to, erm, slay you?" I queried. Morav nodded.

"Oh yes, there were three of them. I ate the first one, chased the second off, and welded the third's armor shut and rolled him down the mountain. It was all quite amusing, particularly the third one. Belinda was beginning to reconsider her thinking. Of course, she said she wouldn't give me that crown if I chased away another knight. So, I accidentally-on-purpose let one get past me," Morav snorted in jubilation and a little ember flickered from his nostrils. I myself was giggling a little. It was funny! Everyone had heard tell of Sir Erik's bravery in rescuing the fair Princess Belinda from the clutches of the evil dragon. It was funny to know that all that guff was about a vain young girl and a dragon letting the knight win! I darted it all off in my notes.

"Do you still have the crown?" I asked him. Morav nodded once more, looking pleased with himself.
"Of course, it's one of the finest in my collection!"
"You collect crowns?"

"I most certainly do. Quite practical really, it is such fun snatching them off people's heads. Of course, my brother Gahalith collects armor. He has heaps of the stuff lying about. Never really did catch onto its charm myself," the dragon shrugged. I decided not to think about where Gahalith would get heaps of armor.

"Er, so, Morav, where did Lannek come from?" I ventured. Morav thought for a minute about that, then answered.

"He came around here a while ago, ran away from his mother apparently. I was going to return him, but he turned out to be quite useful. I am not as young as I used to be, you see. Lannek has such nimble little fingers for picking things up or writing and the like, he's very handy."

"So, do you have anything you would like to tell the people of the town?" I asked him. Morav considered for a moment, then smiled and said,

"Nothing much, just that I do wish they would stop ducking and shrieking every time I intend to go for a little flight. Oh, and that I won't steal their crops or cattle or anything so they can stop bothering me about that, and oh what else? Ah, yes, do please tell their children to stop daring each other to come up, knock, and run away. That will be all. Are you finished?" I slapped a period on the end of a sentence and nodded, then looked up at the dragon with a friendly smile.

"Well, thankyou Mr. Morav, have a good day," I told him. The dragon nodded a little sleepily.

"Ah yes, any time human, any time. Good day to you too." I felt a rush of air as the dragon blew the torches out with a gust from his wings as I went out into the sunlight, blinking a few times because it was so bright. I looked back over my shoulder, shook my head once, then smiled to myself and headed back down the mountainside. That had gone surprisingly well.