starter for @squiirehearted
If he’d learned anything these last few weeks, it was that these Britons were awful, stinking, savages - and they pretty much entirely deserved to be tossed into Whispering Death holes. Well, actually that would be unfair - no dragon deserved to be forced to eat a Briton.
Certainly not like this jerk, who called himself Kay. (Tuff had already discovered what happened when you bit this guy; aside from the awful taste it wasn’t very pleasant.)
Apparently the man who’d first bought him had decided to give him as a gift to another Briton named Ector. Which meant now Tuffnut had to cling for dear life to the saddle of Kay’s horse, over which he’d been thrown like a sack of chicken feed.
At least the horse smelled better, though Kay didn’t seem to appreciate Tuff telling him so. He shut up after that, not wanting any more blows.
His sister had fortunately not been captured and sold with him, otherwise Tuff might have fought his ‘masters’ just a little harder and been far mouthier than he already was. Ruffnut often depended on him to keep her temper in check, and in turn it was her presence that kept him brave and fearless.
She had to be out of her mind with worry by now. It had been weeks of being a captive on a foreign double-hulled ship and then he’d wound up here, in a land none of the riders had ever been to before. No dragons anywhere, save for on banners or in strangely colored windows.
Tuffnut didn’t know how she was ever going to find him, and he could only try to hold on to what little ‘toughness’ he had left. It was easier around other people, not so much when he was alone with the memories of their cruelty.
Kay finally galloped across a drawbridge and into the courtyard of a castle. He stopped the horse, got off and dragged Tuffnut out of the saddle, yanking him inside by his ear.
“I got him, Dad!” Kay shouted over Tuff’s pained yells. Tuffnut swore and kicked at him. “Scrawny little spitfire, inn’t he?”
“Hmph. Sir Pellinor seemed confident we could handle him. This household could use another scullery boy since Hobs keeps gettin’ ill.” Sir Ector stared authoritatively down at Tuffnut, who was still in Kay’s grip.
“Now listen here, you. We brought you here to work for your keep, and that’s precisely what you’re going to do from now on. If you don’t do as your betters tell you, then you don’t eat and you’ll be quite thoroughly punished. Do you understand?”
Tuff glared right back for a moment, but eventually lowered his gaze and nodded sullenly. He was tired. It was getting harder to fight back at everything; he would have to start picking his battles.
“We’ll see if you do. Go down those stairs and report to the cook. If she’s not there, ask the other boy - Wart. He’ll put you on a task. If you do well, you’ll get a lunch. Now off with you.”
A shove between Tuffnut’s shoulder blades nearly sent him falling headlong down the stairs, slippery as they were. Kay’s laughter followed him all the way down, and before he could really stop it, his eyes began to sting.
There was no cook, but there was a boy. “H-Hey. So … what am I supposed to do here?” Tuff got out, simply bracing for more of the same treatment he’d been getting.
