Idria, the Dragon Slayer was sitting in a comfortable tavern with her booted feet on the bench opposite, enjoying the most excellent malted ale which the landlord assured her was his own brew.
The sun was shining and through the window, she could see a family of ducks trailing over the millpond.
Life was good and she had not been summoned to slay a dragon for almost a decade now. Which was just as well as she was not sure she could fit in that armour anymore.
It was a hard decision to make. Idria frowned in concentration.
Did she had another ale or maybe ask for another portion of the landlord’s excellent apple pie? The landlord waited, a little impatiently, for her reply. It would be on the house, of course, after all she was The Dragon Slayer.
“Ah tefts! Why not both?”
Decision made Idria relaxed back in her chair and looked out at the peaceful scene beyond the window. Such a perfect day, nothing could spoil it.
Nothing except that small black dot in the sky which she could see getting closer and closer.
Tefts no! Surely not? Not today when she had just ordered –
The magical sound filled her head even before the bird was in clear sight. Around her, the chimes rang out, akin to that of someone dropping a series of metal plates of different sizes onto a bell. A moment later the chiming stopped and Idria was clad in her Dragon Slayer armour.
The good news was that the magic armour fitted. The bad news was – it fitted.
“Tefts! Does my bum look big in this?”
The landlord had just returned with her ale and nearly dropped it in surprise.
“Um – no,” he said colouring. He was not to know the armour gave her the ability to hear his thoughts: No bigger than the rest of you anyway.
Originally written by E.M. Swift-Hook as part of a LiveWrite for the SciFi Roundtable.