Chapter 2 - The Land of Trymyll.
No sooner were they through the small cave exit when 'Pop' and the small dog returned to his natural form of a dragon, a sixty-foot Purple Dragon. Now Howel looked completely different, the huge dragon looked, well, like a dragon instead of a cartoon character, Howel was still purple, but now it was an iridescent purple, shimmering in the light, ever-changing hues, and colours, now Tom could see scales, huge purple scales reminiscent of plated armour. Massive wings with horned spikes like sharpened spears at each joint in the wing, a massive head with teeth, row upon row of sharp, no, incredibly sharp teeth and a red glow in his chest where his fire cavity was. Tom stood there awestruck, of course, he had never seen a dragon before and had nothing to compare, but he was breath-taking. A sixty-foot magical talking dragon. This was beyond wow!
"Welcome to the Land of Trymyll," Howel announced.
"So, where's Howl then?"
"As I said, I am Howl, as you would say, actually my name is Howel. H.o.w.e.l," he spelt out to make sure Tom understood the difference.
"Yes, but where's me dog gone?"
"I, Howel the Purple Dragon and Howl, as you call him, are the same. Look, never mind for now. You obviously heard nothing of my lesson on dragons. I'll try again later. But for now, we must move on."
He still sounded like Hadley-Smyth, so not at all frightening.
"So, as I said earlier, welcome to the land of Trymyll."
"Looks like Wales to me," Tom said with a disappointed voice, "all valleys and mountains, I was expecting something different; I don't know what mind you, just different."
"Well, this is as different as it gets. But don't worry dear boy, Trymyll is different, quite different."
As he looked out over the valley, Tom could see some differences, but they were not huge, but then, as he thought, what was he expecting? Well, he was not expecting anything, because he had not anticipated any of what had happened today.
He could see mountains and forests, way into the distance he could see smoke rising in the furthest mountains, he assumed this must be volcanoes, but these were the Dragonlands. The smoke was from the dragons who lived in that part of Trymyll. A place he would have to venture to one day, but not something he either had to worry about or have knowledge of now. In another direction he could see vast flat countryside disappearing off into the distance, there were wooded areas, rivers, and small villages, he could see quite a large town some miles away. Another turn and he saw a vast lake, and he meant vast, it must have been twenty miles long and ten miles wide, it was massive. It still didn't look much different from Wales mind you; Tom was just about to say that again when...
A huge eagle swooped down; in his talons, he held a basket. He landed next to them and to Tom’s surprise spoke to Howel.
"The master has sent food and drink for the boy."
"Thank you, Griff," Howel replied. Before Tom could even think what was happening, the eagle was gone.
"Different enough?" enquired Howel.
"Different enough," replied Tom with a grin.
Tom opened the basket, he was surprised to see its contents, again he did not know what to expect, but somehow, this took him by surprise. There were his favourite cheese and chutney sandwiches, thick white bread, crusts on. Cheese and onion crisps, a chocolate bar, a couple of cans of lemonade and an apple.
"Well, what were you expecting?" said Howel "Stuffed quail and a flagon of ale?" he paused and then continued, "The master has such a sense of humour, conjuring such food for you. Don't get too used to it though; next time it might be the quail and ale dinner!"
"I hope not," Tom said, "beer does funny things to people, where I come from, in Wales that is, the men drink beer on a Friday night and fall over in the street. Disgusting behaviour if you ask me."
"You forget so quickly. I do know these things; I was living in your grubby little town for some time."
"It's not grubby, it's a proper Welsh mining town and we are a proud people."
"Proud of what I have no idea," Howel muttered under his breath.
Tom tucked into his lunch, the lemonade was warm, not the best way to drink lemonade he thought. Howel picked up his thought and spoke.
"If you don't like warm lemonade, cool it down a little."
"And how am I supposed to do that? I seem to have forgotten to pack a fridge!" Tom retorted.
"Simple magic. Even a human can do it if they try, it is just a simple cantrip. A little lesson in physics combined with a little lesson in magic. Physics first. Your lemonade is made up of billions of molecules," Howel said with a sigh like a bored teacher at school, "when a liquid is heated, these molecules move around at an ever-increasing rate until they eventually break apart and form steam. When the liquid cools, they move around slower and slower until they eventually stop altogether and form ice. So, we focus on the can, imagine the molecules inside all rushing about frantically, then we visualise them slowing down and slowing down and slowing down," his voice became slower and softer as he spoke as if he was demonstrating what he was saying, "Any questions?"
"Yes. What's a can trip?" Tom said, using two separate words.
"A cantrip, my dear boy is a very minor spell, taught to an acolyte to build his confidence. Many humans can perform a cantrip. These include cooling water, lighting a candle, or calling a pet over without speaking. Any more questions?"
"What's an ac-o-lite?" Tom said the word syllable by syllable as he had never heard it before.
"An acolyte is, in wizarding terms, an assistant who is learning magic, a sort of apprentice. You will be an acolyte once your training begins."
"What training? Who says I want to be a wizard anyway? I don't even believe in magic. No such thing as a wizard." Tom stopped short. He had seen magic in the last hour which had amazed and shocked him. This morning he didn't believe in dragons, especially not purple ones. Even if he had believed in dragons, which he didn't, he wasn't expecting a sixty-foot one to turn into a small dog to scrabble through a tiny cave exit. He didn't believe that an eagle could talk, but he heard one. He still didn't believe in wizards anyway.
"Anyway, I've got to get back."
Howel ignored him and continued, "Oh my, oh my. You, Tom, will meet a wizard by the end of today and another in the morning. One day Tom, you will be a very great wizard indeed."
Tom tried not to think it, but he thought it anyway. “This dragon has definitely lost his marbles now.”
"Rude," said Howel, "very rude indeed."
Tom looked down at his can of lemonade. Condensation was running down the outside of the tin, the can was very cold, very cold indeed.
"Did I do that?"
"No dear boy, I did."
They paused while Tom finished off his lunch and put the second can of lemonade in his pack.
"Right, we really must get on, we have to be somewhere before the sun goes down and it is quite a hike from here. Luckily for you, it's mostly downhill."
"Why are we walking?" asked Tom.
"What would you suggest, we wait for a bus or hail a taxi?"
"Well," Tom said gingerly, "could I not ride on your back and fly through the air?"
"No." Howel replied sternly, "It takes great skill to fly on a dragon's back. It's not as easy as you think and the ones you see at the cinema are not real dragons, they are computer-generated images."
"I knew that," Tom retorted, "because dragons don't exist."
As soon as he said it, he felt stupid, after all, he was saying it to an actual dragon.
"Anyway, it would draw too much attention to your coming. Others also await your arrival, but they are not so friendly."
"What do you mean? Who? And why not so friendly?" Tom asked slightly worried.
"Llewel the Elder will reveal all to you when he is ready."
"Anyway, who is this bloke Llewel the Elder? Why is he so important that only he can tell me what's going on?”
"Llewel the Elder is important; very important, especially in his own mind, he is one of the seven High Elders of the council which govern the land of Trymyll, and you must be important as well if they send one of their own to help take you safely to the capital, Blaenoraid."
"What do you mean? Why am I important? Why am I here?”
"I have already said too much. You must trust me. No more questions please."
Howel sounded so pathetic; Tom decided to drop the subject.
And so, they continued their walk silently down the mountain and into the valley, a thirteen-year-old boy, who didn't believe in magic or dragons, and a sixty-foot purple dragon who did magic. No contradictions there then.