If anything really belonged to me I would offically lose the title "college student": I don't own the characters or the basic plot, that's Tom Smith, fastest filker and true pundit (tomsmithonline.com for details). Tolkien owns the idea of the characters, except, of course, for Gordon Dickson's Dorsai Irregulars. They belong to anyone with the money to pay them.
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"So we're agreed?" Delphine said darkly.
"Agreed," Biff gave a curt nod.
"Not totally," the elf started.
"Oh what is it Varicose? Too costly?" Delphine asked.
"No, nothing like that. It's just that, well." Varicose looked around with apprehension. "It's just I'm not to fond of beef."
"Fine" said Bristol, "You can have the fish and I'll take the steak."
Look, somebody had better take these cause last time I looked I wasn't a table," a burly, bearded behemoth roughly shoved the two surf and turf specials, along with extra plates, at the team. "Damn cheapskates. Bet tipping is as foreign a concept as soap" the large man muttered as he made his way back to the kitchen.
"I thought trolls were native to the west?" Biff said, but no one noticed. If it had been in his nature, Biff might have felt sad. But a warm, non-liquid meal was something Biff had missed. Of course the plate was accompanied by a glass, and then there was the pre-meal planning drink and a requisite post-chomp bottle (not to mention a nightcap) but all in all Biff was finding less and less to say to the bottom of the cup. Plus the view over the rim was nicer than a warm glass of old brandy. It's like I have feelings and friends and all those nice human intangibles. Biff thought as chewed. Crazy. It's like all the crap I used to preach about. It wasn't something that Biff was proud of or advertised too much, but at one point in his life, somewhere between Biff and Alatar there had been Brother Bitar. That's right, Brother Bitar, that was my alliteration stage. Besides being a prime period for delicious dialogue devices, it was the age of enlightenment. In his quest for an identity, Biff had joined a small cult, one that believed that each man was entitled to his own religion. Literally. The Brothers of Build-A-Sect spend there time trying to create the deity they wanted to believe in. This led to a lot of the Brothers being confined to padded rooms for "smitings" because what inevitable would happen is the man would try to model the deity after the best man they could think of, which was, 9 times out of 9 (it was a small cult), himself. Brother Bitar had been no different, expect that in the process of making a god he found his true self, Biff, which is really a rather touching story, but isn't what this one is about.
Soon whatever could be masticated had been and there was no more avoiding it, it was time for dragon planning. Delphine was quite anxious to find out if all her searching had been worth it. "All right before we start, Biff, tell us all you know about dragons."
"Dragons? Well, they live in mountains, they seem to like to gather large amounts of shiny objects. They tend to be, as I understand it, quite on the large side with a pyromaniac streak the scares even ten year olds."
"Yes, and?" Delphine asked hungrily.
"And...what? That about describes a dragon." Biff started to get a little scared.
"What about weaknesses? What about strategic details?" Delphine couldn't believe the smirk on Varicose's face. He was loving this. Delphine tried to calm down.
"I hear they're also reptilies." Biff added pitifully.
She failed.
"You mean there's nothing, NOTHING you can us? An amulet, a spell, an anecdote, ANYTHING?"
"Well…there was this joke about a two headed dragon, but I'm thinking that's not what your looking for." Delphine flashed daggers at Biff. She was preparing to exchange the metaphorical for the physical when someone started laughing. Annoyingly.
"What did I say?" Varicose roared, "'they're reptiles' Oh please, no more. I can't take anymore. Oh Delphine. Delphine? Delphine!!!" Delphine had dropped the daggers and had her hands around an alabaster neck that was holding up a head that was rapidly turning blue. The color gave Bristol an idea.
"M'lady. Ma'am. Lass, get your hands off him, I think he's enjoying it." The dwarf pulled the lady in black off the blue boy.
"Aww, Bristol, why'd you have to do that?" Biff whined, only half jokingly.
"Because, something you said. You said dragons were reptiles, right?"
"Right," said Biff, not seeing the point.
"Right," said Delphine, disdain burning in the word and making it smell like brimstone and taste like mom's meat loaf.
"Right," giggled and gasped the elf.
"Well that's it then!" Bristol said, looking inordinately proud of himself.
"What is?" asked Biff.
"What is? asked Delphine, suddenly curiosity incarnate.
"Well, Biff, boy you called fires readily enough, can you do the opposite? Could you call cold?"
"Easily" said Biff, being as thick as mud and so unable to see the point.
"Well then!" Bristol leaned back and looked completely satisfied with himself.
"Bristol, I swear, if you don't form a complete a sentence soon I'll throw something at you, and wizards can throw some wyrd things."
Delphine looked like she could have kissed Bristol, "I get it. Reptiles go torpid in extreme cold, so if Biff can make the dragon cold enough..."
"We can walk right in and kill the thing without having to deal with all the carnage that comes with a living dragon." Bristol finished for Biff's benefit.
"Oh. That's really a great plan, Bristol," The wizard said, a bit dazed.
"You needn't sound so surprised, wizard. Dumb dwarves don't last long in the forges, incompetence and molten metal just don't mix," Bristol returned, sounding a bit hurt.
"No, no, oh Bristol I'm sorry, it's just a great plan. One thing, how are you going to kill him?"
"Well, wizard, assuming you deliver," Varicose sneered, "I can.." Delphine silenced him with a look that could have withered cacti.
"I believe I can cover that. I've got an idea, it's pretty simple, but it should work."
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Da boch chi!