Firebreak: "The Egg"
Feb. 2nd, 2019 12:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rayasoIdol Mini-Season 2019
Week: 14
Topic: Firebreak
THE EGG
Jake Grimm’s jeep crawled along the forest road as he steered around the holes and boulders. “Road, my ass,” he thought. “Whoever called this a road never saw a real one.” Still, it seemed to be headed in the right direction.
“Take the second road past the old firebreak, go about two miles until you reach the big dead tree, turn left and go up the hill until you reach my cabin.” Jake had GPS, maps, even a compass, but it had all come down to this scrap of paper.
The firebreak was still visible. Fifty years ago, a fire had destroyed most of the area, but the firebreak had miraculously saved the heart of the old forest.
“How the hell did a dragon’s egg wind up here?” he wondered. Still, all his research had traced it here and the old man’s letter said he had it. Better yet, he was willing to sell it for a very reasonable price.
His ex-wife had called Jake a treasure hunter, but that wasn’t quite right. His business card said he was a specialist in mystical acquisitions. As a direct descendent of Jacob Grimm, it was a natural fit. He was most famous for finding Aladdin’s Lamp. His client had paid a fortune for it but then had threatened to sue when he had discovered it could no longer summon a genie. “You paid me to find the lamp, not the genie,” Jake had said. “Genies are extra.”
His current client had hired Jake to find a dragon’s egg, and not just any dragon, but the egg of Fafnir, the last dragon, who had died over a thousand years ago. According to the legend, she had left behind one golden egg which, if hatched, would produce the mightiest dragon of them all, indestructible, and capable of laying waste to entire cities with a single blast of fire; a dragon so evil and vicious that the egg had been sealed by a spell cast by Merlin himself.
It had taken a year of research only to find that it was owned by Merle Falco, who lived in the Sierra Nevada mountains in the remnants of this grizzled forest.
After nearly an hour bouncing slowly along the path (it had ceased to be a road long ago), Jake finally came to a clearing at the top of a hill. In it stood Merle’s cabin. It was built of logs with a wood porch along the front. It was old, but well-maintained.
Jake climbed out of the jeep, carrying the old man’s fee: a deep-dish Dutch apple pie from Alice’s Pie Shop (“World Famous Tarts”) from a little nameless town back along the highway at the edge of the old forest.
Before Jake reached the porch, the door opened and Merle walked out, leaning on his walking stick. “He must be at least 90,” Jake thought.
“That my pie?” asked Merle.
“Alice says hi,” Jake replied. Alice was an attractive woman with blond, wavy hair. He couldn’t imagine why she was stuck out here, but from the smell of it, she baked a mean pie.
“Bring it inside,” said Merle.
Jake went in and placed it on the kitchen table. There was only one chair.
“Want a piece?” asked Merle, sitting at the table.
“Sure,” said Jake.
“Tough,” said Merle. “If you wanted pie, you shoulda bought one for yourself. I get the pie, you get the egg. That’s the deal.”
“Why are you selling it for a pie?” asked Jake. “It’s worth a fortune.”
“I don’t need a fortune,” growled Merle, “and have you ever had one of Alice’s pies?”
The egg was on a cushion in a corner. It was three feet long with a golden shell. Despite its age, the egg was still shiny and unmarked. It could only have been laid by a dragon, or a very large chicken.
“How’d you get the egg?” asked Jake.
“Seems like I’ve had it forever,” Merle said.
If Merle wouldn’t tell, Jake didn’t care. It was clearly Fafnir’s egg and Merle could have stolen it at the point of a shotgun. His client hadn’t sounded too concerned about such matters. “Just get me that egg,” she had said when Jake had brought up its provenance.
Merle didn’t seem inclined to talk and Jake was in a hurry to leave. He didn’t want to drive that road in the dark. He carefully carried the egg to the jeep, put it in the back seat, covered it with a blanket and strapped it down. Merle didn’t say good-bye -- he was busy with the pie.
Ten minutes down the road, he heard a muffled voice from the back seat. “Can’t you go any faster? Can you take this #$#@!! blanket off? I’m smothering!”
Jake nearly drove the jeep into a tree. “You can talk?” he shouted as the jeep skidded to a stop. As a specialist in mystical acquisitions, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised by things that talk but shouldn’t, but he’d never seen one. It was going to be an interesting drive.
“Of course,” said the egg. “But Merle doesn’t. He’s a crazy old hermit. He kept threatening to cook me if I said anything. Where’re you taking me?”
“To my client.”
“Whattya mean, ‘client’? Who the %^$##@ is that?” said the egg. “What’s he going to do to me?”
“She,” corrected Jake. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
“Maybe she’ll hatch me,” said the egg. “Do you know what it’s like to be an egg for a thousand years? I need to get out of here and destroy things, maybe eat some maidens.”
“Not gonna happen,” said Jake. “Merlin took care of that, and the Lady of the Lake took care of him. She imprisoned him at the bottom of a lake, and no one’s seen him since you were laid.”
“The Lady of the Lake,” said the egg, “now there was a sorceress! Beautiful, too. Got her power from water – always had to be near a lake or ocean. No danger of that here – might as well be a desert.”
“Who knew a thousand-year-old egg could talk so much,” said Jake. “No wonder Merle wanted to turn you into an omelet.”
“I’m way past cooking,” said the egg. “Crack me open and out pops a dragon, so please, do your worst.”
“Merlin stopped you,” said Jake, “you’re not getting out.” Still, the idea of unleashing a dragon did not appeal to him, so he started to drive more gently over the ruts. “A thousand years is a long time for any spell to last,” he thought.
After a while, they were back at the highway. “Asphalt at last,” sighed Jake. “And pie!” Up ahead was Alice’s Pie Shop. “Time for a break.”
“You gonna bring me some pie?” said the egg.
“You can’t eat pie. You’re an egg.”
“It’s the &#^%! thought that counts,” said the egg. “Don’t be rude.”
Jake locked the egg in the jeep and went inside.
Alice gave him a menu and a smile. The special was the Queen of Hearts Tart.
“Warm Dutch apple pie with vanilla ice cream on the side,” Jake ordered, smiling back.
“The Merle Special,” said Alice, still smiling. “You got the egg with you?”
Jake put down the menu, and started to pay more attention to Alice.
“How’d you know?” he asked.
“Merle called,” said Alice. “He likes his privacy, but he’s got a phone. You related to Jacob Grimm?”
“I’m Jacob the seventh,” he said. “How’d you guess?”
“You’ve all got those green eyes. I’m Alice Carroll. Lewis Carroll was my however-many-great grandfather.”
“I guess those stories never end,” said Jake. With a talking dragon egg locked in his jeep, he was way past wondering about weird coincidences. “Well, I’m taking this egg out. I’ve got a client who wants it.”
“Elderly lady? Scar over her right eye? Lives near a lake?”
“Close to the lake in Central Park.”
“You’re such a sucker,” Alice said with a sigh. “Merlin gave her that scar. She’s the Lady of the Lake. She’s been trying to get that egg ever since Fafnir laid it.”
Jake nearly choked on his pie.
“She thinks she can break Merlin’s spell and unleash the dragon,” said Alice. “It’s safe with Merle. Take it back and let him tell you the rest. And bring him a sour cherry pie. It’s fresh.”
Jake bought two pies and headed to the jeep.
“You brought me a pie!” said the egg.
“You want pie,” said Jake, “you pay for your own. We’re headed back.”
“Alice is such a blabbermouth,” said the egg. “Well, at least I got a break from that old man.”
Two hours and one flat tire later, Jake was finally back at the cabin. The egg never stopped talking. If he could have found a mouth, Jake would have taped it shut. In frustration, he had thrown the blanket back over the egg.
“Hey,” said the egg, its voice muffled, if not silenced, “you better take that off! When I hatch, I’m coming for you first!”
“Dream on,” said Jake, who turned on some music – loud.
He finally made it back to the cabin. Merle was out on the front porch, sitting in his rocking chair.
“What took you so long?” he said. “Alice send another pie?”
“Sour cherry. I brought two . . . and the egg. Let’s talk.”
“Then you better call me Merlin,” said the old man. “Bring out some plates and forks.”
Jake’s day was getting stranger and stranger, even for a hunter of mystical objects, but he was getting a lot of very good pie and the dragon was still in its egg. “Could be worse,” he thought.
“In a way,” began Merlin, “this is all your family’s fault. Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm wrote down oral folk tales, which should have eventually passed out of knowledge, taking all the characters with them. By collecting them, he made them last. Geoffrey of Monmouth did the same thing for me and King Arthur way back in 1138. Writing gave us permanence, which we weren’t meant to have. Those old stories are from another age -- sorcerers and dragons have no place in your world.”
“But why are you here, in California, with this egg?”
“When I learned the Lady was looking for the egg to unleash a dragon on the world, one which she would control, I knew I had to stop her.
“Lancelot found it for me. He brought the egg to me, and I cast my strongest spell of protection, then brought it here, far from the Lady and far from any water. This used to be in the middle of an ancient enchanted forest, which she couldn’t see into. Then I went back to take care of her, but you know how that turned out. Seemed like I was imprisoned under that lake for years before I defeated her spell.
“As time passed and I didn’t fade from this world,” Merlin continued, “I came back here and built this cabin. As I said, magic has no place in this world anymore. I’ve been guarding the egg ever since.”
There was a long pause while Jake took this all in, ate some more pie, then had another slice.
“The egg has to stay with you,” he said finally, “but the Lady is going to be furious when I tell her I couldn’t find it.”
“She would be a very dangerous enemy,” said Merlin. “You can stay here with me. Alice makes great pies and helping me is a lonely job. There’s a lot I could teach you.”
Being a sorcerer’s apprentice didn’t really appeal to Jake, even with Alice and her baking. He loved the adventure and weirdness of his job too much to give it up.
“If I don’t show up with an egg, she’ll find me and kill me.”
“Take her the egg. It’s not the real one – there’s no dragon in it. Fafnir’s egg is buried under the cabin – this one’s a decoy. Did you think I’d leave a dragon’s egg just sitting around? Besides, the real one’s black, like every other dragon’s egg. I’m the one who started that golden egg nonsense to mislead anyone looking for the real one. If she has this fake egg, she’ll spend all her time trying to get it to hatch and just think she can’t break my spell. It’ll keep her busy for a while. And if you think it talks too much now, wait till she gets it. The Lady really will cook it!”
“Hey,” said the egg, “I’m right here!”
Merlin helped Jake load the egg in the jeep and gave him some cotton balls to stuff in his ears. “I went through a lot of these,” he said.
Jake headed back out of the forest, stopping only at Alice’s for one last purchase – a key lime pie.
By the time Jake got the egg to New York, he had covered it completely in duct tape, which finally shut it up. He collected his exorbitant fee from the Lady of the Lake, and promptly headed for Nevada, not too far from Merlin and Alice, but nowhere near any water.
He still took new assignments—most recently, searching for Cinderella’s glass slippers. He enjoyed the quiet of the forest, and visited Alice whenever he got hungry for pie.
The pies were incredible, but Alice was also a babe, so Jake made that trip surprisingly often.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-03 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-03 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 04:14 am (UTC)I enjoyed this a lot.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 03:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 08:13 pm (UTC)Hahaha-- exactly the kind of loophole a wily guy would exploit, which tells us something about Jake right away.
The suddenly talking egg was a wonderful surprise, and I loved,
I need to get out of here and destroy things, maybe eat some maidens.”
It's a wonderfully dragon-like sentiment, and also makes you wonder why anyone would want to let that dragon hatch. Any SANE person. What good could possibly come of it? :O
When I hatch, I'm coming for you first.
Hey, I'm right here!
I love the personality of the egg. We assume there's a dragon in it-- and IT clearly assumes that it's a dragon. But who knows for sure? Either way... it's not making a great case for being let 'out.'
This was terrific. :)
no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 08:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 08:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 10:15 pm (UTC)I loved this piece. Quite clever as usual. 🎀🐞✌🐁🐭🎈
no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 11:34 pm (UTC)