Gravity Happens

Eve landed gracefully on a thick carpet of lush grass. Smoothing her clothes, she deposited the notebook-turned-portkey in her satchel and surveyed her surroundings. She stood atop a green embankment between a swiftly running brook and a sofly tread gravel path in a narrow crevice between two great cliff faces. The sky overhead was a rich, triumphant sapphire, cloudless and breathtaking. With a quick look about to make sure she was alone, Eve emitted a high squeal of jubilation—the Carpathians! At last!

“What’s that squirrel chatter for, girl,” a gruff voice carried around the bend. Shortly after, the body to whom the voice belonged emerged on the path from beyond a rock face. Craggy features, a grizzly beard, and wayward, graying hair accompanied a pair of merrily twinkling green eyes.

“I couldn’t possibly be happier to be here, sir,” Eve stepped lightly onto the path and made her way towards the man, “I’m Eve—“

“Aye, I know who ye are, Miss Evelyn Carrick, who else could ye possibly be, appearing out of nowhere to the middle of nowhere where no one ever be? Dougal Magoon’s the name, and I coud’na be more pleased to welcome ye here, lass. We’ve few enough ladies passing through our home to warm it proper, it’ll be right good to have you ‘round,” Eve couldn’t help but grin as the older man tucked her arm through his as he turned and marched her down the path, “Now tell me about this research ye’ve joined us to do,” Magoon demanded as they strolled along.

Eve Carrick was a Draconologist, she studied not only the physiological aspects of dragons, but their behavior and societies as well. She’d been fascinated by the creatures since childhood and had devoted her entire adult life to gaining a deeper understanding of them. She worked alone, endorsed by Ministry grants, publishing when she could and contributing as much as she could to medical research involving draconic components. She’d spent the past six years traveling constantly to various dragon hot-spots on the globe, immersing herself in her work. She’d been trying to get clearance to continue her research in the Romanian Encampment for years, and had finally navigated her way through all the bureaucratic bullocks. She happily gave Magoon the highlights of her theories and observations, and answered all of his questions as they made their way through the valley.

They ambled leisurely through grove after grove of enormous conifers, the creek meandered away from and back to the path again and again. The mountains around them transitioned abruptly from sheer cliffs to sloping hills, with summer blossoms in every shade of yellow and violet poking out of every crevice. Eve was able to breathe deeply the sweet smelling air, delighted to be out of London again. As they emerged from one last grove, the lodge that was to be her new home came into view. The enormous stone and timber structure sat cozied against the mountainside and was surrounded on all sides by a riotously blooming garden. It had obviously been a home at one time, which grew with the family, as many wings and gables and even a few turrets had been added to the original structure in various woods, “It’s beautiful,” Eve breathed.

“Aye, it’s surely a warming sight,” Magoon agreed, “I’ll show ye ye’r room, all ye’re things already arrived and made it to ye’r chambers. I’d then introduce ye to all the men, but we’re on a skeleton crew a’ this time o’year--”

“During pairing and breeding, of course, they’ll be busy with keeping the peace amongst our beasties and trying not to get killed,”

Magoon chuffed out a deep chuckle, “Ye got that a’right. Most of the boys’ll be up in the camps for the next coupl’a weeks. Here it just be the boss, Hark, ol’me, and now ye!”

They entered through the front doors, Magoon throwing them open dramatically before Eve entered. The entry hall was gorgeous, with two enormous timber staircases leading up to a second-floor gallery which wrapped around three sides of the hall. A great stained-glass skylight, framed by the gallery, cast a million different colored lights over the entire room. The dark hardwood floor was smoothed and sloping from hundreds of years of being tread upon and ran down two corridors on either side of her. From the left corridor, an apparition was gliding towards them. The ghost was average height, average build and wore very silly clothing several hundred years out of style. He had a longish nose which was only exaggerated by a dreadfully thick moustache and an overlarge pair of eyes.

“Welcome to my home!” he boomed, “I am Maxwell Wentworth Prior, renowned dragon keeper and regarded by many to be the first ever true Draconologist and you, my darling progeny, are even more lovely than I could ever have drea—oi! Stop that! Stop that! This instant, do you hear me?!?!” Maxwell flapped his arms frantically as Magoon swirled his own arms through the ghost’s incorporeal form. Eve’s laughter pealed through the halls along with Maxwell’s cries of outrage. Magoon finally stopped swooshing and stepped back.

“Bleedin poofter! Never knew such a ninny in all my life! Get out o’ here ye damned rapscallion, an’ don’t be botherin’ the lass anymore, she’s here to mind her business so mind ye’rs!” Maxwell shot a wink at Eve and mouthed ‘LATER’ before floating away.

Magoon continued to grumble as he lead Eve up a staircase and down a hallway to another stair, ascending to the third floor. He guided her to the last door on the left of the hall and opened the door for her. Eve smiled warmly at his gesture and entered the room. And then she forgot to breathe.

The entire room was decorated in soft tones of blue and green. An enormous carved wooden bed lay in a recessed alcove across from the door, cornflower draperies tied back to reveal an elaborately embroidered bedspread. A mammoth wardrobe sat at the other end of the room, its vast doors carved to depict a hunt. A delicate vanity table and spider-legged chair were placed against the nearest wall, waiting beneath a grand gilded mirror. On the same wall as the dressing table was a fireplace with a beautifully worked mantle, which Eve knew she would be grateful for in the harsh Carpathian winter. There were two sets of windows each against two of the walls—those with the bed and vanity—and each window was framed by panes of colored glass and dusky blue drapes. Eve noted her luggage in an orderly pile at the foot of the bed—everything she owned packed lovingly into a few boxes. Stepping fully into the room, she espied a narrow spiral staircase going up from her room to a catwalk and balcony. With a grin to Magoon, she dashed up the stairs and gasped. A small library had been built into the turret room, with an elaborately carved desk and a collection of mismatched, but comfortable looking chairs. Curved windows lay in each wall, but one jutted out from the room—a bay window with a cozy window seat! She tried to take in everything at once—the lavish rugs, the titles of books, the antique lamps, and almost missed Maxwell’s smiling face peaking out from one of the bookshelves. She threw him a delighted grin, then went back down to her bedchamber and threw her arms around the Magoon, “Thank you!” she cried to the old man, “it’s so much more beautiful than I could ever have asked for!”

Magoon patted her helplessly on the back, “Now, now, no need for hysterics. It’s only natural that ye be comfortable in ye’r new home, with a proper place to scribble ye’r scribblings and such. Ye’ve a bathroom right through there,” he pointed to a door beyond the staircase, “and the boss’s chambers be right across the hall, only a few of the men live a’ this end o’ the house. Should I leave ye be now to settle ye’rself in?”

“Oh, no! That’s perfectly alright, I can do that later, I’d much rather get right down to work! Here be dragons, after all,”

“Here be dragons, indeed,” Magoon agreed with a chuckle, “alright then, off to the pits we go, ye can meet Hark and the boss early!”