I honestly never believed I would do this job myself. I always believed I was the type of being that collected, but didn't create. Hoarded, but didn't design. But, here I am, working on a book about myself. So, I might as well get on with it.
My name is Castor del'Faen Verendaed the ninth. And I am a dragon.
But, you shouldn't look at that like "Oh no, he's a dragon. He's probably evil," no. I am a dragon, but I am not that kind of dragon. Well, I suppose I am slightly evil, but aren't we all? I mean, you can't blame me for something if it's your own fault too. Well, I suppose you can, but honestly, would you?
I guess I could get you started on a few facts about myself. Like I said, I'm a dragon. I am a dragon who hoards things. I hoard books, as a matter of fact. It's sort of hobby of mine. Unlike most dragons, who hoard shiny objects because they are shiny, I hoard books because I enjoy reading them myself. That's a completely natural thing for a dragon to do. I think. Well, I don't really have much interaction with many other members of my species. Not even sure if there are any other dragons left, when I think about it. Which means that yes, hoarding books is a COMPLETELY natural thing for dragons to do!
And, building off of the fact that there may or may not be other dragons out there, I can claim anything I like about my species. So, I shall. Dragons are naturally librarians. We like to read, gather, and simply organize books. Naturally. We also like to eat curry, sing badly written songs created by ourselves, live under mountains, and we all absolutely DESPISE dwarves! Well, we used to.
Dwarves are basically tiny, smarter humans, not even large enough for a snack, and not spindly enough to act as toothpicks, like humans or elves. They just come into a dragon's home, steal their books, and run away. You can't even stop them, because every time you board up one of their tunnels in, they make a new one! They're like book gremlins, the little tiny psychic monsters who learn what book you want to read and steal it before you find it. I mean, who would steal books from a dragon? Other than dwarves, I mean.
But, enough complaining from me. Let's just get into the story, when everything changed for me.
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It was a cool and drafty morning, like most days living inside a mountain are. I was halfway through reading Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling for a fortieth time, and I was straining my night vision to read it. You might be wondering why I didn't just have a fire going to read by, and to that I call you stupid. I live in a stone mountain, yes, but I don't want to light a fire nearby so many wonderful stories! That's ridiculous! I would burn them if I did so! Instead, I had slits of carved out stone with a mesh of iron that I had created myself using my sparingly used flames. They let sunlight and warmth in, pushing back the dampness that gathers in my mountain and damages books worse than the type of person who breaks the spines of books and dog-ears pages. I still don't understand what humans see in the beasts.
Anyways, I was in the middle of reading Harry Potter, when I heard a squeaking noise coming from behind me. Dwarves again. Nothing else lives in the dark but me and the dwarves. I placed the book down carefully, as it was practically a sugar cube in my palm, marking my page with a delicately carved bookmark I had pilfered on one of my library raids in the nearby villages, and turned around.
"Who dares enter my sanctum and home?" I bellowed, making my voice deeper than it actually was. To be honest, I don't have that dragonlike of a voice. Books always portray dragons as having a very deep voice, but I don't. My voice is only as deep as a human's, even if I am louder and my voice echos far more.
I could make out the words of the dwarves as they spoke frantically, and I could see the tunnel they had come in from easily. "Oh no, he's found us!" one of them shrieked. It was a feminine-ish voice that I recognized from earlier dwarf raids.. I would only know from what I had read.
The dwarves were a good fifty feet from my tail, outside of where I could hit them. But, I wasn't going to try even if they were near enough to hit. If I missed, I might hit a pile of books. That wouldn't be good.
I moved my head closer to the dwarves, leaning around a tall stack of books to examine them. The dwarves tried hiding behind a smaller pile of books. I moved my head again to get closer to them. They sprinted at full speed (which, for a dwarf, isn't really that fast) towards the small entrance they had come in from, carrying two books each. I took a halfhearted swipe towards the dwarves with my back foot, but I already knew it was too late. They were too far for me to hit. Shame.
The dwarves darted out of my home through their tiny little tunnel. I would have to block that up again soon. I brought my head back to where my book had been abandoned, and picked it up again to continue reading. This was how my life usually went. Dwarves wanted my books, and I wanted my books. There wasn't much room for compromise there. Ah well. It's just my usual luck. The dragon was always the bad guy, and the dragon always lost.
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