The dragon's harem

Arad scratched his head. The pain jolted his body from head to toes, making his eyes tearful and his stomach twist. He could remember what happened yesterday. He was cutting one large tree, but instead of just falling away from him, for some reason, its bottom part shot toward him and smacked him in the gut.

“The trunk hit you hard, and you were thrown at a tree, hitting the back of your head really hard.” Merlin looked at him with a sad face. “How is your vision? Can you see me?” She lifted three fingers. “How much are those?”

“Three… but it’s all blurry,” Arad growled and grabbed the water cup at the side of his bed. He could feel the cold water clearing his throat as it flowed down; it felt like it had washed his organs clean.

“Merlin… you’re…” The pain jolted him once more, and he growled, holding his head in his hands. He could remember Merlin’s name… the fact that he was cutting wood yesterday… some snippet from the past… but not a single thing else.

“Who are you?” He looked at her, and her face twisted into a grimace. “The healer was right, temporary memory loss.” She approached the bed, sat beside him, and held his large and rough hand.

“I’m your wife, Merlin. We have known each other since we were kids. You were large, taller, and stronger than the other kids. I was the opposite, weak and easily scared, only good for picking herbs.” She looked at him with a smile.

“One day, wolves raided our farm. I woke up and went to the barn to check on the sheep, they were getting noisy in the middle of the night.” She looked up with a longing face. “There they were, three wolves, staring me right in the eye. I screamed, and you heard me, you were my neighbour after all.”

She giggled, “You flew out of your window, cleared our 6-feet-tall fence with a single leap, and violently ripped the three wolves to pieces with your axe. Then, without saying a word, you cleared the fence again and went after the whole pack…” She pointed at one scar that was clear on his neck and another that was on his massive forearm. “For a week, we thought you were dead, until you crawled back half dead. Later, we found the wolves’ lair, forty dead ones lay there.”

Arad could remember, fragmented memories… nothing made sense… but he had a strange urge to punch the woman standing at his side. “Yeah… but I’m not feeling right, I want to rest.” He lay back on the bed.

“The healer said we should expect memory loss, slurred speech, lack of appetite, strange behavior, probably violent, and sight problems. Got any, besides the memory loss?” She pulled a chair and sat beside his head, covering him with a blanket.

“Besides the slurred speech, I got all of them. I don’t want to eat anything, and my eyes aren’t doing great. I also got those strange urges to punch you in the face.” He looked at her and she smiled. “You know about this?”

“The healer said it’s best to keep you in a locked room at his cabin, in case you go into a fury. I asked that you stay here no matter what.” She leaned against his chest, “I know you better than anyone.”

Arad went back to bed after eating just a few bites. He couldn’t think straight; each time he tried to recall anything, he would feel like an arrow had been shoved from his right ear to the left.

In the bed, Merlin lay beside him, patting his chest as his eyes slowly drifted into sleep. Countless shadows flashed through his vision, dragging him into a deep slumber.

^WAKE UP!^ An unfamiliar voice boomed inside his head… calling from the depths of his soul. He could see her, a tall, muscular woman with long brown hair and bright golden eyes and a back full of sharp spikes. She grabbed his face with both hands, screaming with a terrified face, ^WAKE UP! IT’S ALIVE! EVER SO HUNGRY!^

Two hours later, Arad woke up feeling a bit better, but the sharp pain still plagued his head. This time, it was a throbbing migraine bad enough to make him feel as if his eyes were about to fall out of his face.

He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stood leaning on the wall. Merlin saw him and rushed with a worried face, “You shouldn’t move yet.”

“Someone, gotta work.” He looked around for his pants and jacket. “The trees won’t chop themselves down.” He shoved his legs into the large pants and then wrapped the jacket around his shoulder, barely able to move.

“You should really lie down.” Merlin stood beside him, but he reached down and lifted his large axe. After kissing her, he left, the axe resting on his massive shoulder. He tried to remember the past days… but all he could remember were shadows, fragmented dreams with no clear meaning to them. Each time he tried to work his brain, the pain surged with vengeance, causing him to growl.

After a long walk, he finally reached the forest, and the tree that smacked him down was still there. He should cut all the branches and then cut them into logs that can be transported by carriage.

After an hour of swinging his axe, he managed to strip the tree into a long, glorified stick. With the large saw he had left around, he started sawing it into pieces. This long tree should be cut into four pieces so it’ll fit in a carriage. The local sawmill pays a lot for large logs like those. And in the village, he alone had the strength to chop them down relatively quickly.

Using a hook, he then dragged the pieces back to the road and lined them up. All he had to do now was call a carriage, which he could do by either shouting for it so the drive down at the village could hear him… or make the trip down.

His head was throbbing in agony, and he didn’t feel like shouting, so he decided to make a trip down… He did want a strong beer, one that could lift his spirit a bit.