Dragon Rider The Griffin's Feather

It all looked so familiar to Firedrake. The misty woods outside the entrance to the cave. The smell of the sea nearby in the cold morning air. Every leaf and every flower reminded him of the Scottish mountains where he had grown up. But Scotland was far away, and so was the Rim of Heaven, the valley that the last dragons in this world had called their home for two years now.

Firedrake turned and looked at the dragon lying behind himon a bed of moss and leaves. Slatebeard was the oldest of the mall. His wings twitched in his dreams, as if he wanted to follow the wild geese crossing the grey sky, but he would soon be setting out on the longest flight of all. To the Land of the Moon, as dragons called the place to which only death opened the door. Slatebeard was the only one who had stayed behind when the others moved to the Rim of Heaven. Even then, the long journey had been too strenuous for him, but thanks to good friends hehad found a new place to live when the ancient home of the dragons was drowned in the waters of a reservoir.

The cave where Slatebeard slept was not a natural one. A troll had built it, to the instructions of human beings who knew exactly what dragons needed. But caves for dragons were not theonly accommodation to be found here in MÍMAMEIĐR. Trolls, impets, mermaids, dragons – any fabulous being couldtake refuge here, although some guests from the south complained of the cold Norwegian winters. MÍMAMEIĐR – Firedrake thought the name sounded as mysterious as the creatures whostayed there. They could all find suitable living quarters, and those places were all different too. Caves, nests, stables, tiny houses for impets . . . on the banks of the nearby fjord, in the surrounding forests, below the meadows that greeted the morning sunlight outside, wet with dew.