Midday arrives quickly enough, though Khajag and Sendarriel are still asleep. However, within moments of the sun reaching its appex, a large boulder crashes to the ground. The whole crater of Riftdale shudders and quakes, and in moments, Sendar is on his feet.

"What the devil was that!?" he cries, dazed and confused, hardly noticing the boulder by the edge of the Night Jewel Pool.

*Very acute question,* Khajag admits before yawning. He looks up, and an elf riding a dragon waves down at them. Sendar groans, and Khajag mosies over to inspect the fallen rock.

"Why don't they all just go away?" Sendar demands before kicking a tree as the rider and his dragon fly off, away from Riftdale. "They asked me to raise a dragon, and that's what I did! They didn't ask for any specific kind of dragon, so I took what I got, and still they - "

*Alright, stagehog, quit whining and come over here. This is pretty entertaining information they chucked at us.*

Sendar blinks. "It is?"

*It is, but it sets back my plans weeks, maybe even months or years. I fear we'll never travel through the portal.* He sighs, disappointed.

"There now! What's it say?" He stands in front of the rock, vaguely aware that he never did teach Khajag how to read, and reads the stone aloud. "'Attention to those training Glenn dragons in the Riftdale Crater. This is news from the front line. You are to report to the capitol city of Kem for your unit assignment. Furthermore, those who supplied us with your dragons have recently informed us that breath weapons are available. When you report to Kem, you and your dragon may choose one. Finally, you have other, more personal mail waiting here.' Jeez! What a bunch of sticks!"

*So formal. So orderly. So tacky!* Khajag agrees.

"Well, what say you we go to Kem?"

*Good idea, but how do we get out of here with me?*

"Good question. This needs some thought."

Just as suddenly, another boulder drops behind them. "Why do they have to use boulders!!" Sendar demands to know.

*Paper would get lost in the mountain's drafts,* Khajag observes. *Boulders are large enough to write on, loud enough to wake up their receivers when they hit ground, and generally fall in a straight enough line. What's this one say?* Immediately he examines it, sniffing it and doing similar odd actions of observation.

"It says 'Hope you're not afraid of heights.' Now they've gone from cornilly formal to ridiculously casual! There's no reason to our government!" He proceeds to kick the boulder into the Night Jewel Pool, and to hurt his foot in the process.

*Are you okay?* Khajag asks, hoping the answer in the affirmative.

"Well enough, at least," Sendar replies, hopping on one foot while holding the other.

*Good. Then get on my back before they leave you behind. I think they're waiting to net us.*

"What!? How!?"

*Waters are fabeled to be good jumpers. They've decided to test that theory. Hold tightly!* Sendar does as he is told, clinging to Khajag's neck. Then, the white dragon lurches forwards and upwards, using his powerful flipper-feet to sort of help along the propulsion. He leaps up, out of the crater, and the dragons holding the net catch him on his way down. Sendar remains hinged to his neck, and the two are escorted, or carried, rather, to Kem. Half-way there, Sendar mentally kicks himself for leaving his nine-string and furs back there.

"So good to see you survived your time of raising your dragon, Sendarriel," a mildly older male elf remarks as Sendar is escorted into a chamber filled with dignitaries and other such important elves.

Sendar glowers at the man. "What's this you said about unit assignments? You never said anything about me having to join the army!"

"Well, no, I suppose we didn't, but we're low on men and conscripts are greatly needed." He hands a pile of papers to an aide, who in turn hands them to Sendar. "You will find all necessary information in those papers.

Sendar rifles through the papers and removes the one about the breath weapons and the one marked, in heavy red letters, 'Personal.' He tucks these into his vest and takes the army draft papers and shreds them. "Appreciate some other conscript. Khajag and I aren't fighting." He pivots on his heel and begins to stalk towards the door.

"Sendarriel, if you leave, you will no longer be one of us."

"One of who? Try and stop me, old man." Those bitter and callous words said, he tosses the shredded papers into the air and opens the door. "I've issued the blood-oath that Khajag will never know war. I intend to keep it, whatever the price." Saying this, he egresses and slams the door shut behind him. He must find Khajag, and they need to leave as soon as possible, lest something ill fall upon them.

*You seem upset,* Khajag observes.

"Upset? That's a blasted understatement, Khajag!" Sendar cries in response as he approaches the huge, white dragon.

*So what did they want?*

"They wanted to tell me that I am officially drafted into the army or I can leave the country."

*What's our regiment?*

"We're not getting a regiment. I made a blood oath a long time ago that you will not prolong this bout of bloodshed and I'll be forsaken if I go against it!"

Khajag nods in understanding. He didn't really want to fight, anyways. Orcs are funny creatures, and they should be embraced as friends, not enemies strictly because they look different from the elves. After all, they are twin species. Children of light fighting children of darkness. It is unwarrented, insane bloodshed. *What other messages did they have for us?*

Sendar opens the first message, the one from the adoption agency. "It says that Breath Weapons are now available, and you can be trained in any one you choose. Congratulations."

Khajag observes that Sendar is slightly more relaxed all of a sudden. Something tells him that government and bureaucracy rubs the elf the wrong way. *Oh? What do they have for one such as I?*

Sendar opens a large list of colors, types, and the weapons available. "As a white water dragon, you can have Starry Mist, Snowy Glaze, Frost Strike, or Liquid Purity for your breath weapon. Which do you want?"

Khajag ponders over this for a moment before shrugging. *Sign me up for the Snowy Glaze one. It sounds like fun.*

Sendar nods and, with a quill, circles the requested breath weapon and signs his name next to it as well as his current location and the dragon's name. With a pop, the paper disappears from his hands. "What the -"

*Magic is my guess.* And why shouldn't the higher-ups at the adoption agencies be capable of producing fairly potent magic such as that? After all, they have to keep all of those people, dragons, mates, and clutches straight and not confuse any of them. Doubtless they are very well organized. *What's the other message?*

Sendar retrieves the second message from his vest as Khajag rolls onto his side and stretches. "Its... Its..." Suddenly, Sendar breaks out into peals of laughter.

*What? What does it say?*

"Its a mating request for you, old chap! It seems that someone, somewhere finds you ravishing." Sendar flashes a smile and winks at him.

*Wha- What?* Khajag rolls back onto his feet in shock.

Sendar takes to practically prancing about his dragon. "One lucky lady has decided that you are definitely worth catching." He stops prancing and siddles up beside Khajag. He presses himself against him and nudges him with his elbow. "What do you say, old buddy? How would you like one lovely girl dragon, one female to send your affections, one - "

*Will you stop nudging me!* Khajag roars.

"Umm... sure. I ran out of things to say, anyways."

*Good.*

"But what will you tell her?" Sendar demands. "You have to tell her yes! You have to!"

*I don't have to do anything. You forget that I could just give up and eat you now.*

"But you wouldn't, because your inner dragon is telling you that you have to let me live because I'll serve some purpose sooner or later." He tips a wink to his dragon friend and dances away from his powerful claws. Plopping down on the ground a little bit away, Sendar reverts to saying, "Havetohavetohavetohavetohavetohaveto," until his tongue gets tangled and he winds up saying, "Hatvoohoovtavtoohavevoo... Arg, I give up." He stops saying the same thing over and over again and turns his attentions back to Khajag. "What will you say?"

Khajag sighs. He tries to think of just what it is that he should say. He never consciously wanted a mate. He had told Sendar that previously, yet to know that he would not be turned down... That is a very tempting proposition.

He rolls onto his side again and resumes stretching. *Tell her I accept her offer, and I look forward to seeing her as soon as possible.*

"Don't you even want to look at her first?"

*That would be why I want to meet her.* He paws the air with one of his foreflippers. *Honestly. You elves think yourselves to be so intellegent. We dragons, however, tend to be able to figure out even the most simple of things you miss.*

Sendar narrows his eyes and glares at the dragon. "You have got one tremendous ego, do you know that?"

*I'd reasoned something to that effect previously. Go on, silly elf. Write the reply.* He chuckles deeply.

Sendar, however, can not find the letter to reply to it. "Have you seen the - " He stops short, however, becuase there is Khajag, laying on his side, staring at the picture that had been enclosed with the letter. He is looking at it as if there is nothing else in the world at all. "Kyrissaean is a beautiful crystal water dragon, isn't she?" he asks gently.

*More so in person, I should think. I imagine her to be wonderfully kind as well. She'll be - And what, pray tell, do you care?!* he demands suddenly, jerking up to his feet again and glaring at Sendar.

The elf simply laughs. "Soon, we'll go to the adoption agency to visit her in person."

A few days after receiving the mail, responding, and receiving more mail to confirm it all, Sendar and Khajag went to visit Kyrissaean. It went fairly well, actually. The two dragons hit it off very well, and Sendar and Deborah left them alone to chat. After a good enough time, Sendar returned to collect Khajag, who was his usual calm self until they got home. When they returned to Sendar's world, Khajag began to pounce and prance about like a little kitten.

"What the blazes has gotten into you?" Sendar wants to know.

Khajag pauses from trying to catch a butterfly, and denting the ground in the process, to look over to Sendar. *I don't know what you're talking about.*

"You've gone love-happy. You poor, poor fool. It's a really good thing I told them we're not joining up with the army. You'd be absolutely useless there."

Khajag stops entirely and begins to drum his talons on the ground. *And just what is that supposed to mean?*

"It means what I said. You're love-sick. You can't fight anything like that."

Khajag, somehow, with his gargantuan and clumsy claws, goes about making a floral chain. *I intend to promote peace, not war. Love, not hate. Joy, not sorrow. Let's all live mellowly, man.*

"Yep. You've lost it. Come on. We're going back to Riftdale."

*B-But!* He takes to pouting. *What about Kyriss?*

Sendar pokes Khajag in the chest. "You're a white dragon. You can open portals, you dimwit. So much for dragons being of superior intellect. You can go see her any time you want."

*Oh. Yeah. But how are we going to get there? I can't fly, remember?*

"But you can jump. For that, we're going to walk to the mountain, and when it gets too steep, you're going to jump, we're going to open the portal in the Night Jewel Pool, and we're getting out of here."

Khajag, suddenly filled with determination, nods. *It must be so. We will grow lazy in this land of good fortune. Come. We depart imminantly.*

"Good to have the old Khajag back, buddy. Let's go." Grinning, Sendar and Khajag begin their journey back to Riftdale, begining with the path through the woods.