Fey Dragon Name Generator

The story

The invitation reached Maru inside a wooden duck he had made himself. He opened the duck to repair its squeak and found a folded leaf between the spring and the wheel. Beneath a flowering arch, it said, a place awaited the maker of the bird that had learned to complain. Maru thought this an excellent review. He followed the path after closing his workshop, carrying a replacement spring because a customer who hid correspondence inside a toy probably needed something fixed. The path passed through three seasons before he reached the arch. He wished he had brought a coat rather than a professional opinion.

Faevelith sat at the far end of a table that curved around an oak. She was a dragon the color of a pear seen through green glass. Her invented name was explained as the welcome that leaves another meeting possible. Around her sat a badger in a waistcoat, two sisters arguing over a spoon, a musician asleep under his own instrument, and an empty chair with a clean plate. Every time a guest finished a cake, a fresh one appeared. Every time someone praised the feast, the flowering arch grew another branch. Maru ate three cakes before asking how long the celebration would last.

'Until every guest is satisfied,' the badger said, with the air of someone reciting a sentence he regretted learning. One sister wanted the spoon her grandmother had owned. The other wanted the first sister to admit it was a ladle. The musician wanted to finish his song, but the song acquired a new verse whenever a cake appeared. Faevelith wanted them all to enjoy themselves. Maru wanted to go home before the glue drying on his workbench became useless. The empty chair worried him more than the abundance. Its place setting had acquired no crumbs, no argument, and none of the small disorder that made the others look inhabited.

The duck belonged to the dragon. She had bought it from a traveler who said that a wheeled toy might amuse the person expected at the empty place. Its broken squeak was the first sound at the table that had not politely repeated itself. Faevelith had sent for Maru because she hoped he could make it complain again. He opened the mechanism on the table. A cake immediately appeared in the duck's hollow body. The badger removed it with visible expertise. Maru asked whether refusing a cake would be rude. Every face turned toward the dragon. She said a gift should be refusable. The arch shivered as if somebody had loosened a knot.

Maru declined the next cake. Nothing terrible happened. He remained hungry in an ordinary way, rather than the feast's cycle of instantly renewed appetite. The musician's song lost a verse. One sister put down the spoon because she had forgotten why she wanted to win. Faevelith looked relieved for a moment, then frightened. If the guests could refuse, they might leave dissatisfied. If they left dissatisfied, perhaps the invitation had failed. Her refuge hoard consisted of welcome made tangible: seats, cups, sheltering branches, and food. It could grow only while guests were genuinely sheltered. She had begun confusing a guest remaining at the table with a guest wishing to remain.

Maru repaired the duck's spring, but the new squeak made Faevelith close her eyes. It resembled a laugh she remembered. The person assigned the empty chair had once laughed at a very solemn toast, upsetting a cup and making the dragon snort steam through her nose. He had promised to return for another feast. He had been human. Maru did not ask when he died because the date would not tell him how long the dragon had been waiting. He asked whether the guest had enjoyed that earlier evening. 'Not all of it,' she said. 'He told me the speeches were too long.'

The flowering arch began dropping petals. The badger offered to make a speech about how short all future speeches would be. Maru stopped him before a lectern could appear. A promise-bound dragon could not simply breathe the feast away. Faevelith had accepted the duty of giving willing guests shelter until they chose to depart. Nobody had accepted the duty of making every feeling permanently pleasant. The condition had been buried beneath her own interpretation. Maru stated that he wanted to leave, that the feast had been generous, and that parts of it had been exhausting. His honesty shortened the table by one place. He remained sitting on the grass, astonished to discover that the world still contained grass.

One sister decided she did not need the spoon. The other decided to take it and write to her about what it actually was. Their argument did not become agreement, but it became something they could continue elsewhere. The musician played a final unresolved chord and announced that he would finish the song after sleeping. The badger admitted he had stayed partly because he disliked being the first to leave. Each departure returned a piece of the table to ordinary wood. Faevelith's scales lost their polished shine. She looked tired, which Maru recognized as a state different from being ruined. The empty chair remained beside her.

Maru offered to carry it to a dry place. The dragon declined. Then she looked surprised by the relief of having declined something kindly offered. She asked whether he would come again. He would, he said, if the invitation told him when the feast ended and allowed him to bring work in progress. A finished toy made a poor excuse for another visit; a troublesome wheel or a slightly wrong spring would give them something real to discuss. Faevelith agreed without promising that every future meeting would be wonderful. The arch opened onto the correct season. Before leaving, Maru placed the repaired duck where its wheels could move.

In his workshop, the glue had dried badly. He had to remake a small chair and refund a customer for a late delivery. The adventure had not politely preserved his ordinary life while he was away. Three weeks later a leaf arrived beneath his door, carrying an invitation for an afternoon with tea, no speeches, and departure before dusk. At the bottom, Faevelith had added that she might be sad during part of it. Maru wrote that he might be annoyed about the chair. He brought the replacement spring anyway. Under the arch, the dragon had set two places and left a third available without laying a plate.