The necklace that you have in your hands...

The man, whether for show or for any sort of purpose, pointed toward the necklace Michelle was holding fiercely, (A good five minutes ago she had been trying to break it in half. She was unsuccessful.) then sat back against the wall of the bathtub, looking absolutely ridiculous . The necklace aggressively tugged its way out of Michelle's grip and flew over to rest on the sorcerer's shoulder like some sort of demented parrot joining his retired pirate master. "Now," the sorcerer began, "Prepare yourself..."

    "This necklace is made from pure gold and the solidified flame of a thousand-year-old dragon..." Really? Are you the one? Michelle had to bite her tongue to keep from asking it out loud, but with the incessant singing outside her window it was hard to keep from becoming frustrated. The sorcerer, however, didn't seem to be paying her any mind. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be all in his own world.

    "Actually, you know that Merlin you were expecting? He's the one who created it. Not for his own reasons--nay, he was much to clever to create such an unpredictable accessory--but on request. You see, this occurred during Merlin's younger days, and the one who requested the necklace was, in fact... a woman.

    "I suppose he must have fallen for her, for there would be no other reason to walk casually into a dragon's den and allow it to blow flames at you, but such he did no matter the reason. After charming the dragon and making his escape, he graciously came back as quick as possible and presented it to his sweetheart."

    Michelle flinched--the word "sweetheart" reminded her of the idiot that was now dancing about outside her window. "Er... can you call this girl by her name?" she questioned.

    "Ah! Curious, are you? Well, then, this woman was..."

The End

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