Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. The characters belong to RIB and Fox.

And then there came the Whisperer.

No one really knows how he became the Whisperer. The true story is hidden along with him, deep between the trees in the Northern forest. Legend has it that he bonded to the last of the dragons, and that he showed the Whisperer where the last of the eggs were. They say that he raised all the eggs to adults, and that he now lives surrounded by dragons, concealed by the dark pines.

They say that sometimes, if you live close enough to the Northern forest, there is a speck that rises up above the trees. They say that is the Whisperer, riding his dragon above the -

"Oof!"

The stray root took him by surprise, and he caught his foot and went flailing to the ground. He was too late to throw his arms out, but he did anyway, and got a mouthful of dirt for his troubles. He groaned and lay there for a long moment before moving slowly, testing to see if anything hurt.

He sat up slowly, spitting dirt out of his mouth, and rubbed at his shoulder where he had hit it on something. It throbbed painfully, and he frowned, turning around to see what it was he'd hurt it on.

Lying in the grass, partially uncovered by his fall, was a large stone. It was roughly oval and bright blue, the surface smooth and shining in the light that filtered down through the leaves of the trees, dappling the ground. He stared at it for a long time, then reached out a hand slowly and touched it, just for a moment, before snatching his hand away again. When nothing happened, he cautiously reached his hand out again and pressed his finger tips against the surface of the stone. It was smooth and cool beneath his touch, and he pushed away the rest of the grass to reveal it, slipping his hands underneath it and lifting it up.

He tilted it, watching the light play across the surface. It sparkled faintly in the light, and he smiled. It was heavier than it looked, but not so heavy that he couldn't carry it, and he cradled it against his chest as he began to walk home. It was heavier than the pack on his back, making him feel slightly unbalanced, but he didn't want to break it or crush anything in the pack, so he kept it cradled carefully in his arms, glancing down at it every so often.

His mother was outside when he got home, tending to the beans they were growing, pulling weeds up. She looked up as she heard her son approaching, smiling warmly at him.

"Hello, Finn," she said. And then her eyes found the stone in his hands, and she frowned. "What's that?"

"I fell over on the way home," he said. "I hit my shoulder on it."

"Are you okay?" his mother asked immediately, worry clouding her eyes. Finn rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine," he said. "I just thought this was pretty. I thought you might like it. I thought we could put it on the dining table or something."

Carole sighed, shaking her head. Finn was always bringing things home that he thought were pretty, but never anything this large. It was usually just flowers. She took the stone from him and examined it, rolling it over gently in her hands. She looked at Finn, who was watching her hopefully, and sighed, resigned.

"Fine, we can keep it," she said. Finn beamed at her and bent his head to give his mother a peck on the cheek. "Just don't bring anything else home, okay?"

She put the stone in the middle of the dining table, then took the pack from Finn and started making dinner with the meat that he had bought home.

...

"Finn! Finn!"

Finn hurried into the kitchen. His mother sounded anxious, her voice strangled as she called for him.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked.

Carole was stood staring at the table. In the center of it sat the blue stone that Finn had found a few days ago, gleaming brightly in the light. Finn stared at it too. It looked pretty. He looked back at his mother, confused.

"What? What's wrong? Nothing is happening," he said.

"Just watch," she said, eyes wide and trained on the stone.

Obediently, Finn turned his head to look at it again. He watched it for several long moments, waiting for something to happen. He was just about to turn away again to ask what he was meant to be seeing when it happened - the stone moved.

Finn blinked, startled, and took a step forward. The stone moved again, rocked gently. He frowned, tilting his head to one side. It was a stone. Stones didn't move.

"What," he said softly, taking a step forward.

"Be careful, Finn!" Carole said, worrying her lower lip as she watched her son step towards the table.

Finn stared at the stone as it rocked. And then, rather suddenly, a loud, high pitched squeak emitted from it. Finn jumped, taking a step back, and the rocking intensified, the stone moving faster and faster, the squeaks coming more regularly.

"It's an egg," he stated, suddenly enlightened.

"Yes, but what from?" Carole asked.

Finn couldn't answer that. He watched as a small crack appeared in the egg. It spread slowly, breaking into two, the cracks spreading outwards like a spider web, until the shell was covered in them. Finn tilted his head, cautiously stepping forward again, and then the creature inside the egg gave a great cry and surged forward, breaking through the cracked shell, shattering it apart.

Finn could do nothing but stare. Sat on his table was a creature the same bright blue as the egg. It was covered in small scales and seemed to be a very odd shape - its sides bulged outwards. The creature's head was roughly triangular, with a tuft of bright blue fur on top, and as it yawned it revealed many small, needle like teeth. It's eyes were huge, a shade or two darker than the blue of its scales, and they peered at Finn curiously. A small sound escaped it's jaws, seemingly a question, but Finn didn't understand. It got shakily to its feet, falling a few times before managing to take a couple of wobbly steps. It's neck was long and curving, it's body still that odd shape, and it had a long tail trailing behind it that it got one foot caught on as it tried to move, falling back onto the table.

"What are you," Finn breathed, watching the strange creature as it stumbled, nosing bits of egg shell absently.

The creature sneezed, falling backwards, and the reason it looked an odd shape became very apparent - two wings, each almost as long as the creature itself, burst out, falling down into the table. Long, thin bones ran down them, a thin membrane stretched between them. The creature looked up at Finn, blinking its vast eyes in confusion. It lifted the wings, but clearly wasn't strong enough to do anything other than let them drop down again. It looked at Finn, head tilted to one side, then pulled its wings back in, walking in a slightly less wobbly way towards the edge of the table, where it sat, looking at him.

"Are you a..." Finn stopped. No. It couldn't be. He looked at his mother, who was just staring at the creature open mouthed. "You're a dragon."

The creature looked at him as if he were stupid and that fact was the most obvious thing in the world. The look was somewhat ruined by the fact that the tuft of fur atop its head chose that moment to flop down over its face, obscuring most of it from Finn's view and making the creature look pretty funny. It huffed at Finn's laughter, clearly annoyed, and flicked it's head to move the fur away. The movement threw the creature off balance and it wobbled dangerously for a moment before toppling off the edge of the table.

Finn didn't think, just lurched forwards and caught it in his arms. The creature screeched, a terrible, high pitched noise that had Carole clapping her hands over her ears. Finn held the creature against his chest, and it writhed and screamed in abject fear, short, sharp talons catching against his tunic and tearing the material a little.

"Finn!" Carole cried. "Put it down!"

And then something collided with Finn's mind, and his head was flung backwards. Nothing physical had hit him, and Finn let out a yelp of surprise as something encompassed his mind, melding tightly against his. Suddenly he wasn't alone in there, there was something else, someone else, sharing it with him. Fear spiked through him, harsh and sharp, and he whimpered - it hurt. And then, confusion, curiosity, slowly but surely taking over the fear. Finn realized that the creature had stopped writhing and was staring up at him with those large, blue eyes.

"What," Finn said, staring down at it, the confusion and curiosity he could feel in his mind reflected in its eyes. Realization dawned and he blinked, surprised. "Oh."

"Finn?" Carole said. "Finn, what's wrong? What happened?"

"I think," Finn said, slowly, still staring down at the creature - the dragon - in his arms. "I think it bonded to me."

Finn felt a sharp stab of indignation and the little dragon huffed in offense. Finn blinked at it and it stared back at him, blue eyes mildly offended. It took him a long moment to realize what the dragon was trying to tell him.

"He," Finn murmured. "He bonded to me."

The dragon gave Finn a look of contempt and wriggled, trying to free itself - himself, Finn reminded himself, it had a gender. He put the little dragon gently on the table where it sat down, weak wings still folded roughly against his sides, and opened his mouth, making a pathetic mewling sound and flicking his tongue.

"What does it want?" Carole asked, still standing well back and eying the dragon as if he were about to set fire to the entire house.

"He, mother. I think he wants feeding," Finn said, trying to make sense of everything that was now in his head, all vying for his attention. It was very strange to suddenly have thoughts there that weren't entirely his own.

The little dragon crowed, apparently happy that Finn had gotten the right idea, and then opened his jaws again, mewling. It reminded Finn starkly of a baby bird calling to its mother, and he turned to his own mother helplessly. She was still staring at the dragon, fear plain in her eyes, but she managed to drag her gaze away to look at Finn.

"We barely have enough to feed ourselves," she said. "I am sure it won't eat any of the crops we grow, it will want meat."

"Please?" Finn asked, as the dragon gave an especially pathetic little whining sound. Carole sighed.

"Alright, alright," she said, and she turned to the last of the meat that Finn had bought home the day before, selecting some of the fattiest bits for the dragon.

"Thank you," Finn beamed, taking it and turning to the little dragon, who squeaked excitedly, wriggling as he saw the meat in Finn's hands.

Finn fed the little dragon carefully, not wanting to get his hand caught on those needle-like little teeth. The dragon ate and ate until there was only two bits of meat left, and which point he huffed and rolled over onto his side, exposing his soft underbelly to Finn. Cautiously, Finn reached out a hand to stroke it gently, and the dragon started to rumble low in his throat. Finn paused, and he whined, and as Finn started to stroke again he realised that the rumble was the equivalent to a cat's purr.

"Finn," Carole said softly, and Finn turned to look at her, still absentmindedly stroking the little dragon's belly. "Finn, what are you going to do?"

Finn turned to look at the little dragon, wriggling happily and rumbling as Finn rubbed at his soft, scaly belly. He peered up at Finn with bright blue eyes, utter contentment filling Finn's mind. He smiled fondly at this little dragon, still confused and unsure, and tickled him under his chin, making him squeal happily.

"I don't know," he said softly. "I honestly don't know."

"Do we have any more chicken?" Finn asked his mother a couple of months later. "It's Drizzle's favorite."

Carole looked up from where she was chopping carrots for their dinner, a frown creasing her features.

"Drizzle?" she questioned. "Who is Drizzle?"

"The dragon," Finn said, as if it were obvious. As if on cue, Drizzle barreled into the room, mewling as he always did when he was hungry, and ran straight into a table leg. Finn winced as pain shot through his head, too, and bent down to scoop the little dragon up. He was now about the size of a cat.

"You named the dragon Drizzle," said Carole slowly. "Do I even want to ask why?"

"Because he's all sparkly and stuff like when it is just drizzling outside, when the rain is thin and it makes everything glisten. Like his scales. See?" Finn said, thrusting Drizzle towards his mother. The dragon opened his jaws and mewled again.

"Finn, you can't get attached! You can't keep a dragon here! What if someone finds him?" Carole asked, but nonetheless she sighed and cut off some strips of chicken for Drizzle.

"He bonded to me. I can't…I'm already attached. There isn't anything I can do," Finn said. In his arms, Drizzle stopped mewling and peered at him, curious worry creeping into Finn's mind. Drizzle had yet to grasp words and communicated with emotions and, occasionally, pictures.

"He can't stay here, Finn," Carole said. Finn put Drizzle down and took the chicken from his mother, playing with Drizzle using it, making the little dragon jump about and squeal happily in excitement.

"And he can't leave, either," said Finn firmly. "Not unless I go with him. You know how the legend goes. We can't be apart. I can't…even the thought of leaving him is too much."

Carole watched her son, her only child, as he played with the little blue dragon that had bonded to him. Finn was a human - the legends never said anything about humans and dragons bonding. Finn could be the first. The first human-dragon bond and it was her son, it was Finn, a tall, clumsy boy from a small town. He wasn't royalty, he wasn't rich, Carole was even willing to admit that he wasn't all that bright. He was just Finn. Her trusting, sweet and naïve son. All mothers believed that their children would amount to something great, but Carole had never imagined that her son would be the first human a dragon would ever bond to.

She watched as Finn made Drizzle run in circles after the last chicken strip until the dragon became dizzy and fell over, blinking in confusion. Finn, too, looked a little queasy, and he gave Drizzle the chicken and stood slowly, wavering just a little. Finn then bent down and scooped the little dragon into his arms again, rubbing his stomach absently. Drizzle rumbled happily, relaxing immediately in Finn's arms, and a look of contentment spread across Finn's face, too.

She watched as Finn tickled Drizzle under the chin, making him squeal happily. Finn laughed, loud and bright and infectious. Carole smiled warmly, watching her son with his dragon, and she knew he couldn't stay here. Not when dragons were mistrusted by so many.. Drizzle was easy enough to hide now, while he was small, but dragons grew to be huge, and they had nowhere to keep anything bigger than a cow. No, Finn and Drizzle could not stay here.

It broke Carole's heart to realize that she had to send her only child away.

She brought the subject up two nights later over dinner.

"Finn, you need to leave."

Finn stared at his mother, fork half way to his mouth. Drizzle was sat at his feet, looking up at Finn eagerly, waiting to scarf up anything that he dropped. The confusion that engulfed the young dragon's mind was enough to make him stop, head cocked to one side, mouth slightly open, looking between Finn and Carole.

"What?" Finn asked intelligently. Carole sighed.

"You have to leave, Finn. You can't stay here, not with Drizzle. What if someone finds him? You'll be killed," she said. Finn sighed.

"But where else I am supposed to go? This is the only place I've ever known," he said quietly. Carole took a deep breath.

"You need to go to the Whisperer."

Finn stared at his mother incredulously for a long moment. Drizzle stared at her, too, the same incredulous look reflected in his eyes.

"But no one knows where he lives or even who he is," Finn said. "How am I supposed to find him?"

"You need to go to the Northern Forest and at least try, Finn. The elves should help you. They're the ones who started to bond with the dragons in the first place, I am sure that they will help you find him."

"And if they don't I'll be stuck in that huge forest all by myself with Drizzle!" Finn protested.

"But if you stay here you will both be killed," Carole said quietly.

Finn stared forlornly at his plate, moving his fork in absent minded circles. He didn't want to leave, he had lived here his entire life, but at the same time he knew that his mother was right. He couldn't stay here. They couldn't stay there, him and Drizzle, the nobody and the dragon. He glanced down at Drizzle as worry started to itch at the back at his mind, and smiled softly.

"Yeah," he said quietly, reaching down to lift Drizzle up and cradle him gently in his arms. "Yeah. You're right. We have to leave."

Carole watched sadly as Finn stood up, thanked her for dinner, and left, cradling the for once quiet dragon in his arms. She sighed quietly and gathered the plates off the table, washing them and ignoring the stinging in her eyes.

Finn took a couple of weeks, packing slowly, deciding what he needed and what could be left behind. His bag looked small and sad and he sighed, looking around his room. Drizzle was perched on the end of his bed, unusually quiet for once. Finn smiled sadly at him. Drizzle was the reason that he had to leave now, but he couldn't hate him. Drizzle was a part of him now. The dragon looked over at him, blinking, the same soft sadness reflected in his eyes that Finn was feeling.

"Come on," he said, shouldering his pack and scooping Drizzle up into his arms. "We have someone we need to find."

Carole was waiting for Finn when he left his room. Her eyes were shining and Finn felt his own sting a little, and in his arms Drizzle whined softly and leaned up to lick his face. Finn smiled down at him, rubbing gently at his side.

"Finn," Carole said, and Finn looked at her. "I have something for you."

Finn watched as she reached around the back of her neck and undid the clasp that lay there. She slipped it from around her neck and carefully re did the clasp up, then took one of Finn's hands and dropped the necklace carefully into it. It pooled in his palm, shining in the light, the amber pendant at the end gleaming. Finn stared at Carole, eyes wide and tear filled.

"I can't take this," he whispered. Carole shook her head.

"I was always going to give it to you. When you were of age I was going to give it to you to give to the woman you fell in love with and wanted to marry. That is when your father gave it to me, when he knew he wanted to marry me. I want you to have it, Finn. And if and when you find that woman, you give it to her, and you love her like no other," Carole smiled.

Finn put Drizzle down and gave his mother a hug. She hugged him back, tears leaking out of her eyes and soaking into Finn's tunic. Finn blinked back his own tears, the necklace clutched tightly in his hand.

"Here," Carole said, letting go of her son to scoop up a shoulder bag. "Put Drizzle in this. If anyone asks, say you're carrying something precious to be sold, but whatever you do, don't let anyone look inside."

Finn nodded, taking the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He lifted Drizzle from where he'd place him on the table and slipped him into it. The little dragon stared up at him with dubious blue eyes, clearly not pleased that he was being shoved into a bag.

"It's the only way," Finn told him, soothing him gently over their link, too. "We can't let anyone see you. They'll kill us both."

Drizzle huffed but settled down into the bag. Finn tucked the necklace carefully under his soft belly, and the little dragon lay on it protectively, recognizing that it was something that was important to Finn. He smiled and scratched Drizzle gently on the nose, making him rumble appreciatively.

"Be careful, won't you?" Carole asked worriedly. Finn smiled and nodded and hugged his mother again, the bag with Drizzle in it between them. Drizzle squealed as he was gently pressed between their bodies.

"I will," Finn assured her. "I have to be. For Drizzle."

Carole handed him a few coins, waving away his protests, saying that she'd saved them for him. She gave him a final hug and kiss on the cheek, and then saw him off. She watched him as he turned to wave at her one last time before he vanished around the corner, pack bouncing on his back.

...

Without a horse, Finn knew that he'd never get anywhere, so he headed to the stables, intent on purchasing one. The stable master, a man named Will that had always shown Finn kindness, smiled at Finn over his shoulder, pausing in brushing his prized black stallion, Inkheart.

"Finn," Will said pleasantly. "How may I help you?"

"I'd like a horse," Finn said. "I am going on a long trip to sell something precious, and it will take too long on foot. I need a loyal, sturdy horse that can manage long days."

"Hmm," said Will thoughtfully. "Let me see."

He hurried off to check the stables. Inkheart watched him go, flicking his tail and snorting nervously. Finn moved to pet his neck reassuringly, and the stallion nosed at Finn's bag, then whickered nervously and stamped his feet. Inside the bag, Drizzle snorted and Inkheart whinnied, tossing his head. Finn took a few steps back. He hoped whatever horse Will was bringing him wasn't as nervous of Drizzle as Inkheart was.

Will came back, leading a handsome buckskin horse behind him. Liquid brown eyes watched Finn intelligently, and he rubbed his velvet-y nose into Finn's hand when he pressed it gently there, making him smile. He nuzzled Finn's bag and he froze, but the horse just snorted softly and nibbled absently on the shoulder of Finn's shirt.

"This is Lance," Will said. "He's strong and sturdy and he'll do you well. He's loyal, smart and obedient."

Finn knew that Will had selected a horse within his price range. Lance wasn't perfect, but Finn liked him already, and he smiled as Lance snorted against his neck.

"I'll take him," Finn said. "But I'll need tack as well."

Will smiled and nodded. He got the tack together and helped Finn to pack his things into saddle bags. Finn kept the bag slung across the body, and Will made no move to take it. When Lance was ready, Finn opened his money pouch and looked at Will expectantly.

"I'll throw the tack in for free," Will said, immediately waving Finn's protest away. "Give me ten for him."

"That's almost stealing! He's worth much more than that!" Finn cried.

"Maybe, but I like you, and I know you'll treat him well, and I can ask for little more than that," Will said.

"I will feel like I am stealing!" Finn protested. Will sighed.

"Then give me fifteen and be gone," Will said, smiling teasingly. Finn opened his mouth to protest some more, but a look from Will stopped him. There was such thing as protesting too much against a kindness, and he should stop now and take this one.

He handed the coins over and lead Lance out of the stables. He followed happily, tail flicking, looking back only once in what Finn imagined a silent goodbye to the man that had taken care of him for so long. Then he just nuzzled Finn's shoulder and nibbled at his shirt again.

"Are you hungry?" Finn asked. Lance just looked at him. "Well, we'll get going and we can stop later and you can feed as much as you like, how's that?"

Lance just looked at him some more. Finn looked back. Lance snorted and nipped gently at Finn's shoulder. Inside the bag, Drizzle stirred and pressed something across the link. Since he still wasn't really communicating in words - so far he only knew names - it took him a few moments to decipher what the pictures and feelings he was pressing across meant.

"I know he's just a horse!" Finn said, flushing. Drizzle snickered and shifted again, making himself comfortable.

Still flushing, Finn mounted Lance inelegantly. He rested the bag with Drizzle in gently on his lap, and he felt Drizzle moving around, trying to get comfortable. Annoyance and discomfort flowed over their link, and Finn sighed. While Lance was the most practical way to cover long distances, with Drizzle still so small, the young dragon didn't have to like it, and he was making that well known. He huffed and dug his claws into Lance's neck through the bag, making the horse snort.

Stop that, Finn thought to him. Drizzle merely grumbled quietly, but he stopped, at least. Finn sighed and shook his head.

He urged Lance forward. He hadn't ridden much, but Lance obeyed, a snort and flick of his head the only sign that Finn has squeezed his heels a little hard. Drizzle immediately hated the rocking motion, and resentment that he was stuck in the bag swooped over their link. Finn tried his best to ignore it, but Drizzle persisted until it was all he could think about.

Well, it's not my fault, he thought. I can't help the fact that people are scared of dragons. You'll be free to do as you will if we find the Whisperer.

Drizzle was still not happy, and he didn't let Finn forgot that as they rode north out of Lima. Finn paused only once, to turn and say a last fond farewell to the only home he had ever known.