“Ha ha! Well done my little friend.” Garrut looked back into the dark opening of the barrow mound. A little person, barely three feet tall, tumbled out after him.
“Lambert. Keep watch while I sheath my blade. I’ve a feeling we’re not alone. And I’m not just talking about this loquacious shrubbery!”
Lambert did as he was asked and kept a careful watch around them and down the hole. His torch burned a deep hellish red.
Just then a little dragon popped into sight out of thin air about 10 feet away from where they were standing and flapped red butterfly wings to stay aloft.
“Stay your sling of doom, deadly cutpurse. I think that Draco Fey means us no harm. Here, I will speak to it.” Garrut approached the little red faerie dragon and spoke slowly in Draconic.
“We come as friends. We mean you no harm. Ask these shrubs if you need to verify our good credentials. Also we can bring you meat. Do you eat meat?”
He thought that the dragon was smiling.