Kolbjorn's Shame

Kolbjorn Kolbein lay at the bog's edge, pulling back layers of peat and collecting the tiny nodules of iron ore beneath. Not far from him was his friend Gosi, Slydra's apprentice, the very same one who had rescued Kolbjorn from the raiders who slew Slydra and burnt his workshop. Gosi, likewise, was slashing at the peat.
"Good, Gosi! Good. We'll need to prove ourselves useful for anybody to take in a boy and an ugly cripple." He laughed at himself. Gosi smiled back.
Kolbjorn called sometimes for Gosi to empty his vessel of the ore he had collected, or to help him to another spot. Gosi waded sometimes to his knees in search of the precious ore. Together, they spent the entire morning picking through the peat. It was a good haul, and when they found a place to settle, he would show his new friends his stockpile, and promise to turn it into good ingots for tool and blade. It was no exaggeration, either - in his time as Slydra's captive, he learned the trade from start to finish, his skill quickly surpassing his miserly captor.
They came to a cave at the far end of the bog, and thought not much of it for they were caught up in conversation, and Kolbjorn's mind was happy with his imaginings of a new life for Gosi and himself. This continued for some time, until they heard a rumble which brought their attention to the cave. They peeked inside but briefly, and seeing naught but a pile of blackish slime from some decomposed thing they returned to their labor.
They heard a rumbling a second time, and this could not be ignored - for the rumbling proved to be some rending of the earth, such that some fissures formed. Kolbjorn and Gosi made to flee, spilling their ore in clumsy haste. And then the dragon came.
The dragon had none of the majesty of legend, but was a thing of stink and ooze. With every breath, a pale green vapor escaped from its nose, its mouth, and a dozen other nameless orifices. When it roared, the vapor sparked and caught fire. With every movement, some glistening black slime shivered loose from the thing and, stretching lazily to the ground, sizzled. Its claws, each the size of a seax, were black as pitch. Its eyes could not be seen, veiled as they were by rivulets of foul fluid. It crawled low to the ground, its belly dragging, truly an embodiment of bog, swamp, and fen.
They felt the stare of the dragon and were paralyzed with fear. It drudged towards them. Gosi was the first to regain his wits. He pulled at Kolbjorn, seeking to drag him to the nearby wood where they might hide. At Gosi's touch, however, Kolbjorn struck at the boy, hitting him hard in the jaw with a fist like iron. As the boy stumbled, and Kolbjorn slumped to the ground, he clutched at Gosi's leg, pulling him down. As the boy fell bodily, his head struck a log and he was knocked senseless.
Kolbjorn would never know if he acted on reflex or on instinct towards his own survival, but he left the boy there in the path of the dragon and rolled down a nearby slope. Even given the boy as sacrifice, the dragon could not be sated for their intrusion upon its bog. So he, himself, became a creature of the earth, and pulled himself into a nearby fissure.