Title: The Dragon's Egg
Rating: PG-13 to R for violence and crude language
Summery: Erestor has a problem on his hands when a mysterious egg arrives from the Misty Mountains. The advisor thinks the side of good will benefit from it, but the side of evil wants it for their own selfish gain. The ultimate chess game. Who will reign victor? Rated for torture. No slash.
Disclaimer: Nothing -except the OCs- belong to me.
A/N: This was originally posted in my new account, Arilien Please take some time and review when you finish :) Also, thanks to the people who helped me out with this chapter.
And now without further ado…
Chapter 1A dark figure sat at the far corner of the library, dwarfed by the towering bookcases that lined the walls. The figure sat on a well-worn chair, twirling a black tipped quill from an unnamed bird in an elegantly shaped hand. Every now and then, the quill would touch the paper and fervently scratch black lines on a fresh sheet of parchment.
A string of mumbled curses escaped the figure's lips as the door creaked opened and in stepped an elf. This elf was unlike any other, though; he had radiant golden tresses that put even the sun to shame. His firm, warrior's face was framed with these famed locks. The tall elf was dressed in mid-summer's blue from head to toe with rich golden accents darting along the hems of his robes. "Good morning, Erestor." He said, his voice soft as velvet.
The dark figure sat still now, the quill momentarily forgotten on the oaken desk. "What do you need?" The voice said, cold as ice.
"I was wondering why you spend so much time in this dusty old library." The golden-haired elf helped himself to a chair and sat down next to the dark figure.
"It is none of your concern, Lord Glorfindel." Erestor said as he picked up the forgotten quill and began to write once more.
"Ah," Glorfindel said, his voice still warm and musical, "there are always formalities when dealing with you. Why do you not just call me 'Glorfindel'? We are both frien-"
"Nay, Lord Glorfindel, we are not. We are acquaintances and nothing more." The scratching of the quill became more furious as the advisor's irritation rose.
Glorfindel sat, and for the first time, said nothing at all.
"Are you just going to while away your day here, watching over me like a mother hen?" The quill's scratching went uninterrupted as the voice spoke. "Please, leave me in peace."
The tall elf lord inclined his head slightly, showing his resignation. He stood and pushed his chair back into the ornate little desk from which it once belonged. "I will leave you, then. If that is what you desire." The music in Glorfindel's voice quickly replaced itself with sorrow. His silent footsteps carried him like a death march to the large wooden doors of the library. He stepped out without another word.
Glorfindel was a known nuisance to Erestor, but at least he knew when he was not wanted. A sigh escaped the advisor's lips as the final punctuation was put in its place on the paper. "There," he said, satisfied at last, "is the very last of the reports for Lord Elrond." He picked up the stack of papers and tapped them lightly on the walnut stained desk to straighten them.
He set the papers back down on the desk and picked up the leather bound tomes that had once been opened for reference. He guided his finger along the bowing shelves, their weight limit exceeded, and found the respective spots for all three volumes. Carefully, he slid them back and let his fingers brush over their well-used spines, relishing the feel of the ancient, worn leather. One tome in particular caught his eye, it was entitled The Way of the Dragon in bright, sliver leafing on its red leather spineOut of curiosity, Erestor gently slid the heavy book from the shelf and opened it. The advisor gently brushed his hand over the yellowing pages, he guessed that they have not seen the light of day in at least a few hundred decades. "This book seems to be outdated… no dragons have set foot in Middle-Earth for years. Smaug was the last great worm, and he was defeated long ago. This book should be discarded." But out of respect for the author, of whom this book must have been a work of art, Erestor slid the book back into its spot and walked over to the desk where his papers lie. He picked up the sheaf of papers, along with his quill and ink and exited the vast library to deliver the reports to his lord Elrond.
As Erestor walked down the unusually vacant halls, he caught hushed fragments of a conversation, "what is it, do you think?" "I don't know…" The last voice Erestor identified as Lord Elrond's on account of the harsh consonants his lord always sounded when stressed. Unable to contain his curiosity, Erestor peered around the corner into the adjacent hall to see a glimpse of what they were talking about.
"Keep it covered and show no one. I will consult Erestor, my chief advisor, about this on the morrow." Lord Elrond rose to his full height from his crouched position, his regal copper-colored robes gently creased. He brushed his large hands over the folds in the fabric to smooth them. The other elf stood as well, following the lord's suit. Upon standing, Erestor could make out the crest of Lothlórien boldly displayed on the younger elf's chest.
I should never have eavesdropped in the first place. Erestor thought as he hurried along to his lord's office. That is unlike me. Other people's concerns are not my own. He arrived just in time to sit down and pour himself a glass of blood-red wine to settle his nerves.
He managed to take one sip, relishing the bitter sweetness of the wine before Lord Elrond made an appearance. "Ah, Erestor, you are just the elf I wanted to see." Lord Elrond sat down across from Erestor and poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter. He took a few deliberate sips, almost as though he were mulling something over in his head.
"Yes, my lord?" Erestor sat his wineglass down on the glossy wooden end table. Afraid of what he might hear, his hands began to unconsciously wring together.
"I have news." Lord Elrond sat his wineglass down on the same table, next to Erestor's.
"Is it… bad news, my lord?" Erestor could feel an unwelcome lump forming in his throat.
Lord Elrond slowly shook his head in decline to the question. "Nay, it is neither good news nor bad news. It is merely news." He picked up his wineglass again and took another thoughtful sip.
"What is the news, my lord?" Erestor could feel his body tense in anticipation for the answer. Could this be about what ever it was out in the hall?
"I received word today from a messenger of Lothlórien. It seems there has been something unearthed in the Misty Mountains, but no one knows quite what it is. I thought that you, spending all your time in the library, would know of this item." Lord Elrond took another sip of his wine before setting his glass down on the tabletop.
"I would need to see the item in question first, my lord." The still-tense advisor picked up his wineglass and took another sip to further calm his nerves.
The elf lord nodded once in acknowledgement. "I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow, but since you are here now, I will get the item for you to examine." Lord Elrond rose from his ornate chair and left to seek out the messenger from Lórien.
Erestor waited for what seemed to him like hours before Lord Elrond reentered with the Lothlórien messenger. The advisor tried not to look too anxious as the messenger unwrapped the azure silk from the object of discussion. He gasped quietly at what he saw: a perfectly spherical black stone. At first glance, it looked as though it happened to be one of the lost seeing stones, but upon closer inspection, Erestor knew that not to be true. The stone had the color of untainted obsidian and was heavier than it appeared. When Erestor gently tapped against the polished stone, the sound it produced was not solid and dense, but rather slightly hollow. "This is very peculiar. I have read about many subjects, but this baffles me." Erestor continued to examine the shiny black object. "Unless…" he began, gently moving the stone over in his hands, "Unless this is an egg. I have seen a book today in the library, and this may sound absurd, but what if it is a dragon's egg?"
"A dragon's egg?" The Lothlórien messenger, not a day over three hundred, said as he stood staring at the object in a new light.
"Aye, it could very well be one from the days of old. Dragons' eggs are able to stay dormant for a very, very long time." Erestor tried to elucidate as much as he could on the shrouded subject of dragons. "I shall find that book again and read more about these creatures. Perhaps we could hatch it and train it for use in the war. It would be an extremely valuable asset against Sauron."
"Hatch it? Erestor, do not be a fool." Lord Elrond put a commanding hand on his dear advisor's shoulder. "If it hatched, all of Imladris would be destroyed when it grew up. Not to mention all the other areas of Middle-Earth."
"You are right, my lord. Forgive my thoughts, as I was not thinking…" Erestor said quietly, berating himself for having such childish dreams.
"We will destroy it and rid Middle-Earth of the terror that would ensue if this hatched." Lord Elrond quickly wrapped the egg up in its azure covering. "Take this to Lord Glorfindel, Erestor." As the elf lord handed over the obsidian egg to his trusted advisor, he knew not that he would see neither one again for years.
Tbc…A/N: Please remember to review. I'd love to hear from you and what you thought of the story so far. I'll try to update frequently, but since school's going on currently, updates may be erratic-no, not erotic. Erratic as in wildly unpredictable ;)