Born of Fire
By A.D. Reese
A tale of great sorrow, and a love unlike any other.
Da'len
Six hundred years it took for the great egg to hatch. She had been laid at the peak of their mountain, Nastari. The peak between seasons, in the tongue of man. This is the peak that slipped through the clouds, the highest peak in Middle Earth. It pointed straight up, ascending even higher than the Nesting Grounds where a vicious storm was always brewing just past the light. It's where the children played. This was her home. Her mother, the great, valiant Saphira had waited near the youngest egg for long enough, and now she left the duty to her eldest son. She watched the other hatchlings, though they had grown much bigger than an infant drake, as they played.
Her scales were a deep, gorgeous blue. They sparkled and glittered in the light, the most beautiful scales in Middle Earth she would wager.
"Omisiel, stay away from the edge!" She snapped at a small obsidian drake. He did not listen at her order as he continued to wrestle ferociously with his other brother. She may not have laid all of them, but she did hatch them all. It was her duty after all, to await the hatching of her youngest. She truly didn't remember whom they belonged to, but in times of need, drakes would lay their eggs in the nest of another to ensure their safety before they were off.
Where were they off to? A war waged beneath them at the bottom of the mountain, in their land, but the children did not know. Shattered eggs had been found in nests around Middle Earth, and Saphira did not know if she could lose another egg, the loss was too great. The dark spawn, the abominations had been hunting their children. Saphira huffed through her nose at the thought, a low rumble growing in her chest. How dare they.
"Mamae!" Came a cry from the cave in which the last egg lay. A young dragon stood at the entrance, his eyes wide as he stared at his mother. He was green scaled, the green resembled a jewel, priceless and as beautiful as an emerald. His name was Aragon. "The-the egg!" He choked out. Saphira swallowed, her heart lurching. She lowered her head to enter the cave as she peered at the golden egg. It had turned over on its side as a loud crack sounded.
Saphira walked to her egg hesitantly, bowing her head to the golden shell. "Oh, my Vhenan." She said. "Finally." With a small cry from inside the shell, it split in two. Saphira widened her eyes in surprise, not expecting the beautiful blue scales of the small drake. Typically, the scales of an egg were a depiction of the scales of the drake inside.
"A girl." Saphira had never bore a girl and her eyes sparkled with fresh tears, but dragons did not cry so easily. She looked like her mother, and stared up with big, blue eyes. Instead of having bat-like wings like many of her kin, she held the large feathered wings of her mother. She was full of surprises. "Little one," Saphira said in her deep, smoky voice. "I have waited so long for you."
Saphira named her Rowen, and she grew just as slowly as she'd hatched. She did not speak for a long while, though Saphira knew she was one of the smartest children, if not the smartest, on Nastari. She was a temperamental child, her attitude changing on the dime, and she stayed up through the night to peer at the stars from the opening of the cave. She grew up strong, and her size rivaled her elder siblings. The older she became, the more beautiful and intelligent. Saphira was so proud to be the mother of Rowen. She was the first to ask Saphira of what happened at the bottom of their mountain, the first to demand answers.
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Young dragons are not taught to take the form of man until their magic is fully matured, which happens to all drakes at different ages, for no dragon is the same. Rowen's magic was not the strongest, it seemed she was a fighter, not a sorcerer. She was a fierce fighter, and she easily could take down her brother and the rest of her kin around the mountain. However, it seemed to take eons for her magic to mature. She had waited long enough, peering at her fellow children as they got used to their human bodies. It was not mandatory but dragons could not venture to the surface with their wings out and fangs gleaming unless they wanted a fight. Dragons were culturally diverse, and often visited many colonies all over Middle Earth, and that had to be done on two legs.
It took Rowen very long to conjure up the mana, or elgar to change. It is always painful the first time. In a flurry of blue scales and smoke, she appeared to be a fourteen-year-old human girl. Her form was dark skinned, with long, tightly coiled obsidian curls. Her mother led her to the reservoir to peer at her reflection. The water rippled as it displayed soft features, a round nose, and large blue eyes. She reached up with her talons to touch the face when-
Her talons weren't talons at all, but soft, fleshy digits. Hands, she thought. She curled them into her palm, and then relaxed them.
"What do you think, Da'len?" Her mother questioned, her massive head bowed to the human form of her daughter.
"I don't know what to think, Mamae." She looked back at the reflection and away from her mother. Much to her surprise, a beautiful woman appeared beside her, with slanted eyes and defined, hollow cheekbones. Her skin was much paler than Rowen's, her eyes outshining any blue Rowen had ever seen. Her jaw was wide and defined, her nose long and straight. Her ears, like her daughters, were quite pointy and stuck out from the dark waves of her mother's hair. She peered down at the reflection of her daughter and Rowen peered back as though she was envious of her mother's face. She had never wanted to appear as anything, so it was odd for her to feel this now.
"By human standards, we are quite beautiful." She stated as she leaned back away from the water. Rowen did as well, taking in her mother's appearance. She was draped in a fine material, a cloth that was so soft as Rowen reached out and ran it through her fingers. "It's improper for humans to walk around without clothing. It's immodest." Rowen flushed, bringing her hands up to cover her chest and private parts. Saphira removed her shawl from overtop her intricate dress and wrapped it around Rowen's shoulders.
Rowen glanced around, seeing the other children but noticing they too were wearing clothing. Her brother, Aragon was tall and appeared much older than her. His skin was pale, and his obsidian curls were tied back. He wore something covering his chest, and then long cloth fell over both of his human legs, covering his intimate parts. A boy beside him cast a curious glance at Rowen and she immediately felt the embarrassment of not having scales to cover her. "I would like to get some clothes, Mamae." She told her mother. Saphira let out a brisk laugh and nodded, her eyes crinkling.
"We will take a trip to the realm of men, Da'len." She ran her hand over Rowen's hair. The shawl was long and brushed against Rowen's calves when they stood.
!
Truly, Rowen didn't understand the term "beauty" until her mother had entered the district. Small vendors lined the stone walls of the street that bustled with life as it was barely noon. As soon as Saphira passed by a man, his eyes were set on her face, as though he didn't know there was a woman beside him. Rowen watched first hand as her mother bewitched these men, and understood that beauty was clearly a weapon, or a curse. Rowen didn't think she could ever love those looks that men gave her mother. It seemed invasive, intrusive, like they were going to pounce. If only they knew her mother's true form. Saphira spared him a glance, and Rowen listened to his heartbeat stammer in his chest as his mate beside him gave him a gaping glare.
"Mother." Rowen said with furrowed brows. "What did you do to him?" She questioned as her mother guided her to a vendor that sold impressive yet simple dresses.
"It's called, beauty, dear one." Saphira said in her low, smoky voice. Men from all corners of the street seemed to be glancing at her mother, and Saphira seemed like she did not care. "You'll understand when you're older."
"I do not wish to understand." Rowen said quietly, shaking her head. "Where are we?" She questioned, changing the subject swiftly.
"Outside the woodland realm of Mirkwood, in a settlement of men." Rowen's head jerked up quickly, curiously. Saphira breathed through her nose with a laugh as her daughter seemingly recalled the stories of Mirkwood. "Yes, the elves live near."
Rowen held up the gown her mother had folded over her arm. "How do I play in this?" She asked, an eyebrow raised. Saphira stared at her and put a finger to her sharp chin.
"We will try out many things, dear one." Saphira decided.
!
The worst part about being intelligent, is that you are aware that everything comes to an end. Being aware that your happiness will only be short lived is the worst feeling.
They came in the night. They bashed in the shells of eggs with their human weapons, the hilts of swords. However, these monsters were not human, they were something much worse. Their skin was grey, their mouths dripped slime, they were filled with guttural noises and black blood. They were dark spawn, they were abominations. He had sent them to either take the youngest and kill everything else. He wanted nothing to do with the shells, as he did not know their pedigree.
Her mother's roar woke her. She was in an exhausted stupor, but all she could see was the blue of her mother's scales as she was tossed outside the cave when her mother attacked. A shimmering green dragon descended from above, his jaws wide as he spat fire at the bodies of these-these things.
Rowen cried out when something cold and metal pierced her side, breaking past her young scales. She peered down at the staff and angrily swept her tail at the goblin. The orc. It yelled insurprise as it flew over the edge of the mountain."I will end you!" She roared but it was cut short when she realized the damage that had been done to Nastari.
"Mamae?" She called, raising her head to look around. Goblins, orcs, approached from every angle, climbing up the mountain on the backs of ugly mutts. They had lost the fight to protect Nastari below. Her mother, who was the largest dragon on Nastari was cornered, being poked at with staffs and swords. A ferocious growl escaped her and Rowen watched as her mother slayed the beasts in the cave. She rushed out to her children, watching the others abandon the peak.
"Mamae, what do we do?" Aragon asked, as the orcs closed in on them, pushing them against the edge.
"Fly, Aragon." She ordered him, her eyes wide with fear. Both Aragon and Rowen looked at her fearfully, breathing fire at the goblins in front of them.
"Mamae, please-" Rowen said but Saphira was staring at Aragon.
"Go." Aragon spread his wings, never the one to disobey an order. He backed away to the edge and the dived off, knowing Rowen would follow, even if by force. Saphira did not give Rowen time to argue and pressed her nose to her belly, giving her a powerful shove and tossing her daughter from Nastari. Rowen hadn't the time to try and stop her, and her talons could not grasp the ice in time. She fell away from her mother, screaming as she released her wings.
Aragon circled the peak, his own eyes wide with fear. He realized now that Rowen, his dear sister, was his responsibility, and he could hardly take care of himself.
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da'len: little one
mamae: mother
nastari: made up word for nesting ground/peak between the seasons
words came from the elven language of dragon age or my brain. send feedback 3
disclaimer: i do not own the langage of dragon age™ or the lord of the rings™
i do own rowen, saphira, aragon etc