Author's note: Premiere for summer (because I probably will be writing exponentially more when I'm not working my arse off for exam, although I won't guarantee updates). Ideas and settings generally will be based on Eragon/Tolkien verses. The main pairing will be Gratsu, so if you're not alright with that, I am sorry, but this story is probably not for you (although there will still be a fair bit adventure/fantasy). Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or its characters. I do not own Eragon, Lord of the Rings, the Hobbits, or any of the ideas and setting belonging to J. R. R. Toklkien.

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Prologue

The forest was dark before him, the sky cloudy and the moon peeking behind thick blankets of condensation. It was dangerous to run in such treacherous conditions, he knew, but run he did, for what choice did he have? Gray was being hunted like a deer, a pack of demon dogs hot on his trail. Even amongst the dins of the forest, the thundering of metal clashing together as the demons rushed after him overwhelmed the rest of the noises.

Faster, idiot! Faster!

His feet carried him through the dense vegetation like a sparrow, weaving his way between the clawing branches. The soles of his feet were aching, and his toes were undoubtedly bleeding from when he had stubbed them against a tree root earlier. Yet, Gray knew he had been lucky until then. There could have been a hole on the ground for him to break his ankle at, or a low-hanging branch could have poked his eye out, him not being able to see even five feet in front. But Gray was still there, very much alive, and still running for his life.

Or he could simply stop and fight. But Gray knew it would be futile – there were simply too many of them, and all his running would have been a waste of time then if he did die fighting. Gray refused to give up.

Like a ghost gliding over the ground he ran, his breath fogging before him and his skin a stark white that glowed in the dark. It would have amused him but for the dire situation he found himself in – because, why, were he a ghost, he wouldn't have been exerting himself so much then. Were he a ghost, he would have been long dead, and what a grand jest that would have made.

Left, right, avoiding a root, over a fallen log. They're drawing nearer!

The sounds of chase were advancing with every second, and still Gray ran, stubbornly refusing to let despair slow his legs. Once or twice he stumbled, but before his body could even his the ground, he regained balance to once again fly forward.

Into the stream, going a distance, so the dogs may lose your scent.

The absurdity of the situation would have made Gray laugh were he not so occupied right then. Gray would live, he swore, if only to spite his father, the man who had set his dogs on his own son. And not just the barking dogs, he noted, though their incessant yammering 'the great Gray' this and 'ingenious prodigy' that before any of this happened had been close enough to barking. One day, he thought, the barking dogs he would spare, but the barking human dogs he would have their tongues to shut them up.

But then it was barking that he heard, coming from the east, and the west, and behind him so, so close. So he kept running forward; there was only one way forward now. The trees were clearing, the dirt road evening out into grass that soothed his aching feet like the kiss of a lover. In hindsight, perhaps the change should have alerted him to what was ahead, but it did not, and all the more pity. Gray was caught by surprise as he skidded to a halt, a cliff plunging into an endless abyss straight ahead.

The other side of the chasm could not be seen; that was how wide the crack in the earth was. There was only darkness, and as he stepped to the edge to gaze down, a black denser than rock greeted him. It made his stomach drop with both nausea and despair – or, perhaps, nausea caused by despair.

'Ice Make: Ladder!'

He slammed a fist into an open palm and pressed them against the edge of the cliff. Don't stop. Can't stop. Too much too late now. From his hands, ice started materialising. It grew like vines on a tree, stretching out towards the darkness in glittering blue magic, down and down, until Gray lost sight of his own ice. And yet, he kept the magic flowing, pushing himself to the limit and hoping against hope that his ice would hit bottom at some point. The ice ladder along the edge of the cliff grew and grew, but when the running and barking got too close, Gray had to cease the effort without ever feeling his ice make contact.

With a growl of frustration, he swung himself over the edge and onto the ladder.

'Stop!'

The voice was familiar, and Gray gritted his teeth. He knew the voice; of course he knew – he had grown up with it all his life, after all. It wasn't enough to stop him, though, and he began his descend as fast as he dared, two or three rungs at a time, until that, too, vanished into thin air beneath his fingers in the blink of an eye.

His heart jumped to his throat as his body lost balance and fell deeper into the darkness, before his hands found the rocky cliff and groped for purchase even as he was mercilessly pulled down to his death. His fingers bled as they tried to cling to the rough surface, and maybe his nails were ripped away as they caught on the protruding points of the rock. Or maybe that was his bones he felt, the flesh on his fingers having peeled off against the unforgiving hardness.

The fall happened for perhaps a mere three seconds, but it had felt like forever before the torn tips of his fingers felt a crack in the rock and dug into it, his whole body jerking to a halt before swinging and smashing against the cliff wall. There was an almost inaudible pop, before pain flooded the arm holding him against the surface. It almost made him let go, except for the fact that Gray had resolved not to surrender, not even if he died in the process. So he swung the other arm up and found another protruding point to hang onto, before letting his dislocated arm fall uselessly to his side. Even the movement made it hurt, but Gray would not cry out – he would not let his father's dogs have the satisfaction of hearing his pain. His canine dug into his lip, and Gray felt almost victorious as the taste of blood dulled the searing burn in his shoulder.

'Gray! You alright down there?' The familiar voice resounded again just as the clouds moved away. When silver moonlight poured forth in waves as bright as day, he could see dark hair flowing over the edge of the cliff in streams, smooth like silk and beautiful. Only one person he knew had hair like that. 'Hold on tight; we'll come down to get you.'

Speaking as though you weren't the one who just turned my ice into thin air, of course.

The bitter thought flashed through his head, before sadness replaced it for a brief moment. The person he had grown up with, and who had treated him like a younger brother. And then Gray was angry, because this very person was the one leading the chase for him, the very one who had vapourised his ice without a care whether he would fall to his death, the very one who would present him to his father like a prized captured beast.

I'd die before I surrender.

But Gray didn't want to die; not just yet. There were things, important things that he still needed to do before dying, such as actually succeeding in betraying his father and not merely playing at chase as he would have been doing were they to capture him now. So he held on tighter with his good arm, before jerking the other back in hope of fitting his bones together again. There was another pop, but instead of numbing down to the throb he hoped it would, the pain intensified, his bone apparently having been moved even further from the socket. The blinding flash of agony through his mind turned his vision black, but Gray refused to faint then and there, and then never open his eyes again.

I'd die before I surrender.

Blood was running freely down his chin from the harsh bite he inflicted on his own lip to keep quiet. It was paralleled by the trickle down his arm from the tips of his fingers, where he still stubbornly clung onto the rock, his only lifeline. Oh, Gray was stubborn – he could be a mule if he wanted, even if it meant pain beyond belief. And yet, this time he wondered if it would save him from either letting go or getting captured in the end. What a grand joke it would have made; killed by the woman who swore to be his sister for all of eternity on the order of the father who should have protected him as his blood. That, or eventually killed by his bloody father when the dogs hauled his sorry arse back before him.

Thump.

Just as Gray's vision was beginning to blur, the white of the cliff blending into the darkness beneath, the beat sent his heart fluttering to a halt before surging into a painful staccato against his chest. It was an ominous feeling, as though something beyond imagination was approaching, and fast. Gray blinked away the sweat in his eyes, ears straining in an attempt to make out that quiet but powerful echo again.

Thump.

The air shifted, and heat started driving the chill of night away. From nowhere, the wind blew in violent gusts over the precariousness of his swaying body, and Gray's fingers numbed into a throb as they gripped the rock so tight that blood stopped flowing for a moment. Whatever it was, it was a chance for Gray to move away, if he had the strength for it.

Thump.

Blood roared in his ears as the air pressure grew with the unbearable beats. Breathing suddenly became so very difficult with the way his lungs pressed in on themselves and the way his heart hammered almost violently against his ribs. Gray was feeling faint again, despite his every effort to stay lucid. He was angry at himself for being so helpless when opportunity knocked on his forehead, virtually inviting him to seize the change in circumstances to escape. Yes, anger only tired him out, and by then he was so, so weary already.

Thump.

And then, rising from darkness, was the most magnificent creature he had ever seen. Scales glittering like rubies, wings spanning a translucent wine-red, the dragon rose as an emperor claiming its throne in the sky, its rightful seat. Its head alone was large enough to fit five of Grays into its massive jaws – if there were five Grays, that was – and right then, if Gray had died, there wouldn't have been even one Gray left in the world, much less five. What struck him, though, were its eyes. Ruby red eyes with silken slits in the middle stared straight into his own as though sucking the soul out from him. Never had Gray seen such luminous substances as those eyes; to compare them to the Northern stars would be doing those eyes a grave injustice. And too trite, too, but then again there really was no word to describe the terrible beauty of the regal creature in front of him. It was a sort of powerful awe that struck fear into the bottom of one's heart.

Gray was anything but fearful, though; instead, all he felt was hilarity because, finally, something good was happening to him this blasted night. Now, with any luck, he would escape, too, though the thought seemed to be hidden behind a thick veil so far away he found exceedingly difficult to grasp. Even the brilliance of the dragon had failed to keep his attention for more than a fleeting moment, his mind reeling from lack of air and exhaustion.

With a roar that shook the earth, crimson fire spilled forth from its mouth, bathing the abyss in a light so bright it blinded Gray for a long, long instant. It really was beautiful, he thought, the lost legends of the dragons that had once walked Earthland. And, just perhaps, it was worth it to see the walking dead once more before he met his own end – Gray was hurting, and just so, so tired.

I'd die before I surrender.

But even that single thought, his guiding light, was fading. He could feel the tips of his fingers slipping by the seconds. Movement caught his eyes, and through the blur clouding his vision Gray saw something pinking and tan shifting, before irises darker than night met his own for a split second.

Fierce eyes, he thought vaguely, pretty – like a dragon's.

His fingers failed him; Gray fell and black again claimed his vision.