A/N: My undying gratitude to Spades for allowing me to introduce her dragons to my little family of dragons. As each new dragon is introduced, I will profile it and tell to which family it belongs, hers or mine. : My undying gratitude to Spades for allowing me to introduce her dragons to little family of dragons. As each new dragon is introduced, I will profile it and tell to which family it belongs, hers or mine.
Disclaimer: The concept for Lord of the Rings belongs to the Tolkien Estate but the OCs are mine.
WARNING: To forego all the "nay-saying" right from the beginning, I have created OC characters which will be in this story as they have been in the others. While some people enjoy my OCs, others do not - it is a personal choice. I appreciate every person who reads my stories and hope that you all enjoy this one as well.
Dragon Profile: Zohrat (zoe-RAWT): Son of Marduke. Red dragon with deep jade eyes, he was supposed to be the protector and champion of the remaining "Old Ones," but forsook them and their young charge when enticed to do so by the Witch King. (Zohrat is mine.)
Summary: In the beginning, Ilúvatar called to him the greatest of his creations and commanded them watch over the new Arda, protecting as best they could the Firstborn and Secondborn races. And so they came, the Old Ones, and carried out their Lord's command, watching over the world and keeping it, as well as those who lived there, safe from the encroaching darkness.
Over time, the different races began to fear these great dragons and hunted them, spilling their blood in the name of sport – and profit. And so the decision was made to hide these special creatures and in time, it was the appointed ones who watched over these great beasts, reversed roles from what was originally intended. Over the millennia, the Old Ones, tired in body and spirit began to leave, two by two, and traveled to Dragonhome, a place of rest and renewal, a reward not unlike Valinor to the race of Eldar.
Now, two only remain, although the time has come for them to make their final journey as well. But these last two dragons have been betrayed and are now being hunted by dark forces who will call forth every dark creature and force at their command to capture them, for to possess and subvert two of the Old Ones would be the ultimate glory. Their only hope of survival now rests in the hands of those who had once sworn an oath to keep their existence secret.
"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.
From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow…"
Chapter 1
Legend
He stood staring at the carnage in front of him, his fury a fire in his own black heart and he knew that if there was any other way to achieve his aims he would kill the dragon where he now lay, glaring in his direction. It was clear the creature was mad, but to openly defy him by killing the entire clutch of young was unthinkable, even if he did understand the dragon's motives.
The young, sired by the dragon and clutched by a female Fell beast were mockeries of the dragon, deformed, colorless and witless. Zoraht had seen this and in his fury had destroyed them all for he wanted nothing near him that lessened his own magnificence - he could not bear the thought that he had in any way been involved in the creation of such horrors.
The Úlaire's first instinct had been to destroy the defiant one but he knew he still needed him. He walked forward until he stood directly in front of the dragon.
"Tell me why I should not kill you, Zoraht." He commanded in his sickly, breathless whisper of a voice.
The dragon swung his great head toward the Úlaire until one, great eye settled near the Witch King so he could glare at him from close up.
"You won't kill me Úlaire, because you still need me. When this is over, then you are free to do as you will - I care not - but until that time comes you won't - you can't touch me."
There was a short silence in which it seemed the Witch King was considering the dragon's words.
"If you still consider yourself of use to me then tell me why I should believe you."
For a moment a look of sadness and loneliness flashed across the dragon's eyes, only to disappear as quickly as it had appeared.
"Because I am not the last of my kind."
There was complete silence in the cavern and even the other two Fell beasts that stood nearby quit their growling and turned to look at the red dragon. Though it was impossible to see the expression on the Witch King's face, there was a subtle change in attitude which could be felt by beasts and orcs alike.
"Continue." The Witch King commanded.
Zoraht laid his great head on his front clawed feet and sighed before he once more spoke.
"One of the dragons is no more than a babe, a youngling not yet at the breeding age - and there are two others."
Though he didn't move or show any expression, all the occupants of the cave except for Zoraht knew he was losing patience with the dragon.
"Do not toy with me, dragon, for your usefulness could become greatly diminished, and in a very short time."
The sound that came from Zoraht was as close as any dragon could come to a sarcastic snort.
"As you wish, Witch King. There are two others. I was their caretaker although after many ages of this world, I grew weary of my position and sought other distractions. The youngling I told you about - the other two … are the last of the Old Ones."
The Witch King drew himself taller and it was plain that what the dragon had said had surprised him - and surprise was a thing he had not felt in a very long time. The Úlaire turned and sent a mental command to his own winged mount after which it lumbered to the entrance of the cavern and launched itself into the air - on its way to summon the other eight.
"Tell me more of these dragons, Zoraht."
Zoraht raised his head off his feet and glared at the Witch King.
"I will not help you capture them, dark hearted one. I will only tell you where they dwell. What you do with the information I give you after that will be up to you."
"You will do as you are told." There was undisguised menace in the Úlaire's voice.
Although the Witch King did not raise his voice, the air about him began to vibrate and the walls of the cavern shook. Zoraht answered the challenge and raised himself onto his hind legs, his claws lengthening, the razor-sharp tips digging deeply into the hot sand beneath him and his muscles thickening and rippling with his every move. His great wings unfurled, clearing the outer boundaries of the heated cavern by only a few, scant feet as he raised them both as if preparing for battle. But it was when he raised his head toward the heavens and roared, that he truly showed his magnificence, shaking the cavern and sending the orcs running while causing the remaining fell beast to hide her head under her wing, whining piteously.
The Witch King remained where he was, still, quiet and unafraid – waiting until the dragon once more lowered himself onto all fours and had lowered his head before he made his reply. Then through his own magic he seemed to grow taller until he could look directly into the dragon's eyes.
"Do not think yourself so great or indispensable that you can challenge me, dragon, for I could kill you with a thought." The Úlaire hissed in anger.
The great, jade eye in front of him seemed to swirl ominously.
"If you kill me, and you very well could, then who would your backup breeder be? Who can tell you what you need to know to be able to capture these two? Who will still be here if the male disappoints you?"
The dragon's voice deepened, the vibration seeming to come from the great stone walls around them.
"Don't you challenge me!"
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It had taken two days to gather what they needed to capture the dragons, a potion plus 300 orcs, but soon they were ready to move out, and when the Úlaire gave them the order to begin their hunt, they did so.
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Lord Elrond of Imladris, was Master to some, Noldor Lord to others and beloved Ada to those who counted greatly in his heart, but no matter the Lordly titles or stately manners, the elf who now labored on the gentle slope of the Misty Mountains was no more the mighty warrior, having long before put away the weapons of war. He was now but a gentle healer, gathering herbs and plants that would help alleviate suffering and bring healing to those who were wounded or ill.
Beside him labored his foster-daughter, Anayah, the daughter of his heart. An able healer herself, she still loved this aspect of the art, the gathering of the herbs and plants that would be made into poultices, potions and teas. The chance for the two to be working out of doors was more rejuvenating than anything else and was almost considered to be a vacation. Carefully and gently, both sets of hands trimmed leaves, cut stems and lifted whole plants from their earthy bed as if each plant or its parts was the most precious life on Arda.
Though dusk was not far off, there was still enough light left for the two elves to continue their work. But it was not only the work that the two enjoyed, but each other's company as well, for there was time for father-daughter talks, advice, tall tales and sharing knowledge of herbs and lore, all of which made the day seem much too short. There had been some great conversations - and much laughter.
"Ada, look at this!"
Elrond sat on his heels to look closely at what Anayah was pointing at. Expecting to see some rare plant or beautiful blossom, instead the Lord was treated to the rare experience of seeing a small, round, orange insect with black spots on its back making its careful way across a green leaf.
Elrond laughed - they both laughed as they watched the busy little bug go about its business.
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When asked about the experience later, Anayah wouldn't be able to say, for a fact, what she had noticed first, her father falling to his knees, holding his head and screaming, or the long mournful wail that was the cry, reverberating off the mountains. What she could say with certainty was that for a few moments, she stood with a digging tool in one hand and her mouth hanging open like an unschooled elfling. Her father did not scream, nor did he lose control - fathers "never" did such things, and so, the shock of finding out that he did both, momentarily robbed Anayah of her ability to move.
She was not inactive for long. Dropping the digging tool that she was holding in one hand, she ran down the short incline to where her father knelt and once she had reached him, knelt by his side. He would not remove his hands from his head and she did not force the issue but just tilted his head a bit so she could look into his eyes.
He was doing his best to cooperate, but his pain was so intense that he could barely raise his head and open his profusely watering eyes. Around them the mournful wail continued, rising and falling in graceful - yet at the same time sorrowful - crescendos of sound almost beyond the range of even sharp elvish hearing. Anayah was not totally immune for the sound grated on her nerves and felt like the far off sound of a deep, bass drum repeating itself in an irritating rhythm.
She looked around her at the treetops until she found Shakir, keeping faithful watch and observing what was going on below him with keen interest. Anayah drew her father's head to her chest then raised both hands in the air with her fingers spread wide. Seeing the signal, Shakir left his perch and flew toward her and circled over the two elves, waiting for his next command.
"Scout - search!" She commanded.
When the black falcon saw her close her hands into fists and cross her wrists, he knew exactly what his Lady wanted - she wanted him to search for the source of the sound. The falcon banked sharply away and flew north towards the direction he knew the sound was coming from.
After the falcon had disappeared from sight, Anayah once more turned her attention back to her father. It was disturbing to her to see him so diminished by whatever was happening and she felt helpless as well, for even though she was a healer, at this particular moment, she had no idea what to do. It was her fervent hope that the sound would disappear and her father would no longer be in such torment.
After some moments of just holding him and speaking soothingly, she felt him lose consciousness, and when he did, instantly released the death grip he had on her arms. Carefully and tenderly she laid her father down on the soft carpet of fragrant pine needles and fallen blossoms as well as fragrant herbs. The Lord of Imladris could have asked for no finer bed and no better attendants than his daughter and the wild creatures of the woods.
Taking advantage of his unconscious state, Anayah quickly built a small fire and set a small pot of water to heat over the flames, after which she moved back to her father and examined him as carefully as she could. It was puzzling, for other than a small amount of blood coming from his nose and the corners of his mouth, caused by burst blood vessels in his throat when he screamed, she could find nothing else wrong with him. There was no puncture wound and as she looked around, could find no plant that could possibly be a toxic inhalant or something that could be absorbed through the skin.
Elrond started to stir, and just as he did there was another mournful wail. The elf Lord regained full consciousness quickly then once more grabbed his head with both hands and began to cry, rocking from side-to-side in his distress. Anayah frowned for she truly had no idea what was happening.
As she listened to the sound she started to notice peculiarities not only with it but also with the area around where she and her father had so recently been happily, harvesting herbs. The leaves on a nearby bush were vibrating and when she looked at a nearby aspen tree saw that its leaves were quivering as well. Then when she began to mix a sedative tea for her father, she saw the water in the cup shimmering as if from an impact tremor.
She was beginning to understand the mechanism of the sound and her father's reaction to it. His empathic abilities, a large part of his great skill as a healer, were under attack. Empaths, by nature, were able to "feel" the emotions of others in the same way that a normal person could feel a physical touch. Her father's senses were being overloaded by the harmonics of the sound and it was this excess that was causing him physical pain.
Then she asked herself the question of who, or what, or even why all this was happening. Kneeling beside where her father was now lying, curled up into a small ball, she gently caressed his head to try and get his attention. No response was required of him or even expected - she just needed to get him to start focusing his attention on something else besides his pain.
She closed her eyes and after clearing her mind, shared some of her own life force with him, trying to send him a portion of comfort and strength - just enough so he could start regaining control of himself. He came to understand what she was doing for him and started to uncurl - then finally, after a few moments more, he lay still, just staring off into nothingness.
"Ada?" She said quietly. "Are you with me?"
Though he still remained silent, he nodded his head. Anayah removed her water flask off her belt and after reaching into her pack and finding a piece of cloth, she wet it and began to gently bathed the blood and sweat off her father's face.
Finally, the wailing sound stopped and Elrond sighed deeply.
"Ada, I am going to leave you for a moment while I go fix you a tea."
She felt her father's apprehension and smiled.
"And no, the tea will not put you to sleep although it will calm you just a bit so you can deal with whatever is causing you this pain."
As she started to turn away, her father grabbed her wrist and when she looked into his eyes she saw something she had never seen before - a combination of fear and urgency so great that it was nearly capable of consuming his sanity. She grasped both of his forearms with her hands and looked deeply into his eyes.
"We will get this figured out, Ada. I want you to relax and rest for a short time then the two of us will deal with whatever it is that is troubling you."
She settled her father with his back against a nearby log then went to prepare his tea. After the herbs had steeped for a few minutes, she removed them then put in an extra herb - cinnamon it was called - something she found that seemed to lighten the spirits of anyone who drank it.
The whole time she was preparing his tea, Anayah kept an eye on her father as he silently continued to gaze off towards the north. While he sat, he would occasionally raise both hands to his temples and knead them and she knew, without even asking, that he had a headache of magnificent proportions. There was a sadness about him that touched her heart and she prayed to all the Valar that she would be able to discover what it was that was troubling him.
Finally the tea was done, but when she started to hand the cup to him, his hands were shaking so badly that he almost dropped the hot liquid in his lap. She knelt beside him and wrapped her hands around his, and in that way was able to help him drink the tea.
When he was about half way through the cup of tea and still hadn't spoken, she sat beside him, put an arm around him and laid her head on his shoulder.
"Talk to me Ada." She said quietly. "Tell me what it is that has saddened you."
"It is the summons." He said, in a voice just barely above a whisper as he looked down at his hands.
When she looked up into her father's face she saw a tear making its way down his cheek and with one hand, she reached up and wiped it away.
"I have always dreaded this day - hoping against hope that it would never come, but now it has - whether I will it or not - and now all I can do is just pray that I am up to the task."
He looked at Anayah sadly.
"After the Ainur sang the Song of Creation before Ilúvatar, the Great Mystery called to him his greatest creatures. These creatures, the first dragons, he entrusted with the protection of Arda, where and when they could. It was a great responsibility and one the dragons took very seriously. Proudly through all the ages of this world and even before the awakening of the Firstborn and the Secondborn races, the dragons flew free in sky, ever watchful, ever protecting.
Even when Melkor was perverting other creatures to his will, these dragons refused his summons and refused to stray from the task that Ilúvatar had appointed them. Though Melkor was able to seduce some of the dragons born after the awakening of Ilúvatar's children, the first dragons, the Old Ones, remained untouched by the fallen Vala.
Ilúvatar had marked these first Guardians. A single, small, golden horn in the middle of their head sets them apart in appearance from the other dragons although with Melkor, it was just something else he had desired, that the other dragons of Arda, the ones born here, did not have. It was a symbol of their inner beauty, their pure spirit, as well as the physical proof that they had been touched by hand of Ilúvatar himself - and this, Melkor desired above all other things.
That dark-hearted Vala considered the light of the dragon to be a personal affront to him and one that he desired to subdue. Melkor knew that if he could possess the spirit of just one of these great creatures then he would be considered great indeed and in his greatness would then be set above all of his brethren. Even in this he was deluded, for if he would have been able to dominate one of the original dragons, it would have lost its light and would have become as dark as Melkor himself and then the Vala would have had nothing. The Fell beasts are an example, for in accepting the hand of their dark master they lost all beauty and light.
Now Sauron is carrying on this obsession and believes that if he could find one of these creatures and bend it to his will that the creature would be able to open the doorway of the heavens - the door to the outermost darkness - and his dark master would be able to return."
"Is it possible for the Old Ones to do this? Could this really happen?" Anayah asked.
"Unfortunately, it is." Elrond took another sip of his tea before he continued.
"One of the gifts that was given to the Old Ones in return for their faithful service to Ilúvatar was that when they finally grew tired of their time on Arda or before death took their physical bodies, they could return to their home in the heavens, a place not unlike Valinor for the elves. This place, called "Dragonhome," was a place where old age and hurts of the body and mind could be healed. They could rest in Dragonhome, a just reward for faithful service.
When the time comes for these faithful dragons to make their final journey, they always go to the great circle in pairs, and once there, they raise their heads to the heavens and sing. It is this song that opens the doorway to Dragonhome and is the means by which they enter the heavens. Once they pass through this doorway, they are as if young and whole and full of life and energy."
Elrond's gaze again grew dark and troubled and Anayah put her arm around her father's shoulders in support.
"It is when the doors are open that Melkor would be able to come through them."
"I don't understand, Ada. Why hasn't Melkor been able to come through this door before? I'm thinking that many of the Old Ones have made their journey home before this. Why are you disturbed now?"
He looked into his daughter's questioning eyes.
"Up until now the doorway to Dragonhome has been closely guarded but now ..." he gazed off into the north, in the direction the summons had come. "now, there are only two dragons, two of the Old Ones, left on Arda. It will be Melkor's … Morgoth's … last chance to return to this world from the Void."
"Tell me about the summons, Ada, and why such a thing coming from one of Ilúvatar's great creations is so hurtful to you."
Elrond looked at Anayah and brushed an unruly strand of hair off her forehead.
"Through the millennia, dragons became feared. Nobody knows why this was so or how it all started although some surmised that it was because of an evil influence left over from the days of first Melkor, then Sauron, as retribution for not submitting themselves to the evil Lord or his dark servant. Though all dragons are children of Ilúvatar and precious to Him, it was a decision of dragonkind during the time of Melkor to hide the Old Ones. Only the elder elves were to know that any still lived on Middle-earth and this knowledge was a secret that was to be kept until the ending of all things and beyond.
It was also said that if an Old One had need, they could call upon the elder elves to aid them. The elves who heard the summons were to go to that dragon's aid and offer their assistance, however it was needed. We took an oath that we would do this as long as we were here on Middle-earth. To know that once again one of these precious beings is in trouble is a fact that brings great sorrow to my heart."
Elrond tried to stand but once more the cry was heard and once again the Lord went to his knees, crying out softly in his agony.
"I don't think you are going to be going anywhere in the near future, Ada."
Elrond shook his head vehemently.
"No, I must. I have no other choice, Anayah - I must fulfill my oath - even at the expense of my own life!"
Anayah frowned then looked down. Following her gaze, Elrond realized that in his effort to impress upon his daughter the importance of what he was saying that he had grabbed her arms so tightly that he was cutting off the circulation. He immediately loosed his grip.
"My apologies. I did not mean …"
Anayah laid her hand on his cheek and when he raised his eyes saw a look of compassion in hers.
"There is nothing to forgive, Ada. Although I would still know why you suffer from both sadness and pain?"
Elrond took a deep breath.
"I am afraid that my empathic abilities are proving to be a hindrance more than a gift in this instance - I am physically and emotionally feeling the dragon's pain."
Anayah sat up straight with a look of surprise on her face. "I would never have thought of that, Ada. One of the most talented of the elder elves laid low by his own gift." She kissed the elf tenderly on the forehead and looked deeply into his eyes. "Now tell me what I have to do."
Elrond shook his head.
"No, Anayah, it is not as simple as that. I cannot let you go in my stead for the oath is mine to fulfill and no others."
He looked up when he heard Anayah give a sarcastic snort.
"Ada … please explain to me how you are going to assist this great dragon if you keep passing out every time the creature opens its mouth? Is there no other way?"
He had to agree that Anayah did have a point. After thinking for several moments, he decided to tell her the rest of the story - the backdoor of it all.
"There may be a way …" He began.
He looked at Anayah and saw the willingness in her eyes and knew at that moment that he could trust her with this most difficult mission.
"The elder elves, whoever is closer, will go to the dragon's aid but if they cannot for some reason, they have the option of sending someone, in their name, who will take their place and who is willing to become the champion of the dragon in its time of need."
When it looked like Anayah was about ready to speak, Elrond held up his hand.
"Please - before you give your answer, I want to make sure you know everything."
Anayah settled back and after getting her father another cup of tea - a plain cup of tea, this time - turned her full attention to what her father was saying to her.
"This task must be kept secret at all costs - even at the expense of your own life. To emphasize just how important it is to keep this secret, even as you stand at the feet of the dragon, if someone were to ask you 'Is that a dragon,' you are to deny that a dragon is standing behind you."
Anayah smiled at her father.
"I promise I will put on my best innocent face when I lie."
"Anayah, this is a serious matter!"
Anayah leaned forward and locked eyes with her father and for a moment he saw something in her eyes that held the promise of the strength of her commitment.
"And I am serious as well, Ada." Was her quiet reply.
After only a short pause he patted her hands.
"Then it is good."
He sighed deeply as if satisfied with his decision to confide in her.
"The only reason one of the old ones would have called out its distress would be if they were in trouble - and this one sounds as if it is in pain. After you leave, I will go back to Imladris and summon the elder elves for I foresee that their experience and skills will be needed before this is over."
Anayah shook her head vehemently.
"No. Absolutely not, Ada. There is no way that I am going to let you go through Troll Country unescorted. I will escort you back then go to the dragon's aid."
"Anayah, I am a grown elf, and I am able to defend myself and I do know that the best defense is not to put myself into a position of danger in the first place. I can hide from or evade a troll just as good as you can, young one."
Anayah paused then nodded.
"Point taken, Ada. And even though I am not getting a good feeling about this, in this case I will agree to your wishes."
Elrond smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement then took another sip of tea and spent a few moments gathering his thoughts.
"When you reach the dragon, pledge your aid. You will know what else is needed when that time arrives. But whatever you have to do, Anayah, know this one truth - neither of the Old Ones can be killed or sent into bondage with the dark powers - you must prevent this from happening by any means necessary. My heart is being torn knowing what it is that I ask of you, daughter, but I also know that you do have the ability to see this thing done."
Anayah began to assemble her weapons and called for Elias.
"Ada, I have two excellent partners so if the need arises, I will send Shakir back to Imladris for aid for he will be safer in the air and would have the better chance of making it back there alive."
Finally, Anayah was packed and ready to leave. Elrond hugged her fiercely to him for a moment then pushed her away to arm's length and looked deeply into her eyes.
"My heart is at war, Anayah, for it tells me that my duty is out there," he motioned with his hand to the north, "and not sending someone to go in my place. But my common sense tells me that we have made the right decision, you and I."
When he saw the tears welling up in Anayah's eyes, with one running down her cheek, he put his hand on the side of her face and with his thumb wiped it away.
"Be at peace, daughter, for in time my heart will come to agree with the rest of this elf! Bring yourself back to me - to us … daughter!"
They both chuckled quietly.
Anayah patted her stallion's chest and when he dutifully raised his knee for her to mount, she stepped lightly on it and swung herself into the saddle. She looked down at her father.
"I am thinking, my Lord, that perhaps in the grand scheme of all this that Ilúvatar had a plan - a master plan, if you will - and in this master plan there was a highly empathic elf that was meant to do something else. We don't always know the reason we are meant to do certain things and sometimes we are not meant to question it. I have faith that we are doing the right thing, Ada.
Now, my Lord, are there any last minute instructions?"
Elrond gently stroked the stallion's velvety nose as he talked.
"Follow your heart, Anayah, and know that my blessings go with you. I have faith that you will know exactly the right thing to do when the time comes.
TBC