The men of lake-town Esgaroth were for the most part indoors. For, a chilling breeze came from the east, but a few were walking on the quays. Fondly watching the beautiful stars.
From the town the tall lonely mountain was mostly hidden by the low hills in the far off end of the lake. Only its high peak could be seen fully on a clear day. Though, they seldom looked at it. Now, it was gone, covered with the dark night.
Suddenly, it flickered into view, a short glow had touched it, but now it was gone.
"Look there!" said one "The lights again! Last night the watchmen saw them start and fade from late last night until dawn. Something is going on up there!"
Deep in the shadows a dark figure stood watching the light on the mountain and listening to the conversation. Eyes closed, it stood wearing a long black cloak.
"Perhaps, the king under the mountain is forging gold again." Another man continued.
"What king?" another with a grim voice asked "As like it is not the deathly fire of the Dragon, the only king under the mountain we have known."
The eyes of the cloaked figure lazily opened at this comment. They were two glowing emerald gems with feline pupils, like a dragon.
"A summon." It whispered, but only to be lost in the wind.
