Ai, a chapter has come! Lolz. I hope everyone is enjoying so far. I haven't gotten but a couple reviews for the story, and would love to hear what you all think so far. I'm enjoying this story so far. I haven't written anything quite so enjoyable for a while, and I hope that you all consider this as much a treat as I do. Feel free to leave a line (or four) telling me how you feel about the plotline so far…


Chapter 4 - What Business Do You Have?

She was encased in a cocoon of warmth. Consciousness was not quick to return to her and she drifted in and out of it as though in a dream. A few times she saw a flash of a pale face and blond hair, and would murmur to herself about her father keeping watch over her. It was a strange existence, to be certain, this floating world. There was very little pain. It had been skirting about the edges of her mind nearer to the beginning, but now she only felt twinges.

It was a week after she had been rescued by Prince Legolas before she broke through the fog of unconsciousness and sat up in bed with a gasp. There was a yelp of surprise next to her and a crash, and she looked over to see the same prince quickly rising to his feet and looking a bit bleary.

"How unusually you awaken," he teased. Her face flushed a bit when he smiled at her.

"Sorry…" she trailed off softly. He laughed gently and reseated himself.

"Don't apologize. I merely meant to tease you. How do you feel? The Healer said you had a nasty break in your arm. Both your arm and leg will heal fully in time," he said, studying her with his bright grey eyes.

"Only a flutter of pain. I can handle it," Draca replied, glancing at her arm which was splinted and bandaged tightly with white linen.

Legolas was silent for a few moments before he drew in a deep breath.

"Why were you in the forest?" he asked. His father had bid him to find out about the strange maiden. She had been ill-dressed for travel, nothing but a cotton dress for the autumn of Mirkwood. Her shoes were not of traveling quality, looking of the decorative slippers that Men of nobility wore. The strange stick she had carried with her absolutely reeked of magic. It was heavy and thick, but not unpleasant or Dark, which was one of the only reasons that the elf-king Thranduil had allowed the girl to stay within the palace infirmary.

"I…am not sure," Draca said softly. Legolas turned to her, a frown on his fair face.

"My father is King of Mirkwood. He asked of me to discover the reason for your travel inside this realm. The times are dark and he wishes no ill to his kingdom," Legolas said, fixing her with a stare. She looked at him, their grey eyes meeting.

"I wish ill to no one. I tell the truth when I say I do not know how I got into the forest. I was transported by a force I do not understand,"

She felt at ease talking to this young man, though she couldn't quite pin down why. He reached up idly and pushed his blond hair behind an ear- and she gasped softly.

"What is it?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

"Your…your ears!" she exclaimed. He put his hand to his ear, feeling to see if anything was amiss.

"They are in place. What is the problem?"

"They….are….pointy!" she stumbled over the words. He stared at her silently for several moments before giving a soft snort.

"So are yours!" he returned. Her good hand started to rise.

"They are n-," but her fingers touched her ear and felt the delicate point beneath them. Her injured arm came up, the fingers brushing her other ear. "What's going on…I don't understand….I…this…" she quickly fell into a confused despair, tears coming to her eyes. She began to cry.

Legolas was vastly puzzled. What was going on? He didn't understand what was so upsetting about having pointy ears. He could call himself biased, but he found them much more exotic than the rounded stubs of Men.

"Why do you weep, maiden?" he asked, reaching out finally to touch her arm.

"I am s-so confused! I don't know wh-why I was in the f-forest! I am a stranger here. I don't know what's going on! I don't know where m-my friends are! Are they okay? Did they d-d-," but she did not finish.

"Ai…friends? You were alone, child. Mayhap you were separated in travel?" he suggested. She sniffled miserably. "Lay back against your pillows and I shall fetch you something to eat, yes? I am sure you are ravenous," he said amicably. She did lean back against the pillows, her uninjured hand going back up to her ear to poke at it.

"Sure," she said softly. He stood from the chair and turned towards the door.

"Fear not, tithen gwathel. You have naught to fear from Mirkwood. We will find your companions if it is here they have come, and we will make sure you are well taken care of," he reassured her. She had an air about her. Like a little lost puppy, sad and hopeful. He had always had a soft spot for creatures in despair. He would not quite forget the walloping his father had given him when it was discovered he had sneaked one of the spiders of Mirkwood into his room because it had broken a leg. His father, famous for a quick temper, had taken him aside later and explained that not all creatures were defenseless, even when injured. It had curbed some of his tendencies, but even today he would sometimes come back from the forest nursing a sparrow with a broken wing, or the occasional abandoned deer. (Little sister)

She looked up at him. His eyes were sparkling like stars, and she couldn't help but smile. His expression brightened at the look and he fairly skittered from the room to retrieve her plate of food.

Draca sighed when he had gone. Her arm and leg were not very painful, but she was aware that they had been injured. Her wand was snapped and she had no access to a majority of her magic. But she was not completely defenseless. She held out her left hand in front of her, concentrating deeply on her magical core. Her grandfather had taught her the trick long ago so that his only granddaughter would never be completely helpless.

A glimmer of magic appeared in her hand. She sighed with hope as the magic took shape, forming into a butterfly that lifted from her hand, fluttering around her head.

"My, what guests the forest sends us,"

The butterfly disappeared in a shower of sparkles as Draca's concentration was broken. She looked up at the doorway, feeling decidedly nervous at the newcomer. He was clearly Legolas' father. The resemblance was plain.

King Thranduil was a bit broader than his son, dressed in fine robes of deep green and silver. He had a crown of woven twigs in his hair, twisted with a few fall flowers and the colorful yellow and green leaves. It did not make him look any less intimidating. In fact, it only served to make him look wild and dangerous. Whereas Legolas' face was eager and exuberant with youth, his father's face was more somber, though no less smooth and handsome.

"What business have you in Mirkwood?" he asked suddenly.

"I am lost, good King. I was injured, and your son saved me. I could not move. If you wish it I will leave when I am able…" she said softly. Thranduil's lips pursed slightly.

"My son has a tendency to champion the creatures he pities. He has a heart the size of Mirkwood itself, and it has brought him much grief," Thranduil said, his dark grey eyes pinning her with a hard look.

"I do not wish grief upon anyone, Your Majesty. I was brought here by accident-,"

"The Valar do not make mistakes. You are here for a reason, I just have yet to see it," he said sharply. Draca winced, looking down at the blanket across her lap. This man had the power to make her stay in Mirkwood very dreadful - or her stay on the Mortal Coil very short.

"I don't...have many skills. I am not a great speaker, or a powerful fighter. I am a good friend. I am a good witch. What magic I can access I will use to repay the debt I owe to your son. I can give you my word on the very magic that runs through my blood that I will repay my debt. Somehow," she said. Thranduil felt the heavy, tingling feeling of magic in the room, and knew that her word had been taken as Oath.

"There is something about you, Taltistar…" he murmured. Her face flushed uncomfortably from the name. (Falling Wizard)


The first week of being a dragon sucked. The first week of being a dragon walking through the god-awful land of Mordor sucked so much. The collar was cold and hot at the same time, making his scales itch and causing him to scrape his slender neck across rocks and sand, which in turn made the scales thin and raw.

To pass the time he sang aloud. He could not form words on the tongue of the dragon, but he could very well keep tune to songs. So it was really more like loud humming.

He had not found anything to eat. There was no life in the marshes he crossed. There was nothing but mud and death. The heavy, invasive dark magic that showed him the bodies of men long passed made him shudder. The stinking, dank water made his raw neck throb and coated his scales in thick, hideous grime. He smelled like dog doo. He had only tried to drink the foul water once. Just dipping his tongue into it had made his tongue taste like putrid meat for a very long time.

He slept during the night. He had no reason not to. There was no predator alive that would actively attack a dragon, and he was black and dirty enough to blend into the landscape even sitting under the light of the stars and moon.

He was exhausted, dry and thirsty, and almost cried at the sight of running water. The waterfalls were beautiful, to be sure, but the fish in the pool below sated a hunger that had been gathering since he left Mordor. He ate until his belly felt like it would pop before he crawled under a gentler part of the falls and fell asleep while the water washed away Mordor's grime.

He awoke several hours later to the sounds of people. From the rustic look of their clothes, and the many packs they carried, they were travelers.

He stuck to the shadows of the falls, using the water to hide himself. The travelers were refreshing themselves by the rivulet that ran off from the still pool. One of the men withdrew a wooden pole from behind him, affixed with twine, and James realized the man was coming to the pool to fish. They were going to camp by the falls. Damn. It. The water was fine and refreshing for a travelling dragon, but his cold blood would kill him if he tried to stay under the falls til night. He wanted to find civilization and find out where on God's green earth he was. He wanted this collar off. He wanted a Snickers bar.

James began the arduous task of climbing up the rocks of the falls. Though he was no longer under the water, the wet rocks were dark enough to hide him. The rocks were slick under his paws, but his thick, sharp claws gave him purchase on the stone.

He was almost to the top. The travelers had not seen him and he was so close to the top he could almost see where the river fell downward. But as he reached up a front claw his back paw slipped on the wet rock, and he fell. He bounced downward over the rocks painfully before hitting the bank of the river with a splashy thump.

He lifted his head, dazed, and looked right into the face of the fisherman. They stared at each other for a moment, James trying to stop his vision from spinning and the man trying to comprehend what he was looking at.

"Dra-," the man started. James inwardly cursed. "Dra-," he tried again, his eyes dilating. James didn't move. "DRAGON!" he finally screamed, moving back from the river. James looked up to see the others scrambling for weapons. There were four of them, and James noticed that the man was now brandishing the fishing rod as a weapon. Un-amusing.

His black tongue flitted out, testing the air. There was one over there that tasted of metal, meaning he likely had a blade. Nobody tasted like magic, meaning these were muggles.

His large ears moved backwards, pinning to his head as he pulled his lips off of his teeth and growled. He would prefer just to scare them away. He didn't like fleeing, but he would choose that over harming them. One of the men behind the fisherman began to cry, and James risked a glance at him. Christ...he was only a boy, no older than fifteen.

He covered his teeth with a rumble, sitting on his haunches in the water and allowing his long tail to curl around him and tap at the water at his feet.

"What business have you here, flame tongue?" the fisherman asked in a trembling voice. James pointed at the pool with one claw and then held it to his snout, opening and closing his jaw to mime chewing. "We are armed, beast. We- we won't hesitate to kill you..." the man added, making a jab with the fishing pole.

Really? This is just sad. They have a fishing pole, a limb, ONE of them has a knife, and the lad is sobbing so hard he can't see. If I wanted to eat you, I would have no match among you, James thought to himself. His tail uncurled itself from around him and he stood to his feet again. He gave the fisherman a broad distance as he began to cross around him. His golden eyes watched them all, darting between them as he started up the rocky trail they had just come down.

A rock bounced off of his hind leg. He stopped and turned, glaring at the travelers he was walking away from. The one had dropped his limb and had several more river rocks in his hand. James opened his mouth and coughed, sending crackling sparks out of his mouth like he was burping up a firework. The effect was enough, because the one man with the blade took hold of the rock-thrower's arm, holding him as James sashayed away, his tail high like an angry cat.

"What were you thinking, throwing rocks at a dragon? If he'd eaten you for that I may very well have laughed!"

James gave a rumbling laugh at the sound of one of the men yelling at the rock-tosser.


Rohan. The land he had travelled into was called Rohan. It was a quaint little place. And by quaint he meant it smelled like crap and all of the people were hippies, farmers, or guards. He had avoided detection amongst the villagers for several days, nicking sickly chickens and stray cats from the streets to feed on.

He had fallen asleep in a barn a few miles outside the main city for the night, burrowing into the hay face first. He was aware that as a flame-breathing lizard it was dangerous to be surrounded by such flammable material, but honestly it had been nigh on ten years since he had accidentally coughed up fire.

And to be fair, it had been all Tobias Snape's fault anyway. The arse had brewed highly concentrated syrup of the hottest chilies in the known world and had spiked James' breakfast with it. One moment he had been shoving scrambled eggs in his face and the next moment he had been leaning against the wall of the Great Hall coughing up great clouds of flame and steam. He had flown every single pair of Tobias' underwear from the House banner lines that evening, even adding a few decorative colorations to the back end.

There were two horses in the barn, but strangely enough they hadn't been too bothered by him. They had stared him down when he slinked in, but when he had crawled up into the hay loft they had merely whickered in annoyance and went to sleep.


Dydoc had always been a hard worker. Up before the sun and down long after she had gone back behind the horizon, his calling as a farmer had been well placed. He had a wife and three beautiful children. Two sons that were old enough to help him in the fields and a young daughter who would make someone's son very happy one day.

He rose for the morning with the ease of practice. His wife would sleep a bit longer as he took care of a few of the simpler chores before he would come back in for a hearty breakfast and then tackle the rest of the day.

He could tell there was something off about this day as soon as he got up. His clothes seemed stubborn, if such a thing could be said, and he nearly tripped getting into his leggings and boots. The lantern he always carried to light his way was difficult to light, as though the wick were hesitant. As he went to the well to get a cool drink to rinse the taste of sleep off of his tongue he noticed that the dipper he normally used had been placed on the edge of the well. He always hung it back on its peg after he was done with it. It was too easy to accidentally knock it into the well, and that was certainly difficult to retrieve. Perhaps one of the boys had gotten a quick drink before bed last night and had forgotten? He would have to speak to the lads…

The barn door was cracked open. He took one look at the door and went back into the house, retrieving the simple single edge sword above the mantle. His father had given it to him when he came of age. The sword was a plain iron blade, but it had served its purpose and protected his family several times over the years. He drew the blade from its sheath and went back outside, heading for the barn with purpose. In the other hand he carried his lantern.

There didn't seem to be anything wrong at first. The horses were still sleeping in their stalls, and he could see nothing lurking in the corners. As he passed the rustic ladder to the hay loft, though, he paused. Looking closely at the rungs he could see strange scratches in the wood. These weren't made by his boots.

He hooked the lantern on the rope he had hung there to light his way in the loft should he ever go there at night. He would pull the lantern up to him when he reached the top. The sword was jabbed down through his belt out of the way as he climbed. The climb was short and as he came to the top he drew the rope up after him, lighting the hay loft in its glow. He could see nothing ami-

Something long, slender and black swished underneath a mound of hay. Dydoc's eyes widened. A snake! It was very, very large. He wouldn't lie….serpents frightened him. As he reached down to grab the snake by its tail, the whole mound of hay moved. His breath and heart nearly failed him as the hay was pushed aside to reveal a black dragon nestled quite comfortably in its depths. It had rolled nearly to its back, and the long paws were sticking up like dog's. The back leg even twitched in slumber.

The underbelly, while armored, was much softer than the hard, shiny scales on the rest of its body. Dydoc began to pray silently as he drew the sword from his belt. He carefully raised it above his head, and took a step forward. The old wood of the barn creaked loudly under his boot. The soft breath of the dragon halted immediately, and both man and dragon were quiet for several moments.

James' tail struck suddenly, grasping the man's ankle and pulling hard. Dydoc fell under the unexpected onslaught, landing hard on his back and dropping the sword, which skittered over the edge of the hay loft. James rolled to his feet and shot forward, landing over the prone farmer and putting his face close to the man's.

He saw fear. He smelled fear. James was not an expert at Legilimancy, but he was decent enough to see into the man's thoughts. He saw three children and a wife in the eyes that began to water.

"Why do you wait, monster?" the man growled, his voice much steadier than his nerves. James pulled back swiftly, sitting on his haunches and wrapping his tail around himself as he had done when he encountered the travelers at the river.

Dydoc sat up, confusion etched deeply into his weather-worn face.

"What do you seek? There is no treasure here. No dwarven palace like Erebor. No rich kingdom like Gondor," he said, the adrenaline coursing through his body making him tremble. "King Fengel will have you killed,"

James shot forward and Dydoc gasped, his hands coming forward to protect him from a blow that never came. He heard the barn door slam open, and skittered to the edge of the loft to see the dragon running off. He let out a great breath and rested his head against the wood. He would need to go into the city and warn the King. A dragon on the loose would be bad business….but who would believe him?

As if to answer his questions he saw a small glimmer in the hay and reached forward, plucking up the shiny black scale that had fallen from the dragon's hide.

James cursed and spluttered the whole way. Dawn was quickly coming, and a black dragon was obvious in the autumn rusted grass of this land. He quickly decided that he would travel by the waterside. He had gathered enough from listening to the various night time conversations to know that there was a large river running along the eastern border of Rohan. He would travel eastward until he reached the Anduín River, and then travel upwards along its bank until…until… He had no idea what he was looking for, but it was always a good idea to stay beside water.


The further up the river he got, a strange feeling began to take place. The collar around his neck….twitched for a better word. It was nearly another week before he could put his paw on the feeling. There was a branch of the river running back into the main river from westward. It came through a forest. The woods were quiet from the outside.

He paced along the edge of the wood, sniffing at the trees and deciding whether to turn back and keep traveling up the Anduín or to risk crossing this wood.

There was something magical about this wood. He placed a paw on one of the tree trunks, and could almost feel it humming beneath his muddy claws. A small bird flew too close to his head, curious of the black visitor, and James' jaws snapped upwards suddenly, trapping the bird in his mouth.

"I would drop that if I were you,"

He blinked. He hadn't heard anyone around. He turned to see several men standing behind him, all sighting him with nocked bows. He opened his jaw and the bird shot out, twittering fearfully. One warrior stepped forward, his bow pulled back tautly at James' head.

"What business have you on the border of Lothloríen?"


Well. James certainly knows how to pick them, doesn't he?

Now. As for travel time. I have been staring at a map of middle earth for the past several days. James started right at the base of the mountains of Udûn (right at the upper nifty little right angle of Mordor). He passed over the dead marshes and ended up at the base of the falls of Rauros. Rather than have him go directly upwards and then follow the Anduín river, I decided to let him enter Rohan proper, skirting about the minor settlements and a few farms to get his bearing. Then he decided to find the Anduín again and travel upward.

He did this very, very quickly I will admit. But there are several reasons for this. James is traveling by himself. He has no one to worry about. He travels by day and does not worry about where he sleeps at night. Even the bravest of orcs would not actively seek out the scent of a dragon, not matter what his size is in comparison to Smaug. James is traveling by a river, having access to fish and water. He is a dragon, and has better than human stamina. He isn't flying because he doesn't want to bring attention to himself. He can use magic but he has no idea where he is and doesn't want to attempt to Apparate to a place that doesn't exist, which could prove fatal. Just a little background for ya.

James is not seeking to harm anyone. That's why he hasn't just gutted someone. He doesn't want to kill a person. I know we haven't seen Phelan or Orion yet, but I've got big plans for them. I hope to hear some feedback from you guys. It seems there are a couple people who have favorite it, but I so love to see your names pop up in the review alert. :D

Update A/N: Draca is not a Mary Sue. I promise I have a good reason for giving her pointy ears if you'll just be patient with me. She is not turning into an elf. She just...got a characteristic of one. Ai...give me until next chapter and I'll try to make it more understandable. Don't quit on me yet!