Chapter 3

~Sleeper~

Coruwen awoke with a gasp, her body shivering and her eyes frantically searching the room. As the darkness settled in her gaze, she came to the slow realization that what she had beheld was a dream, a type of dream that she had seen in a long time. She hugged the coverlet to her chest and she felt her hair slip over her shoulder. A sleepy sigh drew her gaze to her husband, who was – thankfully – still asleep. Her eyes traced the freckled moonlight that waltzed across the expanse of his back and in his hair like strands of ribbon. Reaching out, Coruwen ran her fingers through his soft gold hair before letting it run down his spine. His skin was warm, pleasantly warm like that of the sun hitting one's skin in spring. The hand that had sought her out curled back to his chest.

All the while, her skin felt foreign on her bones, her body was sluggish. For a brief moment, she thought of touching Glorfindel's feä to wake him, but instead she thought it best to force herself back to sleep. Pulling the coverlet back over herself, she snuggled in its warmth and shut her eyes in a failed attempt at sleep. And after a while she forced herself down, her mind wandered. Coruwen wondered why she had suddenly seen Freya, her dragoness who lay across the sea, now of all times when it seemed that all had been well. Did it mean something? Did this mean that Lannister was on the rise? Her heart kicked into a gallop in her chest at the thought of him. On the backs of her eyelids, she forever saw the horror on Freya's face, the fire die in her amber eyes and the storm light the gauntness of her face. There was fear there. Never before had she seen Freya afraid; it simply was not in her nature.

Coruwen opened her eyes and studied her husband's face. He was unguarded when he slept, leaving her to trace the simple features he possessed. Her fingers remembered the feeling of his skin and the scars, but they hardly remembered his face. They ran over his cheekbones, the point of his nose, the firm line of his jaw, and the tips of his ears. Her mind recalled a moment for her as she did this. Glorfindel had been afraid of touching her intimately, afraid that he would hurt her. And she had told him that she had dealt with Thorin, who had the same warrior training as he, and not once did he hurt her. Coruwen smiled at the memory, thankful that she remembered that side of him; the side of the lord and commander. Her hands froze up when they ghosted his lips.

It was then that she decided to leave the room.

A smile of knowing came to her face when she found her night gown hanging from the vanity mirror. As she pulled it on, she thought of how long they had been bond-mates. A few hundred years by the count of the hobbits, one might have guessed. With a hum, she found a warm robe and set out for the parlor. The walls seemed to glow under the winking crescent moon and the gold of the sun tapestry that hung in the hall reminded her vaguely of her lady aunt's hair. The silk of night gown clung to the back of her legs when she stopped before a bay window to look out into the frozen world that lay near the feet of Tirion. The snow glistened like sky blue crystals despite the sky being formed of studded dark velvet.

A jingle drew her gaze over to the sofa before the brick hearth. On the plush dark cushions was Ranna, Glorfindel's half-wolf dog that was a gift from Ecthelion and her cousin, Turgon. The dog was dark grey tipped with white and sharp eyes that blinked curiously at her in the darkness of the parlor. Ranna's bulky shadow stirred briefly, a great shadowy blur with topazes for eyes.

Coruwen walked up to Ranna, who flattened her ears and knew better than to be sleep on the sofa. In all honesty, she could care less now. Sighing, she sat at Ranna's head and then shifted so that she lay with the young pup at her side. Ranna groaned, touching her cold, coal black nose to her lady's hand.

"Ranna," Coruwen started softly as she toyed with the dog's ears. They were soft and warm like a kitten or blanket. "I saw her, I saw my Freya once more. But she was not herself. She was covered in blood and her children were in danger, all of them – even Smaug."

Ranna shut her eyes as Coruwen scratched her ears more and then into her soft, yet bristly, fur. "I think he may have come back… After all these years. It has not been since Grandfather's time that Lannister has risen in such a way." She gave a shake of her head, "I hope it was merely a dream."

"If you do not believe it was, my love," A deep timbre voice said from the shadows of the hallway. Coruwen sat upright to look at her husband as he passed under a pane of moonglow. He looked down at her kindly, his body wrapped in a robe of silver. "I am surprised you are out here."

"Why do you say that?" Coruwen's voice became terse for a brief moment, and Glorfindel's feä brushed hers like a cat against someone's leg. Ranna glanced up at Glorfindel, tail thumping loudly against the cushions. Glorfindel rounded the sofa, clicked his tongue for Ranna to move, and then sat at her hip.

"You never leave me unless you are upset. And to add insult to your case, it is bitterly cold out here." She gave him a shake of her head, choosing to ignore his statement, but he laid a slender hand on her upper thigh. His touch made her heart kick up into a sudden race. "You cannot hide much from me, you know."

"There are days I forget," She smiled humorlessly. Before she lay back, he settled behind her, where her back met his chest. His fingers began to toy with her long tresses, gentle like a soft gale. Her voice came as a breath, "You know that I used to see through the eyes of Freya, yes?"

"Aye," Glorfindel answered, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "Though once you said that you were outside of her… But that does not seem to be the case here."

"No, I was one with her. I-I felt her and I saw the dragonlings – everyone. Himon and Naruhel as well." His arms wrapped around her middle with his hands pressed against the V of her hips to create a subtle heart. Her fingers ghosted over his scarred hands and then his wedding band. In her mind's eye, the imprint of Nerthus and Elathan being covered in blood – whether their own or not – flickered lazily. Leaning back, she let her head touch his shoulder, stress building in her chest. "They all had been tortured, they now all have scars, and their eyes were wild. They do not look proud."

"What could have done that?" Her eyes closed when his lips brushed her temple. There was dripping concern in his voice, and it rippled from him into her. He, too, had loved Freya and her kindred. And they had loved him; let them into their world under Coruwen's protection. Her chest began to ache when the coil of fear and concern wormed its way around her. His feä quickly surrounded hers when he came to kiss her mouth softly. Her eyes tightened as the coil started to burn, and he released her without a word. Mutely, she rested the crook of her face against his neck to hopefully loosen the pain. But it did nothing, her chest only became tighter. He pursed his lips and fixed his sapphire gaze on Ranna. "You told me once that you had seen a lordling wyrm named Lannister upon a field of blood and fire… Could it be that he has returned?"

The coil abruptly unwound to strike at her heart, forcing pain to bloom there. Her eyes snapped open to regard him. His eyes looked onward, never moving from the glittering panes of moonlight in the room. Coruwen shook her head, and curled into his chest, "I hope to Eru he has not."

"And what if he has?" Glorfindel bowed his head to the crook of her neck, inhaling softly against her skin. Her fingers tried to rise and touch his face, but could not. They seemed to be filled with iron, each ligament becoming stiff and painful. "Coruwen…?"

"I do not know…" Her words came out in a whisper but quicker than lightning, drawing from her husband a deep sigh. Faintly, she tried to picture the foresight image of Lannister. His eyes were green, a sick green that glowed in the deepest darkness, and his roar could rival any of the beating and chanting that the orcs could muster. She remembered his scales, blacker than ink, and how they looked like a fish's. Though her mind could not recall every detail, she shivered nonetheless. "Glorfindel, I cannot say – nor do I know – what would happen if Lannister chased Freya."

"Would he kill them?"

Regrettably she nodded, "More than likely."

His eyes became azure fire, but not a single shred of anger touched his voice. "Then the line of dragons would fail." Again, she nodded. "How long must we wait?"

"Wait? Wait for what?"

He motioned at the sapphire teardrop at her throat, and she raised a hand to touch the arching lines of silver. "How long must we wait for another dream?"

"I do not know. This is the first time that Freya has let me see through her eyes since we left Middle-Earth. If Freya does let me see again, I will not leave you in the dark."

~.~.~

Ice crunched underfoot to mask his senses as the world around him shifted. The murky grey underbelly of the sky whirled but never vanished from his sight. Icicles upon trees tinkled in the harsh wind, throwing bits of ice and snowflakes into his hair and eyes. His eyes flicked around the forest, the barren snow and trees giving him more of an advantage than he believed at first. He could see everything – or anyone for that matter – moving. Glorfindel could pick out Turgon, his dark hair, boiled leather, and clinking mail all apparent to his senses. He also found Ranna, Ecthelion, and shortly thereafter Fingon. He was the only light haired one of this hunting group, but he guessed it was better to have this lot rather than Coruwen's hot tempered uncles, Aegnor and Angrod.

Bushes rustled to his left and Ranna wheeled around, icy eyes peering down at the bush. His boot had rustled it… Ecthelion moved to his side and once he saw that it was him, he shot him a searing glare. Glorfindel saw Turgon and Fingon creep forward with Ranna while Ecthelion watched the skyline with his bow slung from his shoulder. He was not himself – that much he knew off the top of his head. Coruwen's feä had shrunk back from his, a mere dwindling presence when compared to how strong she was with him. It was that confounded vision, it-,

Ranna's howl shattered his thoughts. He plunged through the snow in the direction of the howl, hoping that she might have found something. If it were something small, his extended family would laugh at the group. Anger tore at him when he thought of how Aegnor and Angrod had boasted that it only took the two of them to hunt an animal. He nearly tripped on a risen, gnarled root when he came to Turgon's side.

"What did she find?" His voice was hoarse from the cold, breath steaming. Turgon's sapphire eyes narrowed at Ranna, who had dove her head into a thicket of thorn bushes.

"A hare from the look of things," Ecthelion answered, his tone dangling on the edge of defeat. "Some hunting hound, she is."

Turgon bunted their friend with the end of his sword, earning a glare from the younger lordling. Glorfindel smirked at Ecthelion's feigned hurt, his hand covering his ribs and a look of pain gracing his features. He turned back to Ranna's waving tail, and suddenly she wrenched back from the bushes with a tiny deer in her jaws. It was an adolescent by its nub-like horns and fading spots on its back. Crimson water fell from his pet's eyes as the song of blood filled her lungs. Along with Turgon, he rose and pulled Ranna free of the deer, its onyx eyes flashing with horror and pain.

His once-king nudged him toward the deer, motioning once with his eyes. His eyes told him all: kill it. His heart slowed for a fragment of time in his chest, hesitating to pull the dirk from his belt. Gleaming, black eyes stared wildly up at him in a silent plea for death. It would face little pain after this… His dirk leapt free of its sheath with a hiss, coming to strike the creature's neck in a quick flourish.

Images flew to the forefront of his mind as blood seeped from the deer's neck into the snow and onto its tawny coat. Rain and thunder rattled the air, air that cried out as wings commanded it for supremacy. Blood, blacker than night, shone upon black scales and fear in ruby red eyes while a roar tore at the air.

"Glorfindel?" His name was being called, and someone shook him lightly. Blinking, he looked over at Turgon and Fingon. Though brothers, they appeared different now. Turgon was gifted with a sterner face – face hardened by severe amounts of grief - and sapphire eyes. Fingon, all the while, was of softer features than his brother and his eyes were a blue-grey. But now, they both watched him.

"How do you fare, brother?" Turgon asked in a tone brimming with genuine concern. He clasped Turgon's gloved hand, looking from the deer to the crimson snow. "You look as though you have beheld a ghost."

"Perhaps I have," Glorfindel admitted thickly. A cord in his throat tightened painfully as the images dared to rise again, but he forced them down. Fingon gave the order to Ecthelion to take the deer back to the horses, and rose to come to his right side. They both studied him now like hawks watching a mouse. "It…It was Coruwen."

Those words were all it took for Turgon's eyes to dark to shadowed sapphires, but he continued despite it. "She saw Freya, the queen of dragons, who lies in Middle-Earth. The queen and her children have been attacked… They all are bleeding, scarred, and tortured. I cannot say that I know of my wife's dream to be true, but…"

"You feel it," Fingon finished, hands toying with the elegant pommel of his sword. He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Ai, Coruwen… Are you sure this is not some mere figment of her imagination?"

Glorfindel's tongue withered, "I do not… Freya entrusted me with her safety, for they shared a bond as strong as the one I have forged with her. Their bond allowed Coruwen to see into Freya's mind and through her eyes."

It was Turgon that interjected next, his voice low, "Are you saying that the bond became void at one point?"

He nodded, "When Coruwen left with me, she ordered Freya to destroy the amulet that bound them together. And with the amulet, Coruwen gave up the dragon-sight and many other things. It is not until now that Freya's sight has returned." Fingon turned abruptly and began to pace a rut into the snow. "What are you thinking about?"

"Tis mere nonsense," Fingon hissed. In that moment, Turgon and Glorfindel bristled, their gazes narrowing on the pacing ellon. When he caught their gazes, Fingon halted mid-stride, eyes wide. "Both of you?"

"Ellith are known for having foresight, brother… This you know, and yet you deny it."

"That is not foresight!"

Glorfindel clenched his hand into a tight knot as anger stirred his blood into a raging wildfire. The rising voices of his family were drowned out by the sound of fire-laced blood pounding throughout his body. At first, he had not believed his sweet wife but as the day had progressed and her concern bled over, his disbelief morphed.

"Enough!" Glorfindel shouted above his lady wife's cousins. A flurry of birds burst from the trees in a chorus of excited chirps. They both stared at him with wide eyes. He, too, had shocked himself with such a tone. It had shaken the air far more than he had intended. He dropped his voice, "Whether or not you believe her, believe me. It has never struck me to kill an animal before, possibly a warrior of our kin. But, now…" His mouth felt dry and his throat was closing. "Now I hesitated…"

"Glorfindel," Turgon regarded him beneath hooded eyes. His blood froze in his veins. "I am coming home with you. I need to see my cousin."

~.~.~

Horses threw back their heads in anxiety, manes tossing in the bitter wind that was laced with ice. Above them the sky swirled more and more, taking on the appearance of a maiden's twirling skirts. Throwing their hoods over their heads, the group split once the bet had been won by Coruwen's uncles. But Glorfindel had let the world pass him by in those early moments. All he wanted was to see his lady wife and ensure that she was safe, and Turgon was of the same mind. Fingon had not cared for what he had said, which was no surprise. He had not told Ecthelion or his wife's uncles, for if the latter knew, Finrod would know faster than he could breath.

He spurred his horse forward away from Tirion with Turgon's horse trailing after him. His home lay at the foot of the mountains, as his wife had asked when they married. In his heart, he knew it to be a reminder of Erebor and the race that she could no longer be amongst. But he was more than happy to place a home near the mountain for it reminded him of Gondolin. The land seemed to climb high to the peaks of the mountains now as snow had fallen. Thick halos of mist covered the ground as they traversed a low gully that sat just before the long slopes of the mountain where his home sat.

"Tis too quiet for my liking," Turgon murmured, breaking his thoughts. "Typically, I can hear her singing."

His chest burned all of a sudden. Turgon was correct; he did not hear his lady wife singing or any noise coming from the home – the only movement was from the chimney where large billows of smoke rose. Ranna barreled past them as a grey-black blur and threw their horses into a full gallop. As the horses skidded to a halt, snow flew out from under their feet in a flourish of white. He swung down from his horse's back while Ranna scratched at the base of the door. Opening the door to his home, he was welcomed by silence. Fire hissed and spat in the hearth, polishing the white brick with amber. Ranna padded up to it, sniffed once, and recoiled as an ember popped.

"Coruwen!" Turgon's voice rang out like steel kissing steel. His feä leapt free, searching for his wife's own feä that was not greeting him. His cousin glided past him down the hall to the library and then his study. "Where would she be?"

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, his feä still searching, clawing for a tiny sliver of her. Like a kindling spark, her feä rose and he grabbed a hold of it and followed it down the hall to their bedchambers. Upon an embroidered, cobalt coverlet, his wife lay with her hands clenched it, white knuckled. She was writhing, her eyes squeezed tight and her back arched high off of the bed.

"Coruwen, wake up," Glorfindel grabbed her shoulders and held her down, her face mere inches from hers. "Turgon!" Her cousin appeared at his side, taking his place as he moved to her head. Gently, he let his feä spin free of his mind to find hers, and for a moment, the feeling that made her writhe climbed under his skin, burning. She was remembering Freya's vision from earlier, and she let it continue to wreck her. His feä grabbed a hold of hers and dragged her back to the confines of his mind. Relief washed over the both of them like tide upon the shore.

Turgon looked at him, the color gone from his face. His wife had lost all sense of fight in her body and now laid limp in their grip. Her skin was slick with sweat, but cold and her hair clung to her in frizzy, unkempt waves. He smoothed them down as Turgon sat at her hip, taking her hand in his. Glorfindel saw the feral protectiveness glowing in his cousin's eyes like sapphires set before a fire.

"Anniel," Turgon whispered, his thumbs running over her slender hand. "Coruwen, please… Wake up."

Glorfindel nearly shuddered at the crackling of Turgon's voice. His fingers carded through his wife's hair with the small hope that she would wake when she felt him nearby. Why was she not waking? Why?

~.~.~

Heimdall bore his teeth at the ebon wyrm, whose ornaments glittered as the light of dawn shattered the night like a great lance. Hours upon hours he had fought this wyrm, felt his anger pour out of every muscle until they shook. His wife had to escape, she had to! For the sake of their race and their children, Freya had to escape. If it was meant he died here, with this lordling, then so be it!

"Give up, mist child!" Lannister hissed, his teeth flashing at him, blacker than night from his own blood. "If I die, then Castamere will make my legacy live on and on, for eons. There is not a place on this earth where you can hide…"

"Is that what you want? The genocide of your people?" Heimdall barely recognized his own voice now. It was a rasp, his throat raw from Lannister's neon green fire that leapt to bite his back feet. And there was anger, ravaging, biting, anger.

"They all betrayed me!" Lannister's green eyes flashed as he roared. Dawn coated his golden necklaces and rings with orange fire. He lowered his head to snort out greenish-grey smoke. "Every last one of them… Ancalagon left me after Glaurung was slain, and he took up his sweet lady wife as his advisor. And then there was Saturos and his wife, who were the first to name me mad, insane, out of my mind!" His voice dropped to a low husky rasp, "I took their heads for that… With their whelps watching, and once their parents heads rolled I cut their throats."

Heimdall would have retched if there was any food in his stomach. Lannister leapt onto a stone, his chest puffing out in pride like an overgrown raven. "But I suppose once word flew around that I did that, they would hate me… Or fear me. I would even say that it is better to be feared than loved."

Heimdall's bones trembled as the lordling looked at him darkly. All round him, fire blazed in tongues of sickly green shot with goldenrod yellow. He could fly; yes he could and leave this damned lord here to be with his family. Never removing his gaze from Lannister, he sluggishly opened his wings.

"And then I found Aisha… Sweet, beautiful Aisha," Lannister gazed over at him, a darkness clouding his eyes. "You know of the King's queen, false one. Freya's mother, who-,"

"Who you ravished without consent," Heimdall snapped, steam building in his chest. "I know. You did it to my wife and my daughter many a time. And to be honest, I do not care of your little adventures. I am a Mist Dragon of the Withered Heath, King of Dragons, and Husband to the only thing you ever loved!"

And then a strange emotion threw Lannister into a rage. He opened his maw to let green fire pour forth like the tide over the sand. Heimdall grinned; he had hit a nerve, bare and festered. He lunged at the sky, wings spreading as the air cradled him to a safe height. Lannister glowered up at him with wisps of fire slipping free of his lips.

"And you will never have her," He added as he let loose a proud roar. The heavens trembled with him, letting dawn finally break the blanket of night and he stood in its wake, the sun warm against his back. He had missed the sun's warm kiss, and he relished in feeling it again. The air tumbled with him, guiding him to his mate and all of his children – where ever the winds had taken them.

~.~.~

Glorfindel washed Ranna's face with a wet cloth to remove the blood from her jowls. Turgon sat at the hearth, turning a dagger over in his palm over and over. Both of them had waited in silence for hours. Coruwen had not awoken, though she would fidget and whimper as if she was hurt. At one point, she had screamed so loud that it made ice form in his veins. What perturbed him further was the emptiness he felt in his heart.

"I will check up on her," Turgon said as he started to move toward the hallway. Glorfindel rose, shaking his head as the ice started to melt in his veins. His wife's cousin contorted his face in confusion. In his soul, he felt her stir. The feeling was familiar to him, the feeling of muscles stretching to awaken themselves. He stared down the hallway, ignoring the shadows that played on the walls or the glitter of the setting sun. He felt her, heard her, and knew she was awake now by some strange grace of Eru. "Is she-?"

"Aye," Glorfindel managed through the haze of disbelief. The creaking of the door made Ranna rush past him to the door. His wife's calm voice touched his ears as she told Ranna to back away. And in a moment's breath, he did not know who moved faster, him or Turgon. They both moved for Coruwen, who smiled wearily at them both. He, thankfully, grabbed a hold of her waist to pull her close to him. Her sky blue eyes blinked up at him, "Coruwen, my dearest one… Are you all right?"

She nodded, "I am awake now, my love." She stole a glance at Turgon, who was smiling at her, the signs of clear relief on his noble face. "Turgon, why are you here?"

"Glorfindel spoke to me about your vision, cousin." Turgon began, but his wife's smile fell in an instant and with it, his heart. Something deep within said there had been another. "Is everything all right?"

Coruwen shook her head, "No, I did not see another vision, but I let it continue from earlier this morn. Freya and her children fled. Heimdall remained behind to fight off Lannister, and the latter – he… He explained how he became known as mad."

Silence crashed down on them like a stone. Ranna even fell silent, wiggling and wagging no longer. Glorfindel quietly rested his chin on his wife's head as tremors shook her wildly. Her willowy frame pressed up against him, and he mutely dropped a kiss into her hair. He wanted to hope that the visions were dreams now, but a larger part of him told him that it was wrong to believe such thoughts. They were quite real, and somehow far from over.

Ah, about bloody time I got to Coruwen, eh? Sorry this took forever to come out... I have tendinitis and it decided to flare at a nasty, nasty time. Anyway, you probably noticed Ecthelion of the Fountain, who was a lord of one of the houses of Gondolin. And you also notice Fingon and Turgon, who are Coruwen's cousins through her Great Uncle Fingolfin, who we will be seeing in later chapters. Now, I had to go off what the Silmarillion had on Turgon, Fingon, and Ecthelion, so it may be slightly different than what other people have written about him.

Fact: Since their bonding, bond-mates can sense each other in a sort of telepathic sense. If this is wrong, correct me.

I want to thank the few of you that are following me on this adventure, and as always, please Review, favorite, and follow!

Until next time,

-Angel