A/N: The song "Birds of the Night" is copyrighted by me. No stealing!
The Dragon's Offer
"You are sad," Glarlauk said the next morning. His eyes were dark green, thoughtful, as opposed to yellow, questioning, so Ilayilia knew that he was making an observation.
"You may not have known your family," she told him with a sigh. "But I miss mine. I miss my people, the Rhaw Nur. I miss Brassen as much as I miss my son."
"Will you be happier if you knew how your brother died?" Ilayilia looked up sharply from her sewing.
"What are you saying?"
"If I could help you talk to the Elves..." Glarlauk said slowly. "Will you not miss your family so much?"
"I will always miss them as long as I am separated from them," she replied tentatively. "But yes, I would like to speak to the Elves and learn what fate befell Anduin." Glarlauk fell silent again, his eyes darkening into the same deep indigo she had seen once before. Finally the dragon nodded.
"You have pleased me more than gold," he said at last. "I will do this for you. We are..." The dragon frowned, searching for the right word. "Companions...?" Ilayilia placed a gentle hand on the dragon's head and looked up into his purple eyes.
"I think you mean friends," she told him softly. But Glarlauk shook his head and arched his neck so that his head brushed the ceiling of the cave.
"The doe should be careful," he told Ilayilia, his eyes a deep purple, and the woman recognized that he was troubled. "If it lives with the wolf. We are not friends, but we have found a way to live side by side."
"I suppose you are right," Ilayilia sighed. "For though I am fond of you and I care about you, I do not love you. And you do not love me." The two of them sat together for a while, watching the sky grow dark and listening a the nightingale's song replaced the lark's.
"Sing nightingale, sing!
Sing your melody
Laugh at the darkness
And take to the wing!
Sing nightingale, sing!
Make your little nest
Greet the sweet evening
Bright harmonies sing!
Trill mourning dove, trill!
Say farewell to day
The night is falling
Dusk comes to the hills!
Trill mourning dove, trill!
Call to the robin
Wake up the owl
And the whip-poor-will!
All birds of the night
Raise up your voices
Sing the evening's hymns
Goodbye to the light!"
"Thank you," Glarlauk said as Ilayilia finished her song. "Tomorrow you should pack. We will leave when you are ready."