Little Bird

Legolas sighed in irritation as he fletched a stack of arrows. He could hear the voices of Aragorn and Boromir, and then the quips of the four Hobbits nearby. He could depict each of their voices now, well far easier than before at least. And intermixed into the voices was a sweet voice, one that made his attention become affixed upon the four hobbits. He set his arrow aside and rose to inspect what the others were up to.

The hobbits were all sitting on a fallen log with all their eyes landing on Coruwen. His heart was shot with giddiness as his eyes landed on her. A gown of the darkest purple hung around her lithe frame. Her pale skin offset the darkness of the cloth, and also by the grey shift that she wore beneath the dress. Sheer fabric draped over her forearms, casting a shimmering beauty to her. And then his eyes landed on the necklace at her throat. An oval rose colored scale with four sunstones guarding its sides.

The purple highlighted the gold of her hair and deepened the blue of her eyes. He could no longer hear silence, but rather the sound of his heart pining for her. He saw her gaze land on him, she smiled.

"Prince Legolas," Coruwen said. "What brings you over here?"

He had been in such a state of awe that the words that tried form became stuck in his throat. Her eyes stared up at him before she stood and approached him in walk that was reminiscent of a feline. "You seem rather… Happy…" He replied quietly.

"Well, yes. If we are going off of appearances, then you seem rather uneasy," She laughed. Could he honestly not come up with anything better? No wonder she had rejected him in Imladris… He was acting rather foolish. His feelings were turning him into a blithering idiot! A sly smirk flickered across her face as she turned back to the hobbits. "You can surely join us if you so wish, my lord."

Pippin looked up at her with shining eyes, "Oh, Coruwen, I never did ask, have you spoken with Freya since we last saw you?"

She paused, shoulders tense with uncertainty flickering in her features. Freya was so sensitive for her to speak of. One of the many things that she was sensitive about. He was about to speak to draw attention from Coruwen, but he heard the flittering sounds of birdsong. A small robin zipped past him, hovering in front of Coruwen. He knew that robin; it was one of Radagast's. The robin landed on Coruwen's finger, singing a frenzied song to her. Her face contorted in confusion, but he understood the bird.

"Coruwen," Legolas started, gesturing for her to take his hand. Her eyes rose up to his, and her hand snapped to his. "We will return in a few moments, my friends."

The hobbits nodded, and Legolas took her behind the bole of a tree. The robin's gaze flicked between him and her rather rapidly. He gave the bird a nod to speak. It sang to him, little wings flapping hurriedly as if in flight. It spoke of the leaders of Mirkwood and the Eastern countries meeting in Rhosgobel. All the while, Coruwen looked up at him with an innocent, yet frightened, look in her eyes.

"Well?" She asked as the robin's song ended. He felt her hand tighten around his, and he placed his other hand over hers to comfort her.

"It has orders from Smaug and Freya," He explained in a hushed tone. Her eyes widened, as she leaned up against the tree. "The orders are for you to ride for Rhosgobel so that Grimbeorn, Radagast, and Smaug may meet and decide the fate of the East." She opened her mouth to speak, but he anticipated her words and cut her off. "The orders are set in stone; there is no going against them."

Her face fell, and one of her hands swept back strands of her hair. "I know that Freya's word is final… But honestly, I have no desire to fight."

This elleth, for Manwë's sake… She was shutting down once more, the sparkle in her blue eyes suddenly died, the brilliance she possessed faded. He tipped up her face with two fingers, allowing their gazes to meet. How could he fix this? This strange part of her that randomly chose to have her withdraw so far back that he could no longer see her.

"Coruwen, you can't hide from this," Legolas whispered. She turned her face away from him. He inwardly rolled his eyes; what a terrible time to act like a child. "You are so strong," He tried to stop his lips from speaking, but the words had drawn to her attention. "All those years ago I saw such a strong lady, who stood before the eldest son of Thrain and challenged him like a wolf challenges another. But the day that he died, you died as well."

Her eyes widened and she took a step back from him. "What would in the world would you know? You never had someone you love be ripped away from you! You did not have to watch him die, you did not have to watch the lights of his eyes flicker and fade as he cast you away! You know nothing, princeling." She hissed as she glared darkly at him. Here, before him, was the lady he loved. A fierce being… The one who had slapped him when he tried to take her away from Thorin and his company, the one he had become enamored with. "If you wish to stand here and chastise me - then go ahead, but it will fall on deaf ears."

~.~.~

"Who did he think he is?!" She snapped, whirling around with anger boiling in her blood. She paced about her room, with her little robin friend sitting on a branch and watching her. Every single time she turned around he was trying to help her. He irritated her, to put it simply. She clenched her hands into fists as her anger piqued. The robin sang to her, drawing her attention over to it. It was sitting on one of her letters; it was the one from Glorfindel. "Little bird, why do this to me?"

The robin sang once more, its little voice beautiful and sweet to her ears. She calmed herself, taking deep, soothing breaths as she walked over to the letter. Delicately, the robin hopped off as she picked up the letter. Glancing down at the robin, she found that it was quite intelligent; no doubt a trait of one of Radagast's birds. As she read the letter, she felt her anger ease up slightly. Coruwen could hear his voice through the words upon the page, and she missed him. Two months away from the man who was her dear friend started to make her heart ache.

"You," She said without looking at the robin. Its attention snapped to hers instantly. "What do you think I should do, hmm?"

Now, Coruwen had beheld the strange magic that Radagast possessed, and that he spoke to his creatures – even named them – like they were humans. This little robin must have been close to the Istar, for it flew over to her and started pointing at Glorfindel's name with its beak.

"He lives far from here, and even if he did come, what good would come of it?" Coruwen replied, rubbing its head with two fingers. It tweeted angrily at her and she flinched, "Little Robin, no." And once more it tweeted. She sighed, "I suppose sending word would not hurt." The robin cocked its head to the side. "But, I have to leave in a few days to reach Rhosgobel in time for the council."

And the robin chirped in agreement. It flew over to her desk, and wrapped its feet around a coil of paper before flapping its wings to lift it to no avail. She laughed, walking over to the robin and releasing the paper from its talons. As she began to write, she heard a soft knock on her door.

"Come in," She answered, dropping her quill. Glancing back, she saw Aragorn standing in the entryway of her room. "Aragorn?"

The Dúnedan smiled and opened his arms to receive her as she embraced him tightly. She pulled back, her hands still holding his upper arms. "Hello, Coruwen," Aragorn greeted with a small chuckle.

"Aragorn, what are you doing here? Should you not be with the Fellowship?" Coruwen asked. Instantly, Aragorn's face fell, Gandalf's death was still heavy on his heart. He shut his eyes for a moment before looking back at her. She took note of his eyes; they were deeply grieved, but he was clearly forcing it away. She slid her hands off of his upper arms and then folded them behind her back.

"I thought I saw you storm off with a certain prince wasn't too far away either," Aragorn inferred with a touch of playfulness hinting his voice. She cast a small glare over her shoulder at him, to which he smirked. "What did he do now?"

"He thinks I will turn back to the way I did all those years ago," She told him as she stroked her robin friend. Aragorn's face became curious and she raised a hand to her heart. "I have changed, Aragorn. I can feel it in my heart. Thorin's influence is starting to fade away, and I'm starting to feel… Happy again. I can't quite describe it honestly, but after Imladris, I have started feeling rather empty. Granted, the feeling of happiness is returning, but I feel like a piece of me is missing."

"He changed you…"

"Pardon?" She nearly dropped her robin, which was happily having his head rubbed by her. Aragorn walked up to her, giving her a kind smile. Despite his rugged appearance, he gave off a kind, calming air that Coruwen felt through her heart. It was the air of a king… And the nature was peeking through the cracks in his ranger outer shell. He chuckled and she cocked her head to the side.

"Glorfindel… He has affected you."

She shrugged, "Maybe he has, and I'm a fool not to notice-," She paused. By the Valar, he had gotten to her. She would not be writing to him if he hadn't, she wouldn't be trying to deny it if weren't true… "He…"

"He makes you happy, sister." The Dúnedan shook his head and she looked up at him curiously. "If you wish it of me, I will speak to Legolas to stop forcing his ideals upon you."

"A-Aragorn, that won't be necessary. I tore at him all ready," Coruwen ran her fingers across the parchment she had set out for her letter. She heard Aragorn's footsteps fading away and she stopped him, "Brother, do you think it would help if I asked Glorfindel to accompany me to Rhosgobel?"

"You do realize he would have to come from Imladris, correct?"

"I do. I'm just asking for an opinion. I have to meet with Smaug, Radagast, and Grimbeorn." Aragorn's eyes widened as he pondered something. He gave her a slight nod. "Well?"

"If you believe he will come to your call then by all means, ask him. If you can convince him to go."

She caught the slight smirk he had across his face as he sat down in a chair with his head hung. She shrugged, seeing how hard it could be to convince one lord to come; after all Glorfindel was not as stubborn as Erestor. As she began to write, she watched the little robin out of the corner of her eye as it began to inspect her inkwell intently. Coruwen sighed and mushed him away with two fingers. It chirped, flying away from her and over to Aragorn.

"Radagast?" The ranger asked, letting the robin rest in his palm. She nodded. "Do you know what he says?"

"The bird?"

"Yes."

She shook her head, "Legolas translated for me earlier." As she glanced back, she caught an inquisitive look pass in Aragorn's features as he looked at the little robin. She turned her attention back to her letter. "Do you speak the language?"

"Of birds?" He hesitated and then a slight amused tone touched his voice. "Yes and no; I only can understand bits and pieces."

"So, it's a Dúnedan trick?"

"More like Mirkwood elf trick."

She chuckled, rolling the letter into a tight coil. The robin flitted over to her, hovering before her as she gave it a smile. She started out of her room with Aragorn behind her as she went in search of a hawk. The Marchwardens were known for keeping them at hand, but it seemed they all had decided to hide from her. She glanced back at Aragorn, who was also looking to the tops of the trees to possibly spy a hawk. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought of the places a hawk would be.

"Up there," Aragorn stated, motioning to a hawk resting on a low branch with its eyes closed and beak nestled into the crook of its wings. They approached the tree, both staring up at the hawk. Aragorn's grey eyes flicked over to her. "Do you want me to get it down?"

Coruwen's eyes narrowed slightly, "No, I think if we just call him-," She was interrupted when the hawk's gold eyes opened to focus on the people below it. Her heart slightly jumped under the hawk's scrutiny, but saw that he was just curious; head cocked to the side and wings slightly unfurled to leap down. "Come here." She called in a soft voice. The hawk shimmed across the branch, and then leaped down to a lower branch near them, and blinked its great eyes at the pair. "Could you do something for me? Could you take this to Imladris?" She gestured at the coiled letter. The hawk blinked and then stuck out its leg for her. It lifted itself into the air, disappearing out of sight.

"Coruwen, what do you think will happen at this council you are attending?"

She tore her gaze away from the sky, pondering Aragorn's statement. "In all honesty, I have no idea. Never before has Radagast requested something like this. It must involve the Easterlings spotted near the borders of the Iron Hills." Aragorn's eyes widened. "Dís has told me that they are closing in on Erebor."

"Does the Lonely Mountain have enough power to withstand the Easterlings?"

"Yes, it was not razed when Smaug took it, and it has seen its fair share of war."

"But could it take the men of Rhun? They are far more ruthless than any army of men in Middle-Earth. Boromir has told me that the men of South ruthless as is, but he tells me that the Easterlings are completely different."

"The Easterlings could have fake dragon fire, but they would never break Erebor's defenses. However, they could break the defenses of the city, and without enough man power the city would belong to Sauron. Even if Dain were to convince me to use dragons, they would need a command to join the fray."

"Whose?"

Coruwen's reply was automatic, "Mine." The Dúnedan gave her a slightly puzzled looked and she touched her necklace. Freya's scale; the scale that could command the force of the sun's rays to beat down upon an army, smash keep walls with a simple flick, a force that could obliterate the darkness. "I possess Freya's scale, who is queen of the dragons. Simply put, I hold the chain and whip."

"And Dain wants you to use this power?"

"He believes that a dragon would secure his position should the Easterlings arise to fight. But I would not put Freya or Heimdall's life in that sort of jeopardy."

"And what of Smaug?"

"The people of Erebor do not trust him! He burnt their city, and forced them to flee. I would not trust Smaug with anything if had he not proven himself useful to me."

"And Heimdall?"

"His trust in me is small," She exhaled noisily. "And in addition, his attitude is in strong likeness to a cat. The world could be burning outside and he would simply lie beneath his mountain and sleep." Aragorn smiled and then it was her turn to give him a confused look. There was a certain mixture of pride in his eyes that made her puzzled. "What? What are you looking at?"

He shrugged, taking his gaze and moving its elsewhere. "Nothing, sister."

Why was he looking at her so? His face told her that he was happy, as if glad to see an old friend. Perhaps she had said something? She stroked the bole of a tree, wondering why; why Aragorn had looked at her so relieved. Maybe what Aragorn had said earlier was true, that Glorfindel had changed her a bit. Coruwen didn't know if it was true or not, but within her heart she felt… Happy once more. There was not a lingering, doubtful weight in her chest, and in truth, it only came back when she thought about them. A smile touched her face when she thought about being free again. For the longest time, it had only been in the dizziest of daydreams, but now was a reality she was free to feel once more. Glancing over at Aragorn, she saw him fiddling with something around his neck… A white stone pendant that looked oddly familiar.

Arwen…

"She gave it to you, no?" Coruwen asked quietly making him slightly jump. He dropped the necklace back into the confines of his tunic.

"Yes, just before the Fellowship left Imladris. She… She gave it up," He answered. Coruwen felt a bit of shock stir her blood. Arwen had given it up for him. "She would be far happier if she left for Valinor, but no…"

"Aragorn, she loves you." He glanced up at her with an expression that told her the answer to her statement. Smiling, she touched his shoulder gently. "If she wanted to leave Middle-Earth, she would not have given you that gift. She loves you, she loves you so much. Nothing, not even fire or war, could separate you from her."

"Words put actions into simpler terms, I suppose." He smiled tightly. "How do you know this?"

"At one point in my life, I would have done it for one man." She inwardly smiled; and hopefully she would do it again…

~.~.~

They were rising, serpentine bodies sleek and smooth as they hefted themselves into the skies with webbed wings pulling the air underneath them. They were no dragon; they were a serpent! A creature meant to slither on the ground; it could not command the air, or rattle the sky with its roar. Yes, humans feared them, but they feared many things; spiders, bears, death, and Nazgûl with their half-baked mounts that could be torn apart by any matured dragon. Smaug huffed; the mortals, and immortals, feared him and his kindred. The elves did not fear his mother as much, but they feared him and the guardian. The dwarves despised him, for which he understood. He would hate himself too if he burned down him home and then proceeded to horde many shiny things. He snorted; he stopped making sense to himself months ago.

Smaug tapped his claws on the obsidian floor of his hold. His mother had told him to play nice and council the mortals… and it included speaking to his queen about the Lonely Mountain. He was practically jumping for joy right now. The prince smirked dryly; oh yes, how fun. Babysitting the mortals because Mother was focused on her other babies. Granted, he should have been thankful that Freya even still bothered to see him anymore. He knew he had his father's cantankerous nature and habit to seek isolation. He liked being by himself honestly… No loud noises, no nagging, no having to share, and the whole thing that made it even better was that he could horde everything – or anything – he wanted.

Shutting his eyes, Smaug laid his head on the icy stone feeling its bitter touch seep in between his scales. As the Dreamlands started to take him, he heard a loud grinding sound upon the walls of his hold, the sound of nails grinding upon glass. His head throbbed as the grinding grew closer and closer, then abruptly halting just above his head. Play dead, he told himself, just play dead…

But a light, airy voice was heard above him, mimicking sobbing or weeping, or so the tone portrayed. He opened one eye, tracing the voice upward to the top of his hold to spy a fel beast sitting at his doorstep. Yet it wasn't at the same time. Its wings were not full of holes, or appearing to be made out of sheer webbing. It was a female dragon! She appeared to be built like a swan, covered in glistening, silver scales and her hooked wings grabbed the edges of his doorstep to keep her from falling.

"Come, my children." She called over her shoulder, not regarding him in the slightest as she lifted her elegant body into the wind's control. She was no dragon, but a wyvern, simply a long wyrm gifted with wings. But what he found interesting was that she spoke in a long forgotten language; a language his father spoke when he was but a whelp. It was Ancient Draconic, something he had picked up from his father and mother. That meant that was a first generation lady of the Withered Heath; one who had survived the First Dragon War.

He would wait; he would wait and tell Coruwen or Radagast at the council. There was not enough time to fly to his mother, or even send word. He prayed to the Father, hoping, praying that history was not going to repeat itself. He stood, his limbs giving him grief as he climbed the high walls of his hold to stand on his perch to watch the surrounding area. He could see the old fortress on the Amon Lanc with a Nazgûl and beast circling above like carrions to rotting flesh. He felt the darkness radiating from the fortress in waves that beat upon his body like harsh waves in a storm. It was rising, rising up into the world and corrupting her beauty. The world that the One had made. If left unchecked; every bit of this world would fall to pieces, and according to the hawks, its fate lay in the hands of a Halfling…

~.~.~

Coruwen ran her fingers over the tip of a page, her eyes flicking over the words within. She had been sitting in her room with a pile of books for several hours now. Most were on the Dragon War that arose after Ancalagon was set free from Melkor's control, and Aisha had been slain. Nothing spoke of Lannister being the traitor in all of this madness. She stifled a yawn; this was beginning to get repetitive, the books were essentially carbon copies of themselves. Having had enough of reading, she set the book aside and moved around her room, straightening cushions that had been tossed around, or fixing the small bouquet of elanor flowers that sat alone on a low table.

A faint, hiss like whisper raised the hairs on her neck when she passed her bedside table. Her blood turned icy, flicking her gaze over to Freya's scale. She inwardly sighed. She had enough with being traumatized with the bloody scale. She plopped down on a cushioned chaise sofa, watching the scale with narrowed eyes as if it were moving like a rat across the room and she were a cat. Something about it made her uneasy… It was giving her visions, visions of the past that made little to no sense and struck her heart with fear.

Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears that it drowned out all other noise. The curtains were thrown back as the wind pushed them aside to cover her in an icy wind. A wind that made her hug her knees close to her torso. Faintly, if she listened through the howling wind and her beating heart she heard anguished roars with the picture of Ancalagon and Aisha roaring in unison with jets of flame leaping from their maws. She shivered and withdrew further back into the sofa's confines in the hopes of it saving her from this madness. This scale was driving her absolutely insane! The visions made her feel every lash or roar as they happened. Some stirred her blood, some made her weep, and some even outright frightened her.

"Varda help me, this is getting out of hand," She hissed into her elbows, eyes still locked on the scale. Her mind asked if possibly Smaug knew what was going on with this scale and her visions. Then she corrected herself that he wouldn't know about Ancalagon or anything that happened in the Dragon Wars; he wasn't even thought about at that point in time. Coruwen slid down to the floor, walking over to the scale and placing the tips of her fingers on it. It was cool…

"It was nothing, just my mind," She inwardly reminded herself. She lay down in her bed with a slightly troubled heart, unable to cast the strange veil of mystery clouding the scale. Her world had fallen deadly silent after she had drifted off to sleep.

~.~.~

"Little goddess," A voice whispered in her ear. Her vision peeled back to reveal the silver veined obsidian walls of the black citadel once again. She in Freya's body once again, but the chains did not bind her mouth this time. In an attempt to move, she heard the rattling of chains and her body burned with pain. "Up here, my ruby."

Glancing up, she met the garnet eyes of Ancalagon, whose face was marred by risen white scars and dried blood, yet it still held his handsome appearance. A smile creased her face at the sight of him lying beside her. Warmth spread in her chest as she gazed up at him as he smiled back at her. He lowered his face down to her and bumped noses with her.

"Where is Monah?" She asked. Her voice felt so strange; this is how Freya felt when she spoke. Her voice came from her feet, up from the earth and rumbled in her chest. Ancalagon shook his head, releasing heart ache panging throughout her chest. "Oh by the Father, no."

"She is far from being dead, ruby. She is merely caged by that Iron Clawed Hag…" Ancalagon sneered, his tail that rested on her shoulder flicked angrily. "Monah will soon return to us."

"Bormah," She whispered laying her head on his shoulder. "Lannister, he -."

"I know, Freya, but I cannot do anything to stop him. If I could challenge him to a duel, I would, but Carcharoth would intervene…"

"We are not slaves! We are dragons! We are meant to-," The dragoness was cut off by Ancalagon's stern glance. "I meant no disrespect Bormah."

"Let me tell you something, my goddess." She cocked her head to side as she watched her father heaved a deep breath. He was so proud. Even looking like death incarnate, he was still set his shoulders with wings delicately folded on his back. "Zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor."

"A dragon is not a slave?"

"Aye," Ancalagon replied with a smirk. His red eyes fell on her once more; he gently nudged her. "Never forget that, my little ruby."

The sound of a great, iron door's gears being pulled open made Ancalagon's smile fall so his attention was held on the wyrm that slinked through the door with a large, leathery bat on his head like a crown. Laughter bubbled up in her chest; Lannister, usurper of the Dragon King, had a bat for a crown! When Lannister's gaze fell on her, her heart sank. Those eyes made her shrink back as they became hungry with lust. The bat hopped onto his nose and landed on a protruding spike on the wall.

"Ancalagon," Lannister addressed coolly. The king held his head and returned a small bow of his head. "No response?"

"I do not speak with traitors, nor do I address them," Ancalagon informed the wyrm, his eyes flicking up to the large bat on the spike. "And why are you here, Thuringwethil? Come to torture me again?"

"Tempting," The bat replied. Her voice hurt her ears, it was shrill and hoarse. The bat watched as Lannister walked up to Freya, towering over her with ease as he cradled silvery white chains in his claws. "Now, little princess, we wouldn't want you to interrupt Father dearest here."

Before she could speak, chains were clasped on her snout with a lust driven Lannister curling around her body and dropping his head on her head. Her scales crawled. Her mother had told her not to move, but just to bear her teeth and deal with the wyrm and his madness. But now she was subjected to watching Thuringwethil unchain her father from the wall and take a hold of the chain around his neck to pull her him to the centre of the room. Deep within her heart, dark hatred brooded, hissing and spitting like a pool of boiling water.

Thuringwethil landed on Ancalagon's head and spun the chain around like a whip. "Now, what should target today, hmm?" The bat asked aloud. "What do you think, Lannister, darling?"

The wyrm slinked off of her, gesturing to her openly with the flick of a gold-ringed claw. Her heart jolted in her chest. Coruwen did not know what was causing it, but Freya's heart began to pick up speed. The vampire bat smiled wickedly with amber eyes glittering.

"I agree," Thuringwethil agreed. With a snap of the chain, she addressed in a commanding tone. "Ancalagon, Mir." A sudden chill spent down Freya's spine as Ancalagon's pupils expanded to encompass his entire eyes aside from an almost invisible red line. The Vampire bat woman smiled once again, "Dracarys."

The king opened his maw with black flame spilling from it and covering her in a sickening heat. Her scales began to ache and burn as his fire did not cease. The chains on her body began to glow white until they snapped-.

~.~.~

Coruwen bolted upright, her back oddly feeling the repercussions from the melting chains. Her body shook as she drew herself into a ball. She knew she shouldn't have slept! That scale was going to keep her up; her mind had told it was bad idea. She snapped her hand over to the scale on her bedside table, hugging it to her chest as her body quaked with fear. She didn't know what was causing this, she didn't like it, and she was getting tired of it! She could no longer sleep without seeing Lannister on the backs of her eyelids, or hear Ancalagon's sonorous voice.

"Freya, help me, please," She whispered as frustration welled up in her chest. Tears threatened to fall as it swelled and surged on her mind's walls. "I have no idea what is going on..."

Perhaps it was the fact she was giving up and Freya didn't want her to? Maybe she wanted to show her that she was still with her, in spirit. But why show her memories of pain, suffering, and horror? It made no sense. She understood the part about Lannister, but why this? Her only way of finding out what was going on was through Smaug.

Mir-Rise

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