Disclaimer: Yep. I'm Tolkien. I'm back from the dead...don't you believe me? No? Didn't think so... (in case it wasn't clear: I don't own Lord of the Rings)
A/N ~ I will have you know that this chapter is dedicated to GT. She inspired me to keep writing even after I finished "Dúath" and was thinking about stopping. GT likes battle scenes so hopefully this chapter will be liked by her. This chapter is REWRITTEN. Enjoy!
Bold is mind-speech.
Caeleb ~ Sick
Arienel felt a gut-wrenching loneliness and pain as her bonded shut her off. It was unlike anything the elleth had ever felt - even when one of them was unconscious - and she knew that the feeling was akin to losing a lover, friend, parent or sibling all in one blow. Tears of loss and anger coursed down her pale cheeks, scream after scream for the shape-shifter ripping from her throat, almost shredding it with the force she used. Arienel clawed and struggled in the gentle white Eagle's grip, not thinking of anything but getting to her friend, to Morroch. The empty feeling remained and there was no answer to her mental pleas as the giant bird flew towards the ground. The Follower wasn't about to let her out of his sight, but it would be easier to deal with her on land than where she was now in his talons. Arienel didn't care where the great creature was heading, only knowing it was not after Morroch. She felt her heart tear even further.
Morroch experienced the terrible loss as well, but he tried to concentrate on the impending fight to come, difficult as it was to do so when every fiber of his being wanted to fly back to Arienel and comfort her. This had been his choice, to keep her safe. His rider's screams cut through the black dragon and fueled his anger towards the situation he found himself in. The shape-shifter was jolted out of his thoughts as the red dragon swept past him, snapping at his wing as it went. It was almost three times his size, bulking and covered with ridge of spikes. Horns jutted from the top of its head and out at the sides like a fan. Spikes adorned the end of the red dragon's long tail.
The shape-shifter plunged after the fire dragon, staying close enough so that the other couldn't whip around and lash at him, but far enough away that the larger creature couldn't strike him with its deadly tail. Morroch found that he suddenly didn't want to fight his kin, but he knew that he needed to get the giant creature away from the men and away from his rider. The smaller dragon knew he wouldn't be able to beat the larger one in a fight. He also knew he had to try none the less. Morroch flew faster, his wing-beats increasing in tempo and as the larger dragon was turning in the air, bit it on the tail. Hard, hard enough to penetrate scales and draw a well of dark, red blood.
The fire dragon bellowed in rage and pain before turning it's dull, red eyes on Morroch, who had flown a good distance away. "Catch me if you think you can." The taunt was heard and the red dragon gave another roar as its target winged away swiftly toward the mountains of Mordor, away from the battle. The great, red winged creature blew a bout of fire at its opponent and giving a growl, swept after the smaller black dragon.
Arienel had continued to struggle in the white giant bird's grasp, not caring how difficult she was being until she'd heard a soft, whispering chuckle. It wasn't friendly and it sent chills down the elleth's spine, stilling her movements, freezing them. Looking towards the Eye, Arienel felt it's malevolent joy at her grief. The elleth stared for a moment before her sky blue gaze hardened and she spoke to the Eagle. "Will you let me on your back, please?"
The giant bird of prey seemed unsurprised by her sudden change, merely looking down at her with irritated amber eyes. The Follower complied, though, stopping his downwards decent and loosening his grip slightly on the female's waist. He flew in place with an ease that spoke of far more experience than Morroch as the elleth climbed up his leg and body. Arienel sat on the great Eagle's back, clutching a handful of white feathers. Her heart may have been in pain and she may have felt like a part of her was missing, but the elleth could not afford to give up or stop helping her friends. Her mind finally won over her emotions.
"Can you get close to the ground, but not so close as to get shot?"
The Follower screeched and answered by plummeting, faster than Arienel had ever experienced with Morroch. The giant bird headed toward the army at this great speed before opening his wings and slowing down, flying over the orcs and men. Arienel took out her bow and began firing in a steady, deadly rhythm as the Eagle kept changing positions and places so they would not be pinpointed and shot at. She didn't have to concentrate on her shots as there was little chance she'd miss hitting something. All she had to do was aim black and she was almost guaranteed to hit an orc. The elleth's power was flowing strongly - though it had not occurred to her to use it yet - and it was that which accounted to her hearing a faint shout. Even amid the cries of death and fighting it drew her attention. The red-haired female looked for the source. She saw Legolas struggling to reach something and Arienel looked past him to see Aragorn caught under a huge troll.
Anger coursed through the elleth and she drew her power with vengeance, taking all the grief and anger and loneliness she felt and channeling it. They could not lose the future king! A lightning bolt laced through the air, it's essence drawing from it's mistress's wrath as it streaked from the dark clouds to strike the troll, frying it, knocking it over backwards and freeing the ranger. The young elf didn't have the chance to see how the man fared for the white Eagle she was on screeched in warning and lurched sideways.
The Nâzgul's blade missed the girl entirely, but it's fell beast's claws wreaked damage on the intended victim. Arienel screamed as the talons grazed her neck, ripped into her shoulder and continued down her rib-cage, sending fire through her body. The red-haired female slumped on the Eagle's back as it jerked away, attacking the dark-creature before flying away from the Wraith, who at that moment was looking towards Mount Doom.
Gimli hacked into the motionless orcs, briefly wondering why they did not fight. The dwarf decided he didn't care. A dead orc was a dead orc, regardless of whether they fought and he still had to beat the elvish princeling's score...
He looked up suddenly as a shadow blocked out the light around him and saw a white Eagle with a still figure on its back descending carefully, orcs and men alike getting out of its way as it snapped and screeched. Gimli took his eyes away from the sight long enough to see that the Eye of Sauron was shuddering in pain and the Black Riders were flying to Mount Doom with speed. It was to late, though, as the Tower of Barad-dûr started collapsing and the Great Eye exploded outward, causing a concussion to ripple through the air. The dwarf shielded his eyes as the dust kicked up and his red beard flew around his face. He looked on in amazement as the ground around their enemies disappeared, plunging them into the earth and the Black Gate toppled into a deep chasm.
Amid the shouting of celebration from the men and cries of despair from the orcs, Gimli heard the desperate screech of the Eagle again. This time it sounded desperate. Turning, the dwarf saw the creature was covered in blood, its white feathers soaked in it. Arienel, also covered in blood, tumble off the great bird's back. It only took a moment for Gimli to realize the blood belonged to the elleth. Giving a shout of surprise, he ran over to the still figure. Falling to his knees, Gimli cradled the female, wondering where the dragon was.
"Lassie?" he said hopefully, fearing she might already be dead. Eyelids fluttered weakly and pain-filled eyes stared up at the dwarf. "Gimli?" A whisper that the he barely heard.
"Aye lassie. You're bleeding. What happened?" The dwarf was trying to keep her talking as he searched the army with his eyes for their friends, nodding distractedly as Arienel answered faintly. A young Rohirrim noticed them and ran over. Gimli looked up. It was Edonar and the brother looked at his sister in growing horror. The emotion couldn't be hidden, not like he hid everything else. Gimli's voice jerked him out of his frozen shock. "Laddie! Go find Gandalf!" Edonar looked at the red-bearded being and then at the white Eagle before sprinting off in search of the Maia.
Arienel felt cold, colder than she had felt when contacting the Dead. She shivered and breathed in weakly. She knew she had to stay awake, but she was so tired... Gimli's questions registered in her sluggish mind and she struggled to answer. "Nâzgul...fell..b.b..Beast's...claws...Follower...Morr..och..." She wanted her shape-shifter. She felt Gimli nod and tell someone to find Gandalf. The girl tried to get the dwarf's attention, but he had already sent the young man off before looking at her.
"Gand...getting...Frod...o..." was all she managed as pain racked through her - even now her eyes were gray with power that told her exactly where the Maia was. Somewhere in her mind, the elleth knew that pain was a good thing. It meant she was still feeling and it would help her stay awake. She had to stay awake...
Gimli swore. He believed the elleth knew what she was talking about and again tried to find any of their friends with desperate eyes. The white Eagle had left. "You just stay awake, lassie. You hear? No sleeping now. We'll get you help. Stay awake." He repeated the phrase over and over, trying to staunch the bleeding. A shrill screech made the dwarf look up once more and he spotted the twins, the white Eagle ushering them on with butts to the backs with its head. The dwarf hollered and the dark-haired heads finally saw what it was the great bird was pushing them toward. One of the elves went paler than snow. Both sprinted towards the two, worry on each identical face.
Arienel saw three heads above her, no four, but didn't care anymore. She couldn't feel the right side of her body and she was still so cold and tired. As the elleth drifted toward oblivion, she couldn't help but think of Morroch and an expected stab of grief went through her, followed by something she hadn't expected. The shape-shifter's mind flooded her's.
"Ainarë?"
Her world went black.
Warning: There is a HUGE skip in time here, but no worries! All will be explained...eventually.
Arienel's wounds had not begun to show any signs of healing and she hadn't woken. It had been almost three days since she'd arrived in Minas Tirith.
The healer looked at those gathered in the room with nervousness. They were all very powerful people. "I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do. The fell beast's claws have a toxin on them that prevent injuries from healing. We have tried to find a cure, but have been unsuccessful," the man admitted, quietly before being dismissed by the white clothed Maia. Morroch, Legolas, Gimli and the twins - Gandalf was with Frodo and Sam and Arienel's human family could not yet be located. They didn't even know if they were back yet - looked over at the unconscious figure on the bed. Each thinking their own thoughts until a deep, rumbling voice spoke.
"I know a cure."
Morroch looked over at the fire dragon. The creature was perched on the wall outside - a battlement really - and he looked through the window at the shape-shifter with one large red eye. "You do? What is it Voronflame?" The wolf nearly demanded the answer of the other creature. He was having a hard time with his own guilt over this and struggling even harder not to blame the larger dragon for attacking in the first place, even if he did know the story behind the reason. Elrohir watched the red creature with hope in his eyes as he held the elleth's hand. Morroch could not save Arienel this time. Matters of the mind could not combat poison.
The giant fire dragon nodded - only shown by the way his eye moved up and down - and replied solemnly. "My kind have battled those animals many times and we have found a cure to their toxin." The shape-shifter looked over at Arienel. Her skin was pale, sallow and she'd grown thinner. Her breathing was a fluttering thing, faint and raspy. It terrified the wolf. "Will this work on two-legs?"
Voronflame looked thoughtful. "I don't know, but it cannot do anymore harm than time will. She will die if not treated." It was said bluntly, the words piercing the hearts of those in the room. Morroch glared at the larger dragon, but made up his mind, knowing that he couldn't do much else at this point. He was willing to trust the other dragon if it meant saving his rider. "Tell me how to make this cure."
"You must take dragon's blood and a plant called Catineesana. If you breathe dragonfire to heat the mixture it will turn into a paste that can then be applied to a wound."
Legolas finally spoke, still not sure of the dragon that Morroch vouched for. "I have never heard of this cure." Voronflame looked at the elven with a steady gaze. He knew that the Eldar didn't trust him and the dragon understood this. It didn't mean he liked it, though. "Dragons guard their secrets jealously, Elf. As do your kind."
Elrohir interrupted. "You will help her?"
The fire dragon nodded. "She is bonded to Dagoryn and it would hurt him if she died," he answered simply. Voronflame did not care for the female, having not met her and having no fondness for two-legs, but he could see she was important to the black wolf and he owed Dagoryn his life...and much more, though, the shape-shifter didn't yet know it. Morroch was getting frustrated. "How do we find this plant? How soon can the cure be made?"
"The cure can be made within minutes, but we must find the plant first. I do not not know where it would be in this land. In the mountains where I live, it grows in on the cliff-sides, but here..." Morroch growled, not needing Voronflame to finish to know the ending of the sentence. The red dragon did not know where the plant was. The wolf pressed his nose against Arienel's arm, feeling how cold it was, inhaling her scent. Guilt and fear ate at him. She was dying and if he hadn't left her, she wouldn't be. Elrohir's hand came down on his head, comforting and sharing his worry and fear. The son of Elrond hadn't left the elleth since she arrived. He barely slept or ate. No one could persuade him to leave the large healing room. Morroch had been his constant companion.
Voronflame watched the scene and slowly moved his eye away from the window and spread his wings, leaping off the wall and into the sky. He wouldn't go far, but he needed to be in the mountains behind the City. With any luck he'd find Catineesana.
The red dragon looked up from his small kill - a buck - and sniffed the air. Mist wafted through the trees, making everything hard to see, but he knew his nose had picked up a familiar scent. A smell he hadn't encountered for ten years... Large, red eyes widened at the figure that suddenly stepped through the fog, the being's white fur blending in perfectly with the rolling mist. Amber eyes glared out of a feline face - a rather large feline - and the great cat hissed, ears back and teeth bared.
Voronflame didn't move - though, not out of fear - and regarded the animal. His voice was quiet, but it still echoed off the rock, deep. "Brassen."
The white cat growled low in his throat and his own sharp voice, cutting through the air like a knife made the larger dragon wince. "Kin-slayer." The fire dragon looked away, pain, guilt and regret in his eyes. "Why have you shown yourself, Brassen?"
Brassen's amber eyes flashed, but he shoved something forward with his paw. A red plant with a single white flower. Voronflame stared at it incredulously and the white cat smirked. "For the Amlug-nerthril." The fire dragon snarled - it didn't faze Brassen in the slightest. "That title is for humans, Brassen! Not our kind. It is shameful!"
His words were only greeted with laughter, mocking as the white cat walked back into the fog and was lost to sight. An echoing voice came back to the red dragon. "Then call her Eldanarë. Wasn't it my father that prophesied her coming?"
Voronflame closed his eyes, but it didn't stop the stabbing pain that went through his heart.
Elladan got a large bowl and brought it over to the small table in the room. The elves and dwarf - Gandalf was dividing his time between Arienel, Aragorn, Frodo and Sam - moved against the wall, giving the shape-shifter room to change. Voronflame had returned only a short while ago with Catineesana, unwilling to explain where he'd found it, and the occupants of the healing room were now anxious to create the cure the dragon said would work. Morroch shifted into his dragon form and before anyone could protest, bit his tail hard without any hesitation, drawing a small well of blood. The black dragon moved his tail over the bowl the elder twin still held and let the thick, dark red liquid drain into it.
Elrohir grabbed a roll of bandages and wrapped the shape-shifter's injury. The dark-haired elf touched the dragon's back, his eyes expressing tentative hope - that Morroch felt as well - and gratitude. The black dragon nodded in understanding and turned to Voronflame. "What now?"
"The Catineesana."
Gimli spoke up as Elrohir came over with the small red plant with a white flower. "What is Catineesana? This is an herb I've never before heard of." Legolas and the twins frowned. It was a plant they had never encountered either. Voronflame pondered the question. "Catineesana is what my kind call it in our language. It means 'Healer's Breath'. Perhaps it is called something else to you?"
Morroch nodded. "Perhaps." He really could have cared less, all his focus was on Arienel and on the cure being made for her. Elrohir was of similar mind and looked at the red dragon impatiently. "How much?" He was holding the plant over the bowl, waiting for instruction. "No more than half the stem and three petals." The elf added the correct amount carefully to the mixture and stepped back as Morroch stepped forward and started to gently heat the bowl with fire until the blood inside bubbled. The petals melted and the red stem turned to powder, thickening the mixture into a paste that was now - defying logic - a brilliant white. Morroch and Elrohir looked at each other and the two nodded together. It was worth the risk.
Elrohir sat down on the bed, bowl, wrapped in a cloth - in his hands. Elladan was carefully undoing the wrappings over the neck, shoulder and rib wounds the elleth sustained, keeping Arienel modestly covered as much as possible. The younger of the dark-haired twins dipped two fingers into the mixture and paused over the open wounds that still oozed blood. Morroch came over. "It might be the only way to help her."
The paste made contact with torn skin and spread gently over inflamed injuries. Elrohir covered the elleth's wounds thoroughly and then replaced the bandages.
An uneventful hour passed as Arienel's blood and body carried the cure. Then she began to toss and turn with fever. Gandalf - having been sought by Legolas when things started to get worse - touched the elleth's forehead and swore as he jerked his hand back. She was burning up, her skin literally scalding to the touch. I should not have been something that was possible and his eyes immediately went to the fire dragon, demanding. "What did you do?"
Voronflame growled back. "Nothing I should not have. This has never happened to any of my kind before. I know not why this human is to weak to accept what will help her." Gandalf seethed and turned to the elves. "What happened?"
Legolas was the one who answered, explaining about the cure. The Maia went white and then calm, deadly calm as he turned back to the fire dragon. His voice almost hissed and Morroch looked between them with growing fear. Something was wrong here and he had a horrible feeling that Arienel was the victim. The Maia's voice was deceptively reasonable sounding. "You told Morroch to give her dragon blood? You instructed a dragon that has never met one of his own kind, has never learned the laws of your species to give a Maia dragon blood!" His voice was no longer quiet and Voronflame looked stunned, glancing at Arienel with worry.
"I didn't know. No one told me she wasn't merely elven!" was the snarled reply and Elladan's voice finally cut through the air. "What is wrong!" Both the red dragon and the Maia glared at each other, but Morroch's uncertain whine gave them another focus. Gandalf started to explain and the group listened carefully.
Dragons and Maiar were not on good terms with the other, never had been. The Maiar considered the Dragons to be primitive and arrogant. The Dragons thought the Maiar spoiled and too meddling for their own good. It didn't help matters that tragedy hung between the two races. Tragedies of different kinds for both, but still a blow for either species because it happened that a Maia's power attracted a Dragons in what they called a 'Rishten' - Bond-pull - and the Dragon had no way of fighting such a thing once it was initiated. At first this wasn't a bad thing, but as time went on, Maiar either rejected Dragons - sentencing them to a miserable existence or even death - or took them to Valinor, where their families never saw them again. That was the Dragon's tragedy. The Maiars' was a bit different, but no less dangerous. Dragon blood was deadly to a Maiar in a strange way. It didn't kill them, but rather acted in the unpredictable way that it would capture the power of another. Sometimes the blood would take the Maia's power and give it to the dragon or the other way around. Either way, it was harmful to both species.
An agreement, an oath had finally been sworn between the two races that they would have minimal contact with each other, they would avoid having a Rishten happening on the Dragon's part and no blood would be shared between them. Morroch, at the instruction of Voronflame, had broken this oath. In fact, both Arienel and Morroch had broken the first one about the Rishten long before.
Morroch absorbed the information with horror and went over to his rider, touching her head with his muzzle. He jumped back with a yelp as the air above his nose sizzled. Voronflame looked curious and drew the front of his face, his nose really, through the window to feel the girl's skin. He touched it and felt the warmth, but it did not burn him. It felt like his scales did when he used his fire. He told the elleth's companions this. "So the lassie is in danger of losing her powers or gaining Morroch's, which happen to include fire?" the dwarf asked in concern and confusion, the image of Arienel bleeding in his arms flashing in his mind. Gimli didn't show it often, but he cared for the elleth and didn't want to see her hurting. Hadn't she gone through enough?
"It would appear so." the red dragon answered, withdrawing his head. He really didn't know what to say. If he'd known the female was a Maia, he would have let death take her before revealing the cure, but he hadn't known and now there was nothing they could do.
A half hour passed before the elleth settled down. Gandalf touched his hand to her forehead cautiously and was relieved to feel normal temperature. Seeing that she was calm now and the fever had run it's course, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf left, promising to check in soon and knowing that Arienel was in good hands - not matter what happened. After all, the sons of Elrond were healers like their father, even if not as strong as the great elven lord. Voronflame descended to the plains, knowing that Dagoryn could call him if he was needed. There was nothing any of them could do but wait for the results of this accident.
The peace didn't last long, as Arienel began muttering and tossing again a little while after the four's departure. Elrohir was the first to realize what might be going on and his eyes widened as they watched the elleth and Elladan gripped his shoulder in disbelief. Morroch awoke from a light sleep as he sensed a change in his rider - he'd sensed a change in himself awhile ago, but hadn't said anything. Looking up from his position on the floor, the wolf saw something that he had hoped not to see, but was not surprised too.
Arienel was now a red wolf, her fur the same shade her hair had been. She was slightly smaller than Morroch, but still intimidating in her own right...and her form was quickly changing again. The twins approached the bed carefully as a fox emerged before their startled eyes. When the elleth's shape once again started reforming, Elrohir hurriedly scooped the red fox up and raced for the courtyard, his brother and Morroch following close behind. He had realized that just like with Voronflame that the elleth was taking on Morroch's forms and the shape-shifter had taken much bigger shapes than a wolf or fox.
They passed startled healers and the shape-shifter, who was now ahead of the elf, snarled at them to make them move. A horse developed in the dark-haired elf's arms as he stumbled into the Courtyard of the Fountain and Elrohir fell to his knees, the red equine tumbling the short distance from his arms to the ground, never waking. In the next few minutes, Arienel took on the shape of a cat, a red cat-creature, a large cat and finally a small - but still big by human standards - delicate-looking red dragon before once again returning to her original form. She hadn't woken once and Elrohir cautiously picked her up again, cradling her body.
The two elves and the shape-shifter waited for around fifteen minutes before bringing the elleth back to her room. Once they had her in bed, had reassured the healers that they weren't needed, the twins checked her injuries and were surprised to see that the wounds were gone, nothing but pink scars left to mar her skin. Morroch could have explained what shape-shifting did to injuries, but he remained quiet and the twins did not ask him, only shaking their heads over the mystery. Elrohir sat on the bed and ran a hand through his hair, petting Morroch as the canine laid his head on the dark-haired elf's leg. Elladan said something about going to get food and Gandalf and left. It was only a few minutes later after he'd gone that the dark-haired elf and the wolf felt the female stir.
Arienel opened her eyes slowing, feeling strange, but better than she had the last time she had been awake. The elleth blinked and focused on the two faces looking down at her. Seeing who it was, the elleth smiled, feeling shaky and frail, yet at the same time like she was ready to burst with energy. "Hi." It was raspy, her throat dry and scratchy from misuse. Elrohir grabbed the water by the bed and helped her sit up, helped her drink. He couldn't help but remember the last time they'd done this in Rohan. That sickness seemed like such an easy thing right now... Morroch jumped onto the bed and pressed his body beside his rider's, whining softly in relief. The wolf didn't speak, though, and that puzzled Arienel. The last time she'd seen him, he'd left her and now he wasn't speaking?
What had happened anyway? The question was out of her mouth, directed at Elrohir without hesitation and her concern grew when he winced and looked away, saying that Gandalf could better explain...
Arienel sat up gingerly in the bed, grimacing as her body changed once again, the sensation strange and admittedly, growing uncomfortable. A red cat sat and looked at Morroch, Elrohir and Voronflame with frustrated eyes. She had hoped Gandalf would have the answers she needed, but after explaining how she'd gotten injured and then about the cure, he'd had no idea how to reverse what had been done. The Maia had shared some good news, though. They'd won the war. The Dark Lord was gone! It had been enough to bring a smile to her face.
Morroch rubbed up against the feline, both of them on the bed. The black wolf whined softly, unable to speak aloud anymore. Their minds were still linked, though and that was a relief to both. "It will be well." Arienel nodded, shifting into her normal shape and shivered as Elrohir sat down and rubbed soothing circles on her back. "I hope so." Trying to distract herself from the situation, the elleth looked at the red dragon outside the window. He'd come earlier and they'd been introduced, not a comfortable moment for either of them. She didn't quite like seeing the animal that had taken her friend from her, but the elleth was curious. "Morroch, what happened?" She knew the others wouldn't be able to hear what was said, but most likely they already knew some of it. They hadn't tried to kill Voronflame yet, after all. The shape-shifter settled down beside his rider on the bed as she shifted once more to match his wolf shape. Elrohir continued to rub her back, but more in a petting way now.
Morroch began to tell her what had happened...
(flashback) Morroch flew hard, the fire dragon right behind him and getting closer. He imagined he could feel the heat of the other's breath. The shape-shifter heaved for his own air as he sought a landing place in the Mountains of Shadow. He had to land. His wings were starting jerk with cramps and there was no way he could out-fly the creature behind him. Spotting a relatively flat area, the black dragon landed heavily, not having time to descend properly. He had just enough time to take in a much needed gulp of air before he was tackled, his opponent landing on him from the sky.
The two dragons rolled, bit, clawed and roared at one another, neither quite gaining the advantage. The great red creature had strength, but the smaller, black dragon was quick. Morroch finally managed to wiggle free of the tangled limbs, bleeding and snarling angrily. "I don't want to fight you, my kin! And I know you would not wish to fight me if you were in your right mind." The black dragon dodged attacks and blasts of fire from the bigger dragon as he spoke, panting. The fire dragon's eyes flashed with sorrow and recognition before going blank again. He lunged at Morroch with a roar.
The shape-shifter threw himself back into the fight, but his heart wasn't in it and he had never intended to really fight the bigger dragon anyway. Morroch realized with sudden horror that the fire dragon was too strong for him and he was too tired as it pushed him into the ground. The red creature went for the black dragon's throat and Morroch closed his eyes, dreading the pain and knowledge that he would be dead in a matter of seconds. The blow never came as the fire dragon paused, eyes flickering. A concussion ripped the air and the great dragon's eyes rolled back as he went unconscious.
Morroch managed to move out from under the red dragon with difficulty. He was exhausted, but knew he couldn't leave one of his kind like this, much as he was tempted to for all the trouble the bulky creature had caused him. Taking both a mental and physical breath, the black dragon entered the fire dragon's mind cautiously.
*** Fire. Fire was everywhere. Morroch could feel it dancing across his scales, filling his lungs, skimming his eyes, settling into his mouth. The black dragon walked through the flames, feeling their warmth. They wrapped around him like a friend. He was welcomed here. The shape-shifter crossed over channels of magma and erupting fissures, searching for the red dragon. He stood still as he heard a strange sound. It was a keening cry that tore through the black dragon's soul. It was another dragon in pain and grief.
The black shape-shifter moved toward the heartbreaking noise. He came upon the fire dragon laying on his side, the mournful call streaming out of his open mouth in a constant flow. Morroch stepped cautiously closer and made an inquiring warble, unsure of what he was doing, but knowing the sound was in no way challenging. The despairing sound cut off abruptly as the great, red dragon looked up with red eyes, eyes that looked to be aflame. The fire in those eyes danced sadly, worn out. The black dragon stretched his head out in a friendly gesture.
The fire dragon's eyes light up slowly with a larger flame and he climbed to his feet, towering over the smaller dragon. He bent his head and touched noses with the shape-shifter almost tentatively. Morroch sighed in relief. "Come, I'll take you out." ***
Morroch blinked as reality came back into focus. He looked over at the giant, red dragon and climbed to his feet as it woke, ready to face the other creature if he had to, but hoping for better. The fire dragon looked around in slight confusion before his eyes settled on the black dragon. The Shape-shifter spoke softy. "Welcome back."
The red dragon's voice was deep, but hoarse with disuse. "I am sorry for hurting you. It was not something I wanted to do." Morroch shook his head. his limbs exhausted. "It is in the past and I understand that you were not in control of your actions." At that thought, the shape-shifter's eyes widened and he closed his eyes, letting his bond to Arienel flood with relief into his mind. The reunion was not what he expected, though, happy or angry. Something felt wrong with his rider. "Ainarë?"
The elleth's mind went alarmingly dark and unresponsive. Morroch opened his eyes in panic, a chill sweeping into his body and then closed his eyes again, searching for the link between him and the female. He sighed in shaky relief after detecting it. She had not closed him off...or died. The red dragon had watched the smaller one closely. "Are you well?" he asked in concern, but mostly in curiosity. Morroch shook his head. "No. I have to get back to the army." He bunched his hindquarters. "You are free to follow me or go your own way. I'm sorry, but I have to go." He launched into the air with tired wings, fear giving him strength. The red dragon took flight as well. "I owe you my life. I will come with you." (end flashback)
As Morroch finished the recounting of the battle between he and Voronflame, Arienel's body shifted partway from a wolf to a horse before settling into the wolf shape again. He elleth gritted her teeth, as the shifting made her shiver, the entire thing uncomfortable and tiring. Elrohir watched Arienel closely. After seeing her shape change again, he stood. "I'm going to find Mithrandir. We need to get you help and there must be something he can think of." Arienel smiled at him gratefully and he kissed her forehead before leaving. The elleth looked at the black wolf with her lupine sky blue eyes. "Is that it? How did you know where I was? When did you find out Voronflame's name? What happened to him?" the red wolf asked, forgetting for a moment that the red dragon, in question, was here and while he could see they were conversing, he could not hear what was said.
Morroch smiled a wolfish smile, concern for her condition dampening his amusement. "If you will be quiet, I will tell you, Ainarë." he chided. The red wolf snorted at him and growled a little in her throat in a pretend threatening manner. The black wolf chuckled and moved playfully away. Arienel's form changed again. A red falcon looked in frustration at her talons as she tried to balance on her sheets.
Voronflame watched with a curiosity, tilting his head. The red dragon found the relationship between the two more than strange, having seen the way bonds between Maia and Dragons worked out in the past. He was still having some trouble with the fact that this female was important to the black dragon at all. There was the fact that Dagoryn was naive to dragon ways, of course, but still...
Morroch looked at the falcon in sympathy and laid down be her side again. A shudder went through the female's body and a newly shifted red wolf sighed next to the shape-shifter. "This is getting ridiculous." The black wolf nuzzled her in sympathy and started talking once again.
(flashback) Morroch flew hard toward the area of the Black Gate, the army coming quickly into sight. He landed with a thud in an open area - uncaring of the orc bodies under his feet - and the red dragon circled above, to big to land in the mens' midst. The shape-shifter garnered the attention of his friends and Aragorn, Legolas, Elladan and Gimli - who the black dragon noticed was covered in blood that smell told him did not belong to an orc - ran over.
"Morroch! Arienel was injured! Elrohir went with one of the Eagle's and they are taking her to the City along with Frodo and Sam." Legolas said quickly, knowing the shape-shifter would want to know right away. Morroch looked at the dwarf again, his eyes taking in the bright, red blood. His mind put two and two together and the black dragon took flight with a roar. Legolas' heart felt a bit better knowing that the dragon was going to be with his sister. Morroch had helped her recover from danger before. The elven prince laid a hand on Gimli's shoulder. The dwarf looked down at the blood on his armor, all down his front. There was quite a lot of it. His hazel eyes looked after the departing dragons, now far away in the distance. He hoped the White Eagle made it to the City in time.
Aragorn sighed after the retreating creatures, wishing he could have gone to help, but he knew his place was here, with the men. He was their leader now. He could not abandon them. "Eru keep her safe," the future king whispered.
The red dragon followed the black dragon closely. He didn't know why the shape-shifter seemed frantic to get to the human City, but he knew that he owed the smaller dragon his life...and much more. The fire dragon shook his head. There would be a time to think about the past and the distant future, but right now was not it. There would be time to make amends later.
Morroch watched the sky get darker and knew with a feeling of dread in his stomach that he wouldn't be able to make it to Minas Tirith that night. As the sky turned black, the dragon's wings began to warn him that he had overworked them to the breaking point today. The shape-shifter started to descend into the spars woods below, just beginning to realize that the red dragon was still behind him. He landed less than gracefully and fell on his side, breathing heavily, feeling like crying his frustration and fear to the sky. The red-dragon landed as well, but with more careful execution, and laid down across from the black dragon.
Morroch finally raised his head and settled his body in a more comfortable position. The shape-shifter closed his eyes and reached for his rider. Darkness greeted him and he bit back a small sob, laying his head down on the ground, his eyes shut tightly. He couldn't help the tremors that shook his body. How could he have left her? The red dragon's warble had the black dragon looking up, startled.
"Why are we flying with haste towards the human City?"
The shape-shifter sighed, not wanting to deal with this. "Do you remember seeing something on my back before we battled?" The fire dragon nodded, eyes narrowing. He had thought it strange.
"That was my friend, Arienel. I left her behind to fight you and now I've found out she was injured and taken to Minas Tirith. I have to get to her."
The red dragon tilted his head. "Why are you so concerned about this human? They die so easily. Surely you can find another if you desired her as a mate." He was testing the waters. Did Morroch have the ability to shift into a two-leg? Was he in truth bonded to this human? Morroch glared, but didn't move from his spot. "She is not going to die. She is my rider, my friend. I am bonded to her, though, we are not mates. I cannot shift into that type of form and she is not mine to have. I care about her and I need to get to the City," he answered snappishly, an edge to his voice. The fire dragon moved his head back at the protectiveness in the black dragon's gaze, but not out of fear. "I see. I am sorry."
The shape-shifter nodded, accepting the apology. "What about you? Who are you? How did you end up in Sauron's control?" He'd decided to change the subject and hopefully be distracted from his worry for even a little while. The red dragon settled down into a more comfortable position, slightly on his side with his front legs tucked under him and his front legs close to his chest. "My name is Voronflame. I am a Fire and Knowledge Dragon halfbreed and the Fire Ancient of the Dragon Clan," he began and then stopped, knowing that the black dragon would want an explanation.
He was right.
"What is an Ancient? And what Dragon Clan?"
"Ancients are the leaders of the dragons. They are the decision-makers in the Dragon Clan. Many are old, but an Ancient can be a young as a Kinwa. There are nine Ancients, one for each type of Dragon...or at least there used to be. Now there are only eight. The Dragon Clan is made up of all or most of the dragons in Arda. We live together as a family of sorts, many different kinds of us."
Morroch's head was spinning. A Dragon Clan? Only eight Ancients? What had happened to the ninth? What type of dragon had it been? How many types were there? Kinwa? The black dragon decided to store the information away for the time being. He would bring it up later. Voronflame saw the confused look, but when Morroch said nothing, he continued. "I was captured by Sauron while trying to rescue a dragonling from a fissure in the mountain. They are not allowed to go outside because they cannot fly at such a young age, but this one had gotten out of the Nesting Cavern and had fallen into a steep crack of the mountain. As I was attempting to help the little thing, I was attacked by a group of trolls and orcs. I had gotten myself in an awkward position and could not immediately fight back. I was captured and sedated. They had been ready for a large dragon, something I still find suspicious, but don't know the answer as to how they would know where I was or even that I would come."
Morroch nodded in understanding. "They took you to Mordor...how? How did they get you there?" he asked, noting the red dragon's great size. He was almost as large as one of the siege engines carrying orcs that had attacked Minas Tirith. Voronflame growled deep in his throat. "A plant that one of the Nâzgul gave me through a cut when he joined the orcs and Trolls. It kept my mind foggy and heavy, so they were able to get me walking the way they wanted to go."
"How long ago did this happen?"
"Three years ago," was the angry reply.
"Three years! Why?"
"I had no idea until earlier today. They wanted me to destroy you and possibly your...rider."
Morroch shook his head and stood. He started pacing, something Arienel did frequently and he had picked up. "That doesn't make sense...how did Sauron know about me or Ainarë? We hadn't even met..."
Voronflame rumbled in his throat thoughtfully and a bit guiltily looking off into the woods. The shape-shifter caught the guilt. "What do you know?" The fire dragon sighed and looked down. "Something that the Dark Lord might have known, but I can't be sure. It is something that could have given you both away, though, Arienel's information is less likely."
"What is it? You speak in riddles." Morroch all but growled as his gold eyes flamed.
"I can't tell you...not yet. You wouldn't understand and the story would take too long. You need rest if you are going to fly to the human City tomorrow." The red dragon was hoping to distract. He couldn't tell the part he had played... The shape-shifter glared, but didn't speak. The fire dragon might have been right, but Morroch didn't have to be happy about it. "Fine, but I will want you to explain if the time comes when we are safe and unhurried."
Voronflame sighed. "Yes," he consented. "Don't worry that I will leave...I owe you my life and your family even more." With that cryptic message, he closed his eyes to sleep. Morroch laid down again, still unhappy and now with more questions than he wanted in his head. The absence of Arienel by his side as he fell asleep was a sharp pain, but the shape-shifter finally drifted into a restless slumber. (end flashback)
Arienel looked at Voronflame, studying him through the window and finally she spoke, the words feeling weird in canine mouth. "Morroch has told me how you two met. Have you answered those questions yet?" The red dragon looked at her with wariness, understanding the question, before reluctantly answering stiffly. "No, there has not been a proper time to and I will not be sharing what I have to say with anyone but Dagoryn."
The red-furred wolf glared. She didn't like this dragon's tone of superiority and she keenly didn't like his use of that name for the shape-shifter. "I will know anything my shape-shifter knows," she snapped back with ice lacing her voice. Voronflame's eyes narrowed threateningly. How dare she even suggest Dagoryn was HERS! Morroch interceded quickly at this point before things could get ugly with a sharp bark. He could sense the red dragon's irritation and dislike for his rider at that moment and he could feel Arienel's possessiveness and anger. "Ainarë. It is fine. He will tell me in time and I will make sure you know. Give him time to adjust to us and our ways."
The red wolf backed down, fur still raised and looked at her paws with a glare. "I don't like him using that name." She admitted it quietly, knowing Morroch already knew through their bond. The black wolf rubbed his head against hers. "It is only a name, Arienel."
"Why does he call you it?"
"When Voronflame calls me Dagoryn, it is because of the meaning behind the name. He and his kind give half-names to their dragonlings depending on the type of dragon they are. A dragon only gets his or her Full Name when they reveal their name to others by showing who they are. Morroch or 'Darkhorse', I'm told, is not a name fitting of a dragon. Dagoryn or 'Battle-bringer', however, is fine."
"Oh. I understand..." Arienel did understand, but she still didn't like it much.
Voronflame could tell that something was being said between the two, but didn't comment. The fire dragon looked at the red wolf with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. What did the shape-shifter see in this...mixed creature? Why would he willingly subject himself to these walls and limitations? This...two-leg?
Morroch continued his tale.
(flashback) Morroch awoke abruptly. He was initially confused by his surroundings, but adjusted quickly, sniffing the air as he rose. The black dragon tried to contact his bonded with no success. Opening his eyes and looking over, he saw that Voronflame was awake as well, still laying on the ground, regarding him with a strange expression.
"I don't know your name."
The shape-shifter blinked. His name? "It is Morroch."
The fire dragon's face twisted into a grimace of displeasure. Darkhorse? "That is not a dragon name," he said sternly, as if to an unruly young one. Morroch face was a mask of surprise and faint annoyance. They didn't have time for this! "It is the name given to me."
"By your heart-mother?" It was said with a layer of shocked disbelief. The black dragon tilted his head, gold eyes narrowed. How did Voronflame know that he hadn't known his blood-mother and would have to be raised by someone else? The questions just kept buzzing in Morroch's head. "No. Arienel gave it to me."
The larger dragon shook his head. Typical human. His dislike of this Arienel grew. "It is not a name befitting a dragon. Do you have any other?"
Morroch hesitated. Dagoryn was the name Gandalf had given him - why, he did not know but the thought of giving it to a stranger made him uncertain. He didn't want to lie, though, and so spoke. "Yes. I am also called Dagoryn." Battle-bringer. The red dragon nodded, satisfied. "It is a good name."
Morroch sighed, not even about to question at this point, nor caring. Maybe later. There were a few things from last night that he was curious about, though. He had to get to Minas Tirith, but these questions wouldn't leave him be. "Voronflame? What is a Kinwa and how many types of dragons are there?"
"A Kinwa is a young dragon that has not yet reached adulthood, but is no longer a child. Kinwa can mate and when they do that can elevate them up to a status of Fangna or Clawnii. A Clawnii is a grown male dragon and a Fangna is a grown female dragon. Now the nine types of dragon are these: Fire dragon, Water Dragon, Sky Dragon, Earth Dragon, Battle Dragon, Messenger Dragon, Knowledge Dragon, Treasure Dragon and Shape-shifter Dragon. I am a mix between a Fire Dragon and a Knowledge Dragon. I show more characteristics of a Fire Dragon and that is what I am known as."
Morroch absorbed the knowledge carefully and then decided to ask the questions that he knew would probably silence his companion's flow of information. "What happened to the ninth Ancient? What type of dragon was it?" As predicted, the fire dragon's face closed off. "I'm sorry, but that would raise to many questions from you. Questions I can't answer right now."
The shape-shifter nodded as he stretched his wings, not too disappointed with the elusive answer. It had given him answers all on its own. Morroch now knew that the ninth Ancient had been a Shape-shifter Dragon. He knew that part of what Voronflame didn't want to talk about concerned the shape-shifters presence in the world...or lack thereof, and the black dragon knew that the fire dragon didn't *want* to talk about it, not that he *couldn't*. Voronflame didn't want to talk about the shape-shifters because his past was tied up with them in some way. A way that the great, red dragon was ashamed of. Morroch didn't pry and settled into a launching position, his thoughts already fly through the sky toward Arienel. "Again, you are free to follow or go as you please."
The larger dragon took flight when the smaller did. "And I tell you again: I owe you my life and I will see that the debt is repaid. I am coming." Morroch warbled gratefully and they made off towards the City.
"How did you meet your Arienel?"
Morroch smiled a bit and told his tale. (end flashback)
"Is that it?" Arienel asked when Morroch showed no signs of continuing.
"Yes. We flew into the City and met with Gandalf. I stayed in your room as the Healers treated you and Voronflame stayed in the narrow area at the end of the Courtyard of the Fountain. When the Healers knew they could to nothing for you, Voronflame gave us a cure for the fell beast toxin."
"And that is why my body is rebelling now and has robbed you of your power," the red wolf grumbled aloud as her form shuddered and half shifted again. Her body seemed to be unable to make up its mind and she found herself looking at her hands a moment later. The elleth sighed, but looked up at a familiar voice. "Yes, but at least you are not dead, pen neth." Gandalf walked in, followed by the twins. Elrohir sat on the bed and smiled at the female. "Mithrandir will help," he murmured to her, brushing red hair behind her ear. Arienel smiled and without thinking, leaned against him, away from Morroch. Her form altered yet again and the dark-haired elf found a cat on his lap, purring strongly. The feline looked up at his face in embarrassment and was grateful for the fact that as a cat she couldn't blush. Arienel started to climb off the comfy lap, but was restrained by the son of Elrond, who cradled her in his arms with a chuckle.
Voronflame snorted, but Morroch and Elladan grinned. Gandalf just stood over the two and then looked at the red dragon. "Do you know a cure for this?" His tone could have been called sarcastic. The fire dragon glared, but got a thoughtful look. "I think there is a cure, but its secret has been lost to time." It wasn't encouraging, but it was the truth. The Maia muttered to himself and Arienel caught a bit of it, looking sharply at him with a disapproving frown. Gandalf turned back to the red cat. "Can you control the changes at all?"
Arienel blinked, unsure, but concentrated and felt nothing but her bond to Morroch, her own Maia power and another stranger power that she knew to be the shape-shifter ability she was experiencing. The red cat's mind steered clear of the foreign power, he gift and body trying to reject it more strongly the closer she came to it. The feeling was like two bulls butting heads and trying to shove the other out - when they had no where to go. "I am sorry, but I can't."
Mithrandir nodded knowingly. "As I suspected. This power isn't going to adapt to your body or get along with your own gift. They are compatible while in different forms, but not in such close proximity."
Arienel nodded her feline head and stepped out of Elrohir's lap, arching her back against the canine's fur, sending comfort to the shape-shifter who was watching with worried and tired gold eyes. "How long will this last?" Gandalf looked at Voronflame, but the dragon shook his head. The Maia returned his gaze back to the cat and sighed. "I don't know, pen neth," he said sadly. The female sighed and she laid down by Morroch, licking his fur soothingly, trying to calm herself as much as him. Her shape changed again to match the shape-shifter's and the red-furred wolf's ears went back as she thought. Why did she always return to this form when in contact with the black wolf? Would they be like this forever? How could they give Morroch back his gift? How long would it take before the two powers inside her decided they couldn't be together anymore?
No one seemed to have any answers.
*HUGE yawn* Hope you liked it. I stayed up until 3:00am my time to write it for you (give thanks to GT). Now I am off to bed and sleeeeeep...please review so I know this effort was worth it. Thank you!
GT ~ There. This chapter is for you because you made me do it! Ugh, all that lovely reviewing got my brain working and it wouldn't stop! *glares* I hope you are happy. ;)
Ahem, girlish glee...that cracked me up to read about as did your reaction to me posting a chapter so quickly. Glad I could make you happy. Elrohir is glad I LET him kiss her. Don't blame the poor elf. He has very little control over what I make him do. Arienel on the other hand... *shudders*
Thank you for reviewing! They made my day!
~ Kaisaan
Languages
Voronflame = Loyal Flame (mixture of elven and common tongue. This is common for Ancient Dragons, Knowledge Dragons and Halfbreed Dragons.)
Brassen = White (yes in elven)
Eldanarë = Elven Fire
Amlug-nerthril = Dragonrider (feminized)
Kinwa, Fangna, Clawnii and Rishten are all my own creations. The Dragon Clan, Nesting Cavern, Ancients, even the concept of all this being in Middle-earth belongs to me. No stealing, please.