Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.
A/N: I'm SO sorry for being late, guys, but I've now officially entered my full-time revision. So the last few chapters might be a little sporadic in terms of posting. I will try to stick to my weekend posts as much as possible, but I just thought I'd warn you.
Big thanks to BlastBurn54 for following/favouriting :)
Review Response(s):
Dragon Man 180: ...Yeah, I would have liked to see that too :3
Pietersielie: Ooh, you got beaten off the line this time round ;) Glad you liked it, though.
jsun25: Well, there are still a few chapters to go yet :)
gabiey: Glad you thought so!
Mac Gustah: The Assassins are pretty cool, too. I'm secretly a double agent, but I can't tell you whose side I'm REALLY on, because otherwise I'd have to kill you. As for school... Trust me, man, I know the feeling -_-
Chapter 55:
Mental, physical and emotional exhaustion meant Ira didn't go back to the main army after arriving in Minas Tirith. As soon as she was ushered out of the healing tents by two extremely insistent healers, she went straight to a wall, slumped against it, and fell into a deep slumber that lasted over eighteen hours. When she woke she was lying in a plush, comfortable bed.
Sam woke up after just a few hours, and ever since then he'd only ever left Frodo's side to eat and, once, to wash. Ira hadn't yet been able to drag up the courage to tell him that Alduin was dead. But she didn't give enough credit to the little hobbit, because he, unbeknownst to her, had already worked it out. Her lacklustre attitude was a large clue, but Sam had so rarely seen one without the other that Alduin's absence made it all too clear what had happened. And in his own way, Samwise Gamgee also grieved the loss of his friend.
Eleniel had been placed in a healing tent at first, but after a few strong, harsh words from the Dragonborn, she was moved into one of the palace gardens, in direct view of the bright, spring sunlight. While she had yet to wake up, her skin was starting to regain its colour and vigour, and in general she looked far healthier (looking past the very obvious fact she hadn't eaten properly in days).
Frodo was still deep in slumber, and it didn't look like that was going to change very soon. He hadn't so much as twitched the entire time he'd been in the healing tent, nor when he was moved into one of the palace's guest rooms.
The army were expected to return within the next few hours, and half of the population of Minas Tirith had been up since sunrise putting up more healing tents and gathering as many supplies as they could. Most of the tents were scattered beyond the front gates so the injured men wouldn't have to be dragged through the city to reach the care they would so desperately need.
Ira wandered through the palace, fiddling with the silver ring on her finger as she went. It was an unconscious action, but it brought her a slight measure of comfort. It reminded her that it hadn't all been a dream - both the good bits and the bad bits.
After knocking lightly on the door, Ira ducked inside Frodo's room, seeing Sam was fast asleep, his head resting on the edge of Frodo's bed. The window in the corner was wide open, letting in the cool air from outside, so Ira picked up a woollen blanket and draped it over Sam's shoulders. Some of the tension in his body immediately drained away when the warm fabric protected him from the chill.
Ira's eyes, like they always did when she saw the little dark haired hobbit, went straight to his throat. Around his neck was a dark, red line. Ira knew it was from where the chain of his necklace had been, the Ring of Power literally weighing down on his skin. But the mark looked more like a burn, and Ira worried that it would leave permanent damage. Frodo didn't need any more reminders of the traumatic experiences he'd been forced to endure.
Pulling up a chair, Ira sat herself down on the other side of Frodo's bed, picking up the book she'd left on the table next to it. It wasn't a particularly imaginative book - it was a story about a ghost who came back from the dead to cut people's heads off - but it was well written and kept her occupied.
This was it for her. Her last adventure for a long time had almost drawn to a close. For the moment, she was perfectly content with her new, calm life. But Ira wasn't naïve - she knew it wouldn't be long before she was craving the excitement of the unknown once again. At least this time she'd have something to distract her from thoughts of adventure.
Without thinking, Ira's hand slipped down to her stomach. There was no discernible bump yet, and Ira honestly didn't expect one to show for quite some time. Still, there was something strangely intimate in the knowledge that she had such a weak and vulnerable creature growing within her. Ira began to wonder whether it would be a boy or a girl. Would it be more human than dragon, or more dragon than human? Would it be able to shift, like its parents, or would it have a share of their characteristics? Would it simply be one or the other? Ira had to admit, as much as she was already loving the fact that she was going to have the chance to raise her own child, she wasn't overly keen on the idea of giving birth to a dragonling.
A slight groan pulled her out of her thoughts, and Ira dropped her hand from her stomach whilst also closing her book and putting it on her lap. Sam lifted his head, blinking blearily, then sent her a tired smile.
"Good morning," he greeted, before yawning.
Ira chuckled. "Good afternoon," she replied.
"Afternoon?" Sam asked in confusion, before glancing out of the window to see the sun in the Western part of the sky. "I didn't realise I'd sleep for so long."
Smiling, Ira said, "You don't have to sound so ashamed, Samwise Gamgee. You've been through a lot - you deserve a little extra time to rest." She gestured to the window sill behind him. "You missed breakfast, and lunch. That food will be cold by now but I'm sure you don't mind." And, proving her words right, Sam went straight for the food and started wolfing it down. Ira laughed. "Easy, easy," she said, and Sam paused to look up at her. She smiled fondly at him. "You don't want to eat too fast, otherwise you'll throw it all back up again."
Sam cringed at the words, before continuing to eat at a far more normal pace (though Ira still thought it was a little bit too fast). After a minute of silence, an echoing sound - one they'd all been eagerly waiting to hear - resonated over the land. Ira and Sam met each other's delight-filled faces, before they jumped up in unison and raced out of the palace.
While Sam was expecting to run all the way through the city to meet their friends, Ira had no such plans. She paused in the palace courtyard only long enough to shift her form, before she swept Sam into her claws and flew towards the army.
She dropped Sam from a slightly higher altitude than she'd originally planned, but he didn't seem to care, racing off as soon as his hairy feet touched the ground and throwing himself at Merry and Pippin, who were laughing with joy. They eagerly returned the embrace. Ira did exactly the same thing, but instead she pulled Aragorn into a tight hug, smiling brightly over his shoulder at the others, who were practically beaming at her. Ira assumed their happiness was because they were finally back and the war was over, but in truth, they were happy that Ira had more or less become herself again.
Aragorn pulled away after several seconds, his expression serious. "Did you find the others?"
Ira nodded, smiling widely. "They're alright," she said, much to the blatant relief of her friends. "Frodo and Eleniel have yet to wake, but they'll be absolutely fine once they do. Frodo's comfortably in bed, and Eleniel is back out in the sunlight. They're both already beginning to look better."
"This is good news," Gandalf said with a smile, even though his eyes and body looked incredibly weary.
"The healing tents have been set up throughout the city for anyone who's injured," Ira reported. "I - with the help of Lady Eowyn - managed to convince as many of the citizens of Minas Tirith as possible to help out with the influx of men who are about to come in. We have a work force of about three hundred, including every one of the Grey Company, and I think there are around eighty tents, most of which are in front of the city gates."
Aragorn placed a strong hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You've done more than enough, Ira. Thank you."
"There's one more thing," Ira said with a smirk. "There's already a group of about twenty people planning your coronation. At the moment, it's scheduled to take place on the first day of May."
Aragorn sent her a mock-disappointed look. "And you didn't try to dissuade them?"
She shrugged, far too innocently for his liking. "Why should I?" She gave him a serious look. "You can only go on denying your heritage for so long, zeymah. And, whether you decide to acknowledge it or not, the people of Gondor and the people of Rohan believe you worthy of the title you were born to hold." She paused, nibbling her lip slightly. "I should warn you though... Denethor, he..."
"He's gone back to how he was before, hasn't he?" Faramir murmured listlessly. Ira sent him a sympathetic look, but nodded. He sighed. "I suppose, deep down, I knew that was how it would be. My father lusts for the throne too much."
"I will talk to him," Aragorn said, clapping Faramir on the shoulder. "Perhaps he and I can settle things before they are blown out of proportion."
"If nothing else, you will always have a higher status than him," Faramir said with a wry quirk of his lips. "If you give him a direct order, he has no choice but to obey you."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," the Ranger murmured, frowning slightly.
Ira gave him a look that told him not to be naïve, before stepping back and shifting into her dragon form. She stared down at the army before her, before giving a toothy grin and sail into the air, letting out a dramatic stream of fire from her maw, relishing in the cheers of the men behind them. This was it. With Sauron vanquished, the people who had served under his rein would scatter, and the free people of Middle Earth would become just that - free. Forever.
And with great certainty, Ira knew the men and women of the world of men would be fine without her for a while. So with this thought in mind, and without the need of a goodbye, Ira sailed off North, towards the place where a different part of her heart had left itself.
As she flew, Ira became aware of a large body of movement, heading towards the same mountain as her, only coming from further East. A single, enhanced glanced told her all she needed to know before she swept down upon the army and started to rain fire upon them. In seconds their screams filled the air, both from fear and from pain. A strange sensation filled Ira from the pit of her stomach, and even as she dove down and swept away several dozen men, a burning sensation started to assault her. She felt her body jerk of its own accord, and her eyes widened when, a split-second later, a sharp spear flew past her. Had she not moved, that spear would have hit her.
Pushing the strangeness of the situation away, Ira allowed the rage to fill her, and she started flying faster, moving more agilely and spewing flames that were twice as hot. Within just a few minutes the whole army lay as ash on the ground, drifting lazily in the wind. Fires burned fiercely, but as Ira circled, the wind she generated were quick to blow out the flames, leaving the battleground a wasteland.
Then, as if the event had never taken place, Ira returned to her original course and didn't look back. But she couldn't help but wonder about that pain inside of her, the one that saved her life. Her first thought was that her unborn child had some sort of advanced cognitive ability, but then remembered the protection charm Alduin had put on her and her child. Since Alduin had died, Ira assumed the Shout would have failed but what if... What if, since Alduin could no longer protect them through the use of his Shout, what if the Shout then turned and converged on Ira, so she would know when she or her child were in danger. She didn't think that was possible, but she had never bothered to learn about the lore of the dragon tongue and their Shouts. It was the only explanation she could come up with, by any means.
The Lonely Mountain and the city of Dale looked completely untouched by the war by the time she arrived, flying low over the city of men before landing on the dirt path that connected the two great cities. But while the kingdoms themselves seemed unharmed, there was a heavy sense of sorrow and hardship lingering in the air, and Ira knew for certain that this part of the world had not gone without its fierce skirmishes.
She was actually amazed that no one had tried to attack her as she flew overhead, but if the story of her and the boy on the bridge in Erebor had spread, no doubt she'd be known to the people of Dale by now.
Ira allowed her bones to shift and shorten themselves, feeling the rush of energy that shifted through her veins as it always did. She walked calmly but confidently up to the main gate of Erebor, and a single glance from the two guards of the gate were all that was required before she was wordlessly allowed entry into the great dwarven city. The inside of the mountain was in chaos. There were white tents everywhere, and men, elves, dwarves, and all the Skyrim races alike were rushing around, trying to tend to all their injured patients without neglecting anyone. While a few of them blinked twice at her, or looked completely taken aback to see her there, most were too busy to notice the figure weaving her way between the tents. Ira headed along the familiar path towards the throne room, and once again, she was easily allowed in.
She was met by a large gathering of representatives from all races, talking cordially with one another. All talk came to a halt when her presence was registered.
Fili straightened immediately, followed quickly by Kili, Dwin and Tauriel, who Ira was surprised to see away from the Greenwood.
"Ira," Fili greeted, surprising coating his voice. "Are you alright? Where's-"
"He's in Aetherius," Ira replied shortly, ignoring the stab to the heart that accompanied the words. "But he's not the only one," she said, after taking a moment to regain her composure. "A few days ago, Sauron was destroyed. His armies have scattered, but while they will be uncoordinated, they are still large in number."
Fili breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that is at least one weight off our shoulders."
Ira frowned. "What's wrong?"
"An army was seen heading this way. Easterlings."
"They're also dead," Ira stated with a shrug. "I... ran into them on the way over here."
The King of Erebor looked at her as if she'd gone completely mental. Maybe she had. Then he let out a laugh. "Have I ever told you that you're amazing?" He asked, relaxing slightly, along with everyone else at the table.
Ira sent him a crooked grin. "You might have mentioned it once or twice."
"Have you got any more important news to share with us?" Kili asked teasingly, flashing her that charming grin he pulled off so easily Ira suspected he didn't even realise it was charming at all.
Ira pretended to think about it. "As a matter of fact, I do," she said. "Though I don't think it is quite as important in the grand scheme of things."
"Well, don't leave us in suspense," Tauriel muttered, looking at her with mock-annoyance.
Ira chuckled. "I'm pregnant," she announced, before turning and waving over her shoulder, grinning to herself as the stunned faces of her friends played before her eyes once again.
Hi, guys :) So this chapter was almost a whole thousand words longer than usual. Hope you liked it!
Until next time, and again, sorry for the wait.
