The Eye of the Ice Dragon

by Elarin

To Arabella Thorne: thank you very much for your review! I am beyond flattered and abashed and I have I find myself at a lack of words (ironically) in reply to you! Thank you! -_~

Emmica: you never did abandon this story did you? (amazing after that long period of procrastination of mine…) I wonder where Lady Harlequin's been? o_~ I love you gals!

On with the fic…

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Chapter 12 | The Seven Stars of the North

Under the glowering icy trees crowned by starlight on a moonless night only the steps of Gandalf crunching through thick ice and snow echoed through the forest for Glorfindel moved like a soft breeze disturbing little that was around him. The storm had ceased and the world had fallen into a frozen moment of eerie silence only the momentary hoots of owls breaking it.

Glorfindel helped the Maia* climb through the harder paths but even so the Grey Wanderer needed a moment to rest since his mortal body was bound to mortal limits. So they rested a while atop a hill over looking the still and frozen Hoarwell River and the faded shadow of the Ettenmoors ahead of them.

"Elrond and I have never gone beyond the Ettenmoors," Glorfindel said softly after a while turning to Gandalf who had taken a moment to light his pipe, "Last we had come here we had crossed up the source of the Hoarwell and made our way past the Langwell and the Greylin." Then he shuddered at the thought of going beyond the frozen passes of Hithaeglir.

Elves were not fond of ice nor temperatures too hot nor too cold. Glorfindel recalled the tales of the journey of Finrod and Galadriel through the frozen wastes of Helcaraxe in Beleriand and how many elves had died of heartbreak and despair surrounded by the endless winter and frozen howling winds…

"We are heading to Carn Dûm." said Gandalf breaking Glorfindel's introspection, "To the old realm of Angmar, to the broken tower… where the Witch King rests when he is not in Mordor." Glorfindel turned to the old wizard warily disliking the thought.

"Even mortals do not tread through what was once Angmar, Mithrandir." Glorfindel said his sky blue eyes focused on him, "By which way do you intend to take us? The Rangers of Eriador have reported fell things which are bred of that place."

Gandalf's dark eyes turned ahead as he looked at the wide and frozen wild of northern Eriador, much of it untamed and unexplored. He finally gave a heavy sigh, "The center path through the forests between Amon Sûl and the Hoarwell are thick and long in taking but we may find help from the Rangers if we walk along it and just as well we may meet with trouble from stray orcs and trolls. The swiftest path would be across the Ettenmoors but what lies beyond there I know little of, we shall face the barren and haunted hills of the Mountains of Angmar and there a many wargs, white and black, throughout that dark valley, but if we take the shorter route we may cut the Witch King and his minions off before he reaches the pass over the Misty Mountains toward Ered Mithrin." Gandalf said quietly, "and he may meet with Elrond on his journey sooner than expected."

Glorfindel turned to him partially surprised at what Gandalf had told him, "If the Witch King heard the wolves the night before doesn't he already head in their direction?"

Gandalf shook his head puffing on his pipe idly.

"He may be wroth but he is not impulsive," Gandalf replied, "The Witch King is no blood thirsty battle lustful orc, Glorfindel, he was made head of the Nazgul because of his cunning and his dark patience almost likened to that of Sauron." Gandalf said more quietly, "He will not go off so soon. He knows Elrond is with her and he knows also the White Wolves shall guard her and they too seek her and he shall wait for an oppurtunity to present itself before he goes to to snatch his daughter away."

Now Glorfindel looked at the other in puzzlement, "Do you mean the White Wargs are his enemy?"

Gandalf nodded, "They do not get along with the black ones. The white wolves of the frozen lands are not under the dominion of Sauron, they are fierce and they are wild and they have no liking for elves, men, or dwarves, but they also have no liking for Sauron nor his minions. They are under the sway of another: The Ice Dragon."

"What a puzzling situation this is, Mithrandir." Glorfindel told him mildly, "White wargs who are our enemies, but are also the enemy of our enemy. And this Ice Dragon? To whose side does it belong?"

Gandalf stood up putting away his pipe and wiping the snow off his ash colored robes, "That is still to be accounted for," Gandalf answered, "Although it was formed by the cold terror and ice of Morgoth I feel there is more to this creature than meets the eye." Glorfindel raised an eyebrow.

"That is what I tell Elrond of you many a time," the golden haired elf said wryly. Gandalf managed a smile, "So what path shall we take?" Glorfindel asked. Gandalf clutched his staff looking out to the Northeast and then to the Northwest.

"It seems to me that the stars point our way," Gandalf said, "For Valacirca* rises to the Northwest. Let us hold to the hope that the Witch King shall not leave his abode so soon and perhaps on our way others may be willing to aid us."

*

Meanwhile…

*

The winds were bitter. Telperiel held on to Elrond's arm as they trudged wearily through a frozen pass in the Misty Mountains. Although the storms had ceased it seemed that the winds only became colder, sighing past them like a frozen breath from the east. Their cloak, though elven woven, did not seem to be able to hold away such a cold wind. Telperiel stumbled in the snow and nearly fell until Elrond caught her. Her expression seemed to become weary, older, although her countenance remained young.

"Telperiel," Elrond said looking at her wretched form sadly, "Let us stop for a while, you are weary."

"I…" She began protests but it faded into an untillegible mumble as she collapsed against the fluffy snow beneath them. She moaned quietly in pain.

"What ails you, my nimloth?" He asked her quietly hugging her close to him.

"I feel terrible, Elrond…" Telperiel said quietly, "Inside, everything is crumbling. Outside… my leg stings as if it bleeds and yet no blood falls from it, my hands are scratched and bruised and yet I do not remember how they came to be that way and my arms…"

Slowly she pulled up her cloak and her sleeve and Elrond looked at her aghast. Dark bruises marred her arms and bloody scratches as well… as if she had been fighting, Elrond thought grimly.

Sauron had his way with her, tortured her, mocked her, and nearly left her to die, Gandalf's voice echoed in his memory,  She should have died that day in Angmar, when Sauron raped and tortured her… She should have been released from the confines of the world having suffered enough.

Her suffering is returning to her, came another voice, the one which Elrond could not place in his mind, it tears at her being, the flame imperishable within her perishes…

Elrond shook with rage at the voice, And what would you have me do? He asked in his heart as tears of helplessness fell from his eyes, how would you have me heal what I cannot heal?

There was a long moment of silence and Elrond realized he was shaking.

"Elrond," She whispered sadly looking up at him, "I want to go back to Imladris, something is terrbly wrong… you are not well… I am not well… let us go back… please.." Her own small pleading voice faltered.

I love the spring and the summer, the sound of her voice once joyful returned to him, in Imladris the song is brighter, warmer…

Then the other voice, stronger and more commanding: Would you become like him? Keep her out of your own selfishness at the cost of her being?

No.

True love, in its purest form, is always bound in sacrifice, and it was the eyes of Mandos on the tapestry that came to his mind, and then the eyes of his brother sad and calling out to him.

Elrond closed his eyes feeling his warm tears stinging him against the cold of the world, "I am sorry, Telperiel," He said in a whisper, "I cannot take you back. Healing you requires more than what I can give."

They sat in the thick snow for a long while hugging each other in a strange, though vague, understanding with the stars their only witness.

*

"Where are you going?" asked Estel as he watched his two elder foster brothers swiftly change into their riding boots and belt their swords and long knives around the waists os their thick winter tunics.

"Out," said Elrohir his face serious, "We have something to do." The younger child of the Dunedain knitted his brow.

"But you just arrived today!" Estel exclaimed looking at them fitfully. As soon as Elladan tied his cloak he came bent down the boy's level sympathetically.

"Indeed," said the older of the two brothers, "But duty calls to us again and we must head out even though we ourselves are unsure of where we are going."

"We promise we shall be back as soon as we our done." added Elrohir.

"But 'Rohir! That could mean forever!" The boy whined.

"We are sorry Estel!" they said rushing past him toward the stables.

"But Ada has gone as well, and Glorfindel! As well as Telperiel and Mithrandir! Where is everyone going!?" The boy exclaimed after him.

"We don't know!" Elrohir called out after him, "But we are soon to find out," He said more quietly to his brother.

As soon as they disappeared Estel stood in the center of the candlelit halls of the seemingly empty House of Elrond looking sadly to where they left.

"Why do I always get left behind?" He mumbled in dismay. A pair of hands laid softly on his shoulders startled him and he looked up.

"You're time too shall come, Estel." said Erestor smiling down at him playfully his grey eyes twinkling, "When shall have your own adventures."

"But why does everyone have to have them without me?" Estel asked crossing his arms and sulking. Erestor kneeled down to his level something sad flickering across his eyes.

"Oh Estel! Not all adventures bring good things!" Erestor said quietly and then smiled, "Besides, your mother would have a fit if she found out Lord Elrond let you out on adventures at this age."

"But I'm old enough!" Estel argued his eyes wide. Erestor laughed lightly.

"Indeed," He said patting his cheek good naturedly, "Not a hair on your face yet…"

The boy looked up somewhat confused and his hands immediately went up to his face.

"Hair?" Estel asked, "I'll grow hair on my face???" He looked at Erestor shocked and Erestor could not help but laugh loudly at the boy's expression.

"You have been too long among elves indeed!" Erestor said mirth on his expression, "Come now, let us amuse ourselves, shall you have me for a game of chess, my lordling?"

Estel raised an eyebrow suspiciously, a habit he had gained mimicking Elrond at times, "But you always let me win!"

"Very well," said Erestor, "This time we shall play fairly, and I won't let you win and you shall have to win based on your own skills."

"Alright!" Estel exclaimed and they ran toward the Great Room where the fireplace flickered warmly as snow lightly fell outside the Last Homely House.

*

Elladan and Elrohir rode fast and swift northward past Trollshaw on the backs of great white steeds that seemed to blend in with the snow. "Where do you suppose they have gone off too?" Elrohir asked halting his horse and looking around for any clue that may lean them. The two elven sons of Elrond looked around in dismay. The snow that had fallen the night before had covered up any tracks that could have remained.

"Erestor knew little of their leaving," said Elladan, "But he knew it had something to do with Telperiel and they were traveling northward."

"Telperiel?" asked Elrohir looking at the other curiously, "Snow in the middle of spring…? Telperiel's nightmares during the winter…? There is a connection here I think, though I do not know what it is." Elladan nodded.

"I had a feeling Ada and Glorfindel were keeping something to themselves when they came back from Mirkwood." Elladan said though he held no accusation in his tone, "I think we should travel north toward Amon Sûl. If any should know of their wanderings Halbarad and the Dunedain shall."

Elrohir nodded in agreement, "Toward Amon Sûl it is then. I feel that they shall not be far from us if we head without stopping." Elladan grasped the reigns of his horse.

"Then let us ride!"

*

"Duck!" Halbarad shouted as a stray orc arrow landed by his ear. The Ranger cursed in his own tongue and came down next to his companion.

"Where in Mandos are these creatures coming from?" the grey haired Ingmar muttered. Halbarad shrugged but then hit two arrows in the direction of the orcs, "They move in troves…!" the older ranger exclaimed back to back with him.

"Need we argue this now?" He said clutching the older man's hand and pulling him out of the way as an orc leaped down hissing between them. Halbarad took no time in dodging its blow and beheading it with his long knife.

"I didn't start any argument!" Ingmar hissed over the commotion of foul creatures around them. The grey haired man growled at the twisted face in front of him then parried its attack tripping the orc with his spear then killing it. "First snow! Then packs of wargs! Now this! I wonder what new devilry next?!" Ingmar exclaimed.

"You talk to much during a fight, old man!" Halbarad shouted over him killing too more orcs.

Ingmar laughed in spite of their predicament.

"Aye! I'm praying for some famous last words!"
In one swift stroke Halbarad killed two more then grasped Ingmar's arm as they turned to flee for more were coming after them, "I pray you won't have them any time soon because I still need you at my back!" the younger Dunedain said as they stopped for a moment catching their breath.

"Are you so quick to… curse!" Ingmar exclaimed.

"Curse?" asked Halbarad cocking an eyebrow, "What are you…?" But as he glanced back two glowing yellow eyes and a bloody jaw leaped down toward him. Ingmar pushed Halbarad out of the way dropping his spear and unsheathing his sword.

"Back you dog!" Ingmar cried out holding his sword before the black warg.

"Why don't youjust  tell him to sit?" Halbarad hissed from between clenched teeth as he rolled over in the snow and got up unsheathing his own sword. The black warg growled fiercely and lunged at them. Halbarad and Ingmar barrel-rolled beneath it standing up and taking their guard again until several other foul voice hissed behind them, one of them jumping on top of Halbarad's back and the Ranger felt the clammy slimy cawed hands seeking his throat…

Suddenly it fell.

Both Rangers turned to see a golden haired elf jump down from seemingly nowhere his blue eyes flashing and his sword shining in the early twilight. In movements too fast for even Halbarad's eyes to see he checked the warg and some of the more threatning orcs, many of which had retreated at the sight of him.

It was all over in a moment.

The black wolf lay dead, his throat slashed and seven orcs lay dead, the others had flown into the darkness of the wood.

"I say," said Ingmar scratching his head, "Now we have elves raining for the skies! I haven't seen anything like that since… I don't remember when." Halbarad suddenly recignized the elf who was now idly wiping his sword.

"You are Glorfindel? Are you not? Of Elrond's House?" The golden haired elf smiled up at the man sheathing his sword in it's scabbard as he held out a hand.

"Indeed," came another voice, and walking forward from afar was Gandalf the Grey.

"A wizard!" exclaimed Ingmar with a grin sheathing his own sword and picking up his spear, "What luck!"

"Well met, Halbarad of Eriador," said Glorfindel in common tongue. Halbarad let out a sigh of relief and a smile.

"Well met, to you, Master Elf! Well met, indeed!" Halbarad said, "And to as well Gandalf! Seems to me that luck goes where you go!" The old wizard smiled at them.

"Oh yes," added Halbarad, "And this is my companion, Ingmar!" He said introducing them. Ingmar gave him a wry look.

"You know, my boy, lack of memory is the first sign of aging…" and he turned to the elf and wizard and gave a gallant bow, "Well met, sirs! We would give you a homely welcome, had we a home," Ingmar told them, "But the best we can offer you is a warm fire, some news, and a good mug of ale and plate of dry bread."

"Sounds like better fare than what we've had the last day," said Gandalf thoughtfully glancing at an amused Glorfindel, "News! We would hear of news though and greatly be honored to join you, Rangers of the North!"

*

AN: this plot is getting interesting… I didn't even expect the Rangers, nor Elladan or Elrohir to get involved… I suppose they wanted some fame in this tale! Ah well… a thickening plot is always good… o_~ But the culmination of it all shall be the best part yet!

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NOTES: Valacirca – (a.k.a. the Big Dipper, the Great Sickle of the Valar) The Seven Stars that Varda threw into the Northern skies as a warning to Morgoth who had taken abode in Arda.

Maia – Gandalf's true form, a high spirit of the people of the Valar who is "a servant of the Secret Fire, a Wielder of the Flame of Anor…"