The Eye of the Ice Dragon

By Elarin

Author's Note: Hey All! It's been a while, I know, I know, but I'm officially through with High School for my entire life and heading off for college next year so we should all rejoice that after Elarin has happily slept in for one good portion of her summer she's going to indulge you with yet another chapter before she goes off on an icky family camping trip! ^_~ anyways sorry I haven't been inspired until now but here's the continuation…

Arabella, thank you for such nice compliments, I usually don't think that highly about my writing but I'm glad someone does!

*

Chapter 14 | The Light of Tilion

Night had fallen over the forests of Angmar but they were already at its borders staring out to a barren land where no trees grew, but Glorfindel stared out and with his keen sight spied the remnants of the Witch King's tower, it's blackened stones piled in rubble yet some of its lower chambers seemed well intact. Crows glided around it as if waiting for them to become their next bit of carion. Gandalf frowned looking none the bit happy with the situation.

Three full days had passed since their attack at Bhagul's camp and not one sign of the Nazgul lord had greeted them. They heard not the scream of terror in the night nor did the elven eyes of Elrond's sons see the shadow of his horse and cloak.

It was not a good sign.

Glorfindel worried for Elrond now, and he worried deeply.

The night was clear and Tilion rose to the height of his glory, a silver disc amid the black sky, which stray clouds attempted to veil but simply could not shroud his silver glare.

"Well," said Ingmar cocking an eyebrow, "This is a sight."

"Or lack-thereof." Offered Glorfindel, "We haven't seen any orcs or even wargs."

Ingmar snorted, "I'm no mood to see wargs again."

"Neither in condition," added Elrohir glancing at his bandaged shoulder.

"It's not the orcs I'm worried about," said Gandalf as he replaced his hat and moved forward. They followed behind him cautiously keeping watch, "Wargs, on the other hand, we should be cautious of, there are many in this region of a stranger sort."

"What do you mean of a stranger sort?" asked Halbarad looking at Gandalf curiously.

The old wizard stopped for a moment looking up at the starless sky, "They are larger then the ones scattered in Eriador, many of them in Angmar are black as shadow crossed with beasts of Mordor and much more terrible to look upon. They do not travel in packs, but alone."

"Ah," said Ingmar with a wry smile as he looked at Halbarad, "Anti-social creatures, it may be to our advantage."

"Let us hope, Ingmar, they are anti-social enough to avoid us totally." Added Glorfindel as he looked ahead he came up next to Gandalf and lowered his voice, "Mithrandir, if the Witch King is not in Angmar could he be heading then toward Elrond?"

"Pray, Glorfindel, that that is not the case," Gandalf said.

"Glorfindel!" cried out Elladan as he ran up ahead of them, "Orc tracks, and horse hooves!"

A few meters up they saw the tracks entrenched in frozen snow. Gandalf frowned deeply.

Ingmar raised his eyebrows at it.

"They are heading east."

Glorfindel cursed quickly in Noldorin under his breath. "Eh?" asked Ingmar, "That's no elvish I know."

"Don't worry," muttered Gandalf, "It is not something you want to hear. We must head eastward now. The Witch King has gathered a legion of orcs to him and they are tracking Elrond."

"This is beginning to feel like a wild goose chase," said Ingmar, "What precisely is going on, Gandalf? You haven't explained it to us yet."

"Indeed," said Elrohir, "Although I do not question Gandalf's judgment we too wish to know where our father has gone with Telperiel and what has become of them."

Gandalf looked up at all the expectant eyes looking at him. He growled under his breath, "I make this promise to you," Gandalf said, "All shall be told at the end of this journey, but we must go east for Elrond now needs our aid more than ever."

*

"Tell me, Master Elf," said Thorin Oakenshield sitting upon his chair by the fireplace, many of the other dwarves had already retired for the evening with satisfied plump bellies filled with food and ale, but Thorin had wished to speak with Elrond and they sat together in the hall, "Where precisely are you headed?"

Elrond silently wondered whether to tell the dwarf king about the Ice Dragon and of Silme, and of the mithril cave. He recalled Gandalf's words on the matter vividly, it is the bane of the dwarves they shall not mine there.

Then shall they consider me ill-luck in their hall? Elrond found himself at a loss, it seemed he knew little of Dwarvish custom.

"My companion is ill," said Elrond choosing his words carefully, "And there is only one place where she can be healed, or so I was told by Gandalf the Grey."

Thorin's eyes seemed to brighten at that.

"Tharkun? The Grey Pilgrim of the West! Why good fortune to this meeting then, for it is Gandalf whom we seek!" Elrond smiled slightly at the dwarf king, "But what ill plagues your mortal friend? If it is on Gandalf's words that you wander certainly we should accompany you! There are many dangers to the east."

Elrond thought for a moment. A company of dwarves would certainly be beneficial and if they knew Gandalf all the better. Perhaps fortune does shine down on me this day, he thought grimly for he was still worried for Telperiel.

"There is a cave to the east, north of Mirkwood, with wide halls and deep chasms and a great lake at its center." Elrond began to weave his tale as best he could without revealing too much, "No warg, nor orc dwell within its walls, and no chisel of the dwarves has ever carved it."

Thorin seemed quite interested now. "Oh?" He asked.

"It is abandoned, untouched, and it is there that I must bring her."

Thorin's thick brows furrowed and his gaze seemed distant. For a long moment he sat there in silence and Elrond realized that the dwarf king knew. Suddenly he slipped out of his chair and stood before Elrond his gaze grim and his lips frowning. The fire danced upon his old face making it seem as if for a moment he himself were made of stone so grave was the demanor which he carried.

"Gulu-ban aimenu, Elzurun!" Thorin announced in his deep tongue. Elrond looked at the dwarf lord patiently awaiting a translation. Thorin cleared his throat, "In the tongue of my people that means, 'there is a dark bane upon you, elf lord.' For none among my folk, or those of my father's father, and his father's father, who have delved into that hall has ever returned."

Elrond was also silent for a long moment but then spoke in words so soft that they did not echo in Thorin's mansion, "Will you then refrain your aid to me if I am under this bane, Thorin Oakenshield?"

The dwarf king sat down once more and leaned back releasing a sigh that sounded more like a growl. His bright eyes reflecting the flame of the hearth held Elrond's for a moment.

"No," Thorin said wearily, "I shall not refrain to aid you for I have already offered that service to you and the word of a dwarf is as solid as the stones of Barazinbar. I shall go with you, as shall my company, in the name of my forefathers, so long as you travel eastward and your bane shall be mine and I will aid you in shedding it," but his tone became dark, "If it comes to that."

Elrond took in his oath with certain foreboding but nodded at him in acknowledgement, "Under the honor of my forefathers I shall not forget the aid you have offered me."

"Indeed!" laughed Thorin humorlessly and he leaned closer to Elrond, "If you and your maiden come out of it alive."

*

In the forests under the light of the stars a wraith rode on moved only by his own desperation and blackened rage. Over the mountain pass to the east he rode, the hooves of his great dark horse clamoring upon the frozen paths. His robes flew about him as black smoke against the wind of his ride.

He stopped suddenly, on a cliff-edge, only to look down at the valley below seeing nothing yet seeing everything through the power of his master's eye…

*

I cannot go back… he sees me… I see him…

A woman appeared before her robed in white her long dark hair set loose in waves about her and her silver eyes gilded in the glitter of tears.

Silme! She shrieked, her cry was only filled terror.

Naneth… a whisper, a faded memory, a dream that had long since been forgotten.

Then another figure stood before her, tall and menacing the face of an elf with black locks, and shadowed robed, but his eyes… his eyes were the color of blood. He laughed in cruel jest.

Silme! Silme! Her voice again in her head and it gradually vanished to a silent whisper, ien-nin…

He came again before her, a faceless shadow, he stood before her and put out his hand. She writhed back against the woman's breast crying, unsure of what to make of the man who stood before. I cannot go back to him… The woman in white pulled her away from her embrace and she wept shrinking back to the corner of the stony walls. She stood between them, You cannot take her, I shall not let you…

Her voice, she knew that voice.

She is no longer yours to keep, hissed the other.

And neither is she yours! The woman grasped any thing she could find about her – a vase, a chair, books. She flung them at him in desperation. But all these things he threw aside as if they were nothing to him and he grasped her hand. She cried out, screaming: Anandor! Voronwe! Edheltan!

But they were already dead, their blood upon the steps of their hall.

Naneth… she too would die that day.

Silme…!

I won't go back…

*

"Telperiel!" Elrond called out. At this point it seemed as if she had lost all her stars. He grasped her arms to hold her down some of the other dwarves had come to aid him though they were unsure of what had befallen her.

When she had finally stopped she laid back quivering, cold sweat covering her face and hair her eyes glazed over by some nightmare. The dwarves stood back some of them looking up at Elrond, unsure of what to make of the scene. Elrond's focus was not drawn to them at the moment, though, he was focused only on Telperiel and he was grieved by what he saw.

She is so frail, Elrond thought. He turned to toward the dwarves, "Please," Elrond said feeling his own voice falter, "Leave me for a moment to care for her." They complied quickly understanding that whatever was going on was a grave matter and they walked away closing the doors softly. Telperiel turned her head aside on the pillow closing her eyes tears falling from them.

[I cannot go on this path…] A moment of surprise came over Elrond before he realized she was speaking the Numenorean tongue and he understood it.

"You must," He told her in return somehow the words falling out of his mouth, "You must."

Elrond shivered when she turned her gaze upon him. It was no longer the look of the girl he had found in the caves nor the gaze of the young woman he had raised in Rivendell. It was the face of a ghost who understood what she had been and also knew what was to come.

"Elrond," She said softly and she stretched out her hand to him. Her voice shook with a great sadness as she spoke to him, "If I go I'll die."

Elrond closed his eyes as he grasped her hand sadly and his reply came only in a whisper.

"I know." He smoothed back her hair as he looked upon her again and he felt guilt leave a lump in his throat, "But I have no other choice and neither do you. For now a bane and a doom is laid upon the both of us and we must follow that road until the end."

A rush of pain went through her and she curled up into a ball, "He knows where we are, Elrond, he will follow us until the end of that road." She choked out in pain, "And all that I have ever known will come back to me and how will it be between us if all I have ever known was sorrow?"

Elrond had not released her grasp.

"Let him come, if he wills it," Elrond said, "And if sorrow goes with you then I will help you bear the burden." She turned towards him again shuddering and paling.

"And if it should claim your life?"
Elrond smiled sadly,

"Then I shall come to see my lady once more upon the shored of Valinor."

"And where shall I go?" She asked him her voice fading off.

"Where hope shall lead you."

*

The morning was shrouded in clouds and snow fell hard.

"Cursed weather," said Balin grimly casting his hood closer about himself. Elrond also looked out at the snowfall with a frown. Telperiel stayed close to him though her thoughts strayed elsewhere and it seemed her attention was not among them at the moment. Elrond looked at her and clasped her hand in support and after a few moments his grip was returned.

"That is may be, indeed." Said Thorin. It seemed to Elrond that the dwarves had already argued amongst each other the night before what was to come and many of them had seemed grim of mood in the early morn and Elrond cared little if they placed the blame upon him over what had come about.

His only concern was Telperiel and his emotions were deeply in conflict.

Horses would be no use in so deep a snowfall and the dwarves were forced to wade through it. Elrond picked up Telperiel and carried her, she was no burden to him and he had any easy time navigating the white covered vale. After a few hours Thorin called for them to stop, even though they had not yet reached the borders of northern Mirkwood.

"Dwarves, unfortunately, do not always move well through so much snow." Thorin announced taking a deep breath, "We must rethink our path clearly, Master Elf, there are many orcs that stray in the northern realms."

"I am well aware of that," announced Elrond, "But I cannot go directly through Mirkwood and then turn north."

"Do you not know the elf king there?" asked Kili.

"I do," He replied, "But it is a matter that time is not on my side," He glanced down at Telperiel then westward." He knows where we are, "And we have other things chasing us besides orcs."

The dwarves perked up at that. "Such as?" asked Thorin. If Elrond had learned anything about dwarves is that they liked frankness.

"A Nazgul." Elrond told him, "A Wraith from Angmar."

"Sauron's servant!" exclaimed Fili his eyes widening. A cold wind whipped at them.

"Speak not that name!" cried out Thorin above the wind. He squinted his eyes against the heavy snow fall, "This storm is wrothful, Elf Lord, we shall need shelter for the night!"

"And I shall find it for you, Lord Dwarf, when the night falls!" Elrond told him. The dwarf-king growled at his answer.

"Very well! But I keep you to your word!"

"And I keep you to yours!" Elrond replied, "We must go on!"

*

AN: well that's it till next chapter… which will involve the advice of a certain lady of light… that's right! Galadriel gets Elrond back on his feet!

Some Notes:

Naneth: "mother"

Ien-nin: "my daughter"