AN

Just to let everyone know, I tend to ramble a bit about the story in the ANs at the end of the chapter, but they're there as personal notes written to keep myself on track about the development of the chapter and the story.

They are in no way necessary to understand or enjoy the story, if you want to 'take a peek behind the curtain' and see what's going on in my head as I plan the story, read them, otherwise, you'll be fine just with avoiding the bold parts.

In the ANs I tend to ask for feedback, so I know what feels 'off' to you readers and I can try to adjust it.

From inside the egg, a squeak declared that everything had just changed.

The Tricky Fox

As the sound reverberated across the bones of his hands, David's heart stopped.

His mind, usually never abandoning this or that train of thought, stilled.

His body, however, followed something that to him was completely alien: istinct.

Without his conscious input, his hands slid around the sides of the wobbling egg, ghosting over its surface until they cupped over Arya's hand. There was no hesitation, no questioning his actions: with his lone eye wide and his breath still in his lungs, he retreated after having made sure that the egg was resting over his palms instead of the elf's one, which was retreated without a word.

Seated and holding his breath, David turned slightly towards the fireplace, letting the pure light flowing off Fleur wash over the hatching egg. His mind still seemed incapable of computing what was happening.

After a growing cascade of squeals more appropriate for a rusty spring mattress than the hatchling, and as David slowly placed the slightly wobbling egg in his lap, a crack appeared on the blue shell. Then another, and another. Still unable to realize what was happening, David leaned forward, eager to burn into his mind that moment. At the top of the stone, where all the cracks met, a small piece wobbled, as if it were balanced on something, then rose and toppled to the floor. After another series of squeaks, a small and dark serpentine head poked out of the hole, followed by a weirdly angled body as the egg fell apart in shards whose innards was covered by a sticky goo.

David did not dare breath as the newly hatched dragon broke through her shell, but his eye was roaming over the fascinating beast.

The dragon was no longer than his forearm, yet it was dignified and noble. Its scales were deep sapphire blue, the same colour as the egg, only that, at the light of the white fire, they looked almost like waves crossing areas of the ocean of different depths.

Without looking around, the dragon fanned its wings. they were several times longer than its body and ribbed with thin fingers of bone that extended from the wing's front edge, forming a line of widely spaced talons. The dragon's head was roughly triangular, serpentine, resemblance that was made stronger by the sharp-looking, diminutive white fangs that curved down out of its upper jaw.

As the dragon stumbled in order to gain its balance over the irregular surface provided by David's lap, its claws gleamed white in the light, like polished ivory, and slightly serrated on the inside curve. A line of small spikes ran down the creature's spine from the base of its head to the tip of its tail, continuous and regular if not for a hollow where its neck and shoulders joined that created a larger-than-normal gap between the spikes.

Finally without breath, David's exhaled a tad heavily as his lungs necessity made itself known, his face again less than twenty centimetres from the dragon.

The dragon's head snapped instantly towards the sound, her sapphire-coloured eyes hammering into his own as the frighteningly intelligent creature took a measure of him. The small creature wobbled a but on his lap as she adjusted herself, bringing her front towards David's chest, her mouth was open pitifully, like a young bird's, displaying rows of pointed teeth as she squealed again, saying what, none could know.

After a couple of long sniffs, the dragon moved her snout towards David, who was still paralyzed by sheer schock. Lightly, as the man's mind was still trying to reboot in order to understand how grossly it had miscalculated, the dragon made contact.

A blast of icy energy surged into his skin and raced across his body, burning in his veins like liquid fire: unprepared, David fell back with a wild cry. A clattering filled his ears as his inner ear went for a walk along with his control over his limbs. His muscles seized up as air was forcefully expelled from his lungs, and every part of his body seared with pain. He struggled to move, but was unable to.

After what seemed like hours, warmth seeped back into his limbs, leaving them tingling. Shivering uncontrollably, David blinked repeatedly his lone eye until he managed to make out colours and shapes. Feeling himself resting on his back with his legs still lifted, he realized that, in his shock, he had fallen so hard against the backrest of his seat that he had tilted it so much as to fall against the ground. With a shivering breath, he eyed the reptilian figure that had moved while he was without control of his body in order to sid over his chest while she cleaned herself from the goo of the egg, uncaring of the mess that she was causing.

He felt as if his whole face had been chucked into the snow and left there for weeks. Slowly working his mandible, and making strange expression to give some warmth back into his facial muscles, he rose a hand to check what he knew had happened, even if some part of him was still sceptical.

Just over his left brow, as if to crown his empty orbit, he felt an oval shape of sorts, not unlike a callus, but far more smooth under his fingers. His lone eye glued itself on his hand as he studied the strange feeling, noticing a faint glow shining upon his fingers. The skin over his brow itched and burned like a spider bite, not that he had many experiences with those.

David was still trying to come to terms with the most improbable event to ever happen in his life when something brushed against his consciousness, like a finger trailing over his skin. He felt it again, but this time it solidified into a tendril of thought through which he could feel a growing curiosity. It was as if an invisible wall surrounding his thoughts had fallen away, and he was now free to reach out with his mind. It was... freeing, and unique. It wasn't that his Occlumency had failed him, even if in the chaos of the moment he had lost that precious state of mind-fullness that had accompanied him for centuries, but... if his Occlumency had been a wall around his thoughts, that tendril of consciousness, that was definitely not-himself, was not unlike some sort of tunnel connecting him with...

As his consciousness shifted its focus, echoing the curiosity that reverberated along the... the... bond, the words came naturally to describe what he was feeling, he was made aware of the constant flux of curiosity-intrigue-joy-elation-hunger that left him reeling for a second or two.

Adjusting his perception of self and not-self with the smooth grace of someone extremely learned in the Mind Arts, David took a deep breath, finding again his usual state of mind, but this time, dedicating most of his focus to the dragon over his chest, which had returned with -determination-will to shine- to lick off what was left of the egg over her scales.

Letting his consciousness retreat from the -new-joyful-curious- feelings that constantly washed over his thoughts, tingling against them almost as with an invitation to share something-anything-curiosity-shiny-light- , David let his mind overflow from his body, falling into a meditative state in less than a second: it was like opening a new set of eyes.

Surprise-Discipline-Relief was tied to a scrap of Song echoing softly through the ether just beyond the solid walls of Arya and Gwenlin' consciousnesses, while David could feel the erratic thinking pattern of Raven somewhere in his trunk, apparently, she was busy trying to steal a single scale from one of the fishes in the river, and she felt the dozen chickens that went their way in the henhouse... He felt, with stark clarity, af if he was one of these birds, fluffy feathers and sharp beaks, the waving of their heads as they walked, and the only rooster protectiveness and over his 'harem'.

Far more interesting and captivating however, was a burning conscience that he had been trying to communicate with for months without success. In his mind's eye, Fleur roared with a concern of the same brightness of the sun, and even if her own occlumency kept him from actually witnessing her thoughts, a gut-twisting pang of affection echoed through the tendril that was his focus, shivering against the walls that she cautiously had kept up.

At the speed of thought, said barriers melted against his touch, and, as David forced himself to ignore the scoring pain that for a moment sizzled in his brain, he could, for the first time since her defeat against Voldemort, hear her:

Que ce passe-t-il? Que t'es-t-il arrivé, David? Réponds-moi!

Struggling with the new ability the dragon-bond had granted him, he thought of the first breath he used to take before beginning to meditate, using the image to project reassurance and calm. I can hear you, Fleur.

David? The thought didn't come with a single word, it contained hesitation to trust such an unexpected development, and fear that it wasn't real, it was a hitched breath of surprise when something priceless was offered with kindness, and a longing that brought tears to David's eye. After two months being able to communicate only by moving her body of flames, and only being able to hear words from David, incapable of actually focusing on his inflexion before her attention burned ahead with her flames.

I'm here.

Fleur's consciousness overflowed through the connection David had created, dragging up memories from his mind that he allowed her to witness: his landing in Aga, the first days, the end of the human caravan, and the conversation with Arya, that earned him a sharp pang of rebuttal, if only because she was a beautiful female, and the wonder at the information she picked up.

A few seconds later, the nature of her body made Fleur start to lose her focus, and gently, the one-eyed mage, no Rider, coaxed her consciousness back in the flames: We'll work on it, this is a step on the right path.

Returning to his body, David looked with wonder and amazement at the blue hatchling, who had flapped up from his chest to his legs, and was intent into staring Fleur, which had been moving wildly during their mental communication.

As his eye left the dragon for the first time, he saw the gobsmacked expressions over the two elves, expressions that quickly changed in a heartbreaking joy that brought a single tear to slide down Arya's cheek, a soft smile taking over her lips as her breath hitched in her throat.

"It hatched..." she whispered, and the sound immediately alerted the dragon of the presence of the two elves, which received a scrutinizing gaze until Arya murmured some soothing words in the Ancient Tongue, which seemed to reassure the hatchling.

"It's a she." David pointed out, letting his mind wander once more over its undeniable bond with the hatchling: "No male can be so graceful..."

Obviously, the dragon chose that exact moment to fall sideways, tripping over her tail and squeaking in outrage.

His lone eye returned briefly to the amused elves: "Give her time."

The following hour passed far quicker than David would have believed possible, and everything but the small dragon was removed from his thoughts.

From storage, David recovered a ham, from which he cut off a dozen or do of small pieces to satisfy the ravenous hunger that the dragon had expressed through their bond. When the newly christened Rider offered the first piece, the hatchling smelled it cautiously, then jabbed its head forward like a snake and snatched the meat from his fingers, swallowing it whole with a peculiar jerk. After some prodding, David fed it, careful to keep his fingers out of the way. By the time there was only one square left, the dragon's belly was bulging. He proffered the last piece; the dragon considered it for a moment, then lazily snapped it up. Done eating, it crawled onto his lap and curled against his chest. Then it snorted, a puff of dark smoke rising from its nostrils.

"So..." David eyed the two elves that had been forcing themselves to not smother in veneration the hatchling with drowsiness that wasn't entirely his: "What now?"

"Now Rider, you rest." came Arya gentle voice as his eyelid became heavier and heavier.

The next few days developed themselves in a sort of routine: the horses had been hidden and kept healthy even if they couldn't move by the elves' magic, and probably messages had been sent to higher-ups in order to hear what Arya & Co. were supposed to do now that they had found their Rider in the middle of enemy territory, surrounded as they were by random Urgal parties running amok.

While the elves busied themselves with plans for the future, and David pretended not to notice that he wasn't being included in said plans, the one-eyed Rider dedicated most of his time to talk to the hatchling, which was proving herself just as curious and thirsty for knowledge as her Rider.

Talking with Fleur had quickly shown itself to be quite taxing upon the veela-turned-into-living-fire, so David only had a few minutes of conversation each day before she fell back into her quiescent state.

For his continued sanity, David had strived to keep the hatchling separated from the living flames, least his new companion decided worth a try to jump into the white fire, placing the one-eyed man on the receiving end of a mental tongue-lashing that he wasn't eager to receive.

Raven and the hatchling... they didn't get along. Well, it would be more accurate to say that the newborn dragon only wanted to eat the bird, which was admittedly offended at the very idea.

Coaxed and followed by David at all times, the stopped in more than one occasion to observe the sky, which for some reason she distrusted. Praise and pride emanated in equal measure from the one-eyed man when her irritation made her growl (read 'squeak') threateningly to the fake clouds that drifted over her head. That she had been able to recognize it as something false promised a swift development of her mind, which in turn meant that she would soon enough be able to actually learn English, which was the tongue David had chosen to teach to her first.

"Well, you kind of need a name, it's important to form your identity around it, and I can't always call you hatchling, you'll grow soon." He spoke quietly as the young dragon climbed on and off his lap, following a butterfly that was strangely insistent in flapping around the newly christened Rider.

As he started to talk about Naming, the hatchling became suddenly attentive, her sapphire eyes zeroing in on his and -expectation- reverberating over their bond.

"You're are the first free dragon to hatch since the fall, you're beautiful," he stopped to scratch her along the underside of her neck, causing her to give a soft purr as an answer, "you're free, you'll be powerful beyond anything that this world has ever seen. You're curious and... a hunter." he concluded when her jaws snapped closed around the butterfly that had been pestering them.

"What about Ophelia?" the name was immediately discarded as the images relative to the Shakespearian play were shown to the hatchling.

"No, no, I understand, it's not appropriate for someone as fierce as you." he nodded when the dragon squeaked proudly.

"Helen... no, no, human names will not be able to capture you at all... there was a goddess once, Freyja, which in Old Norse means Lady, most renowned of the Norse goddesses, who was in charge of love, fertility, battle, and death. It was Freyja's privilege to choose one-half of the heroes slain in battle for her great hall in the Fólkvangar, " and as he spoke, David manifested through their bond images of grat halls and fires, giving context to each word that left his lips.

"She possessed a famous necklace called Brísinga men, which is an Old Norse name. Brísinga-men, whose second element is men, meaning ornamental neck-ring of precious metal, or a torc. But the first name comes too from Old Norse, Brísingr, which meant Fire, or Amber. Brísingamen thusly was the "gleaming torc", "sunny torc", or "jewel of the race that brings fire"." David could tell that she was interested in the story, and that the images he pictured where captivating for her.

"I'll take your reaction as a 'maybe'." he grinned and returned to run his fingers over the wings of the dragon, which seemed to never stop loving being appreciated, " Mardöll, Hörn, Gefn, and Syr were other names that she enjoyed."

"There are other mythologies that maybe we can take inspiration from: Artemis, in Greek religion, the goddess of wild animals, the hunt, and vegetation and of chastity and childbirth, which in hindsight, I realize rules the name out."

With a sigh David stretched back, hearing a satisfying pop along his spine: "Tiamat was a goddess-dragon and one of the two central protagonists of the Enuma Elish - the earliest recorded writing. In the story, Tiamat and her mate/brother Apsu/Abzu, embodied primordial nothingness. As they laid together they gave birth to gods, and from the gods, came creation. The gods started building the universe/reality. As a being of primordial nothing, the very concept of creation hurt Apsu and Tiamat, disturbing their slumber. Tiamat ignored the fighting at-first, trying to get back to her sleep of oblivion, but Apsu would not ignore the commotion caused by the creation and attacked the gods and earth. The Gods fought and killed Apsu. Tiamat, enraged, woke from her sleep and went to destroy the gods and creation as punishment for killing her beloved Apsu." at the lack of reaction from the hatchling, the newly christened Rider snorted: "Yeah, I'm guessing that's a bit limiting."

"There are several variations of a common theme: Dawn, Dawnbreak, Lucifer, which means Lightbringer, but then again, is a male name..." the choice was proving itself harder than David would have thought, it didn't help that he had never had to do something like that before, with his familiar had been easy: it was a raven, call her Raven and call it a day, the hatchling was proving herself to be... prickly.

He wasn't looking forward to having to show her what he knew of the world they were into, and that ruled out the name Saphira, lest it summoned images that the hatchling hadn't the maturity to understand just yet.

Then, looking for inspiration, David's mind fell over the series of videogames he had played lifetimes before, and with those came the reasonably vast memories of the best fantasy and sci-fi novels that humans had ever produced.

"Apsal'ara, which was a goddess of thieves... no. Ok, how about Duryl, which means Messanger of the Whirlwind." the scoff that brought into existence a small plume of dark smoke ruled it out: "Yes, I'm guessing that you're not a messenger for anyone..." the smug satisfaction that echoed from the bond made it clear that she agreed with his last opinion.

"What about Alia, Ghanima, Siona?" her eyes narrowed in displeasure, so the newly christened Rider hastened to go on with the roll of names.

"Andrastie, but it doesn't have enough bite... something more..." he sighed again, shifting once more over another realm from which he could steal inspiration.

Taking the hatchling in his arms and walking back into the room under the forest floor, he walked towards the shelves that held what little fiction he had kept with him, he still didn't know why he had found it worthy of a place in his private library, given what he could do with magic in the pottervese, it seemed almost pointless in hindsight, but there had always been something more to the writings of that particular author.

Past 1990, every idiot could pick up a PC and write out a fantasy novel, all the images of different environments were there to be described, all fantastical creatures ever drawn were ready to take inspiration from, but that one... John Ronald Reuel Tolkien had created a whole universe from scratch, with tongues, a headache-inducing history, its own in-lore mythology... truly he had been among the Giants.

Flipping idly one book, David sat in one of the chairs near the fireplace, where Fleur was resting after the several minutes of conversation they had a few hours before, and started to read, taking the words from the pages and turning them into images for the Hatchling to learn and witness one of the greatest literary works of all time.

More important than the images that he was trying to convey, there were meanings behind the names, "There was Ondoya, the Ring of Stone, which granted clarity and certainty, of the self and of others, and made one hard and incorruptible as stone."

The image of a onyx and mithril band flashed in the hatchling mind, and while she was overall unimpressed with the whole concept of taking the name of a ring, she felt the respect that David had for the writer that created so much with only ink on paper. So, she kept quiet, accepting the knowledge that she was being shown and feeling thrilled that the Rider was sharing a passion of himself that he wasn't quite ready to admit even to himself.

"Then there was Mirilya, the Ring of Jewels, which made one's works and working as radiant and clear as cut gems." With those words, David projected an image of a gold and topaz Ring.

An image of a ring of opal and gold came next: "It came Araya, the Ring of Dawn. It made it so that honest intent would shine into the hearts and minds of all who beheld the holder."

Mythril and amethyst flashed later, accompanied by the words: "Histeya, the Ring of Dusk. And it was made so that all who saw the bearer would be in awe of his majesty, and be cowed by the scale he represented."

"There was then Laureya, the Ring of Gold, the Ring of the Sun. Which made the bearer as bright and as powerful as the fire itself: incandescent and forceful, impossible to deny."

"There was also Silmaya, the Ring of Silver, the Ring of the Moon, which made the bearer as calm and as gentle as moonlight, and made him, or her, worthy of being the confidante and trustee of all those the bearer cared for."

With a breath of awe at the images the words summoned, David spoke of Cenya, the Ring of Earth, the Green Ring, the Emerald Ring, greatest of the Seven. It granted to the bearer dominion over all that lingers in darkness, both outside and inside yourself. It allowed the bearer to rule over the deepest, darkest pits, both the caverns that delve into the deep places of the world, and the shadowy crevices within the bearer's own heart where he did not dare to tread."

David's lone eye moved away from the page and returned to the hatchling, which was looking at him with a slow purr reverberating through her chest: "You want me to talk about the Three?" he asked.

She didn't care, not really, names were names, and she would now when the right one came, but she cared that he had shown her something that he loved, something that he didn't keep hidden behind other thoughts, something that wasn't revealed in order to manipulate a conversation, and her appreciation for that moment revealed itself along the bond, showing without words, relying only on the instinct that led her to communicate through images, that she was enjoying his trust more than anything else until then.

"Narya, Nenya, and Vilya. Fire, Water, and Air." David spoke slowly, letting each word sound clearly off his tongue, and as he kept rambling about this or that fantasy element, the hatchling rumbled contently from her cheat, enjoying what was maybe the first genuine moment that she had shared with her to be Rider.

David was just getting around the images that he remembered from the movies (the hatchling was freaked out by the strange two-legged Smaug), when Arya descended from the stairs: "We need to move."

The tone in her voice was one of alarm, while her body language spoke of a controlled tension ready to turn into violence.

"What happened?" David asked as he closed the book and joined Arya in the first floor of the trunk.

"One fox has returned carrying the smell of Urgals on her, sadly, that brought a whole party upon us, Fäolin and Gwenlin already headed out to lead them away from here, but this burrow is no longer safe."

David's eye went to the blackboards where he had been analyzing the Ancient Tongue, licking his lips in trepidation: "I can..."

"No!" he was swiftly interrupted: "The important thing is keeping you alive! Our mission was to see the egg hatch, and then protect the Rider until he reached his teachers, if you fall here, then everything is lost!"

David's mind quickly cocooned the hatchling's one, emanating reassurance and the importance that she remained calm, like when she had been stalking Raven in order to nip at her feathers, and the hatchling calmed down, slithering off from his hands and sneaking through the tall grass, looking for the Rider's familiar.

"After you, then." he indicated the stairs to Arya, which stilled in confusion seeing that the one-eyed Rider made no move towards grabbing his dragon, "Where I am, this home is." he stopped her from protesting, "You'll see soon enough."

Just as they crossed the hatch in the ground, Arya observed with worry in her eyes as the one-eyed man closed it and tugged at a thin metal looking string that she could barely make out from the surroundings. If not for the urgency of the situation, and the accepted rule of do-not-think-about-it that she had started to follow when assisting at the kind of magic the newly christened Rider often displayed without a single afterthought, she would have pinched her nose or throttled the man for keeping such a versatile skill under warps.

She observed with a stricken expression in her eyes as he donned the iron necklace with a satisfied smirk: "In my defense..." he started with a smirk only to be interrupted by the she-elf. She had no time for his antics.

"I'll keep the horse at trot, so you can follow as a fox in the underbrush, if they cut us off again with a too-large force, I'll divert them. Try to go north until you enter a forest of pines, I've sent word to my people, they'll be on the lookout for you, alternatively, go north-west, there is a mountain range known as the Spine there, hid there as long as you can." David graciously pretended to not hear the worry and heartbreak in her voice as she planned the next move as her companions were already dead.

Without another word, David turned into a fox and started following the horse that Arya was leading more with the pressure exercised with her knees than the bridle. In the moonless night, she proved once again why her race was so fucking terrifying: her head twitched from side to side like the one of an hawk, while her eyes were able to tear clearly through the darkness.

David, with the fox's instinct, was building a map of his surrounding in his mind, while his senses never lost the horse opening the way. He could feel, distantly, the worry and attention of the hatchling from inside the trunk he carried on his neck, and if he pushed his mind around what he could perceive as the first floor of his Iron Trunk, he could pick up, although muddled, the presence of his familiar and the chickens, which to his senses were dimmer than a firefly.

Arya led them across the forest, often circling back to confuse the trail and check for pursuers, all the while moving in this or that direction in order to keep away from the noises and the smells of enemy forces brought by the nocturnal breeze.

David's awareness shifted again, this time outwards, as he kept a small part of his mind focused on never getting too far behind from the horse that led the way.

His sensible nose almost didn't' feel it at first, dry, bitter... the smell of fire was carried over by the light breeze, which changed direction because of the sheer heat emanating by a section of the forest.

Arya. He whispered against the walls of her mind as his consciousness expanded beyond his little group.

Not the time. was her sharp rebuke.

With a soft snarl of indignation, David's mind eased its way into the horse's consciousness, passively getting used to the unfamiliar body.

The horse is too loud against the ground, he's giving our position away. he communicated quickly, hop off, I'll guide the horse as a bait, away from us, but I can't do that and control my body at the same time, grab me and quietly run through the enemy' lines.

With a spark of exasperation rippling from her mind, and a warning that he ignored to keep his mind closed, she acquiesced to his plan, whispering a few choice words to the horse, which seemed accepting of David's influence as Arya picked up the fox and ran away in the night.

AN p1

The last chapter was a slow conversation, I know, but it was meant to be so: when two intelligent and relative powerful people meat each other in a context that can't assure either of them of the other's trustworthiness, words become a game of chess in which information is the pieces and knowledge the victory, such a heavy conversation won't happen again any time soon, instead, I'm trying out now a series of quick back and forth.

And in the last chapter, I had to build a whole situation in which Arya would show David the egg: given the context, the long verbal sparring looked like the only solution that didn't scream 'plot railroading'.

And yes, sorry for the info on mythology and random fantasy, but I needed something to make the MC and the still-unnamed hatchling bond over, in canon, basically Eragon treats Saphira like a wolf, carrying back and forth food until she actually asks for a name. Besides, it gives me an opening to have David teach the dragon English as her first tongue, with the reasoning that if language can be used as a handle to navigate thought, this will grant the hatchling another shield.

AN p2

The names and description of the Seven Rings come from the fic Ring-Maker, from Lithos Maitreya, which is one of the absolute best LOTR crossovers ever written.

PS

I'm shit with names, you all know it, but I'm gravitating towards either Azura or Meridia, from The Elder Scrolls. Opinions?

PPS

I don't know where to put his 'gedwey ignasia', so over the brow of his empty eyesocket sounds good, I wanted to keep his hands free, and this gives me something over which other characters can poke fun at him eventually.