AN: Evening, everyone. Procrastinating homework yet again, but who cares :P
Characters and worlds belong to their respective owners (Tolkien and Bethesda.) Storyline up until about chapter 25 belongs to Demon-Kagetsuki as well.
Brænna slowly approached the carved gateway into Rivendell, increasingly aware that this was not a place of Men. Aside from the pointy-eared statuary that lined the bridge, armored guards, tall and graceful, spoke to each other, ears poking out from long, straight hair. As she approached the end of the bridge, one drew close, his features a strange mix of human and Altmer, but without the golden skin of her self-righteous kin.
He spoke in a language that she didn't understand, a soft language that sounded like music, but unintelligible nonetheless. She stopped his questioning with an upraised hand, saying simply, "I apologize, but I cannot understand what you are saying."
Baffled, the guard asked, "You do not speak Sindarin?"
Tired, and just wanting to get back to the company, she snarked, "If I understood it, I wouldn't have said I couldn', now would I?"
Snorting, unimpressed, the guard repeated in the common tongue, "Who are you, and what is your business here in Rivendell?"
She paused for a moment, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse. She knew that the Dwemer's quest was meant to be secret. Eventually she came up with, "My name is Brænna Stormcrown of Skyrim. I'm here seeking a friend of mine that I know to be staying-"
Before she could finish, pain lanced up her spine and into the base of her skull and she crumpled to the ground. In an instant, the guard was by her side, examining the bloodsoaked leather along with the puncture wounds. "You are injured!" the Elf said.
"Thanks for stating the obvious," she said, gritting her teeth through the pain. "I was attacked by an Orc pack. I was bitten by a Warg, but I got away," she said, clutching her arm to her chest.
In the same melodic language, the guard barked an order to his companions, sending them running off through the lamplit city. "We will take you to our healers. A Warg bite is a serious injury, and prone to infection, nonetheless."
"Thanks," she mumbled, breath hissing through clenched teeth.
The elf and one of his companions attempted to carry her, but were immediately shut down by her objections. Instead, they stood her on her own two feet, and supported her as they led her down the long and winding hallways. In her dazed state of mind, weary and dizzy with blood loss, Brænna quickly forgot the path to the exit in case she needed to escape. She could only pray to the Divines that Gandalf had known what he was doing leading the company here. Eventually, the guards led her to a room overlooking one of the waterfalls, gently sitting her down on the bed.
The Elvish healers in the room rushed toward her, speaking in fast-paced Sindarin with the guards. To her, it was beautiful birdsong, but utterly meaningless.
"I will be right outside if you need anything," the first guard said, striding to the door. "Lord Elrond will be here soon with questions."
The healers fussed over her, but the moment they began to undo the clasps on her armor, she snatched one by the wrist.
"Don't touch. I can do it myself," she said, voice low and threatening.
Both elves backed off as she undid the clasps on her bracers, which she thought was the only part that really needed tending to. As soon as the black leather came off revealing the bandages completely soaked through with blood, both Elves began twittering again, starting forward, but holding back. She held her arms up like a bad caricature of a Draugur to let them know they could attend to the wounds on her arms now.
They were about to step forward when there was a knock on the door, and the door opened to reveal a handsome, dark-haired Elf. The moment they locked eyes, though, an expression of shock flickered over his face, and he muttered something under his breath. She didn't notice she'd stiffened at the intrusion until she spotted the Grey Wizard behind the new Elf.
"Brænna! I did not think we would see you again," Gandalf said, relieved, but suspicious.
"I'm afraid you can't get rid of me that easily, Gandalf," she said, a smile on her face.
Interrupting the exchange, the new elf cleared his throat. "My name is Lord Elrond, master of Rivendell. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but my guards have informed me that you are injured," he said, stepping closer.
"Yes, your elves were trying to deprive me of my dignity in order to treat my wounds. It's ridiculous that it takes this many healers to tend to one person," she said, an edge in her voice. Catching on immediately, Lord Elrond asked the pair of healers to leave.
Once they were out the door, she lifted up one of her wrapped arms for him to look at. He quickly and skillfully took off the bandages, glancing up at her for an explanation of the strange greyish-green cream spread over the skin.
"A salve of my own making," she said, answering his nonverbal question. "It staves off infection and speeds up healing. I would have used my own magic to speed the process, but unfortunately, I used all of it up during the battle with the Orcs."
"Yes," Elrond said distractedly, rubbing the salve between his fingers. "Gandalf told me of your magical capabilities on the way here. This, however, is a nasty bite, and the infection has spread to your upper arm as well," he said, as he moved to remove the bandages from her upper arm.
The same as she'd done with the healers, she grabbed at his hand before he could reveal what was hidden underneath. "That part is fine, and doesn't need attention," she said, an edge of panic in her voice.
Confused, Elrond pulled back and said, "It is essential a Warg bite is cleaned thoroughly, otherwise you run the risk of losing the limb to infection," he said.
"It's fine," she hissed, pulling back.
"Brænna! What is the meaning of this? Show Lord Elrond your injuries. I will not have you travelling if you could drop dead from infection at any instant."
She looked between the two, then gave a sigh of defeat. "Gandalf, do you remember why the Dwarves were upset after the Trolls?"
Gandalf's eyes narrowed in confusion, before widening. "Of course, I apologize. I'm certain Lord Elrond would understand, though?"
Looking between her and the wizard, the Elf in question asked, "Understand?"
She sighed before explaining that she was Dovahkiin, blessed with both the soul and blood of a Dragon, all except the physical form.
"However, this gift comes with great danger," she said, slowly unwinding the bandages from her arm and shoulders, revealing the first of the black scales. "I can absorb the souls of Dragons that I slay, but the more Dragon magic I use, the more the Draconic nature is revealed, slowly but surely. Alongside the physical change comes the more dangerous change: there are episodes where I cannot control my temper or even my actions, leaving destruction in my wake."
She looked up at the two before simply saying with a hitch in her voice, "Kíli is very lucky to have survived today."
The silence dragged on for an eternity as Gandalf and Elrond stared at the scales on her shoulders, taking their time to process the information.
"How far do they spread?" Elrond asked, much to her surprise.
"They…" she paused, wondering in fact, how far they did spread. "All the way down my back, I suppose. I haven't had a chance to get a look and see how far," she answered. "Are you… not afraid?" she asked.
"You seem to be in control of yourself," the Elven lord said. "We will discuss the matter later, but for now, you are injured and we are obligated to attend to your injuries," he answered, spreading a new salve on her arm. "May I?" he asked, after he was done, gesturing to her shoulder. Shuddering, she nodded.
He gently traced the line of scales where they met her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. As he examined her, she asked, "I only ask that what has been said here will stay in this room."
"Of course," Elrond and Gandalf agreed.
Wrapping her arm in clean bandages, Elrond said, "You should get some sleep to help you recover. Your companions are here, and they will likely wish to see you in the morning."
She laughed. "Some of them more than others, I'd expect. Thank you for your help," she said as Elrond rose from beside her.
"Of course," he said. "Pleasant dreams."
Though the bed was calling her name, she couldn't stand the smell of herself. She got up from the bedside and walked into the attached bathing room. There, in the center of the room, recessed into the floor was a large pool of water that steamed into the cool night air. The faint smell of flowers helped to relax her as she shed her armor and clothing, before dipping herself in. Careful to keep her bandages above the water, she found several small vials filled with oil and picked one up. She uncapped it, and was greeted with the pleasant smell of juniper and mint.
Pouring a small amount into the water, soon the air was filled with the scent. With a sigh, reminded of her home in Winterhold, she dunked her head in the water, feeling strange keeping her arms above the surface. She undid the braids, working the tangles out of her white hair and tugging a brush she had found through the matted locks. She found a small towel near the wall and scrubbed herself clean of the accumulated mud, blood and sweat she'd caked herself with. When she finished, the water was muddy brown, but quickly clearing as it flowed out a small grate in the side.
Finished, she soaked in the warm water, allowing her muscles to unclench. She grit her teeth once as one of her scales caught on the stone edge of the pool, and decided it was time to leave. She wrapped a towel around herself and peeked into the bedroom. She was pleased to find someone had come in and placed new clothes on the bed, and doubly thankful that they hadn't touched her Nightingale set. She dried herself and put on the new nightgown, thankful that it covered her now scaled shoulders. Obviously, it had been made for someone taller than her, but she wasn't going to turn down comfortable clothes after sleeping in her armor for several days.
She sat down on the bed, and pulled a comb from her pack, taming her wild hair, letting it fall loosely over her shoulders. She collapsed backwards and fell asleep, the moonlight streaming across her covers.
It felt like only moments before she was violently jerked out of her sleep. She woke up, every nerve on high alert searching for what had woken her. Instead of finding an assailant, she heard whispers on the air.
I know that sound, she thought as she pulled out the dragon claw from her bag. I'd know it anywhere.
She grabbed her new swords and secured them on the long dress before peeking outside her door. She scowled at the sight of a guard, and cursed to herself, creeping back into her room. She strapped on her Nightingale set, saying a quick prayer to Nocturnal before creeping by unseen.
She sighed in relief when she found the stairs and crept down them, making sure not to make a sound. She could feel the magic tugging her towards its source, and she found many dead ends before pausing before a mural that had caught her attention.
It depicted a family, obviously important or royal in some way, a mother with white, snowy hair, a golden circlet on her brow and eyes that reminded her of light filtered through fresh leaves, and a father that stood behind her. His face was unlike any of the Elves she'd seen here, to her even looking more Bosmeri than these high elves. In the woman's arms was a small child with dark hair and green eyes, though her features were more reminiscent of the father.
She shuddered, before continuing on her way, pausing again before a large mural depicting a warrior fighting a massive shadow wearing a golden ring, and then paused before a statue holding the shards of the same sword the warrior of light wielded in the painting.
On her quest to find the magic, she opened many doors, peeking into a massive library that even Hermaeus Mora would be envious of.
Still, she continued her descent, ever downward until she found a small stream trickling into a cave. Trusting in her Nocturnal-gifted night vision, she crept inward, seeing the stone carving shift from the graceful lines of the Elves to the brutalistic, angular carvings of the ancient Nords. She found a puzzle door matching the claw, turning the figures to the pattern of wolf, hawk, and dragon, and turned the claw in the lock.
The chamber opened up exactly like a Skyrim barrow, but instead of a maze or a corridor, she was face to face with the Word Wall.
This is too easy, she thought, exploring the room, looking for anything. Still, she found no exits save the one she had just entered, and no loot, septims or otherwise. When she found nothing, she approached the word wall, and knelt down. Opening her eyes, the chanting of ancient Nords assaulted her ears as she read the text. She felt blood drip from her nose, but she kept herself steady as she read all of the text scratched into the wall. As the knowledge seeped into her, she gasped, having unknowingly held her breath. She was surprised; the word wasn't strange at all, and was actually one she knew from another shout.
SLEN- Flesh.
In her concentration, she hadn't noticed the wind whipping up, but her sensitive hearing alerted her, allowing her to roll out of the way just in time. The ghost she fought was an old, powerful looking Nord, teeth bared in a grimace.
She leapt into a defensive stance, raising her left sword to block the specter's ethereal blade. With her right, deciding to finish the battle quickly, she stabbed the sword straight into the heart of the ghost, pulling it upward with all of her might splitting the revenant in two.
It dissolved into ethereal dust, its weapon clattering to the floor. She quickly examined it, thinking it to be made of ebony ore from the way it drew in light. It lacked the silvery patterns save for a paleness near the edges though, and she almost tossed it away before she felt the thrum of the magic within. She sighed, noting that its size compared to her slight frame meant that it would have to be wielded as a two-handed sword, and strapped it to her back, having found the sheath alongside several jewels and pieces of jewelry in a chest that had revealed itself.
She followed the stream out of the chamber and down a tunnel that smelled of fresh air. At the end, she found a lever that opened a door to a quiet area of Rivendell. Careful not to make noise, she tiptoed out, before hearing familiar voices coming from down the hall.
"Our business is no concern of Elves," Thorin said, out of her view. She rolled her eyes.
She slipped quietly into the room, hiding herself in the corner and waiting for the scene to play out. She was delighted to find Bilbo present, wishing to talk to him, but her hopes were thwarted as she heard Gandalf say, "Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall. You stand her in the presence of one of the few in Middle-Earth who can read that map! Show it to Lord Elrond."
The Dwarf Lord looked annoyed, but still handed the map over to Elrond. Curious, Elrond studied the map, before saying, "Erebor. What is your interest in this map?"
Thorin was about to say something unpleasant, before Gandalf interrupted, saying, "It's purely academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?"
Elrond gave the Wizard a sharp look, having pieced together Erebor, and Famed Dragonslayer, but still paced over to a moonbeam, where he raised the map into the moonlight.
"Cirth Ithil," he said in wonder.
"Moon runes, of course," Gandalf translated. "An easy thing to miss."
"Well in this case, that is true," Elrond explained. "Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written."
"Can you read them?" Thorin asked hopefully.
"No, not this year, or for many more. These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve by the light of a crescent moon, nearly two hundred years ago. Midsummer is two days away, and by then, the moon will be new, hidden from our view. There is nothing to be done. I am sorry." Elrond responded, apologetically.
"So this journey has been for naught?" Thorin asked angrily.
Stepping into the light, Brænna said, "Not necessarily."
Many in the group jumped, though at the sight of her, Kíli, Bilbo, and Balin all grinned.
"You should be resting," Elrond reprimanded. "How did you pass by the guard at your door?"
She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep, so I went exploring. Honestly it was easy to get by him, but it wasn't his fault; he just happened to be assigned to someone with extraordinary evasion skills," she answered.
"What do you mean, 'Not Necessarily?'" Thorin asked. "No matter how powerful you are, nobody can change the phases of the moon."
"No, I might not be able to, but I know someone who can," she answered. "Still, I haven't talked to her in a while, and I'm not looking forward to this conversation."
Again, don't forget to review if you liked it and especially if you didn't because that's the only way I'll improve as a writer. Hope you enjoyed it!