Their people were plagued by a darkness.
The Eotheod had long lived in the darkness of the grey mountains, but never had they felt the shadows the peaks cast so keenly as now.
The old king Frumgar was dead, lost to the maw of the cruel dragon Scatha. With him was lost many of the men, and much of the hope the people had left. Still, there was one who did not flinch, the young King Fram, who was burdened with his people's woes, and felt them most keenly of all. But still his hope and bravery persisted, and he claimed to his people that he would bring an end to the drake. Most took this to be the boastfulness of youth, for there were many legends of dragons and none had been slain by a mere man. One needed an elf king of old if they wished to achieve such a feat, and unfortunately those were quite hard to come by.
Still, those who knew the prince were aware of the mettle behind his words. He was a good man, untouched by the arrogance of monarchy and wrathful in battle. He had the makings of a great king and his advisors rued that would not see the land prosper under him, for even they had lost all hope in the future and advised the young king that they must flee their land.
But in this he would not heed their council and instead he ventured to the forge of Osgar the Smith and beseeched the forge master to make him a great pike twice span that of any ever forged and wrought of pure iron but left untempered. Osgar did his duty, and crafted a weapon of function but no beauty, deadly to look upon and imbued with all the hopes and fears of the Eotheod, a long rod of blackened iron so heavy that none but Fram himself could bear it that spiraled to a point as fine as a thistle. And so Fram named it, for a thistle is what he intended. He was not so brazen as to believe that he could best the dragon, but if the dragon were unwary perhaps he would be pierced by this spear, much as one may step on a thistle.
Fram ventured out then, with his spear, into the mountains, though his people begged him not to. It did not take long for him to come upon Scathas lair, for the dragon did nothing to conceal the path of his carnage. Fram entered the cave of the dragon quietly, and came upon Scatha as he slept, but he did not attempt to strike at the beast, for he had learned from his fallen kinsmen of the near impenetrable scales it possessed. Instead, Fram stood proud and tall, and driving his pike into the ground before him, he called to the dragon "Awaken Scatha!" and so the dragon awoke and feeling great wrath to see someone in his lair, let loose a gout of flame hotter and more intense than any mortal man could create. But Fram was ready and jumped to the side leaving his spear to be engulfed in the magical flame.
Scatha spoke then in a hideous voice as he brought himself up to observer his intruder, "who are you, so foolish as to enter my lair alone" and as he spoke he let loose a hissing chuckle for it would truly take a fool to believe he could harm a dragon with only a mortal blade, but what Scatha did not know was that with his very own magic he had strengthened this weapon. So he treated it as naught more than a thistle beneath him, and did not think to defend against it when Fram took the smoking spear into his hands, burning himself terribly. Then he braced the great Pike Thistle in the ground as one would brace against a charging boar, and aimed it at the dragon's heart, and to the dragons horror it split his body as easily as if he were not there, dealing him such a wound that the Scatha had not time to lament before he perished.
Thus the blade tempered and hardened in dragon fire pierced the great Scathas breast as the wyrm ran himself upon the terrible spear of his own making. Then, the victorious Fram returned to his people from the mountains, blooded Thistle in his burnt hands, and told the Eotheod of his deeds, and forevermore amongst the people of middle earth it was said that even a dragon should be wary to tread upon a thistle.