Chapter 6 - The Unspoken Spoken
A wise man once said, "Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts." –Patrick Rothfuss-
The language of truth… It was a linguistic system all dragons new inherently since the time they remained within their egg. Its origins are vague, even to the oldest of the scaled folk. Some of the draconic scholars believed that it was what was used to sing the Song of Creation, in the time the Ainur had begun molding the world. Others said it was a language designed by the will of the first dragons who combined their strengths to weave raw magic into each word, magic that could not be deceived.
Wherever the ancient language's origin's lie, they seem to hold the very essence of the things they name. Thus, lies could not be spoken in the dragon tongue, only truths, and thus vows made in it could not be broken. Every single word spoken in the ancient tongue had its own potential to wield a great power.
The dragons began to use the potent language within their crafts, and a unique craft in particular was the dragon's beloved craft for songs.
Dragon-songs made up the heart of draconian culture; it aided them in casting enchantments and weaving spells, even curses.
Imagine… If a single word is of great significance. What could be the significance of an entire speech? A book? A poem?
Or a song?
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~O~O~O~O~O~
"Do not let them know." They were alone again, out of earshot of any small folk. The hobbits were resting after another day of wary travel.
It's been three days, and their pace hadn't brought them any further to reaching Rivendell in the time the ranger hoped to arrive.
He whipped his head to her, having been in the midst of preparing her a draught with the Athelas he managed to gather.
"Your… condition has not gone unnoticed. By the hour, the hobbits are noticing more and more that something is amiss with you."
By the day, Elysia grew weaker. It was only a matter of time before the hobbits realized that their ever so resilient protector was diminishing. She put up an impressive front before them, but the ranger saw the hood under her eyes grow heavier. Her olive skin was paling, looking almost ashen, and those eyes… Once sharp as polished blades, they were beginning to dull with weariness.
When they were left alone to manage camp and watch guard, he saw the extent of her illness. The walls of her countenance crumbled before him and she breathed a haggard sigh. They formed a quiet bond that night he unveiled her wound. The ranger took the responsibility to tend to the dragon with every chance he managed to take, albeit Elysia was unresponsive to it. He mixed her water with the Kingsfoil weed and applied a salve to her wound (after much glaring and hissing from the dragon). In time, his persistence bore fruit as Elysia relented to his care, too exhausted to resist.
It was a positive but worrying sign. Her once bottomless strength was waning faster than they were travelling.
"… Just leave them be from unpleasant things." Elysia sighed. "It changes nothing if they know or remain in the dark, only their morale."
"We can push forward, quicken our pace."
"Our priority is to arrive at Imaldris unscathed." Elysia argued. "To quicken our pace is to risk capture. I will not put your lives in such peril for my sake."
They were all exhausted. Should they encounter the Nazgúl, the ranger needed his strength to match them, but he didn't seem to see her reason.
Those keen eyes darkened to a glare.
"Your own life is on the line, Elysia."
Elysia fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ever so noble, this Northern ranger was. "Alas, raggedy ranger. You are quite the stubborn Dunedain."
"Has the poison muddled your brain?" The Dunedain did not share her eerie calm. "Are you not aware-"
"That I am dying?" Elysia said dryly. "That I have been poisoned by a dark blade, on the verge of being tainted to become a fallen rider?... Why yes… I have noticed. After all… Tis I who is poisoned, and I who is dying, you shabby moron."
Whether she stunned him to silence with her nonchalance or her insult, or both, it was unclear, but the ranger shook his head with a look of the utmost unbearable irritation.
The sight earned him a snort of amusement. The difficult, pallid woman was giving him a smirk, amused by his thinning patience.
"You... You. Are. Impossible." He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to run his hand through his hair in frustration.
"Yet I exist." Elysia's smirk was wicked. "An impossible thing that is possible. Now that sounds rather impossible."
"For a lady of great pride, you are unbecomingly facetious." It didn't take a socially gifted individual to be aware that the ranger wished to say something far more unpleasant. It was almost impressive. He had the patience of a saint. How very noble.
"And you are rather scruffy for a man who is supposed to be the King of Gondor."
"Cease your prodding at the state of my cleanliness!" He was seething now. "Has it not occurred to you that living in the wilds has little luxury of perfumes and soa- what did you say?"
His rage dissipated like fire doused in cold water. Did this maiden knew who he truly was?"
Elysia's smirk faded, but the glee did not fade from her piercing gaze.
"The Ring of Barahir." She divulged upon seeing the face asking a number of silent questions. "Now I know where I have heard of you, Estel… Or should I say, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You are Isildur's heir."
Aragorn stiffened, but she continued.
"I have existed in these lands for over a thousand years, raggedy ranger, did you think I would have naught a clue to who is bestowed the right to the throne of men? You may not appear to be of kingly birthright." She scowled, and her gaze perused his unkempt clothes in blatant disdain. "But I can smell it in your blood."
"My blood?"
"The scent of a Dunedain is different from that of an average man. Magic has prolonged your lives, but throughout the years it has been watered by breeding with women of lesser magic in their veins. However, that remains untrue with the line of Elendil. The mana within the royal bloodline… your bloodline has always had more potency than the rest."
The ranger, Aragorn, wore a face void of expression. His gazed lingered at her for a moment longer before he casted his eyes away.
"What of it? So I had been born into a line of power hungry men."
The displeasure in his voice was not unheard by the dragon, although it surprised her.
"You bear disdain for your noble blood?"
"The path chosen by my forefathers has paved a way for darkness." Aragorn said ominously. "Is that something I should take pride in?"
"Your path is not like those before you." Elysia frowned, puzzled by this royal man's…uncertainty. "You bear Isildur's blood, not his spirit… Nevertheless," she continued, gazing back at the sky. It was clouded, but the twinkle of starlight still peeked through the clouds' cracks "I won't tell the others. It's not my secret to tell. Your lineage may be of great importance to the race of men, but it matters little to one such as myself."
She then turned to the man. And despite her ill form, Aragorn felt an authority born by age press upon him.
"For as of now… you have exiled yourself and rejected your birthright… To me, you are nothing but a mere raggedy ranger, and it shall remain as such for the time being."
He stared at her, long and hard. Then he gazed at the ring on his finger and a great sigh escaped him.
"Tis a birthright I do not want."
"Yes, well that tends to happens to even the best and the many, raggedy ranger." Elysia deadpanned. "I did not want to be born in the time that I was, and Frodo… The little one never asked for the Ring." Her tone became more hushed. "But everything that happens… It has its reason. The reason may be undefined by us in the moments we remain confused, but the reason exists nonetheless…" She then flinched and clenched her jaw.
By now, Aragorn knew what disturbed her. They had little luxury to talk of such things when Elysia's life was being balanced on the edge of time's blade.
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"You hunger for flesh… You crave it… You are a creature born of wrath and fire. You were born to bring death, to water the lands with the blood of your kills."
Cease your lies.
"I am your heart's voice. I cannot be silenced. Where there is fire, there is light. Where there is light, there will always be shadow… and I am the shadow born by your heart's fire. You cannot silence me, lest you silence yourself."
Elysia bit her lips until they drew blood, fighting the whimper daring to escape her mouth. The others were resting. Aragorn, after keeping watch for two nights, could no longer fight the call to rest and slept against a tree. She had volunteered to keep watch, but in the silence, the black language was clawing her insides. Her wounds burned and her very bones felt brittle.
"You see them… resting so peacefully in the night… burdensome creatures, all of them."
They are my friends.
"They are a burden. Should the foolish one have had any common sense, you would not have been inflicted this wound…. Does it not anger you?"
The twisted words were angering her.
"They value nothing of your promise… They care nothing for nothing of your heart… In time, they will see your power. They will see you, and they will fear you, hate you, despise you… They will see you as nothing but a mere monster like many before you."
THEY WILL NOT!
"A monster, a fire breathing, wretched wyrm. The elves of Rivendell with slay you where you stand if this ranger does not."
All the better. Then you'll be silenced.
"Oathbreaker… You will be nothing but an Oathbreaker…"
It's not my fault
"No… It is their fault… They should be suffering in your place. It is they who should feel the agony…. Kill them… Slay them… Cut their throat in the night."
Pictures of them frothed in her blackened mind; mauled, disfigured, lying in their gore with empty, fearful eyes gazing at her.
Elysia sealed the sob escaping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she swallowed the bile threatening to rise.
/
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~O~O~O~O~O~
They were silent. The hobbits were quieter now, not even Pippin seemed to say much even as they travelled at a fast pace. With Frodo's fate unknown, they were in a hurry to arrive at Rivendell in hopes to see Frodo alive. Elysia remained silent, concentrating on anything but the slow growing agony crippling her strength. Cursing this form for its vulnerability to blades and sharp things, Elysia kept her infirmity concealed under a stern bearing.
Aragorn kept a watchful eye on Elysia. They have been travelling with little rest and little food, hurrying to reach Rivendell. She hadn't slept once, not even a nap, and her appetite was scarce.
It was the fifth day when Elysia's countenance began to waver. She could not sleep for fear of nightmares consuming her mind, and the darkness was whispering at her, shadowing her every move, breathing down her neck.
The hobbits readied their beds, too tired to complain or care at the cold and discomfort anymore. Elysia waited for them to fall asleep—which wasn't long—before she wandered off once more. She suspected the ranger to follow as always, to assess her condition.
Aragorn trailed after Elysia, no longer making effort to hide that he was. She guided him to the river and stopped a few steps into the water. Undoing her weapons from their place on her back and hip, she settled near the water, leaning against a large boulder. As Aragorn walked up to her to question her odd place of rest, his jaws only tightened at the sight.
Elysia was looking forlornly pained and weakened. Black veins had crawled up the surface of her neck, bluing her skin. In the dark they had not noticed. The poison's progress was hidden by the dark. He cursed himself for his ignorance.
She leaned her head against the boulder to stare up at him. Those eyes filmy, clouded. It was as if she saw everything but him.
"Strider…."
Her husky timbre broke, her throat sounded dry, strangled by her struggle.
When she said his name, he knew what came next.
"No." Aragorn shook his head.
"… Strider… By tomorrow, I will not…" She couldn't finish her sentence. Her calm had faded with the last of her strength.
"If we move now, we can reach Rivendell by tomorrow." He justified desperately. "We can save you."
"Aragorn… Please." She hated to beg, but she was also growing desperate… and afraid.
Her words almost broke him. "No… I cannot do it." Aragorn whispered. "Elysia, I will not end you." He couldn't.
With all her bluntness, hostility, and at times insulting interactions with him, she was not evil and while Aragorn could not say for certain what she deserved, he knew with a sense of absolution that she did not deserve death.
"If you are truly noble, then you will end my misery." Elysia forced.
"Then I am not noble." Aragorn countered. "Because I refuse to give a person a fate they do not deserve."
"As if you know what I deserve." Elysia snarled.
She mustered the strength to rise albeit shakily. She used the boulder for support and glared at Aragorn.
"That may be true!" Aragorn cried. "But it certainly is not this."
"Whether it is to be deserved or not, it is not for you to decide." Elysia gritted her teeth. "It is my life, my wager… And I shall not have my life be forfeited to darkness. I will not let it…. I'd rather die than become like them."
"You shall die as an Oathbreaker then… A failure…. Unable to redeem the vows you swore to your friends… your kind… your mother."
"I'd rather die…" She hissed, baring her teeth. Her eyes were shut tight as she fought the darkness. "I shall decide when my choice is still my own, and I choose to die."
"YOU PROMISED."
"It's not yours to choose!" Aragorn snarled, breaking her away from her spirit's war. "Because your life is in my hands, and in my hands, I shall not do it!"
"Then you have doomed yourself and your race." Elysia's snarl became almost guttural as it took on a savage edge.
Aragorn almost stepped back when she opened her eyes. Her pupils had thinned into slits.
"For I will become the bane of all that you love!" Her voice grew louder, booming with ancient power. Winds began to howl and the skies rumbled with thunderclouds.
"The Nazgúl born from nine mortal men shall not compared to the nightmares I shall breed."
Aragorn almost wished he had his sword by his side, but as fast as she changed, her frightening display ended. The winds began to die and the skies quieted.
Elysia slumped against the rock looking more drained than ever.
"So please… If not for my sake, do it for the others…" She whispered. "I trust you will do what others cannot."
Silence fell between them. Elysia closed her eyes when another wave of agony began to torture her body. The curse was trying to break her body, hoping to break her will.
Elysia convulsed. She choked on her breath and the world began to tilt. Her head touched the waters of the gurgling stream, but the cool touch of liquid did little to ease her.
She heard footsteps. Aragorn was stepping towards her. He kneeled before her and placed a hand beneath her cheek, lifting her face from the water.
"Then trust me… Trust me to save you from this." He whispered pleadingly with earnest eyes before lifting her off the ground and into his arms. Elysia's head slumped weakly against his shoulder.
"… How… stupid." She muttered. "To trust… a fool… I am stupid."
Aragorn ignored her remark and turned,
only to stop at the sight of Pippin staring at Elysia's feeble state in horror. How long had the hobbit been there? How much of their conversation had he heard?
Pippin heard enough. The young hobbit's lower lip trembled. For a few moments, he lost his voice.
"S-she's dying?" He whispered in heartbreaking terror.
Aragorn answered with a command. "Wake the others… We cannot rest until we reach Rivendell."
This time Pippin did not complain. In fact, he ran to the others and promptly yelled at them.
"Get up! Get up!" Pippin cried. "Merry! Sam! Get up! Elly's hurt, and we need to get to Rivendell now!"
Sam and Merry immediately staggered to their feet, sensing the direness of the situation. When Aragorn came, Elysia in his arms, Sam gasped and Merry could say nothing.
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/
They ran through the night, crossing the river and jumping over streams.
The stars were unseen in the shroud of black clouds. But she imagined she could see them, beyond the billows. They glittered at her, beckoned her to come to them, to join them in the dark heavens. It was a tempting thought now. She would watch over those she loved from above, and remain welcomed amongst those who have fallen and left parts of themselves with the sky.
In the sea of stars, perhaps she would be able to find her.
/
"Remember, Elysia… Remember that those we love and are loved by do not part with us for eternity. No… Death is but another journey. And as long as you hold me close to your heart's light, I shall be there with you….
Look to the stars, my little love, and be reminded that I am with you.
Remember, as you soar beyond the clouds, that your mother is just as much a part of you as the sapphires hue of your scales.
And your sire… You may not love him, knowing little of him, but please… please my little light, know and remember that he loves you…
Remember our songs…. Remember our dance… Remember I love you… Remember…-"
"Elly!"
Elysia's eyes fluttered at the sound of Merry's voice.
Merry panted as he ran closer to the ranger holding her, Silvindr jostling in his hold. "Remember?! Remember that time you caught us stealing some pipe weed?!.. (pant)… And you forced us to float in two barrels…(pant)… In the middle of a lake…(pant)… and then you left us there…(pant)… while you had a picnic…(pant)… Right next to the water…"
"Yeah!" Pippin ran beside Merry. "And that time we stuffed fish…(pant)… In Maggot's pillow!" Pippin was holding Faersing, wrapping it in the ranger's cloak, clutching the blue sword by its scabbard close to his chest.
"Pippin, she doesn't know that one!" Merry turned to Pippin. "And wasn't supposed to!" He yelled, smacking Pippin's head.
They had to keep her awake, keep her fighting.
Elysia would have laughed if she had the strength to. The darkness was whispering in her, promising her power beyond anything she could have ever imagined, to become something of beauty admired by all servants of Sauron.
"You shall become the greatest of your kind. You can bring forth glory and rebuild what had been lost… come into the darkness. Submit to the greatness."
Bitterness swept over her. Who was to blame for everything she had lost?
Smaug had been great but he was also terrible. Ancalagon the Black was one of the greatest, but he was feared, nothing more than a pet of Morgoth….
Greatness… It matters not if there is nothing good…
I want to be someone good… before ever becoming someone great. Someone… like…-
"Hang on, Elysia." Aragorn encouraged as they ran through what looked like plains of golden grass."Your friends have faith in you, so have faith in yourself."
Elysia's sunken eyes were fighting the urge to remain closed. The sun broke through dark clouds. Its rays rested against the ranger's head.
Sweat poured from his scruffy face. His hair was in scraggly waves. Yet as raggedy as this ranger appeared, with those keen greened blue eyes, he had the essence of someone noble… someone good.
Aragorn… I want to be someone like Aragorn… He has the potential to become a great king… As of now, he remains a man of honor.
He is a good being…. a good friend.
When Aragorn heard the sound of the river, he felt his hope rise. They made it. It wouldn't be long after they passed the river's waters for his father's halls to greet them. Arwen would most likely have summoned aid to be ready for them by now.
The company ran down the sloping path and as hoped, they found their feet crossing the shallow rivers bordering the realm of Rivendell.
But Elysia then stirred as they made their way mid-river.
Aragorn's hope faltered when he felt Elysia go rigid in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open, and the silver in the orbs held an eerie glow.
"… Elysia?"
She didn't seem to hear him. Those eyes were empty, staring at the sky.
"Elysia!"
Elysia gasped and began to writhe. Aragorn could no longer hold her and was forced to set her down on the shallow riverbed. When Elysia touched the waters, she went on all fours and began to huddle, hands gripping either arm, nails digging into the flesh.
The hallucinations were becoming more vivid. She could no longer hear the voice of her companions. The world was changing around her.
/
/
The sky was burning. Demons bathed in fire, wielding swords made of black flame, were slaughtering her brethren. Hordes of dragons, eyes blinded in bloodlust by the taint, were battling with old friends. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear someone scream as their wings were being torn from their very body.
Was this war? A battle? She had been told that a good battle had its glory. But this sight only served to make her sick.
This wasn't war… This was annihilation.
She wanted to scream, where was mother? Was she supposed to fly off the Cliffs on her own? She was too young. Her wings wouldn't hold against the currents.
They told her to wait for her guardian, stay in hiding, and she obeyed them. She hid herself behind a ruined nest of shattered eggs.
But where were they? Where was mother? Where were her brothers?
She wanted to call out to them. After a moment of hesitation she did.
But her call was drowned by the roar.
Someone found her, but it wasn't one of her own.
Great, flaming eyes burning bright from a tall helm, armored in blackened metal. The man rode on a drake. He saw her.
Stepping down from his saddle, he crunched the debris beneath him as he walked toward her.
Ten paces away…
Eight paces…
Five…
His hand reached for her, and she saw the golden gleam of a ring on his finger.
"ELYSIA!" Aragorn had to keep the hobbits back. She was on the verge of madness. Her back was arched, making gruesome sounds akin to breaking bones. Blue streams of some strange enchantment were surrounding her body, swaying and moving like fire on her skin. Horns had emerged from her head, and in the darkness, Aragorn saw a ripple of pattern pulsate through her skin.
Scales… He was seeing the pattern of scales.
He heard the sound of horses nearing them. His panic skyrocketed, believing it to be the riders catching up to them. But fortune smiled upon him when he saw the white steed followed by two chestnut horses.
Silver armor gleamed as the white rider rode towards them, a radiant star of hope. Shining golden hair haloed around the fair and fearless face of Glorfindel of Rivendell.
Following him were two elven riders with raven hair, faces Aragorn knew all too well. His foster brothers, sons of Lord Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan.
"Estel" Glorfindel's voice was like music. He pulled the reigns of his steed, slowing it to a halt before the company. He spotted the strange magic surrounding Elysia. "What has happened? What sorcery is this?" He could taste the raw power in the air, but it was being caged by something evil.
There was little time for greeting. Aragorn spoke in a rush. "She's been wounded by a Morgul blade. You must summon Lord Elrond."
"By the Valar, is that Elysia?" Elladan leapt off his horse. "Mithrandir's apprentice?"
Glorfindel frowned and leapt off his horse, elvish words rapidly pouring from his tongue in urgency.
"Another one? How long?"
"Five nights and six days." Aragorn informed. "She has not the strength to rise since last night, but… Something is wrong"
The air was trembling. Even the hobbits could feel it. Sam stared at Elysia in horror.
"She's… I don't understand, what's happening to Elly?"
They were backed several paces away from Elysia, near the river's edge. Elrohir examined the maiden long and hard before speaking.
"She's fighting. She's fighting the evil… But she will not last. How long since the poison entered her veins, Estel?"
"Five nights and six days ago."
"Five nights? She's a strong one." Elladan commented, walking precariously closer to Elysia. "Lady Elysia… Hear my voice." He may not have mastered the arts of healing magic as his father has, but he knew some.
Glorfindel, far more experienced than many of Rivendell, warned him. "Elladan! Keep back!-"
But it was too late. Elladan had reached to place a hand on Elysia's shoulder but the wounded maiden violently lashed out an arm.
The warrior elf was propelled back by a wave of raw power. The bones in his arm broke with a sickening crack. He fell back on the edge of the river, against the pebbles, groaning.
"Brother!" Elrohir went to his brother's aid.
Elyia let out a snarl, causing Glorfindel and Aragorn to reflexively reach for their swords.
"S-STAY… WAY!"
Elysia was lost. Her mind was split in two. Reality was before her, but her nightmares were chaining her to memories she never wanted to relive. It was pulling her back again, stronger now, and Elysia could do nothing as her mind was swept into darkness once more.
/
/
She was there again… This time she knew… She knew what she would see, in her last moments upon the Eyrie.
Sauron was reaching for her and she could do nothing, she was cornered like a bird caged with a cat.
But she was saved in the nick of time. The howling roar was like music to her ears, filling her with hope. Her mother has come for her, and with her was her brother, her guardian.
Sauron's focus was swayed. He turned and was pushed back by a mighty mass of blue scales and white claws. A familiar scent and the sight of green began to surround her small form, her brother, ready to protect her.
Mother was going to win. She knew it now. Her mother was strong. She was powerful. She will win and they shall escape together-
"TAKE HER… TAKE HER AND FLY."
No… No…
"NO! MENOA-"
"DO AS I SAY!" The blue dragon snarled, and with a mighty swing of her tail, struck the fallen Maia away.
Her brother shared her feelings. "Menoa, come with us!"
"Protect your sister! Guard her with your fire! Your claws! Your life! Do you understand me, Vraiel?"
Her brother, also strong, also noble, looked torn. But there was little time.
"I understand."
"NO!" She couldn't stop her tears. "DON'T LEAVE! DON'T LEAVE ME TOO."
The blue drake gazed upon her, the war hardened gaze softening.
"Remember my words, Elysia… Remember them and remember me…. Now go."
But Sauron was not so easily deterred, and he will not let them escape so soon. Something shot towards them in the dark. Crimson and black, it streaked through the haze.
It would've struck her and Vraiel, but a blue body obscured their view.
And she felt warmth splatter her hide.
Then the blue drake, the one person she thought strong and everlasting, fell before her. Silver eyes met pained, sapphire orbs.
"… l-live… P-please live."
/
"MENOA!"
/
Her anguished cry echoed in the darkness. The streams of blue began to turn ablaze, and Elysia vanished in the azure inferno as her body arched towards the sky.
Wind howled and spun around her in a furious vortex. Aragorn kept the hobbits behind him as he shielded his eyes from the enchanted fire's burning radiance.
They saw her silhouette in the heart of the magic flame. Something emerged from her back, tearing the seams of her clothes; a pair of wings, veined and patterned with feathered crescents on its leathery skin.
The wings stretched towards the heavens, growing larger and larger. Elysia's scream began to deepen, contorting into a mournful, roaring howl. It was a sound that would cripple the most hardened warrior with grief.
Her open arms began to tremble. Hands that Aragorn had always thought slender despite their strength began to crackle and twist. Nails grew into talons.
It dawned on him. Elysia was no elf nor Istari of any sort. She was something far more… monstrous.
His foster brothers seem to share the same sentiment. They drew their swords, their courage masked by utter horror at the never before seen magic they were witnessing.
"… What evil is this?" Elladan hissed, sword in his unbroken hand. He held his maimed arm close to his chest as he brandished his blade.
Aragorn was torn. His sword remained sheathed. This maiden had proven to him to be formidable, but she was not evil. She was of no ill will, yet what he saw before him made him unsure… it terrified him. The magic in the air weighed heavily on his spirit, beating against his heart. Aragorn looked to Glorfindel for answers, but he received none.
The elf was eerily still, as though his body was set in stone, but he was certainly calmer then they…
No, upon looking more closely Aragorn realized it wasn't so. The elf's eyes were glistening, and his lips were parted. Glorfindel wore a look of pure sorrow… recognition… and hope?
"… She is the last…." He whispered "Long have I given up hope in seeking those untainted…." The amazement turned into a lament. "But it's too late… We were too late."
"Glorfindel, you know what sorcery possesses her?" Elrohir asked, yelling through the howling wind.
Glorfindel said nothing, but he drew his own blade. His heart was grieving and in his eyes, they could see his offensive stance was something he regretted deeply.
Forgotten histories were turned into legends, and legends into myths, but to one who had lived through the forgotten times, the myths were real, and they were precious memories that lingered faintly in his conscious, before a time he was known as Glorfindel of Rivendell. He had lived to see a time when dragons were comrades of old, secretive, mischievous, but no less wise and honorable as the elves. He remembered a time when he was bestowed a great honor. It wasn't acknowledged by his kin, for it was an honor of high clandestine. But it was an honor that he cherished, to be in the presence of scaled beings so old, to encounter their children who were as precious as the elven children, to be called a friend of dragons. It was an honor that faded when Morgoth brought darkness upon Middle Earth.
Long had Glorfindel believed dragons, untainted, pure from the poison of Mordor, would no longer roam peacefully in Middle Earth. Long had he thought he would never see the legendary scaled folk, lest it be on a field of battle sided with the enemy. Until now…
But they were too late. What's worse was that they had been close, so close to saving her before she fell, but by the time they came, she was beginning to succumb.
There was little time and not but one choice. She had to be killed before she changed, before she took her true form. The threat she posed against them all would be far too great. Although it was difficult to bear the idea of it, Glorfindel had to do what was best for the Free People. If another drake submitted to Sauron, they would be lost.
"Stay back, all of you." Glorfindel ordered.
The hobbits didn't need to understand the Sindarin tongue to realize what the golden haired elf was going to do with his sword in hand.
"NO!" Merry ran forward, only to be stopped by Aragorn's firm arms. "YOU CAN'T. ELLY IS OUR FRIEND."
Aragorn was torn. Should he stop this madness? Should he fuel the lingering hope of Elysia's salvation? Or should he at least hold the courage to watch someone he deemed as friend die so soon?
Glorfindel moved to strike a blow to her heart, one clean lunge to end her agony. But when he raised his blade and readied his legs to run forward, something caught his elvish sight.
A moth, fluttering in the winds, followed by a massive shadow swooping towards them from above.
They had little time to duck or give a startled cry as a pair of talons came down and slammed on the riverbed. The great gust of wind nearly knocked them back.
Elysia became obscured from them by a great feathered wing of a massive eagle. The eagle turned one intelligent golden eye upon them and let out a piercing cry. Simultaneously, a familiar grey figure leapt from its back.
"STAY YOUR SWORDS FROM MY APPRENTICE!" It was rare to see and hear such fury from the old Grey Pilgrim. His voice resounded with ancient might, causing the hobbits to clasp their ears and shrink.
Without question, they obeyed. The wisest option when commanded in such way by a very angry wizard.
"I cannot hold her for long!" The eagle spoke, gaining their attention. He had Elysia caged in his talons, but the blaze around her was growing stronger, stinging the eagle.
Gandalf wasted no time in scolding them. Instead he pointed towards the hobbits.
"The sword! Hurry Took!"
Pippin ran, stumbling in the process, to give Gandalf the sword. Wordlessly, the wizard snatched the sword by its scabbard, tearing away the cloth.
He went forth, and as he did, the great eagle freed the distraught lady from his claws.
"Faersing… hórna pömnuria rune, Eka aí fricai un Elysia skulblaka-finiarel."
Neither elf nor man or hobbit could understand the tongue Gandalf uttered, but they could feel its power. The blue sword seemed to react to the foreign speech. Its sapphire pommel began pulsating fire within its crystalline core.
Gandalf immediately raised Faersing, pommel towards the sky, before Elysia. And the strange language began to roll of his tongue in a strange air. They listened thinking it to be a wizard's spell, but as they listened, the words began to echo with a strange lyrical tune. Gandalf seemed to be almost singing, spinning a spell through a voice of song sounding unlike his usual voice.
They understood nothing of the speech, but Elysia seemed to. She jolted upright, the strange, unburning blue flame still leaking from her pores. Silver eyes with serpent slits glared at the wizard who held her blade. Whatever was being sung seemed to enrage the delirious dragon.
She released another howling roar, one of fury.
The horns crowning her head grew larger, forming prongs. The wings began to expand, and her skin seemed to be peeling away to silver dust, revealing a growing layer of sapphire scales hiding under the flesh.
Gandalf remained unfazed by the dragon's growing madness, merely stepping closer. He held Faersing out to her, now glowing from the pommel to the tip of its scabbard. Cable lines of blue radiated from the scabbard's patterned surface.
"Take thy blade and be in peace. Remember thy oath, thy spirit. Remember thy love and those who love thee."
The dragon said nothing to acknowledge she heard him. She bared her teeth, revealing a mouth of sharpened white fangs. Scales began to crawl up her right cheek.
Gandalf despaired, fearing he had been too late. In his hesitation, Elysia's clawed hand swung forth.
"Gandalf!" Aragorn yelled. The others looked away, fearing the worst.
... And by some strength of will, Elysia swung forth and grabbed the familiar handle of her blade. The moment she touched Faersing, lightning and fire began to encircle her. Gandalf had little time to be relieved as he was shoved back by a wave of pure force, only to have his landing be softened by Glorfindel's quick catch.
The river's water began to shiver as lightning spun at its surface. From the lightning and fire, blinding white rings began to form around Elysia. Runes, glyphic sigils of unrecognizable origin bled into the rings.
While the enchantments encircled Elysia, her body began to glow. Feathered streams of light began to glide over her skin, from the back of her hands to the tip of her horns. Her braid had become undone, leaving her hair to float around her in a dark halo.
Then all at once, the mystic fire and lightning, the rings of light, and the symbols all vanished. Or more accurately, they imploded into Elysia's kneeling body with a jolt.
There was silence. All waited with baited breaths.
Steam curled from Elysia as she heaved, deep, tired gasps. The feathered lights that once marked her were receding, and as they receded, her scales, the horns on her head, and her wings began to fade and retreat into her skin.
Soon, the men were left with a ragged Elysia, looking worse for wear.
No one spoke… until it was Pippin who broke the silence.
"Merry… I don't think Elly is a vampire… or part werewolf."
His comment earned several looks of utter incredulity. There was a moment where Aragorn appeared sorely tempted to finally lose his generous patience and smack the hobbit. His sentiment was shared by quite a few.
The moment was broken by a throaty chuckle. It came from the said woman, who, although drained, gave Pippin a small, smirk.
"…Foolish… Took." She huffed, before collapsing into the waters of the shallow river.
Glorfindel and Gandalf rushed to her aid before she drowned in her unconscious state.
Dawn began to rise, giving light to the world once more. And as the sun peeked over the edge of the valley, Gandalf lifted the dragon's small frame into his arms.
Eyes half closed, Elysia gave the wizard a feeble glare.
"You're… late."
Her grimaced deepened at the bruises and scabbing wounds mottling his face.
The old grey Istari could only give the dragon a watery chuckle.
"My dear girl. I am a wizard…. I dare say I arrived precisely when I needed to."