I don't own LOTR
and this site's spacing system (or lack thereof) is really confusing. I'm trying to organize my story to be read more smoothly but it isn't saving the way I want it to. Please forgive me if you notice the trial-by-error I have with this site.
-Mana
Chapter 7: Scars Seen and Unseen
Wounds of the flesh heal. They may scar, but they eventually fade.
Wounds of the spirit… they are, by far, very different. The difference is undefined, because these wounds cannot be defined in simple terms of cuts, bruises, or burns. The difference makes them volatile, and volatility makes wounds of the spirit all the more dangerous.
Because it is difficult to know if, when, or how the wound will fester….
/
/
There was darkness… Darkness so suffocating, she wanted to scream.
But she had no voice… No body… She felt nothing of being, not even pain or discomfort. She could only hear the beating of her heart.
It was like a war drum, slowly quickening and quickening, growing louder and louder.
This darkness was a foul cage. It was a body of tar, determined to consume her. Elysia began to panic. Dragons were never meant to be in cages. They were never meant to be swallowed like this.
She wanted to get out. She wanted to be free. She wanted to see the sky, to see the clouds caressing the highest peaks, to see the moon bring forth a realm of silver light, to see the stars wink upon her, to feel the light of the sun touching her scales and bring forth the blue shimmer of its pristine condition.
She needed to breathe; she needed to breathe the free air, and to feel the wind lift up her wings.
Then, as if to answer her prayers, there came a light. It was radiant as the sun yet soft in its caress as a full silver moon.
Then a voice came, like the sounds of the deep wind chimes hung around Rivendell.
"Hear my voice… Heed my call…. come back to the light."
The light was drawing closer, and while the dark was painless and comfortable, Elysia could not stand to be in the black prison. So she followed the light and the voice.
Slowly, it returned the sensation of her body; her arms, legs, lungs, head, and the feel of her heart beating in her chest louder than ever. She followed the light even further, pushing away from the abyss.
The light embraced her and set her free, Elysia found herself floating peacefully in warmth before she was taken by a less sinister darkness, the darkness of dreamless slumber.
When she awoke, there were two things that she noticed. Firstly, she was on a very comfortable, plush, and soft bed. The second was that she was famished enough to devour a young Oliphaunt.
Her eyelids fluttered, but when she opened them, there was regret. Elysia cringed and let out a small groan as the light of Rivendell's afternoon day pained her sleep sensitive eyes. Shaking her head briefly, she let out a jaw splitting yawn and sighed, massaging her neck.
Underneath the thick sheets, she appeared to be bare of her old clothes. A cream colored shift draped her body and her breasts had been concealed under a clean set of bandages. Whether they were placed there to help her heal from her wounds or preserve her modesty, or both, she did not know. .
Eyes still bleary, she made a few rapid blinks to clear her haze. Her sight was met with arched windows, opening a marvelous view of the autumn trees. Leaves varying in the colors of flame fell from the great foliage.
It didn't take an elf to know where she was. With the graceful arch of spiraling designs, quality furniture in the pale room, the ethereal elegance of the outdoors, and that distinct elven aroma, this was without a doubt Rivendel. She was in the House of Elrond.
When she stretched, her felt her several areas of her body give off a dull ache of protest. Curious, she examined her upper arm, where pieces of the Morgul blade had imbedded itself in the flesh.
Her arm, once marred with spidery veins with a pallid bluing hue, was looking much more robust. Her skin had returned to its olive splendor, but had some slight discoloring closer to the wound. The greater injuries she suffered had been bandaged; her waist and her torso.
With Elrond's magic and her people's resilient nature, the wounds should heal. She could already feel her strength growing and the dark magic's fading grip on her own spirit. But in all likelihood, they were bound to scar. Such was the fate of healed curse-bearing wounds.
There was something else though, something she couldn't define in clarity but a certain… grimness was scattered inside her, sealed away but there nonetheless.
Elysia shook off the sensation. It was most likely the fatigue.
"How are you feeling?"
The voice broke the dragon back from her contemplation. She whipped her head around to see a pair of bright eyes and a youthful fair face of a male elf with bright gold hair. Flummoxed by his quiet presence and the fact that she had not noticed, Elysia remained mute.
Glorfindel only stared at her, and much to her growing confusion, his gaze seemed to be akin to wonder...?
Was her face marred? Had her horns grown in her sleep? The events of the night she lost consciousness were muddled to her. Brief flickers of words, promises, and pain were all that she could remember, but it was too tedious to think too hard at the moment.
Elysia quickly touched her head. She nearly sighed in relief at feeling only hair. Speaking of her hair, it was out of its braid. Her fingers felt a foreign object in the waves of her hair and pulled out a leaf. A grimace made its way to her lips. She needed a bath among many other things.
"Forgive us for not putting a little more care to your state." Glorfindel spoke again, distracting Elysia from her absentminded thoughts.
She locked eyes with him once more, this time with more scrutiny. The elf was still in that gleaming armor etched with leaf patters on the shoulder plates. Still armed with a curved elvish blade at the hip, his posture was a little stiff.
"How long", her throat felt dry, "was I unconscious?"
Glorfindel almost tilted his head at the sound of her voice. It wasn't as graceful and musical as the females of his race. She could pass off for an elf, or of elven descent. With her cheekbones high, nose daintily pointed, her delicate lips small but full, and her ears pointed, she resembled an elf, albeit rather short, petite, and tinted with an olive hue darker than that of even the most sun loving elf.
However, when one took a closer look, they would see the subtle differences in her countenance, telltale signs that she was not of elven origin. Those eyes were sharper, more slanted, and the ears, although pointed, bore ridges on their rims. Her facial features overall were much more feline, giving her a wilder appearance than the noble elegance of the elves.
"Three days and two nights." He informed. "Twas only last night your fever broke."
"Fever?"
"You were… considerably ill. Should we have lingered a single hour longer from Rivendell, your life would have faded too far for us to recover you."
"Oh…"
Glorfindel tilted his head. "Quite a challenge, it was, to bring you to the House of Healing. Should Gandalf not have arrived in the timely fashion he did with Gwahir as his guide, we would not have been able to bring you as you struggled…. You broke an arm."
Elysia frowned and stared at her arms. Glorfindel pursed his lips, as though he were fighting off a smile..
"Not yours…" He informed with an air of amusement.
The scowl turned into a sheepish frown. Then Elysia suddenly remembered why they were in Rivendell. "Frodo…" She whispered before speaking in haste.
"Where is Frodo? Is the little one-"
"Master Baggin is fine… He is healing as we speak. Lady Arwen managed to bring him to Imaldris in time for Elrond to save him." He assured.
Elysia let out a sigh of relief and raked a hand through her scalp, brushing back stray locks of her dark fair from her face. At the feel of her hair, she scowled again.
"I need a bath."
Glorfindel gave her a gentle nod. "I will send a servant to assist you-"
"That is not necessary." She cut in. Realizing she sounded rather brusque, Elysia retracted. "I mean… If it is possible, I'd prefer being left alone to bathe."
Glorfindel's eyes bored into hers with an indecipherable expression. Then he nodded once again. "Very well. I will have someone provide you more appropriate attire."
With that being said he walked gracefully out of the room. Elysia immediately slid off the bed, tossing the cushion back to the sheets before heading to the private bath. The High Elf seemed to have foreseen this, for the bath was filled with warm water. It was a relief. Although she didn't mind cold or heat, she could use some comfort after a tiring course of events.
/
Stripping herself bare, she entered the water and closed her eyes. The water stung her wounds, but she paid little heed.
Content to float there, she did so with a leisure air before undoing the now soaked bandage wrapped around her torso. The elvish medicine had done its job in purifying the poison, but Morgul wounds were slow to heal. The skin surrounding the injured tissue had yet to fully close.
She sighed and merely sank deeper into the water, allowing her hair to float around her, allowing the water to soak through her scalp and simply wash away her troubled thoughts.
By the time she finished washing her body and hair thoroughly with oils and soaps lined before her near the tub's edge, her keen ears heard someone nearing.
There was a knock at the door before the person slowly entered at Elysia's soft approval. It was Arwen, daughter of Elrond. The dark haired elf maiden carried neatly folded clothes.
Elysia wrapped a large drying cloth over her small form and tried to wring the water from her wet waves.
"My swords... Where are they?" She inquired.
Arwen set the clothes aside on a high shelf. "We placed them in the corner of the room. The blue blade did something very strange."
"Did it harm you?"
"It stung our ranger when he touched the handle." Aragorn had dropped it like a hot fire poker the moment he touched the black leather grip.
Elysia raised a brow and explained. "Faersing has always been volatile. It doesn't stay civil when being handled by unfamiliar hands."
She peered closer at the clothes and fought the urge to sigh at the rich pale blue and white material of the dress. But Arwen sensed her unease. She tilted her head with a small, puzzled frown and walked towards Elysia.
"Is something wrong?" She inquired with a look of concern. "Does the dress not please you?"
"No… No, it's lovely…" Elysia said, but Arwen looked unconvinced.
With another sigh, she explained.
"I am… Ill-suited for dresses… Not very often do I wear them.."
It wasn't that she despised them in any manner, but it always seemed inconvenient, hindering her movement with the long skirts that could snag anywhere if she weren't careful. If she didn't spend so much time going out and about everywhere, perhaps she would have more dresses in her wardrobe but then again… She didn't really feel the need to emphasize her femininity in the Shire.
"Silks and velvets." She mused as she stroked the white sleeve and the pale blue velvet of the torso. "I seldom ever wore something so… opulent." She shrugged and took a furtive glance at the maiden. Arwen was beautiful. Her beauty was famed amongst the elven folk, and Elysia knew why as she gazed at the lady. Be it delicate maroon gowns or riding wear, the she-elf suited all attire she wore and made it the garment of nobles.
Rarely was Elysia cowed by beauty to the point of feeling a little mediocre, but it could not be helped with the elf who's fairness was rumored to rival the magnificence of Lady Galadriel.
Arwen smiled, not sensing Elysia's rather browbeaten turn of thought. "Tis a shame not to indulge such beauty with some opulence."
Her compliment almost made Elysia squirm in embarrassment. She opened her mouth. Then she closed it, unable to find the right words to thank the fairest lady of Rivendell for her flattering words. Perhaps the fair maiden had long forgotten or forgiven the crass treatment she had given her in their last encounter.
Arwen broke the chagrinned silence. "My father wishes to see you once you're ready."
Now that caught her attention. She seldom ever spoke to Lord Elrond in all her years of living and travelling.
"Did he give reason?" She inquired.
Arwen, wishing to ease her growing anxiety, spoke gently and carefully.
"He would like to see your recovery, and to ask a few inquiries but nothing too severe."
"I see… but often what is wanted from curiosity tends to be severe." The response was monotonous, giving nothing away. Arwen only tilted her head, confused but quiet.
Elysia then, realizing she had lost herself in a train of thought in a stranger's presence, pointedly glanced at Arwen and cleared her throat. The elf maiden's eyes widened and she gave the lady a polite nod. Arwen then headed towards the door, but just as she was about to leave, she turned once more. She looked as though she wished to speak but hesitated when Elysia raised a questioning brow.
"Yes?"
"… Many times, you've come to Rivendell, but rarely have I been able to happen upon your presence, if not never. But I've always wondered… I have always wished to know… It was you who rescued my naneth…?"
At the mention of Arwen's mother, those pale eyes widened, but it was a brief expression of surprise before the dragon masked her shock with an unreadable expression.
"… I…." Elysia bit her inner cheek, hesitating. "… It was a long time ago."
It had been many years ago, but the memory had been ingrained into Elysia's mind. There had been a period of time when she welcomed the thought of visiting Rivendell. It was a time when the House of Elrond had all of its members; before the loss of Lady Celebrían, lady of Rivendell and wife of Elrond. It was the lady that drew Elysia from the shadows…
/
/
She felt lonely and out of place. These people were not her own and vice versa; she was not of their kind. It made them curious and her uncomfortable, all the questions, the attention, and the strange need to dote on her. So she hid.
There was garden of flowering trees where she could hide. Her body still painstakingly small, like that of an adolescent child, she sat in the shade just under the tree, behind the bush where she would remain unseen and waited for her master to be finished with whatever business he had with Lord Elrond.
She gave a heavy sigh and lied down, not minding the knotted roots of the flowering trees. Soon, Elysia found herself dozing off to the sound of rustling trees and the fragrant scent of spring…
She didn't know how long she slept, but when her mind began to wake before her body, a few things registered to her.
Something warm pillowed her head, unlike the roots she had been resting on before, and something soft caressed her forehead and cheek.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a woman with hair as light as starlight and eyes that reminded her of finely cut aquamarine gemstones. Her head was resting on the she-elf's lap, and the lady's fingers were resting against her forehead.
"Did I wake you, youngling?" The elf lady asked in her melodious voice.
Startled, Elysia was fully awake in a split second. She sprung upright like a catapult, whipping her head to stare at the fair lady.
"Ah, I did not mean to startle you." The lady raised her hand to placate the young dragon's shock. "The garden ground did not seem to be a comfortable place to nap, but you were in quite a deep slumber… I did not wish to wake you."
She hastily scrambled to her feet and began to back away from the elf, but in her haste her heel snagged the bump of an exposed root and she found herself tripping. A slight grunt escaped her as her head jarred from the impact.
"Oh my." The she-elf did not laugh, but she could not fight the small smile of amusement on her fair lips.
Flustered, Elysia rolled to her stomach and shook her head, thoroughly annoyed and still not fully adjusted to this two legged form. It made her clumsy, much to her chagrin.
A gentle hand brushed through her hair. She flinched at the unexpected touch, but the elf lady was not discouraged nor did she retrieve her hand. The lady had walked around the tree to see her face and was now plucking petals and twigs that were caught in her hair.
When Elysia attempted to pull away, she rested a hand on her cheek.
"Be still my dear. Allow me to tend to your hair and then you can be off on your merry way." The elf was kneeling, and the fine silk of her skirt was dirtied by her posture.
Her hand was warm, and her touch was gentle. Elysia gave into her curiosity and looked up. The motherly way in which she focused on preening Elysia's hair and her touch stirred bittersweet nostalgia in the dragon's heart.
When the lady was done, she had cupped Elysia's cheek once more and gave her a warm smile. The dragon could only stare and found herself leaning to the lady's touch.
"Such beautiful gaze… My sons have grey eyes as well, but yours are much fairer. Darker on the outer rim and quite pale within, as though you have mithril rings in your eyes."
She tilted her head and blinked. Those jewel like orbs were staring at her spirit. "And their old… Older than the eyes of many who roam these halls…" Elysia remained silent. Did this lady know of her truth? She was uncannily accurate, and it was unnerving… yet Elysia could not tear herself away from her touch.
"Your heart, on the other hand… is still young. Young yet burdened with longing." The lady looked forlorn for her, but she did not know why. It was not her pain to bear.
"I am Celebrían. What do they call one as unique as you?"
"…. Elysia."
"Well met, Elysia."
/
Celebrían painfully reminded Elysia of her own mother in some ways; she was regal, kind and relentlessly loving towards her children. She had filled her craving for a mother's touch, but like all good things, it did not last forever.
Years later when news was spread by the birds that Lady Celebrian was waylaid by orcs, Elysia immediately went on the hunt. But with all her tracking skills and speed, she had arrived too late...
/
Celebrían's clothes were in tatters. Her body was bloodied and bruised from the countless blades, whips, scalding irons, and relentless hands of the savage beasts. The abuse was pushing her towards sanity's end. Why wouldn't they just kill her? Death was more inviting than the black smile of these creatures as they tortured her mind, body, and soul.
She had lost count of the time, of the tears she's wept. Her hope was all but extinguished. Now she just waited to die.
"Bring the elf wench out of her cell!"
At the command, the orcs ripped Celebrian out of her iron cage and tossed her onto the dirt. Her ears were filled with guttural laughter while her body burned from the harsh movement. The chains of her shackled wrists jangled against the rocky ground, and she bit back a cry as a fingernail was uprooted by the impact. Her screams would only encourage them to cause more agony.
The orc pack had made camp near a ravine, and after settling, their leader demanded to have some entertainment to stifle their boredom. What better way to keep themselves entertained than the screams of a she-elf?
The orc sneered at the elf, unfazed by her sad beauty. Reaching to his scabbard, he yanked out a serrated blade the size of his forearm and stepped forward.
Mustering what dignity was left in her broken body; Celebrian hugged her shoulders and waited, hunched.
The orc cackled at the pitiful sight. "Now I've never skinned and gutted an elf wench, but I'm sure it's the same as a horse. We'll be having some elf-meat tonight, boys!"
Terror clenched her heart. Celebrian prepared to scream with all her might, one last time in hopes that she would be heard before her brutal death.
Death came before her scream, but it wasn't unto her.
A howling roar echoed through the twilight, shaking the very earth beneath her knees. There was a clamor of raucous screams and orc curses. Then one of the orcs squealed like a pig in slaughter. Attention was drawn off their captive and towards the commotion.
A bright blue explosion blinding Celebrian's vision, the sheer force of its blow shoved her flat on the rocky ground. In her daze, she could only make out blurs. Something was out there, moving in the night, fighting the orc pack.
Was it her people? Has her husband finally found her?
But there were no sounds of whizzing arrows or clashing blades.
She heard hissing, snarling, and the sound of flesh being ripped apart. These were not the sounds of her people.
They were the sounds of a great monster.
Fear began to take hold of her. What new fiend will capture her now?
The orc gurgled as her forepaw shattered its chest cavity with a single stomp. Rage fueled her entire being as Elysia began slaughtering every orc in sight.
She had been in the sky, searching for the orc pack and for Celebrian, but when her keen eyes spotted the ruined state of the fair she-elf, her vision turned red and she dived.
In her frenzy, it did not occur to her she was exposing herself to the elf maiden, something her master had constantly warned her to be cautious of. The only thing that mattered, the only thing she sought, was the death of the orcs by her hands.
Her teeth and claws tore through armor, flesh, and bone, ripping their wretched lives at the seams from their body. From her maws came great blue balls of volatile fire, leaving many unfortunate foes in charred pieces.
By nightfall, the entire camp was in flames. There wasn't a single orc spared.
Seeing no foes left alive, her bloodlust began to fade. The dragon then turned her gaze towards the she-elf.
When their eyes met, Celebrian flinched and whimpered, resembling a frightened hare.
Elysia shifted, transforming before her eyes into the familiar figure of a certain girl with the mithril rings in her eyes.
But the shining quality of those orbs, once mesmerizing to her, no longer held beauty for the tortured lady.
Celebrian released a shrill scream when Elysia approached her.
"Monsters! MONSTERS!" Celebrian cried madly, clutching her hair.
No longer did Celebrian gaze at her with motherly warmth, and Elysia stood still, unable to do anything but stare at the distraught lady. Celebrían's fear hurt more than any festering wound from an orc blade.
Eventually, the Lady of Rivendell collapsed in her distress, and Elysia numbly began to tend to her unconscious body. Breaking her shackles and wrapping her in a spare blanket, she lifted the fair lady in her arms and began the long journey out of the ravine on foot, her own wounds from the brief, but chaotic battle forgotten.
That was how Elladan and Elrohir found them. Covered in crusted orc's blood, she walked towards their cavalry when they spotted her in the distance, carrying their beloved mother. It would become a sight none who witnessed ever forgot.
/
/
It was the last time she saw Celebrían. While the Rivendell elves tended to their lady, Elysia had departed wordlessly back into the night. Later on, much to her adding sorrow, she heard news of Celebrian's departure to the Undying Lands. The lady of Rivendell had been unable to cope with the atrocities she experienced.
Elysia looked to Arwen, who at that moment, despite her dark hair, bore striking resemblance to Celebrían.
"…. Rescued…. is not the most apt way to describe it."
Arwen frowned. "But how else is it to be described? My brothers have told me it was because of you, her life was spared. Not by their doing, but by yours and yours alone."
"All but her life was spared. I could not save her from the terrors." She sighed. "I had added to it."
Her ominous reply left Arwen speechless. Elysia took the opportunity to give her an imploring look. She had an appointment with her father and needed privacy to get dressed.
Arwen bowed once more and finally departed, albeit abruptly, leaving Elysia to sigh and get dressed in the garment laid out before her.
The material was soft, and the skirt rippled like water when it fell down her legs. The sleeves went down to the mid of her forearms before draping down like a pair of white wings. The wide neck of the dress exposed her collar, and the pale blue velvet of the dress clung to her torso while its skirt billowed with her strides.
She left her hair free to dry as she strode swiftly through the corridors, attempting to be as invisible to the elven folk as possible, per usual.
She wasn't oblivious to the glances at her way, some curious and some wary. Her footsteps slowed to a halt as she spotted something familiar in the distance: a tall, old, grey man smoking his long pipe, sitting on a bench in a veranda.
"Ebrithil!" Elysia quickened her pace, and the wizard pushed himself up with a small huff.
They embraced, and Gandalf gave a hearty chuckle. "You gave us quite a fright, my dear dragon."
"Bah! Same could be said for you, Mithrandir, and hush… Do not give the elves of Elrond more fright." Elysia chided quietly. Imagine the chaos that would run rampant if the elves discovered a dragon in their precious halls.
"Ah… well, Elysia… I do not think they shall be quite as frightened as you might respect."
She parted the embrace to stare questioningly at her old master. Gandalf only rested his hands upon her shoulder, height towering over her as it always did.
"What do you mean by that, Mithrandir? Do they know?"
"Some may have discovered it… You made quite the spectacle on the river, ah" He saw her growing confusion, "alas you do not remember… No matter… For it is time… Those who do not know should now know."
"But-"
"But nothing, Elysia." Gandalf sighed. "Long have I imprisoned you in a secret that has chained you, but we are rising to the summits of a time where the solidarity of the free races must be indomitable, and there is no room for such secrets when such matters require trust."
Elysia hesitated. Years ago, she would have sung and danced for joy at being given such consent but now…. It was alienating and worrisome. The responsibility of her own people resided on her shoulders. For eons, those untouched by the taint of Sauron had remained in obscurity for a good reason. People feared that of which power far overwhelmed their own; magic unknown, unexplainable, rarely seen.
The wizard seemed to read her very thoughts. To her surprise, he chuckled.
"My, how you've grown so greatly." She sent him a perplexed glance, and he continued. "You fear the repercussions, more specifically; you fear the reaction of those around you. I recall there being a time where you had little heart for the wellbeing of many others."
The dragon scoffed, trying to hide her fluster with little success. "Don't be ridiculous, Gandalf."
"To care is not a bad thing, Elysia."
"I care not if they accept or deny my nature." She argued, her nose held high as she glared at an autumn tree.
He rolled his eyes. "Though you are a skilled little drake, lying is not one of your greatest assets, my dear."
"Come off it, Mithrandir." Elysia bristled before she cast him a quick but careful perusal. Though on the surface, the Istar appeared uninjured, she could see he held himself with a bit more care, relying more on his newly made staff for support.
"So… I am to presume that your visit to Orthanc wasn't all that pleasant?"
Gandalf remained unperturbed to the sudden change in topic, but the mention of Orthanc brought a grimace. "I know not how long he had been siding with the enemy, but my guess is that he has been acquainted with Sauron after our time in Erebor."
"Oathbreaker. If I should see him, I shan't hesitate to set his robes ablaze." She said darkly. "You escaped on Gwahir? I recall it was he that helped you restrain me."
"So you do remember."
"Tis by bits that my recollections of that night return." Elysia confessed, turning grim. "However… I wish not to dwell upon it."
"Yes, I believe you owe, Elladan an apology, but of course, that can be done another time. I believe you and I have an appointment to be met with the Lord of Rivendell."
Elysia did not hide her reluctance, earning her a look of disapproval from Gandalf as he ushered her to walk with him to Elrond's chambers.
"Have you sent word to the Eldest?"
"I've been preoccupied with trying to keep Halflings out of trouble. I cannot send word until I know how the pieces will be laid for my kin."
"The pieces? Comparable to a game, but I suppose that is a most apt way to describe politics." Gandalf replied. "But what do you mean by how?"
Elysia slowed her pace through the corridor, turning sober. Her eyes were elsewhere and she appeared troubled.
"Gandalf… The dragons are at a stalemate. Many are choosing to hide or flee should Middle Earth fall. As darkness grows, they grow less immune and already, some have vanished and we know naught of where."
She gave him a side glance. "Should Elrond summon a council to place verdict upon what is to become of the Ring, the outcome of such decisions shall determine the course of the dragons' part in the Alliance as well. If the verdict is seen as an ill choice, there will be no alliance made."
"So the dragons shall not come to our aid, lest the Ring's fate leans towards their favor…." Gandalf was more thoughtful than irked.
"Above everything else, they wish for its destruction. But should the Ring fall unto the hands of Men, I fear that they will not hear reason." Elysia could not blame them. It was the failure of Men that caused such calamity to rise once more.
"Such irony, I must say. There was a time when you were scorned by your kinsmen because of your involvement with the grounded races of Middle Earth… Now they choose you to mingle with them for their sake." He was amused, if not embittered. There had been a time when Elysia was shunned by her dragon kin for favoring the company of "lesser, fleshly beings".
"As you have said, Mithrandir. Times have changed."
"Hmm… Well, Gwahir also would like to give you his regards and that he shall visit once more in the days to come to see your progress in flight."
Elysia brightened considerably at the new topic. "Progress? If anything, tis I who is the superior flier. There is little that eagle could teach of the sky that I am not already aware of." She remarked in mock haughtiness, ignoring Gandalf's mild glare.
/
/
~O~O~O~O~O~
Lord Elrond of Rivendell gazed at the falling autumn leaves from the window of his study. His eyes were pensive and his mouth was curved into a troubled frown. Despite the burden of his thoughts and the current situation, he kept his regal posture firm and patiently waited for the summoned arrival of two strange riddles he thought he long knew. Glorfindel had enlightened him on what had transpired, how one of his sons came about with a broken arm.
He had always known Elysia was not always what she appeared to be, but it never occurred to him that the severity of the enigma was considerably greater than he and many presumed to be.
When Gandalf had informed him that he had brought a dragon into his halls, Elrond had been sorely tempted to check if the wizard required more healing in the head than he thought. However, when this statement was supported by his sons and by Glorfindel… He will admit, he considered throwing out the unconscious apprentice.
There were so many questions unanswered, so many explanations needed, all of which must be told by a certain grey Istar. Wizards were audacious beings, powerful and wise in their own right, but to keep such a secret from the Council? From friends? Fury welled within the elven lord.
Has the pipeweed addled Gandalf's brain? What in the Valar was the wizard thinking in keeping such things?
The sound of opening doors interrupted his train of thought.
"Good morning, Lord Elrond. You must pardon my apprentice and I for our delayed arrival. We were mildly sidetracked upon encountering one another before heading to your study." Gandalf said cheerfully.
Still seething in his anger, Elrond turned and his pensive countenance changed into one of hard reprimand. "What are you playing at, Gandalf the Grey?"
"I guess it hasn't been a good morning." Elysia muttered dryly. She went and leaned against the bookshelves while Gandalf appeared to have the decency to look abashed.
"Allow me to explain-"
"Explain what, exactly?" Lord Elrond snapped. "Where can we even begin to explain such blasphemy? For centuries, I have trusted your supposed 'wisdom', your judgement, and considered you friend."
"And I have always been honored at being considered such, Lord Elrond. I still am." Gandalf refuted calmly.
"Have you?" If it were not for his regal nature, Elrond would have sneered and scoffed. "You have an unbecoming way of showing it. How dare you harbor such secret from the White Council. From me?"
"Twas not only by my own volition for Elysia to remain a confidentiality, my old friend. I was sworn under oath."
"What oath?" Both Elysia and Elrond asked, simultaneously. This was something they have not heard before.
"To your clansmen." Gandalf explained. "Specifically, to your mother."
"My…" Elysia was rendered speechless. Elrond's fury began to fade in his confusion and wonder.
"Twas not only by pure chance that I was the one who discovered you, Elysia. I swore an oath to protect you and keep you under my care, should the time come when Sauron moved to seize control of the dragons."
"Clans.. dragons… There are more than we know?" The elven lord appeared unnerved.
"There were…" Gandalf corrected. "There once were many. Who you see as my apprentice remains the last of her clan. When Elysia was young and malleable, I could not risk having her suffer the prejudice placed upon her kind. Hatred will only beget hatred, and I desired Elysia to be well acquainted with the better things of the world than its hate." His gaze suddenly darkened. "Although… that, at times, has been exceedingly difficult."
Gandalf did not need to make his tone anymore acerbic for Elrond to understand the implicit accusations.
Their gazes did not sway for a long lapse of silence. The anger in the ancient elf began to cool, as empathy began to override his initial anger. He then turned his pinning gaze to Elysia, who gazed back with a defiant calm.
"You… You are of the Urulóki?" He inquired.
She tilted her head. "'Fire-drake, a rather generalizing term, I would say. Not all of us breathe fire."
"Do you?"
"If you could call it that, yes."
Elrond sighed, anger draining by the second. "All these years, we've had a dragon in our midst. Mithrandir, why must you seek to bring such trouble?"
"I'm right here, I'll have you know." She deadpanned. "Must I be fully formed to be noticed? Or would you prefer I lay waist to your halls and set fire to your gardens?"
"Elysia!" Gandalf barked. Elysia went silent but appeared unabashed. The istar turned to the elf, who looked torn between being insulted and unamused. "Please do not mind her cheek. It appears centuries of being under my tutelage has still not taught her some civil diplomacy. Dragons could be very stubborn in their ways."
"Or perhaps it was being under such tutelage that caused her to be so." Elrond muttered, turning to the window.
"What was that?"
"Tis nothing, Mithrandir." Elrond said with a graceful wave of his hand. Elysia snorted, having heard him.
"Your remark does bring another question to my mind, amongst many." Elrond glanced at Elysia once again. "You do not resemble the scaled folk."
"Yes well, I doubt I'd be welcomed to Imaldris if I were to dither around its halls as a dragon." Elysia replied dryly.
"Tis a secondary form." Gandalf added in, but not without glaring at his apprentice. "So they may roam the world and integrate themselves within the people."
"She did not take much care when encountering my sons and one of my nobles. You gave one of my sons quite an injury and the other quite some fright."
"Er, yes, they have my remorse… That tends to be the case when one is wounded with a Morgul blade." Elysia did her best to appear sheepish, but neither wizard nor elf appeared convinced.
Elrond shook his head. "Such a riddle, you were when you visited these halls… But we were right… There was something far more special about you than Gandalf divulged." He sighed. "As difficult as it is to imagine, it would explain many things…"
It was imperceptible, but Elysia swallowed hard at the pinning gaze from the Lord elf.
"Nor I or my sons have forgotten your participation in the search for my wife."
Both elf and wizard could feel the chilling unease pour from the dragon in waves. She glared at nothing, hands closing into fists.
"Yes, you and your sons never cease to remind me of your astute memory, Lord Elrond." She tonelessly replied.
They did worse things than remind her.
In their loss and grief, they had blamed her. They had held her responsible for Celebrían's untimely departure to the shores. Elves were hospitable, but they were also cunningly capable of concealing their resentment. Grudges amongst the long lived and immortal folk could last for several lifetimes.
But what aggravated Elysia the most was that she could justify their hidden contempt for her. Perhaps she had broken the last thread of Celebrían's sanity by displaying such savagery before her, or perhaps not. It was a feasible possibility that Celebrían simply became undone by the torture from the orcs, and Elysia only managed to save her from death.
The process was unclear but the outcome was resolute. The House of Elrond lost someone dear to them, and in their grief, they sought to blame all who could be blamed.
Gandalf made no move to reprimand his apprentice for her biting words. He merely huffed and glared at both immortal individuals. Elrond's expression was unreadable.
"Enough!" The wizard barked. "You may carry on this petty tension elsewhere when there are matters less dire…. Lord Elrond. Elysia has not come as my apprentice… She has come as the voice for her kinsmen."
That caught the elf's attention, the weight of Gandalf's words sinking in. "… The dragons… They wish to aid us?" Utter disbelief lingered in his voice. He could not hide his doubts, and they could not blame him, although Elysia did appear to be more bothered by such skepticism. .
"Forgive me for my incredulity. Long have I considered all dragons to be servants of Morgoth."
"Well, the only dragons you and many others have seen were servants of Morgoth." She replied, aloof to the apology. "The Tainted…. There was a war within my kinsmen because of it, and many died. But still, there are those that remain untouched, pure from the twisted malice of Sauron. I am proof of such existence. A representative, if you will." She made a mock gesture of grandeur to herself.
"But there is a reason as to why they have sent you as their sole representative, is there not?" Elrond inquired. "If there are more of your kin, why not they come to parley with us?"
"Because there is folly in man." She crossed her arms, words heavy and cold. "We dragons see man as fickle mortal creatures with good reason… "
Elysia's eyes began to bore holes into Elrond, their gaze knowing. "You know far greater than I, how men can become their own bane and the bane of others, Lord Elrond. It was the choice of the mortal men that made all that we've sacrificed for naught." He had been there, that day with Isildur when the battle in Mordor should have ended the suffering. He saw the failure of man with his own eyes, and thus he could, at the least, understand these sentiments.
"The aid given by my people shall be determined through the verdict of your council. Should we see folly in its judgement, there shall not be aid from the dragons." She continued before Elrond could protest the justice of such thing. "But that is not my sole reason for being here."
"It is not?" Gandalf peered curiously at his apprentice. She had not enlightened him of this.
"We dragons have our own spies, our own ways of watching over the land and its occurrences." Elysia explained, turning her silver gaze to the window. "The birds; ravens, falcons, hawks, owls, songbirds, and eagles… They are all hidden allies of the scaled folk. They are our eyes and ears. We do not need one of our own to oversee such matters in such direct manner."
"But I am here, not solely to see the decision made by the council, but to do what I can in seeing that the Ring is destroyed."
Elrond studied her, face unreadable, for a long few heartbeats. "… That is noble of you, Lady Elysia."
Startled by his unexpected praise, Elyia abruptly turned to him, searching his eyes. He appeared sincere, fatherly even, and those sage eyes always made Elysia feel awfully young in his presence.
Where was the resentment he bore for so long?
She felt flustered, caught off guard. "…. I… I nor my kin wish to see Middle Earth become a Ristvak'baen." Her voice was hushed.
While Elrond did not entirely understand the last of her words, its utter sound sent a strange aching chill through his heart. Gandalf also reacted grimly to his words, though he knew of their meaning.
"What is it? It's meaning?"
"Ristvak'baen…?" Again, the cold heartache unnerved him. Those silvered orbs became hollow.
"It means a Place of Great Sorrow."
/
Elrond had always known the maiden to bear some strange haunt since her youth. When she visited Rivendell, the child had always been so distant, so reluctant despite all the attention and tender care placed upon her small being, to be unwary. Those mithril hued eyes were always sad, always old, ill-suited to be worn by a youngling back then. Many questioned, but no one understood.
Only now he began to comprehend why.
"Who you see as my apprentice remains the last remnant of her clan."
"You have more questions." It was a question but a statement. Elysia stayed patiently against the bookshelf.
Seeing the fatigue still present, Elrond remembered. "Forgive me. I seemed to have forgotten to inquire your condition."
The uncertainty in her eyes was brief, but they were there, and it discomforted him. All those years, he and his sons have placed the burden of blame on her undeserving shoulders. Only recently, had his foolishness faded enough for him to realize his wrongs, still the revelation could not undo the past.
Elysia appeared as placated as she could be in such situation. "All is well with me. I am most grateful for your healing, Lord Elrond."
"Then that is all for now. You are free to go and rest, Lady Elysia." Elrond stated, gesturing gracefully towards the door. "When you are well fed and well rested shall we continue inquisitions, but in the meantime, I shall have your old master explain."
Elysia gave a grateful bow and made way to depart, but just as she neared the door she turned.
"What of Frodo, Lord Elrond? What is to be his fate, now with the Ring in Rivendell?"
Elrond appeared troubled. "Yet, I cannot answer that fully. For now, we have done what we could to heal him. He should recover, though I know not of when he should wake."
Though concerned by the news, Elysia could only thank him once more and depart.
/
/
/
~O~O~O~O~O~
Firstly, she had to seek Frodo.
Then she was going to heed the hunger pangs in her stomach.
Once, she was forced to ask for directions to the House of Healing, after receiving the general direction, she used her nose to tell her the rest. She followed the faint scent of hobbit, walking briskly, ignoring the curious gazes of the elves as she passed. Eventually, she stood in front of the door, but she hesitated as her palm rested against the door.
The cowing anxiety welling within her was unfamiliar and unpleasant. There were many foes, many hurdles she faced in her long life, all of which she had confronted with courage; from battling an evil enchantress to combatting the discrimination of her own kind. Dauntless, she was yet she was being stopped by guilt. The door felt like an impenetrable wall when all she needed to do was push.
Her ears caught the wisp of a muffled conversation behind the doors.
"Do you think he needs to eat?"
"He's unconscious, Pip."
"But he hasn't eaten anything for days."
"Because he's unconscious!"
"Quiet, both of you! He's not going to be wakin' up any time soon if you two keep jabbering!" Silence followed.
A small smirk quirked her lip at Sam's chiding. She released a small breath she hadn't realized she held, and pushed the door open.
The first thing her eyes fell upon was the sleeping figure of a familiar little hobbit. He was still pale, but looked more at peace that he did before. It was unpleasant for Elysia to see the Halfling that she had warmed up to in all her years in the Shire, lively with those jovial innocent blue eyes, look so haggard.
But she had little time to spend in her melancholic brooding, for by Frodo's bedside were three curly haired little hobbits. The first that sighted her immediately stood up and ran. His light caramel hair bounced as he leapt and promptly tackled her in an embrace.
Being the dragon she was, Elysia did not fall over and merely stepped a little back as she held the hobbit in her arms, surprised by the forward gesture.
"You're alive!" Pippin cried. "You're alright!"
Elysia could not hold back her small chuckle, and oh how Pippin relished the sound of her voice. He even missed her reprimanding glare and biting discipline.
"Yes, I am alright, Pippin." She laughed. "But I won't be if you keep choking me, dear Took."
Pippin immediately released her; looking sheepish and a little nervous as to if he harmed her. It was endearing.
Merry then ran and hugged her, but he did not leap. "You don't even look sick." He said in awe. It was true. Their Elly appeared much better off than Frodo. She looked radiant even, in the pale sky blue dress with her lustrous raven curls free from its usual braid. Her eyes were filled with more vigor, though sad. After seeing her eyes turned dull in those frightened few hours, Merry prayed there would never come a day when those piercing eyes lost their edge.
Sam stood up from Frodo's side, looking a little sheepish. "We didn't think you'd be up so early, Miss Elly. We would have waited by your side if-"
"Nonsense, Sam. You were looking after Frodo. How is he?" She inquired as she glided to Frodo's bedside.
Sam frowned. "He hasn't woken."
Elysia leaned forward and carefully brushed a dark chestnut curl from Frodo's pallid face. Gentle and soft, she brushed his cheek. "But he is alive…" With those words, she stood straighter, relieved. She could hear the steady beat of his heart, slow but strengthening.
"Elly, you look different." Pippin suddenly blurted. Merry nudged him with a glare before smiling at her.
"He means a good different!" He corrected. The elven dress was quite becoming on her.
"Yes, a better different." Pippin added, earning another glare.
Elysia merely smirked and ruffled Pippin and Merry's curly head. "I'm a little starved." She admitted. It was an understatement, Elysia felt famished. Pippin smiled and tugged her skirt.
"The food is great here! Come on, Elly! We can get something to eat together!"
Pippin tugged her one more time and Elysia relented, but not before focusing her gaze to Sam.
"Sam, would you like to join us?"
Sam bit his lip and smiled, shaking his head. "No thank you, I think I'll stay by Mr. Frodo. See if he'll wake up."
Elysia felt a bittersweet pride rise at Sam's earnest concern for the young master of Bag End. But Sam wouldn't have had to be so worried if she had done something right and protect Frodo.
After seeing the sorrow in her eyes, Merry misunderstood and glared at Sam chidingly.
"For shame, Samwise Gamgee! How can you refuse a lovely lady! Are you really going to woo, Rosie Cotton with that sort of behavior?"
Sam turned pink and shook his head vigorously. "I-I didn't mean to offend you, Miss Elly!-"
"I am not offended, Sam." Elysia snorted before frowning softly. "I am merely sorry… Frodo was under my guard, and I have failed to protect him."
Sam frowned in disbelief at her. "Oh, Miss Elly, you can't think like that. That's ridiculous!"
"Are you kidding?" Pippin added. "You fought those black riders off like a dragon!"
"Pippin!" Merry hissed. Pippin realized his mistake a little too late and the room fell into an awkward silence. The hobbits were waiting, gaging Elysia's reaction.
Elysia froze, taking in their wary gaze. She had to admit, their looks stung.
"Gandalf has told you." It wasn't a question, and she didn't sound angry either.
Merry rubbed his neck. "He hasn't told us anything much. But we were sort of listening in when he was talking to Strider and that glory-something elf fellow." His voice darkened at the mentioning of the elf. His bitterness was shared by the others. Glorfindel's attempt to kill Elysia was still fresh in their mind, albeit the elf had the best of intentions.
"Also, well, you know… the horns." Pippin put his hands above his head, making horns with his fingers. "and the wings and scales sort of popping out… We figured then that you weren't part werewolf or a vampire."
"Part what?" Elysia blinked.
Merry did not refrain this time from cuffing Pippin on the head.
"Ow! What?" Merry rolled his eyes. Pippin also turned to see Sam giving him a glare. Elysia was also giving him a rare look of utter confusion. "Well, if you ask me-"
"No one is, Pip." Merry said, but his snide comment was ignored by Pippin.
"-dragon is much more interesting. I mean… dragon! Imagine that. What would Bilbo have said if he found out?"
Now Elysia chuckled, and little did they know, it was in relief as well as amusement. She had been wary of their reactions to her. In all honesty, she was prepared to be looked at as somewhat of a monster, but hobbits were curious creatures. They never ceased to surprise.
"Well, Peregrin Took, after I found out, I invited her to stay with me in Bag End." Said the voice of a very old hobbit.
They turned, and Elysia smiled at the familiar sight.
Age had changed Bilbo Baggins, as it should with the Ring now out of his possession, no longer holding him to his youth. His wrinkles were more prominent and his hair was now white. He gazed at Elysia, returning her smile a sweet, dimpled grin.
But suddenly, Elysia was reminded of her failure. How Bilbo must have felt when he heard the news of Frodo's injury? She had promised to protect his beloved nephew.
Bilbo noticed her smile falter and merely beckoned her to walk with him. She departed the younger hobbits and followed the old Baggins through an empty hall.
/
Elysia was mindful to keep her pace slow for the old hobbit.
"You and Frodo gave me quite the fright upon your arrival." He said.
"Forgive me, Bilbo… I-"
"I don't blame you for what happened to Frodo… It was not your fault he was pursued by the black riders. If anything, I am at fault for passing such a burden to the boy." His voice was worn and regretful.
"He was under my care… You and Gandalf entrusted me and I failed."
"If you're going so far as to blaming yourself, then go scold and point fingers at Sauron." He snorted. "I do not blame you and nor do I think Gandalf would, least of all, Frodo. Now stop your moping, dragon, and be a little happy to see me alive and well."
"… And old." She commented, a small, sad smile on her features.
Bilbo gave her a lighthearted glare before they burst into chuckles.
"It's a pity…. My old age is getting to me… I was hoping to travel to Mirkwood, Laketown, and see the Lonely Mountain once more… Perhaps even visit our old friend's grave." He sighed forlornly. "But if I'm here, I might as well finish my book."
"That's the spirit, my dear Baggins." Elysia encouraged, but her downcast glances to the old hobbit's aged steps did not go unnoticed.
"Tis the natural course of things, Elysia. Above all else, I am a mortal hobbit. It pains me to say that there will be a day where I and others like me will depart from you and carry on unto death, but do not mourn long when it happens, my dear. I'd rather you celebrate. Celebrate and reminisce how I lived." He smirked. "Quite boastful of me, but I should like to declare that I lived quite a legendary life. How many Shire-folk can say they've seen and done some of the things I have?"
He laughed. "I still shudder in excitement when I think about it. I've seen giants battle, a mountain of goblins, rode on eagles and once on a dragon. Slain spiders, orcs, wargs, goblins, and a witch-"
"As I recall, it was I who defeated the witch." Elysia cut in.
"I dealt the final blow."
"True…" She chuckled. They smiled, reminiscing of brighter times until a sobering thought came to Elysia's mind.
"I fear Frodo's adventure is going to be quite different from ours, Bilbo."
Bilbo held his hands behind his back. "What a discomforting thought…. But alas, no two journeys are alike, my fair drake… My own journey was only the foretelling of an oncoming storm… Thunderclouds that were gathering at a distance…. Now at the present…"
"We are in it."
"Yes… Yes we are."
This spacing dilemma is giving me a headache.