My apologies for the very late update. Spring time is the busiest season for me with exams here and there (EVERYWHEEEEERE).
I'm also considered getting a "beta". Although I've never really thought about getting one before, not because I think my writing is perfect (Good Lord NO, it has much room for improvement, hence I am writing on this site), but I honestly just don't know the process of getting a beta and was rather wary about it.
In the end, I'll decide later on. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this story regardless of whether or not it has a beta.
-With sincerity, Mana
Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR
Chapter 12
When it came to their being, dragons cherished many things: from their scales to their teeth to every claw and their forked tongue, dragons prided themselves in their physique.
Above all, however, they put the greatest value in what dwelled in their heart.
They were immortal beings, unaffected by time's erosive nature, a trait shared with the elves. They were not impervious to death, but trickery existed within the nature of the dragon, to deceive death in a certain way.
What made a man a man? A dwarf a dwarf? An elf an elf? A hobbit a hobbit?
Was it their countenance? Their nature? Their abilities?
It was none of these. What made these folk people and not animals were their souls.
It was the soul, the "fea" within their body that gave them identity and life… And a dragon had a way of "cheating" death by allowing it to take their body… but not their soul; by maintaining an existence through a single part of themselves known as their heart of hearts.
Legends were told in the far east, of great serpentine dragons who held sacrosanct orbs of stone in their forepaws, jewels that seemed far too smooth, too perfect to be something fabricated by the natural earth or by craft. But it was no jewel or treasure born from the depths of a rich mountain ore,
But from the dragon's core.
The Eldunari, the dragonstone, a heart of hearts, an organ of stone made to protect the soul of a dragon should their body perish. All dragons are born with an Eldunari, and as long as it exists, the dragon's soul shall live on to dwell in the earthly realm.
However, that choice was up to the dragon. It was within their power to decide the fate of their eldunari so long as it was within their hold. Whether it is to break it, part from it before death, or even bequeath it...
It seemed to be such a gift, a great ability, a treasured benefit to have something as a physical container for their soul such as the eldunari. But some blessings are curses in disguise.
A mark can be considered a brand. A strength can become a great burden.
A container… can also be a prison.
Should a dragon's body perish, as long as their eldunari exists, unbroken, the dragon's spirit shall remain within it. They will remain there, trapped in the darkness of their own consciousness, beneath the hard shell of their jeweled core; without sunlight, without stars, with nothing but themselves…
No matter how much they wish for death to liberate, no matter how fiercely they struggle, they cannot escape the cage of their eldunari without the aid of another.
Dragons were never meant to be in cages…
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She listened contently as Frodo attempted to explain the concept of the ancient language to Sam. It baffled those of the fellowship when they were informed that one could not lie in the draconian tongue.
"But I can just say no." Merry frowned, listening intently now.
Elysia sighed. "Very well, try to lie, Merry, do you know Frodo?"
Merry licked his lips. "I…" He faltered and bit his lips. "I…. do." When the words spilled from his mouth, Elysia smirked and Merry appeared frustrated but then it morphed into fascination. Pippin nudged him.
"So you can't? What's it like?"
"It's like trying to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof." Merry opened his mouth wide and began to stretch his tongue, it was an odd look. "It isn't normal!"
"Magic is not of the normal, Merriadoc. Even we cannot define it." Elysia explained. "A dragon cannot lie to another dragon. Odd, is it not? For some of us are capable of enchanting our foes with a dragon-spell, bringing doubt into a weak victim's hearts and filling their head with lies."
"Can you do it?" Aragorn asked. Elysia shook her head and glanced pointedly to Frodo. The hobbit gave a small smile.
"Elly is a lousy liar." He admitted.
"Different dragons do different things with their dragon spell… In truth, it is more of a defense born into us to help us fend off foes when we are young and vulnerable. In the heart of the dragon-spell, it invokes fear into our foes, and fear brings mistrust and doubt. When the foe is unsteady," She flicked Pippin in the forehead, earning a light yelp. "That is when we strike."
"I can invoke fear, but I've never been well versed in stirring deception." She confessed.
"Do you speak truths to your foes?" Boromir inquired, fascinated. "Or is it your threats then?"
Elysia blinked. She regarded Boromir innocently for a moment. Then she curved her lips into a feral smirk. Her rounded pupils sharpened into slits while the silver of her eyes widened, donning her with a rather psychotic expression. Boromir felt it immediately. His heartbeat began to quicken in anxiety while his palms felt clammy with sweat. It was an unshakable sense of dread.
"No, I simply stare." She quickly diminished her gaze, mildly impressed with herself. She'd never quite gotten her dragon-spell to work quite right, even after all these years.
Boromir did not seem to be of faint heart, but he gave a small shudder. "Unnaturally true, I say."
"Be not wounded in pride, Boromir. You fared better than many who have encountered the dragon-spell." Elysia encouraged. "I've had a hare die of fright on me once. Often times, Mithrandir found it difficult to have me accompany him to towns because of it. The sheltered folk of small towns were quick to point fingers at a wizard when their livestock and hounds became severely unsettled."
"Indeed." Gandalf agreed up in front, recalling with a sense of bittersweet exasperation at how troublesome the efforts of handling a young drake had been..
"Frodo, come and help an old man." He beckoned Frodo away from the conversation. It was subtle, and nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. However, none knew Gandalf quite as well as the dragon did.
Elysia glanced at the wizard curiously. While Gandalf was indeed old, he was hardly of feeble health. Why did he wish to talk to her little one in privacy?
The sudden urge of distrust and offense within herself surprised her. She never doubted her old teacher to mistrust him so swiftly. Perhaps it was because of their destination. The closer they came to Moria, the more subdued Elysia felt. Long ago, she had positioned ravens and owls to keep watch of the mines when Balin gathered a large company of dwarves to explore Durin's lost realm. In a few years, there was positive news of their exploration, but after some time, the mines had fallen silent entirely.
Perhaps it was simply her paranoia. As of late, dwarves tended to keep more to their rocks than anything else.
They arrived before the walls of Moria, and Elysia raked the mountain from top to bottom with a keen scrutiny. The mountain felt gloomier than Orthanc, and the smell… She scowled in displeasure at the water. The water smelled odd, poisoned with the scent something that smelled much like an old, rotting carcass. She wrinkled her nose and began to pace along the shore of the murky water, restless from the strange stench. It made her scale itch with discomfort, and so when Gandalf begrudgingly confessed he was unable to open the gates of Moria, Elysia was not pleased. It didn't sit well with her to dwell so closely to such dark waters.
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Gandalf mused about the moonlit gates, stating the doors were so well hidden that even the master dwarves had trouble; Legolas was hardly surprised by this. Leave it to dwarves to have rocks in their heads. They can't even remember where their own doors are. To the dismay of the group, Gandalf was unsuccessful in opening the gate. The wizard huffed in irritation and began to mutter and smoke, pondering upon the problem. The elf did not worry. Time and time again, Gandalf proved to make ways for people in one way or another in the past. In the meantime, the others began to set up a small, quick campsite.
The elf adopted his unspoken task of keeping watch, allowing his mortal companions to recuperate from their long travels. He then noticed there were only nine present near the camp. One was missing from their nine.
It never took him long to spot the dragon. One would have to be blind to not see her presence, albeit many, to his surprise, never seemed to notice. Granted the maiden bore uncanny stealth, much like a prowling cat, but there was something about her fierce demeanor that demanded his attention.
The said maiden appeared to be standing afar, eyes focused on the water with a mild scowl upon her lips. Her face told of troubles he doubted she would divulge him with.
The thought suddenly gave him the urge to sigh. An ongoing sense of gloom and dismay began to rise within him.
The woman had been avoiding him ever since he arrived in Rivendell. He had thought perhaps she was still unreasonably upset with him, but she did not seem that way. He wasn't sure. Did dragons hold petty grudges for prolonged amounts of time? Was it not a petty grudge to her? Their history may have been tangled with perils much like a spider's nest, but by the end did they not conclude on peaceful terms?
Alas, we hardly concluded at all…
Legolas would not admit it openly, but he also could not deny in his heart that he was yearning for a more amicable relationship with her. The desire grew with each day she remained distant, each moment she acted oblivious to his approach.
It was… infuriating, and Legolas was startled by his own sudden intolerance. He was no uncouth, impatient youth. He had hundreds of years in experience. Yet, this indomitable drake made him feel oddly… clueless… inadequate even.
She was even on friendlier terms with Boromir whom she began to call "stubborn steward" along the journey. If he were shrewd, Legolas would've rolled his eyes and scoffed at the endearment. "Bigoted" was more appropriate. Furthermore the dragon didn't cease to wound his dignity when she initiated a conversation with the dwarf before any others, then she proceeded to (unaware of her own actions) tread on him with her growing friendship with the steward. Had she not had distaste in the race of Men? Or did those times since Erebor change her?
After she unveiled to them her origins, the light in which he saw her changed although he had always known of her coveted secret. In his knowing, he had always thought her mainly to be volatile, fierce, proud, impatient, and unapproachable. Perhaps it was because his first impression of her had been on less civil tongues, but even then…
Her tongue was too sharp to be becoming of a refined lady. Her behavior was wild and at times inconsiderate of the dignity of others. A cooled countenance that lashed out like fire, she was a bizarre oxymoron.
Till the day she departed, she was all of those things. Even now she remained to be a paradox that poked at his pacific nature. So why did it matter to him?
Perhaps it was because he began to see her loosen her shields and unravel more qualities of herself she guarded fiercely from him; for she was also loyal, honest, and her wit had him laughing to himself quite often when others did not notice.
But, alas, she showed none of these to him, he observed this through her interactions with everyone but him. He saw how gentle she was with the Halflings and how she teased Aragorn enough to make the tense ranger laugh. How she spoke her mind with rare shows of wisdom making him feel young. How she gazed at the stars with such heavy, unspoken thoughts that he wished he could hear just to understand the way her mental cogwheels turned.
The inelegance between the two graceful beings did not go unnoticed by the fellowship. Elysia seemed to twitch or freeze whenever Legolas stood close or when she heard his voice, and her response to him tended to be curt and a little strained. Even Gandalf found it strange. Without a doubt, the wizard would confront the dragon about it soon. Frodo appeared more amused than confused. Perhaps she had told the hobbit of what occurred between them or perhaps he found the uncharacteristic twitchiness of his dragon humorous.
The first encounter between the two had been rather uncouth, and even then, one could say with some certainty, their relationship plummeted further into many misfortunes…
Determined to set things right, Legolas walked up to her with all the stealth of his kind. He stood next to her and stared at the dark waters.
"Something is troubling you, milady?" Her stiffening and the little twitch of her finger did not go unnoticed, for the elf was also very keen.
"… Yes. It smells odd." She admitted curtly. This elf had the tendency to ask obvious questions. Elysia did not know whether to be amused or irked. She most desperately wished to give him a rather dry retort, but that meant speaking with him further and encouraging some sort of verbal spar.
The Valar knows they had enough of those in the past.
Legolas could hold in the sigh no longer. Perhaps it was best to be straightforward with this dragon.
"Have I displeased you, Lady Elysia?"
Elysia whipped her head around so abruptly, her braid whipping around to the other side of her neck. "What?"
"It seems as though I have done something to deserve your… apathy." Legolas stated carefully, gazing at her earnestly. "Tis a something that I have little clue as to what it is."
The dragon blinked and blinked, her mouth moved and twisted as if she sought to find the right words. Biting her lip, she turned away from those sincere crystalline blue pools, remaining quiet.
She did not see the frown growing upon the fair elf's lips. She was always making his cheerful disposition falter. Always in the fellowship, he was the tireless elf with the quiet air of content, but at the right time, like a quick shot of his bow, he could turn serious when necessary, for the elves of Mirkwood were fierce.
But this was no battle… This was a socially impaired situation. It was almost juvenile.
"We have not spoken or met since that time in Mirkwood." He noticed her stiffen further and released another sigh. "If what happened then still upsets you, please I beg your pardon again… I did not think dragons would bear a grudge for so long." He was being petty, in his own way. He knew his words, when carefully spoken, would not initially sound insulting, but they bore intentional accusations that would certainly rile her. The dragon had left him little option than to use this tactic of diplomacy and debate, prodding at her pride.
"I bear nothing of the sort." She was unable to hold back her snide glance. "I am no Thorin Oakenshield."
Legolas fought back a smile. Thorin Oakenshield indeed knew how to bear a passionate grudge. "Then?" He pressed. "I am at a loss for what to do, Lady Elysia. You do not talk to me, nor do you acknowledge my presence unless you must, you seem to avoid even looking at me."
Elysia suddenly turned her head and faced him fully. She was forced to look up, for the elf was over a good head taller than her. Legolas stared at those grayed blue orbs. She wore an unreadable face.
After her obvious long stare, she turned back to the water.
There was a pause… Then realizing what she had done, Legolas raised a brow at her.
"That was infantile, Lady Elysia." He deadpanned as gracefully as he could.
"I am older than you, Prince of Mirkwood."
"Yet you act younger." He rebutted.
"Bah!" She gazed up at the sky and huffed and bit her lip, now glaring back at the water. "Now you resent me for not paying enough attention to your pretty face, princeling?" She snidely remarked. "There is no pleasing the elves of the Woodland Realm."
Now the elf looked confused. He tilted his head. "I have never resented you.… And my adar is actually rather fond of you. He speaks of you with respect."
"Does he?" Elysia frowned, genuinely surprised. "Well, that is a relief."
Legolas nodded, pleased that he had her distracted from her original intentions.
"You regard my father better than you regard me, Lady dragon." He sounded a little off. Now Elysia could no longer avoid looking at those eyes. She whipped her head and stared at him with a quirked eyebrow.
"Are you… Are you sulking?" Elysia inquired in disbelief. Legolas gazed evenly at her.
"... I cannot deny I am a little upset. You seem to resent me." He confessed. It would do him no good to lie to the dragon.
"I do not resent you."
"Then why are you treating me as though I hail from a nest of spiders?" Elysia blanched at the mentioning of the arachnids. Ah, so she still has an immense fear of spiders. On any other day he might have found this amusing.
"Why would I ever resent you?" He pressed. This dragon was so full of riddles; even an elf who enjoyed a good riddle could not fathom it. Why would he resent her when she had done pivotal things for his kingdom, his family, and his friend? To this day, she remained to be one of the few people Tauriel spoke of with immense admiration and affection. Albeit not all of the Mirkwood elves have been pleased with her. Many were still insulted by the 'desecration and havoc' she created in the halls and the woods of their beloved realm.
The composed elf sounded so exasperated. Elysia bit her lip again and curled a loose hair behind her ear, averting her gaze.
Legolas searched the dragon briefly before responding.
"Is it because you burned my hair?" He inquired lightly. It was a simple jibe, but now the elf was not above peeving her so.
His words did their task. Elysia promptly glared back. "I saved you from that fire, you ungrateful woodland elf!"
"May I remind you, the fire was your doing?" He countered, unabashed in the slightest by her insult.
"There were spiders." She argued, shuddering to herself.
"You burned a part of my adar's realm." He made his voice grave. "To this day, our woods bear the scorched memoir of your dragon fire." That was a partial lie. The charred remnants of Elysia's unintended destruction had actually benefited the forest to growing newer greens. Though there were still some hideously burnt remainders.
"You shot me." She deadpanned.
Now that was petty of her. He had profusely been sorry. "I thought that was made even by my efforts to save you from a watery death, milady."
"And exactly who was at fault for my drowning?" She felt heat rise up her face. Legolas saw her ears darken a shade of red and her face flushing a little pink.
"You are blushing." Legolas then did that tilting of his head that Elysia found aggravating. "Could it be, you are still embarrassed of-"
"I am not, you insufferably, insipid, pointy-stick throwing-"
"AHEM!"
Elysia and Legolas turned to see Aragorn gazing at them quizzically. He had promptly cleared his throat, his arms crossed and eyes staring at them with a little cock of his thick brow.
He was not the only one who was paying attention to the two. Everyone in the fellowship stared at the elf and the dragon with looks varying in amusement, confusion, and astonishment. Gandalf simply smoked his pipe while Frodo smirked.
The dragon chewed her lip and struggled to regain her composure. She inhaled deeply and sighed, walking past and away from Legolas, towards Gandalf and Frodo.
"The water smells odd." She stated in finality. "Do not even think about throwing pebbles in the water, Merry."
Merry dropped the stone he was holding, appearing mildly put out.
Aragorn stared meaningfully at the calm and rather content looking elf. He looked smug about something, though it was always hard to tell with the fair-folk.
The ranger mouthed. "You shot her?"
But the dwarf was less subtle. He burst into a hearty laughter and slapped his knee.
"You burned the elf's hair!" Gimli roared. Legolas's smug look disappeared, and he glared at the dwarf in unbridled disdain.
Elysia did not appear pleased by the laughter either. "It grew back! It looks as fine as it did then." She cleared her throat and needlessly fidgeted with her braid and stray curls.
"I'm not mad, lass!" Gimli continued laughing. "Far from it! Tis is no wonder my father was fond of ye! What I would give to see that. I bet it was an improvement!"
Elysia sighed and rolled her eyes before turning to Gandalf. "Have you thought of anything?"
"Do you think I would be sitting here if I did?" Gandalf grumbled. Elysia grimaced at her old master. Frodo, however, began to stare at the elvish inscriptions on the wall.
Something dawning in him-he stood.
"It's a riddle…" He whispered. "'Speak friend… and enter'… What's the elvish word for friend?"
Elysia's head whipped at the odd sound in the water, barely managing to catch the ripple. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she sniffed. The odd scent was getting stronger…
Gandalf blinked. "Mellon."
The sound of stone grating against stone filled their ears as the gates of Moria began to open. Elysia ruffled her clever little one's hair, but her eyes did not stray from the water. Merry hadn't thrown pebbles into the water, so what was rippling? She gently ushered Frodo to follow the fellowship into the mines, eager to keep him away from the strange lake.
"What is it?" Aragorn whispered into her ear. He handed Elysia her rucksack after releasing their pony.
Elysia's nostrils flared and she grimaced. "The water smells odd…" She repeated. "But I remember where I smelled faintly before… Sea serpents' mouths smell that way occasionally. Naga enlightened me that it was because of their diet."
She tore her eyes away from the water. They entered the cave with a wary eye lingering on the liquid surface before turning towards the dark of Moria.
"What was their diet?" Aragorn inquired.
Elysia pondered for a moment. "Mostly fish, sea turtles, whales, but there was the occasional tentacle creatu-" Her nostrils flared and she stopped walking into Moria.
A foul odor hung in the air. She smelled old death, but that was not what she found foul.
"Stop." She demanded, cutting off Gimli's claims of the wonders and hospitality of Moria. The fellowship stopped and turned back to the dragon.
"Mithrandir, we should have never come here." She hissed, wide eyed and nervous as she continued to breathe in the foul scent in the obscure hall. Her pupils turned into slits, glinting with eye shine as she rapidly raked her sight around the darkness. The death smelled earthen. Goblins did not smell like earth. Goblin corpses were distinct, sour in their smell.
It was the smell of dwarf carcasses.
Aragorn placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her frantic behavior, while Gandalf hastily placed his lighting crystal upon his staff in order to see what the dragon smelled. With a quick blow of magic, he lit up the mines, and the fellowship realized what made the dragon so unnerved
The entire hall was covered with scattered skeletal bodies of dwarves. They were standing in the remains of a lost battle. The bodies were still armored, but they were peppered with arrows and wrapped with webs. Legolas reached down and yanked an arrow.
Glaring at the barbed jagged black end, Legolas confirmed Elysia's dread.
"Goblins." He spat the word with contempt. Like the others, Elysia immediately drew her sword. Silvindr increased the shine of Gandalf's light with its refracting sheen.
"We will make for the gap of Rohan." Boromir said as they began to back away from the mines. Elysia wanted to dispute otherwise, but there was little choice. Anywhere was better than here. The stench of old death was driving her mad, and it spiraled her into darker thoughts.
If this was the state of Moria… What had happened to Balin and his company?
No… No, they cannot be-
"Get out… Get out!" Boromir's cries distracted her worries.
For once she agreed with the steward. They had to leave. She had to leave.
The hobbits suddenly began to cry out in terror. The warriors turned to see the hobbits struggling at the entrance. A long slimy tentacle was latched on to his ankle, attempting to pull him into the foul black waters. Before Elysia could even move, brave Samwise raised his sword and began hacking at the tentacle. He severed its grasp from the Ring bearer and the water fell silent as the wounded tendril retreated.
"Frodo, come here!" Elysia demanded as she rushed forward, but was too late. The loss of one tentacle seemed to have summoned many. Slippery whips lashed out at them, knocking away the hobbits and grasping Frodo once more. The hobbit was raised into the air, flailing and yelling.
"Elly!" He cried.
Elysia and the two men of the fellowship lunged forward. Silvinder lashed through the air and hacked off three tentacles in one fell swoop. She grimaced as a she deliberately smacked aside a tentacle almost haughtily; the thing was slimy, smelled strange, and intolerably disgusting. The dragon did not consent to the filthy thing touching her.
The water gurgled and from the depths of the blackness emerged a monstrous and hideous head. Elysia wondered in the back of her mind with significant horror;
How in Arda can Naga even eat these?!
The water monster looked miserably disgusting. Elysia would rather eat a reeking old warg than even take a bite of this fiendish cretin. The cretin began to open its mouth, revealing a protruding maw with rows of sharp teeth. Elysia hacked viciously at incoming tentacles with one hand and reached over her shoulder, quickly unbuckling the upper clasp that loosened Faersing's blade from its scabbard.
Gripping the black leather grip of Faersing she spun around, slicing a path with Silvindr and threw her long sword with a powerful arm. It whirled through the air and sank into the monster's head.
A roar erupted from the hideous maw as the sword burned the Watcher. It burned like fire, causing pain to lance to the tip of every tentacle. Its appendages wriggled and writhed wildly, allowing Aragorn to free Frodo as Elysia lunged forward and leapt onto the fiend's head.
"Into the mines!" Gandalf yelled, shoving the hobbits in. Boromir ran with Frodo in his arms, who cried out for Elysia.
Aragorn turned to the dragon as she stabbed Silvindr into the beast's head with one and grabbed Faersing with the other. Yanking both blades out, she gave one last slash at its head before leaping of its body. The beast gave an enraged roar and reached a long barbed tentacle for the dragon, but Legolas quickly fired two arrows; one at the tentacle and another at its eye.
Aragorn grabbed Elysia as she waded through the sluggish water and dragged her towards the entrance. As soon as they were on land, Elysia was pulling him faster into Moria as the creature began to drag itself towards them, unwilling to allow its prey to leave. The walls began to cave at the pressure, and Elysia narrowly made it through as a massive chunk of rock collapsed barely seconds where she once was.
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Darkness embraced them.
Elysia listened to the hammering hearts and hard breathing of the fellowship. Her own heart was palpating, but not out of fear of what had just occurred, although it had been a narrow call.
It was the air of this place that set her on edge. It was suffocating. The ice cave was at least made of ice, and ice could melt. But stone caverns… Her heat was formidable, but she would turn cold before she could melt any sort entrance from dwarvish underground strongholds. The dragon felt trapped, and she abhorred it.
Gandalf's staff began to enlighten their vision once more. Elysia sighed and her tension unraveled minutely at the hopeful light. Claustrophobia still began to writhe in her gut and she quickly started to fidget, returning Faersing back into its scabbard before adjusting the crossing strap holding Faersing to her back.
"Breathe, Elysia…" Gandalf's calm voice came from the front. The wizard did need to turn to his apprentice to notice her growing unease.
"Not easy with the foul air." She muttered, but she obeyed and began to breathe in and out, slowly. Mithrandir taught her this breathing exercise when she had her first frantic blunder in a cave they took shelter in. Still after hundreds of years, she still was not fond of rocky caves, and the acrid smell did not help to comfort her unease.
"We have no choice… We must face the long dark of Moria." Gandalf spat the words out with bitter reluctance. "Be on your guard… There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world."
They treaded carefully over the old corpses. Boromir glanced to Elysia and whispered.
"Are you sure you do not want to keep that blue sword of yours drawn?"
Elysia's eyes scoured the walls and the ceiling with a small frown. "Yes… Faersing is a bit too ostentatious… It is best if our presence remain unnoticed." She whispered darkly.
To her utter relief, the path took them to a spacious opening and the foul smell was overwhelmed with a more tolerable scent. Elysia touched the walls curiously and leaned her nose closer to the stone. They were giving off an oddly alluring aroma. Sharp, strong, but pleasantly fresh and sweet…
She sniffed and tilted her head like a canine with a curious scent.
"Mithril." She commented at Aragorn's odd glance at her sniffing.
"You can smell Mithril?"
"She's a dragon." Pippin timely intervened.
"Did you think Smaug followed the gossip of mortals to find Erebor's treasure?" asked Elysia with a wry smirk. "When in doubt and on the hunt, following the nose is the best solution."
Gandalf nodded and touched the bright starlit shimmering lines embedded in the rock walls.
"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels, but in mithril."
He pointed his staff more out towards the empty air, and within seconds the fellowship was nearly blinded by a radiant light shimmering from the deep long walls of Moria.
Gimli, realizing the strength of Elysia's keen olfactory senses, shook his head.
"If only we dwarves were on more favorable terms with you drakes. That nose of yours is very sharp, lass." Elysia smirked at the dwarf's praise.
"A drake that loves treasure has an even greater nose for it." Elysia stared at the shimmering depth with mild surprise. "I never had much fascination for rocks myself, but I can understand why you dwarves and some drakes are so fond of the material. It is beautiful."
"I suppose with your scales, a drake such as yourself has little need for jewels." Gimli chuckled.
Elysia blinked at this, startled by the compliment. Then she beamed at him a smile more radiant than the mithril around them.
"Indeed, Gimli." Her voice was full of warm sincerity, and the dragon even appeared a little flustered at the compliment. It was no secret that her kin had always been vain with the jewel-like quality of their scale. There was a reason why "brightscales" was a title of high honor.
Gandalf smiled and chuckled as he continued to guide them. "Thorin gave Bilbo a set of mithril rings."
Gimli, who was momentarily dazed, unsuspected by the dragon's smile,—she should wear that smile more often for it was lovely—gasped at the information, as he turned.
"That was a kingly gift." He stated as they continued.
"Yes, I never told Bilbo, but that gift was worth more than the entire manor of the Shire."
Elysia paused in her walk and momentarily looked behind her, down at her little one. Frodo wore a look of equal astonishment. The dragon breathed through her nose. Then she smiled, giving the hobbit a knowing wink before hurrying to close the gap between her and the front portion of the line.
Eventually the mithril imbued walls had come to an end and the fellowship once more fell into a gloomy pace. The air was thin, and unbearably discomforting. Elysia felt her skin crawl with every step she took, and her discomfort could be seen. More than once, Boromir gave her concerned looks which she did not appreciate. It stung her pride that she would become a thing of concern.
Time seemed to be twisted in the dark mines. Whether it was day or night, none could tell, and the uneven time made it difficult to maintain a scheduled time to rest. Even Gimli, who was a dwarf, felt out of place in this sunless world. Or perhaps it was the dreadful possibility that no dwarves were spared in the goblin ambush, including his brethren.
The dragon's heart bled with the dwarf. She had hoped to reunite with the company of Thorin Oakenshield one day, to be welcomed into their halls as old friends, to share tales of conquests and journeys…
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~O~O~O~O~O~
Did the hours turn into days? Did the days turn into a week? How long has it been since they've entered Moria? She could not tell, and it was driving her mad. There was nothing to measure the time except for the beating of her heart and the numbers of times they rested.
Thrice the fellowship had stopped to sleep. So has it been three days?
There was no wind, not a single breeze. No rustle of trees. No natural light. No blue skies… No stars…
The silence of this place was like a grave, a poison, and it was slowly but surely skinning her spirit.
She felt the sudden urge to change, to shift into her dragon form. She longed to roar and set fire to something, to break free from this forsaken underground back to the surface. She was willing to dig tooth and claw to find the surface.
She wanted, no… needed to do many things. She needed to rest. She needed to eat. She needed to hunt… she needed to escape.
A tap on her shoulder caught her attention with a start. Her muscles were like a coiled spring, and she twisted to catch the culprit who dared disturb her vigil with a warning hiss.
Silver met blue, and horrified realization stunned both hobbit and dragon into silence.
Upon seeing Frodo's wounded surprise, Elysia's feral glare faded as quickly as it came. Remorseful, an apology stirred on the tip of her tongue.
"Little one…" She couldn't find it in her to finish. What had come over her? How did she not sense her hobbit's approach? She had bared her teeth and snarled at him like a rabid wolf.
Elysia's confusion was not shared. There was a heartbreaking fatigue in Frodo's face as he smiled at her.
"It's not your fault. Tis mine, friend. Forgive me for disturbing you so." This formality was so unlike him, and it stung Elysia worse than an arrow to the wing.
"Frodo-"
"I was worried." Frodo confessed, unable to meet her gaze. "You… You are not yourself in these caves. You haven't rested and you do not eat. You are a dragon, but even dragons are not invulnerable to natural needs."
It wasn't just the caves. He knew this… The hobbit had an inkling that had been growing upon him since his days departing the Shire. Gandalf once told him that the Ring did terrible things to those who were born with magic thick in their veins.
The Ring was draining the dragon of her spirit's vigor. He could see it. He saw it in all of them.
"It is the caves… I… I do not dwell pleasantly in places of little sky." Elysia gave him a sad smile. "I am a hunter of the sky, little one. To be in this place is like a great cage."
This was her truth, but one's truth could easily be the world's greatest lie. Real truths were only in absolutes, and Frodo saw the truth more clearly than she did.
How long could she last like this?
How long will he make her suffer?
None of this, Frodo shared to his dear friend. He merely smiled and encouraged her to try her efforts in gaining some rest before he departed, leaving the dragon to sink deeper into her despair.
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/
Scritch… scratch… scritch scratch…
She refrained from sleeping again. It had been an estimated week by Legolas' mental count. Surely she could not withstand her own fatigue for much longer? She had denied food over and over, handing it to Pippin and Merry when she thought others did not notice. Even the Took appeared reluctant to receive the extra portion of her meal.
The olive flush of her skin had greyed, thirsting for the light of the sun, and the mithril glint of her eyes were dulling into a faded grey as dim as the rocks. Dragon or not, the maiden was looking more haggard by the hour. They all were. He found himself yearning for the trees, growing restless without the sight of a single leaf or a patch of green aside from his garments.
When she had lashed out at Frodo, they were all stunned, even the wizard. None spoke of it, but all of them knew it. These caves were cursing her the most.
She was drawing again, scribbling in her leather bound book with the fervor of a hungry sparrow on a patch of seeds. What she was drawing, he was not certain, but she seemed to be attempting to preoccupy herself from sleeping.
He could tolerate it no longer. An acquaintance would simply comply with the dragon's insipid wishes to neglect her health, but not a comrade. Surely she would see the folly in her behavior. Should they come across unpleasant encounters in the mines, her restless delirium would prove to be a chink in their fellowship's defenses.
Legolas made his approach known with a long sigh. Her scribbling ceased, and her shoulders grew rigid. It did not deter the elven warrior from sitting beside her.
"Will you not find rest in these mines?" He nearly begged.
There was a lapse of silence. Then her ha nd shifted. She began scribbling once more.
He caught a glimpse of her work. It was unexpectedly simple. A crystalline sphere or stone of some sort with whispers of a familiar faded light encasing it like a candle's flame. The colorless depiction shouldn't have stirred anything within him except curiosity, but Legolas could not decipher why it made his skin crawl and his heartbeat thrum.
"Lady Elysia…."
"Cease the 'lady', Prince Greenleaf… Please." The dragon sounded more weary than dry. "You should see by now that I do not bear the finesse and propriety to bear such title."
Legolas blinked. It was unlike the dragon to demean her own person in such manner. She must truly resent these mines and the skyless atmosphere. He recalled she would always seek the high places in his kingdom, where there was an opening to the sky.
"Only if you beseech me with equal propriety, or lack thereof, in calling me by my name."
"Clever twist of words, prince leaf." She cracked an empty smirk. "Should I merely call you elvish prince, shall you call me dragon then?"
Legolas did not rise to take the bait of her patronizing words. Instead he changed paths.
"… Which constellation do you gaze upon the most?"
The dragon blinked, surprised.
"What makes you assume so confidently that I know the stars?"
"You gaze upon them as though they were long lost companions. Every night… I've seen it."
This earned him a raised brow. The elf found himself flustered under her scrutiny, but he did his best to conceal it.
"… Soronume." The dragon ended her scrutiny, averting her attention to the cavernous abyss. "The Eagle of the West… Where its right wing points was where my home once remained."
"Aside from the stars, what comforts you?"
"What is this sudden need to be so inquisitive, Legolas?" Elysia snapped.
Her sudden irk pleased him more than anything. He was more familiar with this trait of the dragon… And she said his name. When he heard his name uttered by her lips, it warmed him.
"Tis in an elf's nature to be inquisitive of things they find unique, Elysia… As it is in a dragon's nature to be stubborn and biting."
"I am not stubborn." She earned a skeptical look. "and take care to not be so flippant with the mentioning of our bite. It will tempt me to take a snap at you." Elysia clacked her teeth together for emphasis.
The elf gave a soft snort of amusement. They lapsed into silence once more, this one much more comfortable. Legolas had been content to remain in this tranquil quiet but Elysia spoke in a soft whisper.
"The beat of a heart."
Legolas gave her his full and undivided attention, asking with his eyes.
The dragon shifted to make herself comfortable, her sketchbook lying forgotten by her side. She curled her legs close to her chest and held them there before resting her small chin atop her knees and wrists.
"The beat of a heart… It is the rhythmic melody of the life coursing through our veins…. It had always given me comfort to hear the sound of heartbeats, not just my own."
There had been times when she had no other heartbeat to listen to other than her own. Those had been terribly lonesome times. She would never admit it herself, but the heartbeats of each member in their fellowship gave her immense comfort. More than once in these mines, she had been tempted to lean in to hear the heartbeat of Gimli, for dwarf hearts were loud, strong, and fast. Aragorn's was hearty and very steady. Even when he was startled, it was hard to quicken the pace of his heart. In the Shire, she had often placed her ear against Frodo's back or on his chest. The small lad had always found it amusing, but he was content to allow the dragon her own joys with his beating organ.
It was how her family comforted her. When she had been within the egg, her mother had placed her as close as she could to her chest without crushing her shell. Through the surface, Elysia would hear the steady, powerful beat of her dame's heartbeat. When she hatched, Vraiel had taken to allowing her little form to rest atop his chest, curled and content in her naps when hearing his lively soul's rhythm.
It was a sound reminding her of a tranquil time. It was a reminder of her promise.
It was hard to hear the muffled beat of the heart without placing her ear against the surface. She side glanced at the steady rise and fall of the elf's shoulders, imagining the pulse she would hear should she press her ear to his back.
She quelled the ridiculous thought, appalled, feeling rather betrayed by her own mind. The caves must have addled her mind to become some deprived craven.
She ignored the lingering longing and closed her eyes, blatantly ignoring the elf she was having a pleasant conversation with earlier. Deeply, she focused her ears, determined to seek her selfish want without forsaking her pride.
But to her utter surprise, warmth gentle enfolded her. Elysia's eyes snapped open, and she readied herself to shove the elf away from his emboldened gesture.
But then the elf neared her head to the base of his neck.
Ga-thump.
Where she heard the sound of his heart loud and clear.
Ga-thump… Ga-thump… Ga-thump.
His heartbeat was steady. It was strong and so strangely gentle. Against her rational, her body fell almost limp in his arms, leaning her closer to his chest where his heart resonated with its lulling beat.
"… You were troubled… I hoped this would ease it." He answered her silent inquiry in a hushed tone, as though he feared she may withdraw should he make a greater sound.
Ease her it did. A soft, content sigh escaped her lips. The dragon felt the elf's grip shift, adjusting his old on her as she became lax in his arms. The slight adjustment caused her to stiffen, realizing the impropriety of their position. Before she could shuffle from his grasp and hastily apologize or give him a biting remark, the elf tightened his grip on her, almost comfortingly.
"Tis not a shame to seek a friend for solace, Elysia. Allow yourself this one reprieve from your pride for the sake of your spirit." He chided, but it was done with a gentleness that made it hard for Elysia to protest.
So she relented, too weary to argue, too eager to grasp this chance.
There was an intimacy occurring, far greater than the simplicity of this embrace. It had been dormant for decades, neglected and perhaps long forgotten by the elf.
But the dragon never forgot… No matter how hard she had once tried, she never could, and being here, near this beating heart, she realized she had been foolish to even try.
For how could one forget something that was theirs?
/
/
In the Mines of Moria, Elysia finally found herself feeling… whole. Her soul was singing with the content of its completion after waiting for a lonesome number of years, calling out to its missing piece with all the mourning a silent stargazing figure could bear.
And in that content, her body began to seek its much needed rest. With each rhythmic thump of the elf's chest, against her mind's stubborn wishes, she began to fall asleep, the first sleep she's had since entering Moria.
When Gandalf awoke, he discovered that he was not the first to rise in his company… Or perhaps he was simply not the last to sleep, for as he searched the resting company with old but ever so keen eyes, he spotted something unimaginable.
The wizard did not know whether to smile or simply stare (he did more of the latter), as he realized with slow growing clarity what, or who more exactly, the son of Thranduil cradled in his long arms.
"She needed sleep." Legolas explained in a soft, elvish whisper, careful as to not awaken the sleeping dragon in his arms. It sounded ridiculous and unbelievable if Gandalf did not see it; his draconic apprentice resting with her head resting against the elf's chest, an expression of utter tranquility resting upon her face. It was alien to see the dragon to have such delicate impression. It brought a wave of nostalgia upon the wizard, reminding him of the days when she was still young and not yet growing into her confidence.
Legolas' tall body appeared to dwarf her with its careful and modest embrace. The wizard would have felt scandalized if it were any other time or place. He had little doubt the others would as well, but seeing the peace in his apprentice would be worth whatever 'impropriety' was occurring.
But it was strange. The sight before him was one matter of peculiarity, but what intrigued him more was the magic. The aura of his apprentice… Long he had the inkling that something had not been quite right with her ever since she departed from Mirkwood. She was... not quite whole. It wasn't a disease, but she had been suffering, fragmented in ways the naked eye could not see. He had assumed it was because of the Mirkwood's enchanted waters and the spiders she encountered. There were powerful spells and poisons that pulsated through the woods…
Yet now she was in one piece.
It would be a riddle he would have to mull over… for now…
Yes… for now he didn't have the heart to wake her. Legolas was right. She had been in desperate need for rest.
Perhaps it would not hurt to allow the fellowship asleep for a few hours longer.
/
/
/
She knew it was a dream… It was a world of shattered plains and dark skies. There was nothing else to be seen far beyond what she could see. Nothing but the distant slate grey mounds of clouds in perpetual waiting, nothing but the white earthen fragments cracked and pieced like permanent marks of lightning.
The land looked so dry but she could smell the rain brewing in the air, feel the thunderclouds generating their crackling light.
A single droplet fell from the dreary heaven. It fell upon her eye and traced her cheek as though the sky wished to cry the many unshed tears for her.
And the rest of its tears followed.
The sky began to weep. Soon the silence was interrupted by the hissing torrent of an endless downpour.
The cracks in the shattered plains began to fill. The dry white earth soaked in the heaven's tears with the haste of a thirsty wanderer.
The grey faded with the rain, unveiling a sky filled with endless speckles of brilliant silver.
And the barren floors of fragmented white became a mirror of an endless night.
There must have been seeds planted in the soil of the shattered plain, for in the hidden cracks of the mirrored floor, scattered saplings began to form. Small sprouts of luminescent green lit the mirrored ground. They seemed to be reaching for the stars, drinking in the reflected light of the liquid pools to keep their healing glow while their tiny leaves stretched towards the heaven.
It was a beautiful world but also a cold one.
A desolate realm of dreamy landscapes but with no life, no other, no one else.
A silent place that lied hopeful in patient waiting…
There was the sudden sound of gasping breaths. Elysia woke with a start as her mind reeled back her body to the rocky ground on which she had fallen asleep.
Five estimated days have passed since her first comfortable slumber. After Legolas had become her brief and subtle confident, she had taken the elf's word to seeking her friends' assistance in conserving her sanity in this lost place. Twice, including tonight, Aragorn had lent his broad back to her ear, allowing her to listen to his beating heart as they fell asleep. Strangely the two thought nothing of the impropriety in Elysia's request, and had quickly found a simply position where Aragorn slept on his side with his back facing the dragon while the dragon simply on an angle in reverse, placing her ear against or near his rhythmic organ. There was very little intimacy in the position. Some would even find it odd, but none questioned the dragon after they saw the tire slowly leave her haggard gaze.
This time, she did not appear to be the only one who woke abruptly. Being the light sleeper, Aragorn had also awoken. With the discipline of a warrior, his grogginess quickly faded as he scanned the campsite. It appeared as though Legolas had also been roused unexpectedly. Usually, that was not an odd thing. Elves were not in need of much rest, and his elvish friend was a trained warrior as well, who did not hesitate to become alert especially when in tension filled environments. But Legolas appeared to have been awoken, not by some outer force or sound, but by something that had troubled his mind, as did Elysia.
The uncanny timing of their wakefulness puzzled the ranger, and he was not alone. Their grey Istar had been keeping vigil. It was his turn to watch over them while they earned some desperately needed sleep. Gandalf had been puffing his pipe in silence when he saw them get up with a start.
Elysia did not think much of it, too troubled by the vivid nature of her strange dream. Dusting off the dirt on her clothes, she walked to a more private ground where she began to shuffle through her bag for the ivory comb gifted to her by Arwen.
The wizard's pensive eyes darted from the troubled elf to the thoughtful dragon. Then he spoke to no one in particular.
"What were the contents of the dream that startled you?"
Aragorn thought nothing of the foreign tongue, for it was something only the dragon could answer. But to his surprise, Gandalf was answered by his friend.
"It was strange." Legolas replied, a troubled frown on his fair features. "I was standing in a realm where I seemed to be walking a mirror to the heavens. There were many stars in the sky." He spoke wistfully. "It felt endless."
He walked towards Aragorn, immersed in his own thoughts, unaware of three keen pairs of eyes watching him with mixtures of shock and curiosity.
Aragorn was confused. He wasn't aware that the elf understood the tongue of the ancient language…
And neither did Gandalf or Elysia, so it seemed. Elysia remained as rigidly stiff as a chiseled statue, knelt beside her belongings. She had been prepared to respond to her old master, to share the troubles of her dream… only for it to be shared by the elf."
How did he know of her dream? Or more accurately, how did he also dream of the same land?
The wizard looked as though he wished to ask the same question, but he remained silent. Instead he regarded the elf with an unreadable expression. The gears within his mind were slowly being meshed together, and a slow growing theory began forming.
Before anyone could speak, the wizard gave the elf a kind smile. "Legolas, would you do me the favor of handing me Faersing?" He made a nonchalant gesture towards the sword by the elf's feet.
Thinking nothing of it, Legolas knelt and grasped the sword by its scabbard in a single fluid motion. When he presented it to Gandalf, all appeared to be fine as the wizard reached for the sword… Until gnarled hands grabbed the scabbard; Gandalf's hold was too feeble. The Istar let out a small "oop" and the heavy sword slipped from his grasp.
But Legolas, being the quick elf he was, caught the sword by its leathered handle before it could clatter on the earth and woke the others.
The moment his hand grasped the sword's grip, the ranger and the dragon held their breaths while the wizard remained calm and patiently knowing. They all knew of Faersing's intolerance to being held by all but its master.
And as they expected, something happened, but it was something unanticipated.
A pulse of blue light rippled through the sword, from the handle to the sapphire pommel, and Legolas felt a humming surge of warmth flood through his arm, a sensation that made his feet curl and his hairs stand at the nape of his neck. It was gentle, but he could feel the unseen power contained within the blade, the connection and undying loyalty it had to its lady master.
Faersing… it was welcoming him.
It ended abruptly as Elysia all but ran and intervened. With a rough swipe of her hand, she snatched the sword between the elf and the wizard. There was an unbridled anxiety brewing in her pale, colorless gaze, but she said nothing.
Aragorn was flummoxed and out of place. What was going on? He looked to the wise old wizard for answers, hoping that the Istar might share some of his confusion or enlighten him.
But the gaze of burning knowing in the wizard's darkening countenance did the contrary, and Aragorn had the inclination that what just occurred… It was either very wrong or very strange…. Or both.
"Dragon. We need to speak. Alone." It was not a request, but a demand. The said dragon tried her best not to shrink from the almost menacing determination in the wizard's tone.
She relented with a silent nod. The elf and the ranger watched as the dragon rather meekly followed the hasty wizard to more private places of the Mines, away from unwanted eyes and ears. Legolas watched as they vanished before turning to his mortal friend.
"Have I done something?" He looked a little lost, and Aragorn felt empathetic to his friend's strange plight.
"Nay, mellonnin… I think not." Aragorn replied in hushed elvish. "But Elysia did…"
Or that was his theory. It was the most likely of reasons. The dragon maiden was so fiercely secretive, there was no other explanation.
Legolas could only cock his head, deeply troubled. His palm tingled with lingering warmth from Faersing's touch.
Read and review! Thank you~
-Mana