Chapter 40
A fortnight later….
The appointed hour came slowly for the three lovers, who watched all faces anxiously as the stories of the old ones were told. At first, the rest of the Fellowship did not know what to make of these stories, though quickly confusion (the hobbits) and disbelief (Boromir and Gimli) registered on their faces. But this too soon faded, as the stories unfolded.
In the beginning, there had been hesitation and sadness on behalf of the older ones, reluctant to open wounds not quite healed even by the passage of so much time, but as the eyes of the younglings lit up in wonder, and disbelief left the eyes of the not so young, their voices gained strength, and they found that in the sharing, there was indeed healing. Soon the only stories that could be heard in the evenings, and even into the day's activities, were those stories of dragons and their riders, daring feats on the wing, and vanquishing the servants of the Enemy in blazing fire.
Mementoes were soon retrieved from near-sacred hiding places and displayed for all to see, further bolstering the reality of the stories. Silver necklaces inlaid with gleaming dragonscale of a million different colors; swords, shields and armor forged in the heat of a dragon's fire, unbreakable, impenetrable, and never dull.
And most precious of all, the dragon gems. These luminous jewels shone radiantly in the hands of their keepers. Light and memory, violent emotion and serenity, encapsulating the very essence of magick itself, so it could be admired and experienced, if briefly, by all. The dragons' pride and joy, they had taken great care and time in each fashioning. Rolled around within their mouths, thousands upon thousands of layers, much as the oyster fashions the pearl. Many held tales behind their creation, but some were created simply for the joy therein.
There was the stone containing the tale of the dragon and the rider who had flown for seven days and nights, traversing the entirety of Arda, to deliver a message to a human king, whose name had been long forgotten among Men, and even only a few of the elves remembered. The stone had been shaped and colored to match the color of the kind's standard, shining with the brightness of stars.
Another gem held the story of the dragon that had stolen into the dark citadel of the Enemy to retrieve her rider, but too late and had instead saved the child who now told the tale with tearful eyes. This stone had been formed shortly after the death of the rider, and glittered dimly in the fire. The dragon had chosen to follow her Rider into the Halls of Mandos, to await the Second Song and reshaping of the world.
Then there were the stones fashioned in times of pure joy, hatching of a new clutch of dragons, the joining of a dragon and rider, or simply for the joy of creation. These were the brightest of all the dragon gems, each and all beautiful to behold.
When finally came the time to reveal Kirigan, many had already guessed at the return of their long-ago ally; had boasted the Enemy best beware. And their enthusiasm had not dimmed upon seeing how small and how few Kirigan was. Elves, being immortal, could afford to wait for the dragon to grow and if one had managed to escape the massacre, surely others had escaped as well.
The Fellowship, being the first to be introduced to Kirigan, had taken little convincing, after the many hours of stories, and physical evidence of friendship between the two races. The hobbits, in particular, upon seeing how small Kirigan actually was, relaxed fully and welcomed him into their group. They of course, had been expecting a dragon on the scale of Smaug, having heard Bilbo's tales since they were young hobbit lads.
"But this is much easier to get used to, I think." Sam commented, as he watched Kirigan make images out of his smoke for their entertainment, his hand itching to touch the dragon until finally Kirigan simply moved under the hobbit's hand and settled the matter. "We will get to see him grow and become accustomed to his size a little at a time."
"Yes, it would have been rather overwhelming to have a full sized dragon thrust upon us all of a sudden." Pippin agreed, puffing smoke rings along with the dragon.
Gimli, whose father had been driven from the Lonely Mountain by the dragon Smaug, and part of the original expedition to reclaim the mountain, had had mixed feelings upon meeting Kirigan. But as the night progressed, he too relaxed. He and Kirigan were discussing metal- and jewel-smithing as the dragon entertained the hobbits with his smoke images. Already, they were planning to forge something together when all this was over, the dragon had been a very ardent smith when he had first been in Middle Earth, he thought perhaps he could teach the dwarf a thing or two, and perhaps learn something in return. No dragon had ever worked with a dwarf before, the dwarves preferring to live deep inside their mountains at the time of the dragons, and the dragons preferring to live where there is open sky.
Boromir's reaction was perhaps the greatest surprise to them all. He had welcomed the dragon with a whoop and up-thrust fist, claiming he had known that at least one dragon had escaped; from the very moment the stories had begun to be told. He had only been slightly deterred when he had truly seen how small Kirigan was, though he quickly regained momentum, dreaming aloud how quickly they could thwart the Enemy now that they had dragonfire on the wing.
"Think of it." He proclaimed. "The Enemy's army is several thousand deep and with one fell swoop, half of it is gone up in flames." He crowed in triumph of the vision he was creating in his head. "Aragorn, when we reach the White City, we will have to build a home for our friend here. Our ally cannot be allowed to sleep in the cold. What kind of home to dragons like? Do they like caves or would a hall be more suitable?" he had then joined Kirigan and Gimli to discuss the matter in greater depth.
"Why is it that some men seem to take such pleasure in battle?" Natasha muttered, from her place with her head on Aragorn's shoulder. Kirigan's amusement tickled along their bond, as he showed her some of the homes the dwarf and human were imagining for him.
"I guess, because their lives are so short, great feats in battle, made into song, is a way to ensure a sort of immortality." Legolas mused, fussing with her hair, trying to get a braid to behave the way he wanted it to.
Natasha thought on this, reminded once again, that she was very human, very mortal. Her lovers would, if they lived through the war that was coming, live to watch her grow old and die. Her heart grew heavy and she closed her eyes against the pain of leaving them. Sure they had only admitted their love for each other a few short months ago, but they had been friends for over a year now. She knew that they would be hurt when it was finally her time to go. And she didn't want that. She…a sharp pain akin to a whack upside the head snapped her out of her musings.
"Stop thinking on things that may never come to pass." Kirigan scolded her, his eyes whirling red and black in anger when she looked in his direction. "Enjoy the moments you are given today, and don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow may never come." There was a hint of some underlying sadness behind his words, but Kirigan closed off the link before she could look closer at it. "Later, I will show you. But not now. Enjoy this moment. There may not be many more."
Natasha shook her head, earning a tsk of displeasure from Legolas as she undid all his hard work, and flowers fell from her hair. The night was drawing on, and new songs could be heard, replacing the grieving songs for Mithrandir with ones of hope, now that a dragon had returned. The hobbits slowly retired to their beds, followed by Boromir, who was still dreaming up a suitable residence for Kirigan in Minas Tirith. Gimli was the last to go to bed, but only because Kirigan fell asleep mid-sentence, much to the dwarf's amusement.
"Well he is only a fortnight old, Gimli." Natasha defended her pairbond with a smile, as she wrapped him up in a blanket and lifted him into her arms. "And he's had a long day."
The dwarf smiled and bid them good night, and she, Aragorn and Legolas, made their way up to their talan, where she laid Kirigan on a special bed that had been given to them by the Lord and Lady.
Settling cross-legged on the bed, Natasha watched as Legolas and Aragorn readied for bed.
"The hobbits took it rather well." She mused.
"Gimli's face was something to behold though." Legolas chuckled. "Did you see how far his jaw dropped?"
Hobbits are remarkably adaptable little creatures. And very trusting. I remember meeting a few of their ancestors when I was just a hatchling…the first time of course, they were wandering nomads at the time, hadn't even learned how to dig their holes yet. And they learned rather quickly after being shown the basics. But they have always shown good sense, and have been able to feel the truth of things even from very early on. I am pleased to see that it has carried to this day. Humans used to be the same way…until the met Melkor. Much of their innocence was after that meeting. And then again, after Sauron rose to power, with his gifts as Annatar. Kirigan yawned, as he turned in place and fell back asleep.
Aragorn grunted in agreement, a frown marring his features. The mention of the Enemy had brought him crashing down from the slight euphoria of the evening's earlier hours. He fought briefly with himself, but duty finally won out.
"I suppose we should determine our course from here out. We cannot remain in Lothlorien indefinitely, much as we might wish." Aragorn sighed, heaving himself up off the bed and over to a map laid out on a table, feeling the weight of his destiny. "Gandalf did not discuss the path with me, beyond the Misty Mountains. It is weak of me, but I crave his guidance."
To hide his shame, he focused intently on the map. Natasha walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, laying her cheek against his broad shoulders. Legolas joined them, encircling both in his arms. "Gandalf chose you to lead us." Natasha soothed. "He saw in you the strength that we all see, but you refuse to believe is there. Whatever you choose, we will follow you."
"She's right Aragorn. Even Boromir believes in what you are." Legolas added. "How many times must people say you are worthy before you believe it?"
A soft snore was the only other answer in the room, and the three lovers turned to fondly smile at the small dragon sleeping on his pillowed bed.
"We should be heading to bed as well." Natasha sighed. "The path may be clearer with daylight and rest."
Candles were blown out and the whisper of soft sheets being pulled back was all that could be heard in the darkness as the three of them climbed into bed, limbs becoming entangled as they settled into sleep.
Across the room, one nebula-like eye opened and peered at the trio.
We too must decide our course shortly, my Rider. Our path will not follow the Fellowship's for very much longer. I only hope our absence will not be too sorely missed.
Note regarding the dragon gems: they cannot be used to do magick. Collecting a great number of these, and destroying them would not release the magick used to create them. The "magick encapsulated" and felt by the holder is simply a feeling of connectedness that all magical beings, elves, dragons, magic users, feel with the source of all life, all magick. Magick in this case, is, for lack of a better term, like the Force. All things are connected to it, but not all things can feel it without some sort of assistance.