The sound of wind was forgotten after so long beneath the earth, the feel of it beneath wings as one soared above the clouds. The warmth of the sun, it's brilliance nearly blinding; the whisper of the leaves, creaking of branches, had all long ago been lost in memory. Only the drip, drip, drip, of water hitting the cave floor, and the occasional scurrying of tiny feet in the passageways above broke through the silence. Isakara stretched tiredly, barely moving the heavy chain across her back holding her in place. Her memories, and those shared by the others were not as comforting as they had once been. Inevitably, all memories turned to the massacre at the Nesting Grounds. How the hot pools had run red with their blood and the stones had been slick from the destroyed eggs.
Over the centuries, the dragons had grown quiet, sleeping to preserve their strength and only moving when necessary. But even this became tedious and slowly, one by one, dragons were dying.
Neri, one of the first to be captured, had grown bitter in their imprisonment, snarling and biting at any who would remember with kindness their allies of old, the elves of the Second Age. They had not come to look for them when they had started to disappear. Nor had they come to their aid when their nesting grounds had been attacked. Why would they bother now, except to ask for more Dragon-blood to be shed? And why should they respond? Why even when they had finally reached someone who would listen, they had not come. They had been so sure when they had finally reached the human girl that she would answer their pleas for help, but she too had abandoned them.
The others were not as hostile as Neri, their grief weighing them down instead. Even the hope that had been sparked at the brief feeling of another Dragon, possibly a free one, had dwindled in the intervening days…weeks…months? Time passed differently in the darkness. How could the dwarves stand to be buried so far from sun, moon and star?
Isakara's mind wandered, drifting between pain and the haze of boredom. The Red One had not visited in a while. There had been screaming and flashes of fire coming from his cavelet, but not a sound had been heard since. A pity, there would no food until his return. She could almost welcome one of the little goblins that were often thrown into their pit when the Red One was home. Sunlight would have been much better. Oh to….
:I feel the sun.: One of the older dragons sighed wistfully from behind her.
:You can't feel the sun, it's too far away, Anald.: his mate replied tiredly, stretching to touch him but always just that little bit too short.
:But I do. It's so warm. And the chain, it's gone. I feel so light, like I could float away.:
Every dragon's head snapped up and around at that, eyes glowing with inner light. All save one. In the far corner of the cave, one dragon did not move, his jaw flat across the floor, faceted eyes reflecting light not found within. The chain was still across his back, and no breath moved his body.
:Anald?! NO! Do not take the starpath. Don't leave me, my mate!:
:But here is pain, Giran.: came Anald's mind-voice once more, though seemingly farther away than before. :There is light, and freedom. I am finally free of the Red One, may his magic destroy him. I am free and may you soon be as well. Farewell. Look for me among the stars. I will wait for you, my heart.:
And like a wisp of wind, the presence that had been Anald vanished from their minds. A moment of silence followed, before a rumbling ran through the cave, rising in pitch and volume until the cave was filled with the keening wails of Anald's mate, a much older Dragon who had been separated from his mate by mere feet, unable to even touch him during their captivity. Chains creaked and groaned under the strain as each remaining Dragon reached their necks to comfort Giran, lightly brushing their noses along his hide, warming him with their breath. Tears flowed freely, the earth hissing as each drop hit and burned holes in the floor. Each Dragon's voice joined the keen, until the cave resonated with their song, echoing back into the myriad of passageways throughout the cave system.
Away from the Dragon's pit, goblins dropped to the ground clutching at their chests as they writhed in agony. This feeling they had never had before. Pain they understood, but this was coming from within, not from a lash or fist. The orcs nearby stood stock still, faces slack and eyes wide, the song calling to them in ways long forgotten in their corruption and nameless.
On up through the earth the song flowed, ringing through rock and tree, and into the Tower of Isengard, where Saruman the White stood on his balcony overseeing his minions. The song's vibration reached his feet and filled his heart with profound sorrow for the briefest of moments, before its power ultimately ended. Shaking off the feeling, Saruman turned back to his study, none the wiser for the odd sensation.
Back in the Dragon's pit, Isakara sighed heavily, her chin perched on the tip of Giran's tail, the only part she could reach from her position at the other end of their prison. Anald had taken the starpath mere hours ago, and yet it already felt like an eternity. He had not been the first to take the starpath, but if help did not arrive soon, he wouldn't be the last. Where was the girl they had called to for help? Had she been stopped? Or was Neri right after all, had she, and the elves abandoned them to save themselves? A final tear slid down her face as she closed her eyes to sleep. Just before it hit the floor, her tongue darted out to catch it.