The Battle of Helms Deep had been won, thanks to the timely arrival of both the elves from Lothlorien, and Eomer's Riders. But even with their aid, the cost had been high. The battlefield was strewn with the dead of both sides, and keening wails drowned out the howling wind as the people of Rohan found their beloved warrior. So many lives needlessly wasted, all for the greed of the White Wizard of Isengard, Saruman. Many cursed him under their breath as they carried the bodies to lay them out in honor before the final burial. The bodies of the orcs were unceremoniously thrown onto piles and set ablaze.
It was several days more before Theoden King thought about riding out to Isengard to confront Saruman for his treachery. The last of the dead had finally been buried and healers worked day and night seeing to the needs of the wounded, while those who had been spared injury worked to repair the Keep in preparation for the next attack.
On the day Theoden rode out with Aragorn and Gandalf for Isengard, the people of Rohan lined the streets, past the gate and into the Gap, hands reaching to touch their king, praying he would return to them and sending their curses with him to lie at the traitor's feet. And as the plains rushed beneath the hooves of their steeds, the Keep disappeared behind them, these prayers and curses kept them in their saddles as they rode passed the devastation the Uruk Hai had caused on their way to Helms Deep. Blackened fields still smoked from the fires that had destroyed crops, farms and small villages. Carrion birds circled the skies over the bodies of many slain. At each body they found, they stopped and buried whom they could before mounting up again with thunder in their eyes, hands grinding on sword hilts. It wasn't until midday three days later before they reached the gates of Isengard, where they stopped atop a hill and stared down at the complex in awe
The grounds surrounding Isengard had been stripped bare of the beautiful trees that had once graced the land, tall and old they had stood for thousands of years, but now not even stumps were left to peak out of the flood waters. Even more astounding, trees walked through the water, snatching up tiny goblins and bashing them to death before tossing the bodies aside to look for more.
"You should not have betrayed the tree shepherds, old friend." Gandalf muttered as he directed Shadowfax down the road to the gates, where yet another surprise lay in store for them.
Sitting on atop the guardhouse, Merry and Pippin cried out in joy as they spotted their friends, smoking pipes hanging from their mouths as they clapped their hands. All their hours spent chasing their friends, the news of their 'deaths' and the battles had taken their toll and soon all the friends had tears running down their cheeks. Gandalf looked on, a smile on his face, as the hobbits shared out Saruman's stash of pipeweed, while Theoden and his men looked on in confused amusement.
Approaching the Tower was no easy feat, the floodwaters were so murky more the one horse tripped as they came to unseen deeper waters, nearly sending their riders off but eventually they did make it and were greeted by a large, old tree whom Gandalf addressed as 'Treebeard.'
"The wizard has locked himself in his tower and will not come out." The ent said, his speech a slow and low rumble.
At the sight of movement, Gandalf called out, "Come down, Saruman, face your judgment!" No reply was forthcoming, nor did Saruman come down.
Gandalf was about to try again when behind Treebead the waters began to roil and bubble before finally erupting as dark shapes burst through the surface and all gathered were left in wide-eye silence as five dragons sank back into the water, exhausted and unable to pull themselves to shore. Younger ents sprang into action, looping their larges arms around legs and dragging them to shore where they wouldn't drown, then moving off to find food for the new arrivals. As the sun shone on their hides, four of the dragon's eyes closed in bliss. Their dull scales told of long times underground and heavy mistreatment; their ribs standing out underneath their wings.
"Those are dragons." Theoden cried, finally finding his voice.
"Yes, but not the ones from your tales, but from tales much, much older. Unfortunately, we do not have time now to discuss all the ways in which they differ from the evil ones. Suffice it to say they are friends to the Free Peoples." Gandalf assured.
"Kirigan!" Legolas shouted as he spotted his white hide being supported between three ents.
The dragon's head shot up and he thrashed himself free, one forelimb cradled close to his chest as he hurried to them. As he got closer, they could see that it wasn't an injury he was cradling, but the body of a woman…red of hair…
:Legolas!...And Aragorn! Come to me, Natasha requires your aid!:
Both elves and Gandalf had slid from their horses and raced forward by the time he'd finished speaking, gently taking Natasha's still form from him and laying her down onto a log that Treebeard had pulled over to them. Her skin was pale and blood flowed from a gash in her head.
:She's not breathing and I cannot feel her!: Kirigan's eyes whirled shades of silver and white in his fear for his Chosen.
"And so the Fellowship loses one more" came a dark voice far above them.
Turning, all spied Saruman atop his tower, leaning heavily on his staff, a cowering Wormtongue behind him. Gandalf rose, ignoring the former head of his order, comforting each of the Fellowship in turn: a hand on the shoulder, sharing grief and lending strength to their resolve. They would need it before the end of this meeting.
"A pity that the line of Kings ended centuries ago. Perhaps the King could have saved her. But alas, none of them are left." Saruman continued, sneering down at Gandalf. "Though I am pleased to see that the Dragons were not lost entirely. Wherever did you find them?"
"You do not know, Saruman?" Gandalf asked. "It was here they were found, in the caverns beneath your lands, being drained of their power. " Gandalf replied, spreading his arms wide, indicating what was left of the once proud tower complex.
Keeping the attention of his former leader, Gandalf was able to shield Aragorn from view as he placed his hands on Natasha's chest, whispering in elven the healing spells he'd been taught all his life, willing with everything he had that he had enough of his own power to bring her back. But the battle and emotional strain of the last few days burying the dead had taken their toll and his strength alone was not enough. Legolas came up behind him, resting his own hands on his beloved's shoulders, lending him what power he could through their bond. Kirigan, too, lent his power to the exiled King and slowly Aragorn's hand began to glow softly. The light spread outward from his palms until his entire body was engulfed, and then it spread onto Natasha, and faded away as though sinking into her skin. A moment, then two and finally Natasha took a breath, and another, before she coughed up the water in her lungs and rolled onto her side with a grown. Aragorn fell back against his husband, laughing weakly in relief. Natasha's eyes opened and she looked around in confusion before finding her lovers at her side.
"You're here." She whispered, reaching a hand for each of them. Kirigan curled around her, rumbling deep in his chest with his joy, sending energy to speed her healing.
:I couldn't reach you.: he said softly. :I thought I would have to take to the Starpaths to find you. My Chosen.: he nuzzled her cheek. But before she could ask any questions, all their attention was drawn back to the swapped barbs between Saruman and Gandalf.
Struggling to stand, she leaned on her lovers' arms and shook her head slightly to clear the remaining fog. She found the other dragons resting in the sun, sighing with relief as she counted all that she had met in the caverns below. When finally she brought her gaze to Gandalf, she stared in disbelief, while Aragorn whispered of their reunion in her ear unheard. Her focus narrowed to a pinhead on her mentor and she barely stopped herself from crying out as he continued to speak.
"What have you to say in your defense, Saruman?" Gandalf was saying. "You should have known they were here, should have freed them long ago. Or perhaps your greed for power blinded you to the goings on in your lands, hmm? And what of your old servant, that strange boy with the red eyes? Did I not feel power from him in my last visit? T'was more than what was there the time before."
:Regardless, he is dead.: Giran the green dragon growled, raising to his full height, his eyes blazing with fire as he glared at the white wizard. :I tore him to pieces myself. Anald can now find peace on the Starpaths :.
"And who was it that released you then, if he is dead and he did indeed bind you, weak though he was? And where would he have gained the knowledge to bind Dragons? I surely did not give it to him."
:Perhaps he sought out another master, as you did, when his desires for power were not met by other means?: Kirigan replied archly, snorting smoked up at Saruman.
"Even if he had, it was surely not enough to keep you from freeing yourselves. And I cannot be held responsible for his actions."
:My Chosen and I freed my kin from his enchanted chains. And you should have felt their power, were you at your full strength yourself. But no, you have wasted away in your greed for more power, squandered the gifts with which you were endowed until you were left with nothing. You are no longer the most powerful of your order.:
:Your Chosen? This girl? Even if Chosen, she should not have had the power to free imprisoned Dragons." Saruman replied in disbelief.
"Don't recognize me then, old man?" Natasha finally spoke, letting her irritation infuse her voice with vicious venom. "Didn't you send Uruk Hai to kidnap me from my world, to spill my blood on Middle Earth soil. 'Bring me her heart,' and all that?" she paused, disgust crinkling her face. "Seriously? Who does that? What am I, Snow White? That's just plain messed up."
"It's not possible for you to know of that…" Saruman screamed, fear clear in his voice. "You weren't there…"his face went white as he mouthed the word 'starpaths' and he staggered back for but a moment before rallying his strength and glaring down at the gathering.
"Your knowledge is of no consequence. Nor is your continued existence. The will of Sauron is not to be denied. You will meet your end before He rises to cover all of Middle Earth under his dominion."
"Saruman!" Gandalf's voice boomed, drowning out Saruman's remaining words. "You have failed in your duty. Your staff is broken and your power is contained. Go now or stay as you will, but you will cause the peoples of Middle Earth no more harm."
Saruman's staff exploded in his hands and he cowered for but a moment, turning pleading eyes on Theoden, his voice soft and entreating.
"Theoden, my old friend, do you see how the Stormcrow treats me? He has been blinded by his ambition to succeed me as the head of our order. Sees this as his chance. Do not let his lies turn you against your old friend. Join with me and you will see that my master rewards those in his service."
Theoden's face remained still as he gazed at Saruman before his eyes slid to the forgotten figure behind him. "Grima, if you choose to leave behind this fiend, you may return with us to Rohan. You will be imprisoned for your actions against me, but at least you will be free of this man's influence."
"He will not go." Saruman laughed unkindly. "He is too much a coward to desert me. He is mine, through and through, pathetic though he may be. He will not heed your words…ARGH!"
Saruman cried out as Grima sprang forward, burying his small knife into his back again and again, forcing them both from the top of the tower to hurtle towards the ground, splashing into the water. The water stilled around the place they had fallen, but neither surfaced and the tower grounds became silent except for creaking and rustling of the ents as they gathered to witness the dying place of their enemy.
"And so ends Curunir." Gandalf murmured, hanging his head. Treebeard and the remaining ents slowly faded back into Fangorn Forest, free of their rage now that the murderer of their saplings was no more, to never again be seen by mortal eyes. Later, the Huorns that had traveled to Helms Deep would return to Fangorn as well, slipping into a long sleep from which they would not again awaken. But now, back in the ruins of Isengard, Merry called out in the silence.
"Hey now, Pip, what have you got there?"
Pippin had slid from his place behind Aragorn and splashed through the shallows at the base of the tower to pick up something. He turned, holding a ball of stone black as night, looking up at Gandalf with questioning eyes.
"I saw it fall from Saruman's hand." he explained as he placed it into Gandalf's hastily extended cloak pocket.
"Give that here, my lad." Gandalf said shortly, and then for Pippin's ears only. "And best you forget you ever saw it."
"Well now that Saruman is no more, we had best return to Meduseld and begin rebuilding Rohan." Theoden said, turning his horse back the way they had come.
Until now, the Dragons had remained silent, enjoying the afternoon sun, and relishing the death of the evil ones responsible for so many deaths. But now they stirred, reminding the humans of their presence. Nervously, the Riders with Theoden palmed their swords, ready to draw them at their King's signal.
"What of these creatures, Greyhame?" Theoden finally asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Surely he and his men could dispatch them should the need arise, injured as they were, but perhaps the cost would be too great?
:These creatures are fully capable of speaking, oh King of Rohan.: Kirigan replied. :Our place in history may have been usurped by the evil ones, but even they had speech.:
"I apologize, great one." Theoden bowed uncertainly from his horse. "I have only heard legends of your kind, of the evil dragons that is. And even those vary in the details."
"These ones don't go around burning villages to the ground. They're more likely to give you a hoard then sleep on one, and they like cakes." Merry said cheekily, leaning against Kirigan's side with arms folded across his chest.
Kirigan regarded the hobbit with a tilt of his head, sighed and then stood quickly, sending Merry sprawling on his rump with a splash. He nuzzled him back to his feet and tipped Merry back towards Pippin before moving over to Giran's side and humming softly.
One by one the Dragons joined in the song, their magick rising up and dancing around them, Kirigan's strong gold mixing with the weaker strands from Isakara, Neri, Tak'en and Giran, weaving about their heads, healing wounds and giving back strength to weakened limbs. When finally the song ended, not an injury could be seen, though the scales on the former captives were still dull and lack lustre. It would take more than one healing spell to undue that damage. And many, many hearty meals.
"Perhaps it would be best for you to go West. The elves are making their way there now, leaving from the Grey Havens, I'm sure some would make room for you." Gandalf said once the spell had been completed.
:We have our own way West, Mithrandir. But I think…: Giran paused and conferred privately with the other Dragons. :Yes, we will fight alongside the elves as we once did. Let Sauron remember the fear that sent him running before his master the day we joined the battle so long ago.: a dark chuckle sounded through the minds of everyone present, and in Giran's eyes the cold fire of desired vengeance burned.
"Then we welcome you as allies." Theoden bowed again, this time with a voice strong with conviction and honour.
:But first, there is one small matter that I would like to attend to…: Isakara rumbled, stiffly gaining her feet and moving towards the men. :There is one among you I would Choose.:
The power behind the word 'choose' clearly explained in all their minds exactly what was occurring and no one spoke as the yellow dragon reached her head towards the youngest of the riders, turning her head to meet his eyes and speaking privately to him. Tears filled his eyes as he reached a shaking hand out to stroke her nose and her eyes whirled rainbows before sliding shut in pleasure at his acceptance of her Choice. Their moment over, Isakara pulled her head back and the young man dismounted.
"What is your name, my lad?" Theoden asked, as he walked passed to go to her side.
"I am Freca, my lord."
"Well met, Freca Dracawine." Theoden nodded to him as the boy climbed onto Isakara's back, fitting his legs just behind her wings as though he'd been doing it all his life.
Natasha smiled at Freca from her place on Kirigan's back, and as the party moved out, Kirigan came alongside Isakara to discuss her choosing. Tak'en, Giran and Neri followed slowly, their heads slowly rising as their energy returned, now being connected with both the sky and the earth. They nuzzled each other, now and then as the party moved out from the ruins and onto the plains, moving slowly so as not to leave the Dragons behind. Bands of orcs still roamed the plains and they would be easy targets if left to fend for themselves just now.
"Why do they not fly?" Freca asked quietly.
:They are too weak right now. A few good meals and continued magick sharing should set them right.: Kirigan answered before returned to his private conversation with Isakara.
"Will they always do that?" Freca whispered to Natasha, who laughed quietly.
"The bond is in the mind, Freca. There's no escaping them now."
"Oh. They're always there, then?"
"Oh, yes. But you can block them, or they can block you, when you need a bit of privacy." She winked at the young man, who blushed fiercely and jerked his gaze away.
Natasha smiled as she turned her attention back to the head of the procession. Aragorn was in deep conversation with Theoden over some matter, but he and Legolas kept looking back at her as though to make sure she was still there, still with them. She gave them a little wave, before tentatively reaching out with her mind to brush against Gandalf's, who rode to the other side of Theoden.
: Natasha, you've grown into your power quite well since I first began your lessons.: his warm and calm voice filled her mind like a balm. She had missed his friendship more than anything, and to hear his voice again, to feel his presence…she couldn't describe the joy she felt.
She continued conversing with Gandalf via mindspeech, updating him on all that had happened to her after his fall. Had it truly only been a few weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime. And yet, the end of the journey was nowhere near at hand. Frodo and Sam, she learned had left the Fellowship to take the Ring onwards on their own, and she sent a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening (she couldn't yet bring herself to belief in the Valar, even though recent events had given points in their favour) that they would be safe and succeed in their mission. But for now, Natasha kept an eye on the Dragons she had been sent to rescue, answering Freca's questions when he got over his embarrassment and Isakara allowed him time to speak. The boy was going to be learning a magick all his own before too long, but would he learn enough before he and Isakara were called into battle? Natasha had had the benefit of training with Gandalf for nearly a year before even the hint of battle had been on the wind.
:Isakara will take him clear of any battle if she feels he's not ready for it. Even if it means fleeing the field.; Kirigan whispered in her mind, though this did not allay her fears. An even greater battle was yet to come, and she certainly didn't feel prepared for it, in spite of her training. She only hoped they would all make it to the end of this journey safely.
NOTE: Old English is the language where many of the Rohirric names come from, so I chose Freca (champion) to be Isakara's Chosen. "Dracawine," is taken from the OE words 'draca' – dragon, and 'wine' – friend.