The Goblin King of the Black Mountains was sitting in his throne room, gazing upon the emerald gems that were embedded in the ceiling. His ancestors had taken this place nearly 400 years ago, and now he could enjoy their efforts along with the vast mountains of gold that were stacked behind his throne room and beneath his feet, with the wizard helpers and Dwarves slave mining more.
He grabbed his gold and gem-encrusted goblet and took a deep swig of a very steamy blood wine, only to choke as someone burst into the throne room in a panicked run. Coughing a bit and wiping off the bit of crimson on his lip and chin, he stared menacingly at the impudent goblin that had burst into his throne room without proper announcements or requests. "What is it, Rockhide? Can't you see I am basking in the glow of my wealth?" he said very scornfully at the impudent goblin who seemed to cower at his words.
Dropping down onto one knee and bowing before his Grace, "Forgive me, King Black Fang. I was inspecting the walls before the Guard Captain informed me of an army approaching within our domain and making inroads to the mountain," the kneeling goblin explained quickly while keeping his head bowed. If he had raised his head, he would have seen a fiery fury on his Grace's face.
"Who would dare march on our mountain? Another goblin clan, perhaps? I know the British Clan King Ragnar envies our wealth. " he stood up from his throne and began thinking of others besides that particular goblin king and others that may want to take his mountain away.
Raising his head and looking at the still burning fury on his king's face as Rockhide shook his head. "No, your Majesty. It's not a goblin warband or a wizarding one. It is a legion of unknown dark creatures numbering in the tens of thousands, if not more, along with the company of what look like mutated trolls," he best described what he had seen when he was on the wall and looking through the spyglass upon the approaching army. It was nothing he had ever seen, being nearly as old as his Black Fang as well as being bloodied in a few battles against rival goblin clans and the various mercenaries that they employ to do their battles for them. This was nothing compared to those engagements; this was a force they were not expecting within this century.
Hearing the explanation of what type of force was approaching his mountain, the Goblin King's fury cooled as he began to think very carefully. Then he looked towards one of the nameless Dwarven slaves. "Retrieve my armor and weapons. I am going to make my way to the outer wall to see this massive host that seeks to take my mountain from me," he spoke openly to everyone in the throne room, from the guard to the various slaves, and to his subject that was still kneeling before him.
20 minutes later
The Goblin King, with his own personal guards, suited up for battle with his own weapon - a large battle ax resting over his right shoulder. He stood in between crenels and looked onwords to the massive force that was traveling underneath a massive dark cloud, as if the cloud was shielding massive host from the light. He reached out with his free left hand and immediately he was given Omnioculars. Once he received the magical binoculars, he looked through them to see the massive force, and they were most definitely nothing he had ever seen before - blackened and green creatures. No two of these unknown dark creatures looked alike, along with having unique distinctions amongst their kind. The same could be said for their type of armor, which either consisted of spikes that were implanted into their bodies or thick bits of metal that seemed to be crafted by a master craftsman, while another set almost seemed to be just forged and welded together. He lowered the magical eyepiece with his eyes narrowed, as he continuing watching the opposing army approach. "At best, this is close to 200,000 enemy combatants, is my best estimate along with the trolls. I have seen close to 30 who are similarly armored compared to their smaller companions," he stated as his eyes scanned over to try to see any unique distinctions within this massive lesion.
caws*
The crow that had flown over the battlements and landed onto a goblin warrior named Hobart, a feathered creature with its black eyes, looked down at the goblins that were looking up at it with a scroll in between its talons. Flying over the Goblin King, it dropped the rolled-up parchment before diving off the side of the wall and heading down before vanishing.
Picking up the scroll from the ground, the Goblin King unrolled it and began reading the message from the enemy. As he slowly read it, his men waited in anticipation of what was written on the scroll, some of them even having wild guesses of what could be on there. Letting out an annoyed growl, the Goblin King threw the scroll over the side of the wall. "They demanded our surrender. If we yield to them, I will still maintain rulership, but I would have to bend the knee before their master, whoever that is," spat Black Fang, his fury becoming even more explosive along with his kin and warriors who shared the same sentiment.
Sitting on a black Warg and leading his legion from the front, the Crowmaster approached from the side. "Report," he spoke while maintaining the same speed as his marching army falling behind him.
"The message has been sent, and there seem to be no other responses from what my crow has seen and what I have seen through their eyes. They do not seem eager to bend the knee before our master," Crowmaster orc said, carefully petting his prized crow that had delivered the message and acted as a spy of the various defenses the orc had seen before his bird had returned to him.
The orc General absorbed the information for a brief moment before raising his right fist, halting the advance of his army as he pulled the reins of his Warg. "We have our orders. If they do not surrender, then we kill them all." He turned his head, looking down at the Crowmaster before his crimson gaze went back onto the large mountain that was similar to the legendary mountain that once held the greatest fire Drake in all of Middle Earth.
"Should I convey a message to the other captains to begin moving the trolls forward to begin our Siege?" the Crowmaster had asked his General.
Tilting his head from side to side for a brief moment before looking back at his Crowmaster and giving him a nod. "Pepper them with our flaming stones and see what they'll do in retaliation," he stated as he waited for the Crowmaster to carry out his command for the trolls.
Without missing a beat, the Crowmaster attached a red ribbon onto the crow that he was cooing and petting and gave a little command that he whispered into the side of the Crow's head before letting it fly off to signal to the other captains who had command over their own respective trolls and squads of orcs. they blow short but sharp sounding horns a signal for trolls left the main part of the host. to begin their marched forward they were covered in thick leather hide and small bits of metal with catapults attached to their backs, once cleared of the other orcs, they started to run quickly at their top speed, then drop down onto their front as the catapult was released. The payload, combined with their momentum and that of the catapult mechanism, propelled the rocks that were immediately ignited before it moved at neck-breaking speed towards the mountainside.
Mountain Keep
The Goblin King almost wanted to laugh as he looked over the battlements at the somewhat fast-poking beasts that were marching towards his mountain with catapults on their backs. They were ready to drop down and sling their flaming rocks at his mountain, thinking they would not reach them. However, they actually did, and he immediately ducked down and hid behind the ramparts of his battlements as flaming rocks collided against different open sections of his mountain keep.
As soon as the barrage was over, he got up and let out a vicious snarl. "Block out the sun with our arrows now!" he roared to everyone that could hear him. Many of his Goblin archers readied their bows and began launching them like a giant murder of crows that had decided to leave the mountain and rain towards the army.
Orc Host
The trolls immediately retreated behind the orc host and many of the Orcs began raising their shields, covering themselves in a blanket of metal. The trolls were also covered, as smaller, lighter Orcs joined them, using their little shields on their backs to protect the troll siege engines. The bombardment of arrows only lasted for a few minutes before the host lowered their shields. The general, who had taken cover behind a shield of his own along with his worg, looked at the various arrows that were stuck in the ground or on the shields of his Orcs with mild amusement. "Send forth the trolls again! Keep peppering that mountain until those cowardly, fat Goblin filth comes out and fights us," he roared out a command toward his orc army. Many of them cheered and hooted in approval, eager for battle, if the enemy decided to retaliate with their own forces instead of hiding like cowards.
Just like before, the trolls with new flaming rocks marched forward and dropped, slinging more rocks at the keep before them, causing some significant damage. They even caused a tower that was attached to the keep to collapse from the onslaught that the flaming rocks had caused, with some parts becoming ignited as small flames began to spread to the lower sections of the keep.
Mountain Keep
The Goblin King was either dodging flaming rocks or witnessing his keep being destroyed by this hostile army. He had considered ordering another volley of arrows to see if it would work again before the troll-like creatures sent another destructive payload upon his fortress. "No, I am done hiding behind these Dwarven-crafted stone walls. I shall take the fight to them and bathe in their blood as I drink from their skulls," the goblin said viciously to himself. Whether the few goblins that were doing the same as he had moments ago hardly mattered as the Goblin King began marching down. He assembled one hundred of his Crumple-Horned Lancers and climbed onto his own mount, petting the Black fur Beast affectionately. "Today, girl, we are going into battle for the first time in centuries. Let us make this one worth the long wait," he said affectionately to his mount. She let out a bellowing pig-like snort/bark and started charging towards the slowly opening gate, followed by his own riders pouring out of multiple entrances. If someone observed this, it would be akin to a swarm of angry ants overwhelming and killing the threat to their nest.
Orc Host
The general had a toothy grin as he brought out his little horn and blew into it, signaling his Worg riders to charge alongside him. He cracked the reins on his mount and felt the powerful beast underneath him starting to charge. He reached behind his back for his spear and readied himself to skewer a few goblins along with the other riders that formed up next to him to match the number of the approaching warband.
A few moments passed before the two opposing bands of riders clashed. For every ten goblins skewered, the same number of orcs were dealt with after the initial charge. Some mounts were dead along with their riders, leaving the few survivors to clash with swords, axes, or any other bladed weapon in a melee on the backs of their mounts. The mounts attacked viciously against the combatants' mounts or the riders themselves.
The orc general had cut through at least 20 goblins, and his own mount had killed twice the number of combative mounts that had lost their riders. The orc general had a look of disappointment on his face as none of the goblins actually posed a challenge. However, a large battle-ax spinning through the air nearly took his head off, causing him to duck down and witness it land in the hand of its owner.
The goblin king had lost his prized companion that both seen through many battles. His black eyes saw nothing but red as he threw his enchanted battle-ax in an attempt to cleave the head of the leader of the host. The ax missed, using the magic embedded in it to be called back to his waiting right hand. He then pointed the end of his ax at the orc. "You fight me, coward!" the goblin yelled in a vicious snarl.
Raising a single eyebrow, the orc only contemplated the goblin's request for less than a second before hopping off his mount with shield and blade in hand. He whistled in a sing-song pattern, telling his mount to leave and wait for his call. "I welcome the challenge. I will take your head and stick it on a pike to present it to my master. They will be most pleased," he said with absolute confidence, certain of his victory.
"Likewise, I'll do more than simply cut off your head and stick it on a pike. I'll carve out your skull and turn it into a proper glass to drink the blood of your army after I have enslaved them, of course, to repair the damages they caused," the goblin king shot back, letting out a war cry as he marched towards the heavily armed orc and swung his ax as if chopping a tree.
Avoiding the side slash, the orc general retaliated by thrusting his sword towards the goblin. The goblin took the stab with his enchanted armor, causing the blade to bounce back. He then used his shield to block the next upper chopping attack, but the shield failed under the enchantment of the ax, eating away at his orc forge shield. The orc had to disconnect his arm from the shield to avoid losing it. This offensive magic was dangerous, something he needed to inform the witch king and his master about.
Seeing the surprise on the orc's face, the goblin king laughed. Unlike his other foes, this one didn't immediately flee but prepared to fight hand-to-hand. Feeling assured of his victory, the goblin king charged forward, ready to deliver a vertical slash and bisect his opponent. Instead of dodging, the orc charged forward and grabbed hold of the ax, trying to pry it from the goblin's grip.
The two combatants stared at each other, eyes locked in a contest of strength. The goblin king pulled and pushed in an attempt to force his opponent to let go, while the orc general did the same. The battle continued until the orc grew tired and headbutted the goblin, causing him to release his ax and fall to the ground.
Wielding his new ax, the orc general raised it to strike the goblin, pouring his strength into one downward swing. However, the goblin disappeared with a sound of portkey activation, along with a few others tethered to the king, vanishing off the battlefield except for their dead. The orc general, instead of raging over his lost kill, blew his horn, signaling his host to march on to the mountain.
The loud sound of heavy boots marching echoed as the general called for his mount through whistles and climbed upon her, scratching behind her ears before making her march forward at the same pace as the slowly approaching army to the mountain.
Mountain Keep
"Your majesty, are you all right?" a female goblin with shapely bosom was fussing over her king, trying to clean a bloody wound on his head. The king shoved the nurse aside, snarling as he marched out of the medical wing of his keep towards the one person who could activate the emergency portkey.
In the inner depths of the keep, goblin nobles and lords were packing up their belongings in magic pouches, boxes, and chests, activating their floo network to connect to various banks they were associated with. They began to vanish in green flames.
The large doors of the chamber burst open, revealing an enraged goblin king marching towards his cousin. "How dare you activate the portkey? Why are these goblin lords, ladies, and nobles leaving?" he angrily questioned his cousin, who looked more human due to a contract with a wizard and his goblin mother.
"Isn't it obvious? This army is better equipped and prepared for battle than Kin here, so I have taken steps to ensure the safety of the royal family and noble members. I urge you to evacuate yourself and yours before it's too late," the half-goblin explained, warning his cousin before stepping into the emerald flames and vanishing.
The goblin king, losing control over his anger, delivered a powerful fist into the hearth of the fireplace, cracking it and severing it from the floo network. He was determined to repel the invading force and make sure they received proper goblin hospitality for their unprovoked attack.
Leaving the inner sanctum of the keep, the Goblin King headed straight to the high battlements and looked down at the large enemy army clustered at the foot of his keep and mountain, trying to break down the magically reinforced gates. "If they continue at this rate, they'll be banging down our doors for the next century," the Goblin King said, laughing. He then turned to the nearest soldier and instructed them to send forth their Elite Legion behind the enemy force for a rear flanking maneuver to trap and slowly kill them.
A few moments later, the Goblin legions poured out of secret burrows outside the range of the mountain, forming a crescent-shaped wall of bodies as they marched towards the mountain with shields up and spears pointed at their enemies. Eager to taste the blood of the enemy, their enthusiasm turned to shock at the sudden roaring sound echoing through the dark skies, spreading towards the mountain.
As many goblins looked up to see the source of the roaring sound, they witnessed a dragon like no other descending from the skies. Larger than a Hungarian Horntail, with a snake-like iron belly and a Chinese Fireball-like red fur mane, the dragon with a golden crown of horns and fierce emerald green eyes burning like Eldritch fire. The beast flew over the Goblin army in a large arc before turning back towards them, ready to unleash its fiery inferno.
The white dragon unleashed white and red flames upon the goblins as as it passed over them, melting their steel armor and causing intense suffering. Those who survived the first wave of fire groaned and moaned in agony, fused with their armor and each other. The rest fled back into the tunnels, only for the dragon to land and forced open one exit before breathing another torrent of flames, igniting the tunnels underneath and setting fire to others yet to be opened.
Out of everything he had seen, the Goblin King could not even begin to contemplate what just happened. He knew of dragons, but all of them were mostly detained behind powerful wards that kept them from attacking settlements and even Goblin Mountain halls. But this one, this was no normal dragon. He had never seen this type before. It might as well be a new species of dragon, with scales as white as marble and looking incredibly out of place amongst the Dark Army that it was managing to avoid stepping on and not attacking. That was when he realized that they had a dragon at their command. Either it was tamed or it was under some sort of powerful magic, like that not even goblins themselves would possess. "What the hell are we fighting against?" he questioned himself, knowing that no one could answer that question. He now realized his mistake by destroying the flu Network connection out of his own anger. He had doomed himself, his family line, and every other Goblin that would have had the opportunity to flee. They were all doomed.
"Your Grace, what are our orders?" the frightened Goblin Warrior asked. Shame filled him for showing such fear, yet there was nothing left for the goblin to do but fall prey to his own instincts to flee from this monster that was now banging against the lower walls of the keep of the mountain, causing the whole structure to shake.
The King of the mountain didn't say anything as he watched the giant monster bang its body and head against the walls, seeing it beginning to crack. The dwarves had done mighty work in forging this place, and Goblin enchantments had further solidified its protection. This mountain hall was impossible to be impregnated by any foe or magic, yet he watched as his ancestors' magic and Dwarven-crafted walls added further to the damage. The white dragon reared its head back and prepared to release another torrent of flames, melting and breaking down the enchantments of the wall, creating an opening. Within a second, the large group of the enemy house began pouring in, only after the white monster had entered first.
"Grace, orders, what should I do?" The goblin Warrior started to panic as he witnessed the walls being breached.
Instead of answering, the Goblin King began to grin and started laughing and cackling in utter madness as the last semblance of his sanity had just been broken. "No reason to fear, this is just a dream, a senseless dream. I'm dreaming, our Hall remains uninvaded, and I must have dozed off at the throne again. Soon I'll wake and all this will be over. If you wish to fight, you fight. If you wish to die, just jump off the wall. I think I'll be counting up my coins again, that's always a fun practice," the Goblin King said madly as he began to walk towards the very direction where the treasury was, wanting to do the one thing he enjoyed when he wasn't feasting, or having relations, or torturing dwarves slaves.
The goblin Warrior, overwhelmed with fear, immediately began barking out orders to flee to evacuate by any means necessary.
Orc host
After breaking down the wall, the Orc General found the defenders more or less disappointing. None of them had the strength to fight back anymore, as if they thought their magic would protect them forever, that they would never face a force that was as determined, well-trained, or possessing powerful magic of their own. Then again, he enjoyed his new battle axe that he would soon give a proper name. He experimentally threw the axe and watched it fly through the air. As he extended his right hand, it immediately flew back into his hand with a slight sting at his palm from the sudden impact of the handle of the weapon.
"Find The Goblin King take him alive, free the dwarves, they will be most hospitable to us," a deep rumbling voice spoke into the mind of the Orc General, coming from his master.
"It will be done, my Lord," he spoke out loud. Whether his Lord could hear his words through his own ears hardly mattered, as the Orc General would do as he was bid, lest he face the ire of his Lord.
As the Orcs continued with their search and killing of everything in their way, the orders to free the dwarves were reluctantly accepted. They smashed the chains and removed the shackles of hundreds, if not thousands, of dwarves held prisoner in their own Mountain hall for centuries. The Orc General even came across the surviving descendants of the actual original owners of the mountain Hall, who demanded him to take them to their leader. The General informed them that they would, as soon as they had captured the Goblin King. The dwarves reluctantly accepted, even though some of them wanted to grab the weapons of the fallen goblins to join the fray. Others fought side by side with orcs, who were ordered not to harm a single bearded hair on the heads of any of the dwarves, lest all the orcs be turned into ash for disobedience.
The battle within the mountain quickly died down as many of the goblins surrendered. Despite surrendering, it didn't spare them from the slaughter that awaited them. They simply died begging and pleading for their lives instead of resisting their death.
The Goblin King, still wearing his armor and speaking words of muttering mania, was dragged by the Orc General, who tossed the goblin onto the marble floor of the throne room. In the throne room, a large dragon lay on its side with its head raised high and looking down at the pathetic goblin. Soon, a group of four dwarves, one male and three females, all with beards that were disheveled and untamed, looking more or less like proper dwarves and more akin to the Wildmen of the West.
The eldest of the four, originally the prince of the mountain, saw the goblin King muttering random words of nonsense. The dwarf gritted his teeth and wanted to strangle the life out of this goblin, remembering all that had transpired with the death of his grandfather and father, watching as dwarves had their throats slit, their heads severed and mounted on pikes, while the rest of their bodies were eaten by the goblins. It was the type of horror he wanted to visit upon this goblin descendant a thousand times over, but he kept himself restrained as he wanted to meet the one who had freed them and taken this mountain from their oppressors.
"So, dark thing, where is your leader? I would like to thank them and have the honor to crush the skull of this creature and piss in it. I don't think I can hold back any longer. If I have to wait an entire moon for them to show their ugly face, unless they are just as ugly as all of you lot," the dwarf said in that Dwarven fashion of speaking that was both blunt and disrespectful, especially while angered, but with the righteous fury that was almost ready to break free.
The Orc General was about to show his dissatisfaction with the disrespect to his master, only for a low rumbling growl coming from the dragon that ceased any further retaliation he would deliver upon the dwarf.
"You need to learn patience, princeling. It's not every day that your people are liberated from an external force like mine," the booming voice echoed in the mind of the dwarf, almost sounding feminine in the prince's mind. As he looked around, trying to find where the voice came from and unable to see who could have spoken, he considered himself half-mad and thought all this to be a mere illusion of a desperate mind seeking revenge. However, he watched as the white dragon's muzzle began to curve into a toothy smirk, despite the impossibility of such a facial gesture on a dragon. Further maddening possibilities occurred as he witnessed the dragon's body beginning to melt and reshape, surrounded by Dragonfire, becoming compressed and shrunken until there was nothing but a bright glowing outline of a small child.
"A human child?" the dwarf Prince questioned and disbelief of what he was seeing.
The child was wearing pure sparkling white robes with small bits of silver threaded into the fabrics. Her head was filled with fiery red hair that was slightly curly in parts, reaching to her shoulders. She had sharp cheekbone features, a heart-shaped face, bright emerald eyes with diamond-like slits similar to the form she took as a dragon. Another odd feature was her pointed ears that poked through her fiery mane of hair. By all appearances, she looked like a ten-year-old physically, but she was far older than that. With a warm smile that would put anyone at ease, she slowly approached the Goblin, realizing his mind was broken from the ordeal of his impenetrable walls crumbling down beneath her power. She knelt down, brought out her right hand, and touched the Goblin on his head. Immediately, her eyes began to glow as she found the fragments of his mind and began mending them back together until the goblin was completely aware of his current situation and surroundings.
"His mind was broken, I fixed it. There is no pleasure in slaying someone who cannot realize they are about to die. I believe it would be fitting if you severed the head of this Goblin with his own axe," the red-headed elf-like girl said, almost musically, reaching out towards her orc General to hand her the battle axe.
Without reluctance and hesitation, the Orc grabbed the axe that he had mounted on his back and He handed the axe to his master, wondering if she would feel any strain in her current form by trying to wield the large axe.
To everyone's surprise, she grabbed the axe and wielded it like it was nothing more than a twig, emphasizing her own strength. She rested the weapon over her shoulder, hopping and skipping towards the dwarf. Then, she dropped the axe into the marble stone floor, with the weapon sinking at least two inches before stepping away and gesturing for the dwarf to take it.
Surprised at the turn of events, the dwarf prince was wary of being in the presence of such a being. He turned his attention to the axe, finding it difficult to pry out of the ground. Whether this was a show of the creature's strength or he had truly lost much of his own strength while being enslaved for centuries under the goblin's cruelty, he would have to figure out later. Managing to pull out the axe, he looked towards the fearful goblin, who had tortured him and his sisters, ridiculed him, mocked him, humiliated him, and inflicted all sorts of depravities upon his family. He tested the axe's weight in his hands. It was made of Dwarven Metal yet perverted and twisted by Goblin Magic, a fitting weapon to kill the one who had done so much against his own people. Slowly approaching the goblin, who started to scoot back, he was stopped by the Orc, preventing him from avoiding death.
The Orc General grabbed hold of the goblin by the shoulder, forcing the former Goblin King onto his hands and knees. The General felt a great deal of envy, wanting to sever the goblin's head himself but willing to allow the dwarf his vengeance, even if it meant a long while before he found a worthy foe to kill and take their head as a trophy.
The goblin began to beg and pray for mercy from his own ancestors and gods. These prayers ceased as the dwarf raised the axe over his head, letting out a battle cry that echoed through the throne room. The goblin's begging prayers in the Goblin tongue ceased with the rolling of his head, leaving his body in spasm and twitch until the orc General stomped on the goblin's leg, ceasing further convulsions from the corpse.
Dropping the axe, the dwarf prince grabbed hold of the goblin's head by a few strands of hair and watched as the black eyes slowly turned gray, savoring every last moment of life fading from the goblin's head before tossing it aside. He looked at the being, unable to identify whether she was a Veela, human, or some new magical race that appeared out of the ether. "Now, what are you going to make of us, your servants? Do we have some debt that we must pay, that we now owe you?" the dwarf prince continued with his blunt and brood words, which didn't seem to faze the elf-like girl.
"There is something I do have need of from you and your people, but it's something that is beneficial for all of us. After all, the Goblins are going to retaliate for the taking of this mountain, along with its golden horde, or at least what's left behind in their efforts to flee," she said in a sing-song way, still playing up the playful yet dangerous child with her draconic eyes glowing emerald.
The dwarf snorted, recognizing that everyone wanted something, even dragons. "Name it, so I can be done with this debt," the prince said testily.
The girl lightly walked towards the prince, looking down at him not from a position of authority or power, but rather as a child curious about a rock she had picked up and watched various insects crawl around, knowing she could easily crush them. "I need all of your expertise in creating weapons, armors, metal forging. I do not desire the secrets; I rather desire all of your people's ability to craft means for war. I could care less about the gold that the mountain still has or is yet to be discovered; they do not interest me. I know the Goblins will retaliate, likely not now and probably not tomorrow either, but eventually, they will come. It is inevitable, a slight like this could not go unchallenged alongside you." She simply stated what she wanted, also conveying the importance of being ready for a goblin retaliation, in which she would participate in the defense once it occurs.
Once again, the goblin prince was thrown through a loop. He was half-expecting the secrets of Dwarven forging, enchanted gold, or the heart of the mountain. Yet, all this little girl wanted was their ability to craft weapons and armor, and to prepare for a goblin retaliation. This was something he had expected to happen shortly after the goblins who managed to flee would warn the other goblin clans. It would take time for the Goblin filth to muster, and who would lead such a retaliation would also be in question. If he didn't send out ravens to call the other dwarf clans to help defend the mountain, with promises of a share of spoils for a number of decades as terms. "Consider your deal accepted," the dwarf extended a hand towards the girl, who examined his hand briefly before nodding and grabbing hold with her own tiny right hand. As soon as he closed his fingers around her hand, he felt a power, an old yet powerful thing coursing through him. It wasn't dominating him, but he could feel the presence of the power she possessed. The form she took was just the tip of the iceberg. Whether it was a warning to him that she could easily destroy him and lay waste to the mountain if she chose, he would never truly know. He quickly let go of her hand, feeling the surge of power leave him.
"I see you have come to an understanding. That is good. Until we meet again," were the last words she spoke as her form ignited, taking her draconic form. She spread her wings and flew through the air, out of the wrecked throne room she had barreled through when taking the mountain. She made sure not to harm anyone, not her forces or the dwarves milling about their liberated home. Those who weren't milling around were checking the dead goblins to ensure they were truly dead. Once outside the Dwarven Mountain Halls, she truly took to the sky, flapping her wings and putting every ounce of strength and power into simply hovering over the dark clouds. She magically enchanted them to come forth with her army, not to defend against the light but for intimidation, to scare the enemy army and add to the legend that would be spread about her host.
As she flew through the air, she gazed beyond the horizon in the direction where her twin was. She could feel his presence and knew that all she was seeing here was being witnessed by him in his dreams. "Soon, brother, I will be with you. Soon, we must be patient," she soothingly sang in the old tongue of the Blessed lands. Whether her brother knew the words or not, it conveyed a sense of comfort, affection, and care.
line break
Waking up moments before the alarm clock sounded, Harry could vaguely remember the dream he had. He dreamt that he was flying, looking down on an army in black and a stone fortress being destroyed by fire, with little green people getting squished. He didn't know whether to feel fearful or disgusted at what he had seen. It was not the first unpleasant thing he had experienced in his dreams. Most of his dreams were of happy, joyful things, always with a beautiful melody filling his mind and his ears, even if he never truly heard the songs that were sung.
Getting out of bed, he looked around the room that was once Dudley's spare bedroom, now made for his usage. He went over to the mirror to look at himself, comparing himself to what he would have dreams of—a girl with hair as red as fire, with small curls at the tips. His hair was jet black, similar in length but not as wild as it used to be when he was younger. It was smoother and only curly at the tips and upon the crown of his head. Another matching feature was his ears, which had begun to become more pointed and longer. His aunt, uncle, and cousin simply called it a birth defect. The only thing that remained normal were his eyes—they were emerald in color. His pupils were not diamond-shaped, just fairly normal, though they did emit a light glow, which wasn't beyond the norm for himself. With the small examination of himself done, he started dressing himself, getting ready for the day, even though everyone was probably still asleep since no one woke up as early as he did to get the few chores he had to do done and prepare breakfast for himself and his relatives.
Within two hours of waking up, his relatives started stirring and walking down the stairs. His uncle and cousin were the first to reach the dining table, with their breakfast still warm and ready for consumption. Harry had already eaten his breakfast long ago. The two individuals, whom he considered disgusting beasts, claimed to be normal humans as they began scarfing their food with gusto. Neither of them paid any attention to him, something he enjoyed more than the type of attention they would usually visit upon him.
Petunia had entered the kitchen and immediately froze as soon as she made eye contact with her nephew. The two stared at each other, one with eyes of fear and the other with a cool, icy glare of indifference. Eventually, the woman who professed her own normality to all who would hear relented and headed to the table to drink her coffee.
Another thing Harry enjoyed was that his aunt didn't speak to him at all, instead of nagging him for whatever his mother or father may have done to make her hate him. It hardly mattered anymore after the incident when their report cards came in. He decided not to dumb himself down for his classes for this year and put a little more effort in to see what type of attention he would garner from his teachers and other students. He received top marks in all subjects, with even a side note from the headmistress of his primary school expressing her appreciation of how he had turned himself around and truly become the ideal student. On the other hand, his cousin didn't.
His aunt and uncle went into a rage, claiming that he had cheated or used his freakishness to change the grading. When he denied these allegations, his uncle used the tried and true method of dishing out his anger and frustration, the same methods he had always used when something bad happened and there was no one to blame besides the scrawny boy who was incapable of defending himself. That's when it truly happened. Just before the blow was struck upon him, an unseen force forced him to grab hold of his uncle's fist and broke every bone in that hand, putting the fear of God in Petunia that made her worry about him from then on. His cousin received his own physical punishment that deterred him from doing any physical harm to him, not on the scale of breaking a hand, but definitely losing a tooth that was ripped right out of his mouth. Unfortunately, his cousin couldn't have the tooth replanted after it had been thoroughly snapped into when it was pulled out. Now, he was missing a front tooth and forced to smile with his lips only to avoid the hillbilly smile in various photos he had to pose for.
Overall, his relatives learned not to mess with him anymore, and he took the spare bedroom for himself. No requests, no demands, he just took it and dumped all the smashed and melted toys and discarded things into his cousin's room, leaving Harry with his own room for the first time ever and relishing the fact that he could move without cobwebs getting stuck in his hair or massive amounts of dust pouring over him when his cousin starts stomping his feet up and down the steps. He had broken these wild beasts into compliance, and he was relishing every moment of it.
The mail slot chimed as the postal man delivered the morning's mail. Instead of ordering his son to go get the mail, Vernon got up grumbled a bit as he headed straight for the front door and looked at the large pile of mail. It was difficult for the overweight man to reach down for the mail, thanks to his enormous girth that he had been adding on for the last few years without any consideration that he would find himself in this position. Then again, he always had the boy fetch the mail, but now no more. Managing to get down on one knee, he picked up the pile of mail and walked back to the kitchen, panting from that small exertion as if he had run a mile. As he plopped down in his chair comfortably and began sorting through the mail, tossing aside a bill that he would pay later, a timeshare scam offer that he tossed into the nearby rubbish bin, the next one was a postcard from his sister as expressing her sympathies for her illness. Most likely, she won't be visiting this year. His wife, as usual, sympathized with him, while his son was busy watching TV and barely noticed what he had said. The next thing he saw within the stack of mail was a parchment envelope, thick and heavy. That wasn't the strangest thing; what was truly strange was what was written on it.
"To Harry James Potter, guest room, and number four Private Drive." The letter said. Anger boiled up in the fat man. It was bad enough that the runt usurped authority away from him and his wife over this household with that freakish power of his, and he could still feel the stings in his right hand every now and then from nerve damage that was caused with the crushing of his hand, something that doctors couldn't treat. Because of his line of work, he couldn't really have a subscription amount of pain meds to deal with the continuous chronic pain that he was suffering from and possibly would get worse as he got older. Instead of announcing what the letter was intended for, he was going over to drop it into the trash bin until another hand stopped him, a hand that immediately made his blood run cold as he looked at the boy with emerald green eyes staring at the envelope that he was about to throw away.
"What is that?" Harry asked as he could sense the echoes of things that covered the envelope and filled it, calling for him to open it to see what was inside. He felt the eagerness to do so, if only his uncle would give it to him.
"It's nothing, just junk mail not intended for anyone," his words came out quickly as Vernon tried to pry his wrist out of the Titanic grip after the boy now had on him. Yet, no matter how much power he put into his small tugs to break free from the boy's grasp, he could not get himself free. Instead, he could feel a painful tightening of his wrist as the boy squeezed slowly.
Turning his focus away from the envelope, Harry slowly began increasing the tightness and pressure he was delivering upon Vernon. He had no love of hurting others, but he would hurt this creature if need be if it failed to cooperate. "Do I need to visit this lesson upon you again when you try to strike that I am not your punching bag for you to bleed out your anger and frustrations upon? Tell me what that letter is, and I might not have to crush your wrist. You already have problems with your right hand; must I break your left wrist as well?" To prove his words were more than just threats, he squeezed a little tighter, and an audible pop could be heard as one of the joints in the wrist started to grind intensely around the various bone structures located in the wrist.
The man let out an agonizing cry as he knocked down his chair and stood up, trying to pull his wrist and arm out of the boy's grasp. It felt as if he was trying to pull a mountain that refused to budge. Soon enough, the pain became too intense as he dropped to the ground, writhing and sobbing. Looking towards his son to see if any help would come from his firstborn, Dudley did not even glance in his direction. Yet, he could see the fear in his son's eyes, not wanting to interfere with what was going on. When his eyes went over to Petunia, who had moved on to clean her coffee mug, she didn't pay attention either. He was alone, helpless, weak, pathetic. "It's for you, Harry. Just take it, please," he stammered, begging to be free and wanting the pain to end.
Loosening his grip, Harry plucked the letter from the few twitching fingers of his uncle's hand, which had held onto the letter as if it was the last thing the man could do before dying. He did not let go of his relative's wrist for a little while, making sure the man knew that if anything like this happened again, he would do far more than simply squeeze his wrist until it broke. With the letter in hand and the lesson dealt, Harry returned to his bedroom to better look at his letter, the first one he had ever received in his entire life.
Within 30 minutes, he came back down, and Harry could see Petunia wrapping bandages around Vernon's wrist as the fat man blubbered, his lip quivering and tears running down the corners of his eyes due to the pain he felt and not realizing the person who was slowly approaching them.
"Petunia…" Harry called to his aunt, who was still busy tending to her husband, until the light started flickering. She immediately turned her attention to the one who had called her and saw a much colder and antithetic glare directed at her. "Can you explain Hogwarts to me?" he requested, even though his voice was starting to sound a little deeper, and the light around him almost seemed warped, as if it was turning dark, like the effect of a black hole sucking out the light of nearby stars, creating nothing but a black void around.
The horse-faced woman gulped, knowing what truly awaited her if she did not provide satisfactory answers to his questions. She would receive her own painful reminder of how inhuman the son of her late sister truly is.
BTC
Arthur's Note:
I hope everyone appreciates this latest chapter. I had been meaning to post it, but it got placed on the back burner with my focus squarely on Redemption of the Gun. Now, my focus is being divided up on a few other works, some on this site and some not, but for the most part, I'm back in the swing of writing again. I hope you appreciate this story that I will continue along with a few others.
Another bit of information about this story: Harry Potter is going to be dark gray. He'll perform deeds that would be considered of the light, but it would only be for his own benefit, much like how his sister would have done if their situations were reversed. Also, I would like everyone's opinion on how well I did with the little battle of the Mountain Orcs versus Goblins and Orc and Dwarf friendship. What's up with that?
Anywho, I appreciate you reading my story, and I even appreciate more the comments that will soon be flooding my Gmail. So please give me your thoughts and opinions, give me your insights, suggestions. I eat it up like food, and you have to feed the writer, or we're just going to starve.
Fable Master out.