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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***
*** Note II – Disclaimer: All canonical work is under the ownership of their respective creators. All fanworks posted are intended for personal, entertainment and non-commercial use. No copyright infringement is intended. *** I only own the following: My OCs, non-canon places; ideas, events, storylines and plots that are my own and not in the original canon; and, my imagination~ :3 ***
*** Note III – Say what? Can this be? Moi, updating a week after the previous update? LOL; anyways, I'm sick in bed so I thought, 'Why not? I temporarily have the time.' x) ***
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~ 013 – Lindon Things ~
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"A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare to the jeweled vision of a life started anew."
~ Aberjhani, The River of Winged Dreams
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That terrible fiasco with Smaug replays within my mind multiple times as I sit atop the grass, hugging my knees to my chest and resting my forehead against them for Valar knows how long. Although I had managed to calm myself from my sobbing, I am still quite dejected.
Ugh . . . This moping around business is so not me, but that incident had shook me considerably. I guess it only goes to show that my feelings of friendship towards Smaug have not only stayed with me, but have also grown within me throughout these many years. And they continue to grow.
I hate him. No, I don't truly hate him. I just loathe these stupid feelings.
For a while, I hear nothing but the crinkling of leaves and the vague whistle of the lovely mid-afternoon breeze before a certain Peredhel's voice suddenly floats into my ears: "There you are, my dear friend, I thought you despised tardiness?" I can almost hear the vague amusement within his tone. "What is the matter?"
Rising my head, Elrond lowers into a cross-legged position before me; genuine concern swirling within his bright pools of clear grey. "Your hair looks good – did you just have it cut?" he comments randomly, and my lips cannot help but twitch into a smirk, albeit a tiny one.
"Ada trimmed it yesterday," I mumble in a hoarse voice. Although no longer throbbing, the pain in my throat is still there.
"You have been crying."
Immediately, I turn on my bottom and splash some of the water from the creek into my face. "It's –"
"Not nothing, Kalasara, I know you," Elrond presses a bit forcefully, and that has me swinging my head to face him once more; although, I avoid his gaze after a couple of seconds. "We are close friends; we can tell each other anything. You have my full confidence."
In this regard, he almost sounds motherly.
Huh . . . A mother . . .
Well, this is rather depressing: I cannot recall my mother from Earth. I don't even remember her face.
Shaking my head, I reply flatly: "You know those two elves Ada brought to Gil-Galad earlier? They're dragons; Karia and her son, Smaug."
"Oh?" Elrond knows these two, albeit from speech rather than having actually met them in the past.
Earlier on in the Second Age – and prior to Elros leaving for Númenor – the three of us had, one day, sat down together and shared the tales of our pasts. It was quite enlightening for me at the time, considering the fact that not even The Silmarillion contained thorough information about Elrond's and Elros' childhoods. When it was my turn, I had explained how my life was like at Angband and that was when I had mentioned Smaug and his parents.
Taking a deep breath, I quickly explain to Elrond the nature of mine and Smaug's argument and the fact that he had almost killed me via strangling. As soon as I comb my hair back to reveal the bruising, Elrond's expression morphs into a furious one.
"How dare he?" Abruptly, he shoots to his feet. "I will kill him! Where did he go?!"
"Elrond, no!" Alarm consumes me and I immediately stand up after the elf and grab his left wrist. "Rushing in to murder someone – this is not you!"
He ceases trying to pull away from me, and I inwardly smirk at the fact that he cannot even come close to doing so as long as I utilize my dragon's strength. He procures for me a vexed glare. "It is me if I need to defend the honour and life of someone I care about," he says through gritted teeth.
"It is not you," I repeat gently with a small smile. "Please, Elrond; I know you mean well, but this is something I can rectify on my own. I have to do this myself."
"Fine!" He does not smile, but he stops his glaring. Sparrows chirp in the distance and Elrond sighs. "Alright, then. And if you do require help . . . Will you come to me?"
"Promise!" Leaning against his tall body, I wrap my arms around his torso. "And thank you. I truly appreciate your concern." I playfully give his long, dark hair a gentle tug.
"Stop doing that. And it is my pleasure; we are good friends, after all." I can feel his muscles relax as he returns the embrace. "How are you feeling now? I dearly hope that you are well enough to start your horseback riding lessons – I even saddled the horse for you due to your lateness!"
Oh Elrond, you merciless, precious cinnamon roll. You are too good to me.
Sniggering, I part from the embrace and turn on my heel. "Let's race!" I exclaim as I break out into a run to the tall hill and towards the palace stables.
"Kalasara, you are not winning this time!" the young ellon yells after me, and I can already hear his footsteps approaching me.
Although still a bit dejected, I now feel invigorated. Give it a bit of time and I will approach Smaug again. I will form as many attempts as I have to in order to mend our crumbling relationship. He will listen to me eventually, even if I have to make him bleed!
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Ancalagon and Karia were in the midst of an almost two-hour long conversation – catching up for old time's sake and the latter detailing the final few years of her and Smaug's journey before deciding to come to Mithlond – when Lërynion and the lovely wife of Gil-Galad's chief councillor popped up into their view. Gil-Galad had summoned him; and absent hesitation, the dragon lord left with the general whilst the noble elleth whisked Karia away to continue Ancalagon's tour of the fortress and the surrounding area.
"The elleth has not been placed within the Houses of Healing?" Ancalagon asked with a brow raised as the duo proceeded to climb up a ridiculously lengthy flight of polished stairs that led towards a hall filled with chambers used to house the king's sojourning guests.
The ink black haired ellon shook his head nonchalantly. "No, my sister commanded for her to be brought to one of the private guest rooms for secrecy for the time being."
"Did she wake up whilst I was absent?"
Lërynion smiled; his emerald green eyes shining with amusement. "Celebrimbor mentioned that she did not – he has been by her side for the whole day thus far."
Ancalagon procured a half-smirk. "I assumed as such. His absence during the meeting was noted."
They found a well-dressed, stressed-looking ellon with raven black hair and crystal blue eyes standing with his arms crossed. "I have been waiting," the High King drawled, and he sounded tired. Dark circles littered the fair skin beneath his eyes.
"Apologies, Your Grace," the cheeky general began as he bowed, "Ten minutes is, indeed, too long of a wait for someone as royal as yourself."
Bowing as well, Ancalagon's smirk never faltered. "Please accept our most humble apologies, Little King."
Unimpressed and slightly exasperated, Gil-Galad procured an inaudible sigh as his eyes darted between the being that had surprisingly became a close and trusted friend over these many years and his brother-in-law. Swiftly, he jabbed a thumb behind him, down the hall and towards a door that was flanked by two elven guards. "Lërynion! Get in that room right now. And Ancalagon –" his glare almost dissipated. "– you will never cease to call me that, will you?"
"Never, Little King."
The duo followed Lërynion through the threshold of the guest room – one of the two guards had closed the door behind them – and caught sight of the regally-dressed Queen Lossëa poised upon a simple chair by a medium-sized bed with creamy brown blankets. Her wavy ink black hair was decorated in intricate braids, and her golden queen's circlet shined in the sunlight that came in through the clear windows.
"Greetings, gentlemen." For a quick moment, her emerald green eyes gazed upon her husband in concern, for she knew that today was quite the tiring day for him. "The young one had not moved since I arrived here," she commented gently before then returning her gaze towards the slumbering elleth with wavy dark brown hair.
"Celebrimbor?" Standing by his wife, Gil-Galad's pupils looked to the aforementioned ellon, who sat upon the blankets on the other side of the bed. "You have been here for a while – what did her assigned healer say?"
Biting his lower lip, the Fëanorian sighed. "Only that this elleth is nowhere near to dying; other than that, there is nothing else of import. Her temperature has also been normalized."
"And Ancalagon, you informed him and Lërynion that this elf is another person hailing from Kalasara's world?" Gil-Galad inquired and he seemed fascinated despite currently owning a weary disposition.
The Lord of Dragons nodded. "Undoubtedly, yes. Although this being is not a dragon, she has Kalasara's scent."
Lossëa piped up: "Do you think that, perchance, your daughter may know her?"
"Unfortunately, I do not know. She told me how this 'Earth' realm contains billions of humans –"
Lërynion whistled. "'Billions?!' Now that is astounding!" he exclaimed dramatically with a wide grin.
"Quite so." Ancalagon almost smirked. "My point being, that it is a very slim possibility of Kalasara knowing who this elf is."
"A 'slim possibility.' We should have her come here," Celebrimbor pressed with a hint of stubbornness as he loosely crossed his arms over his abdomen. The queen agreed.
"Earlier, Elrond mentioned that he will be busy teaching her how to ride a horse for the remainder of the day," Lërynion clarified.
Shrugging, Gil-Galad crossed his arms over his rich deep blue-and-gold robes. "Is that so? Well –" His pupils then fixated upon Ancalagon's. "– this situation is not nearly as dire as I had originally assumed."
Understanding the High King, the dragon procured a small smile. "I shall bring Kalasara here, after her Tengwar lessons tomorrow."
"Please do, and then have her come to me. Everyone is dismissed! I have a ton of papers waiting for me – no one is to disturb me for the remainder of the day." The king left the guest room.
"Allow me to assist you," Queen Lossëa calmly called out to her husband as she followed him through the door and down the corridor.
"No, love, it is quite alright –"
"No, Ereinion, it is not 'quite alright!'" Her eyes gleamed with such fierceness. "I will assist you because you look terrible. I do not like it when I find you exhausted and sleeping in your study."
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"Smaug," Karia called out to her seventy-seven-year-old dragonling. "What are your thoughts towards Morgoth's wrongdoings?"
"Please stop calling them 'wrongdoings,' Mother, they are not that. I can't believe you would say that."
The dragoness frowned. Not good, she thought. His mind was still not freed. Not yet.
"Smaug, what are your thoughts towards Morgoth's wrongdoings?" Karia pondered to her eighty-five-year-old son.
"He should not have been thrown into the Void."
Not yet . . .
"Smaug, what are your thoughts towards Morgoth's wrongdoings?" the dragoness tested of her ninety-year-old dragonling.
"Middle-Earth would have been better under his rule."
This was terrible . . .
"He was right; the Valar were wrong."
No . . .
"Everyone who fought against him should have died."
No good, no good, no good, no good, no good, no good, no good, no good, no good, no good!
"Smaug, what are your thoughts towards Morgoth's wrongdoings?" Karia questioned her one hundred-year-old son. This was asked two hours after Smaug had taken to his secondary form for the first time.
"He . . . I . . . I do not know," the young dragon answered with such a confused look about his face. "I do not know."
Inwardly, the dragoness smiled. Finally . . .
"Smaug, what are your thoughts towards Morgoth's wrongdoings?" Karia asked of her one hundred and three-year-old son.
"He was terrible. It serves him right to be locked up within the Void," Smaug replied, absent hesitation. "His defeat was imminent. I don't care about him anymore."
Joyful, his mother grinned. His mind had been freed. She was now able to bring him to Mithlond, where Ancalagon currently resided in. He would do well within such an environment.
Her son was no longer a possible threat to the Free Peoples.
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The next morning was dark and chilly, and not one ounce of sunlight had managed to escape from the cloudy confines. The scent of rain was in the air.
After taking a yearnful gander at a lump of slightly stained white cloth atop her dresser, Karia exited her new chambers from within the Dragon Wing. The aforementioned lump of cloth was neatly wrapped around a thick and long object; a massive, stunning gold-and-deep red broadsword that had served as Saël's personalized weapon whenever he had happened to be in his secondary form. The dragoness had plans to gift it to her son once he turned to be the age of two hundred – the age of full adulthood for dragons.
Karia sighed. That is only ninety-seven years from now . . . Hopefully by then, I will be fully ready to part with it. Oh, my Saël . . .
"Good morning, Karia," came the deep voice of Ancalagon as he appeared by a corner down the hall, slightly away from her.
"A gloomy morning," the dragoness responded dryly before then closing the door to her chambers.
The Lord of Dragons smirked. "Tragically. I despise rain. And how are you and Smaug settling in?"
"This morning merely marks our second day here, but we are well enough. Though, Smaug was eerily silent yesterday. And he was brooding so much!"
"He does seem alright now. A little earlier, I saw him flying across the seas; he made quite the spectacle."
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Almost every movement I make has my muscles screaming with agony, especially my lower torso and leg muscles – curtesy of being on a horse for the first time last evening. It was a long, wonderful and fun lesson, but the pain . . . I cannot wait until I get to be more adept at horseback riding. Elrond makes it look so easy. He laughs at my pain; then again, I laugh at his as well. So, we're even.
Scrutinizing myself in my full-body mirror for a couple of seconds, I bend down to tug on my black knee-high boots. I am wearing the exact same thing as yesterday, only my formfitting tunic is a light lavender in colour – the exact same colour as my scales.
Speaking of scales, I am counting down the days until I am able to morph into my original draconic form. There are only roughly two weeks left, but the time couldn't have gotten slower! I am usually patient, but I want to go flying right now! Jeez . . .
I pout as I gaze at my neck through the reflection. Like elves, we dragons also heal quickly. What should have looked like a giant bruised mess if I were a human, is actually a collection of tiny bruises with which are not that noticeable.
Though, my throat still hurts. Fuck you, Smaug, I hope your face still hurts from my slap!
A couple of knocks resonate throughout my room as soon as I button on my hooded, dark purple cloak. Immediately, I hurry to the door and open it to find an insanely tall being with ruby red eyes and obsidian black hair. "Ada!" I exclaim with such mirth as I jump into his warm arms.
Ada lifts me up into an almost bone-crushing embrace. "Hello, my precious little one!" He sets me down and we part. "Are you going outside this morn?"
I procure a nod. "Yes, Elrond and I are adventuring out into the city before our lessons. We might also visit Celebrimbor at his forge."
"I wish you two a good time, then. May I come in? There is a matter I would like to discuss with you."
"Of course, Ada." I step out of his way to let him into my chambers and I shut the door. "There's also something that I want to talk to you about, but you were busy all day yesterday . . ."
He smirks. "Yes, Daalara informed me. She seemed rather entertained."
Of course she would. I then proceed to explain the conversation that I had with Daalara yesterday in regards to my assuming that the race of Dragons are actually Maiar, to which I then go into detail about my evidence for such a claim.
"Oh?" Ada seems to be very pleased. "Gil-Galad, Lord Círdan and I actually had the same conversation two days prior. Admittedly, it had never crossed my mind . . . Until Lord Círdan presented the idea. I expected as such from such a wise elf; one of the first of the Elves to have awoken. It does make sense; unfortunately, we would never know unless we faced death and see where our fëar goes."
I almost pout at that. "What did you want to discuss with me?"
Ada's smile falters. "It is about the elleth that the Lords Lërynion and Celebrimbor found yesterday morning. She is from your Earth."
This greatly piques my intrigue and my mouth opens into a somewhat wide 'O' shape. "Oh . . . OH! Oh my . . . So, I'm not the only one anymore?"
"That is your reaction? Such humble behaviour!"
"Adaaaaaaaaa, stoooooooop!" I whine. "I am just surprised. Very surprised."
He smirks. "As I can plainly see."
"How do you know that she's from my old world? Does she have a certain scent that no native of Arda owns? Like me?"
"Yes; and despite not being a dragon, she smells like you."
"Oh wow. So . . . You cannot find out more information yourselves because she's still sleeping?"
"She remains unconscious, yes." Ada places his hands onto his hips. Despite the situation, he looks rather unperturbed. "The queen wondered if perchance you may know this newcomer, and I said that I will bring you to the king's guest chamber after your Tengwar lesson later."
A vague frown graces my features. "I'm not sure how that will turn out as there is a greater chance of this person being someone I have never met in my previous life. But I will come with you; after all, what if this person was someone that I had known?"
We say our temporary farewells and exit my chambers; and as soon as Ada places a kiss atop my head, I skip down the hall ahead of him and towards the stairs.
I sigh inwardly. Do I even remember anyone from Earth? Their faces? I know that I had completely forgot about my birth father many years ago and, just recently, my mother's face had escaped me. I do not even remember their names! And my friends from Earth . . . What about them? I cannot remember their faces, either. I know that I had a very close childhood friend, whose personality was kind of similar to Lërynion's . . . But, that is it. For now, I think. Maybe the more I attempt think about them, I will start to remember again.
As soon as I step off of the final stair and turn a right corner, I instantly see flowing ivory white hair a few feet away from me. I discreetly sniff the air just to clarify this person for myself. "My Lady Karia!" I call out respectfully to the dragoness who was one of the first of the winged dragons to have been created.
We engage in brief conversation; Karia's demeanor being quite amicable, to which I then realize that throughout our talk, she seems a little different and less guarded as she was when I had first met her at Angband. I mention this to her and guess what? She confesses that she did not like me before. Almost hated me, actually! I am surprised at first because I never did anything to her (she had never displayed her dislike upfront, either) . . . But considering the circumstances back then – coupled with the fact that she is Smaug's mother – I can see why she would not like me for the worry she had held for her son. I was chained as an enemy, after all.
Karia lightly laughs. "Much has changed since then, and we are under completely different circumstances now! You are alright and I am glad to see you alive and well. Besides, I no longer hold any possible reason to want to kill you," she finishes with a smile so beautiful and sweet, that I can swear that I had just heard an angel sing.
You know what? I don't even feel any form of offence. I would want to kill me too if I were her and I found out that something bad happened to my child because of me.
Almost shuddering, I procure a half-nervous, half-amused smile. "Well, that is a relief."
We part and I stride down many corridors and a couple of staircases before reaching the palace's main entrance. One of the massive doors are already open, and through it, I see dark grey. The rain proceeds to drip.
Standing by said door in a burgundy cloak, Elrond beckons me to him; and as I near the young ellon, I see a barely noticeable pouty expression upon his face. He lifts his hood to cover his head. "You were right, Kalasara!"
I raise a brow as I also don my wide hood over my head. "Ohhhh? What's wrong?"
We step out into the light rain. "Nothing wrong, per se, you were just right about Gil-Galad wanting to eventually make me his herald. The very first thing he had said to me this morning was, 'Elrond, after much thought, I have officially decided to name you my herald in the near future.' By 'near future,' I daresay that he is waiting until I turn the age of one hundred."
I grin rather triumphantly. "Congratulations! But, you seem a bit conflicted?"
Elrond looks to be in deep thought. "As pleased as I am to soon officially work under my king and distant relative, I am honestly surprised that he wants me to be a herald. It sounds rather . . . Monotonous."
"Not a herald, El, the High King of the Noldor's herald. I assure you, the experience will be helpful in many ways. Besides, you will get to travel a lot!" I clap a hand over his shoulder, my palm resting against his cloak wherein is dampened by the light rain. "You will do fine."
"Thank you." Gazing at me in a momentary silence, he suddenly smiles. "And yes, Kalasara, if I have to leave Lindon for my heralding duties, I will let you come with me."
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Clutching my Tengwar books and notebook to my chest, I follow Ada down the corridor that is used for the king's guests. A dark brown-haired healer emerges from the room that Ada and I saunter towards; and upon glancing at us, she lowers herself into a curtsy. "My Lord. My Lady. The young one still slumbers."
Ada sighs. "She did not stir at all?"
"Not even when my assistant and I bathed her earlier."
"Is it alright if we go in? The king would like Kalasara to see her."
"Oh! Of course, please go inside."
Ada shuts the door as I slowly trail to the bed where a pretty young elleth with long, wavy dark brown hair sleeps. The rain patters against the windows. "I don't know her," I instantly blurt out.
Turning to Ada, I notice that he is a bit taken aback by my answer. "What? Hmm . . ." And then he chuckles to himself. "I shouldn't have been surprised – you did mention that Earth contained billions of humans, after all."
"Sorry about that – nothing about this person stands out to me," I mumble. Besides, does it even matter if I'd have known her from the past?
Ada waves my apology away. "No, it is fine. Gil-Galad wishes to see you after this; he should be in his study right now."
"Alright, but I'll drop my books off in my room first."
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"Please inform His Grace that Kalasara is here to answer his summons," I present myself to the two elven sentries guarding the king's study (and inwardly swell with pride at how professional I had just sounded).
The warrior on the left raps at the door. "My King, the young Lady Kalasara has arrived."
The door opens in three seconds; revealing the dark-haired king's butler, who beckons me inside and leaves the large room, closing the door behind him.
Books, parchment, scrolls and maps fill my vision as my pupils dart around the elegantly-designed office. The rain now pounds harshly against the windows. "Kalasara, come join me here," a voice calls from my left, and I see Gil-Galad sitting behind his sleek desk. Said desk was cleared of any loose parchment, and the older ellon places a white porcelain teapot with white-and-gold apple blossom patterning down after pouring the tea into two matching cups.
"Oh, thank you," I comment; the scent of the warm tea uplifting me. As soon as I sit upon a comfy chair in front of his desk, I take a sip of the tea and savour the taste. It's so good; it reminds me of the Earl Grey tea that I had loved so much in my previous life.
"I know it has only been two days, but how are your Tengwar lessons coming along?" Gil-Galad regards me fixedly with his crystal blue irises, albeit not in an intimidating fashion.
I procure a brief shrug. "Harder than I originally thought, but it's manageable." Yep; all I need to do is to keep practicing and pay attention. Though, to be honest, it kind of does feel like a blow to my pride considering that my instructor had presented me with these short books for young elflings to read.
. . . Whatever. I am a beginner and for the sake of my education, I will just deal with it.
"Seeing that you are here, you have taken a good look at this unknown elleth from your old world?" Gil-Galad's assumption pulls me out of my reverie.
Nodding, I swallow another sip of tea. "I regret to say that I do not know her – nothing about her stands out to me."
An instant flash of disappointment mars his face for a couple of seconds as he takes a sip from his teacup. I feel bad, now. "It is fine; after all, does it really matter?"
I smirk. "My sentiments exactly. This newcomer won't be a threat."
Silent, the High King turns his head, and he momentarily gazes out into the rain-filled world. "The Second Age," he breathes out as though he is in deep thought. "A new beginning for Middle-Earth . . . It begins with tranquility and peace."
"It does," I respond with a soft, tiny smile that is instantly wiped from my face. "Not for long."
With bitterness and indignation in his eyes, Gil-Galad faces me again. "Sauron. Of course."
Swallowing the remainder of my tea, I lean back into the chair. "There were many books in my world pertaining to this one – sadly, I have not read even half of them; but of the few that I have read, I would like to point out a title called, 'The Silmarillion.'"
Almost amused, Gil-Galad smirks after drinking some more tea. "Named after Fëanáro's Silmarilli . . ." he muses whilst refilling both of our cups. "Enlighten me: What does a book about him have anything to do with the Second Age?"
"With all due respect, Your Grace, The Silmarillion wasn't just about Fëanor, his sons, and their legacies," I correct in a polite tone, to which I then take another sip of tea. "It was a book that focused on the events of the entirety of the First Age and prior it. And –" I lean forward. "– there was a decent enough section explaining the events of the Second Age."
"I see . . ." Intrigue sparkles within his eyes. "And there is something about the events of the future that you wish to inform me about, I assume? Do not fret – I remember, before the War of Wrath, that you told me how you cannot explain all of the future events in full detail as that may cause a distortion in the natural flow of time; altering future events for the worst. We may have claimed victory over Morgoth; but if you'd have informed us earlier of our victory, and how we specifically would have won the war, fate would have made other plans. We would have lost the war, instead." A ghost of a frown plays about his lips for a couple of seconds.
I am beyond elated that he understands the situation so well; although, I realize that he is also a bit frustrated by the facts.
"Thank you," I reply gratefully. "And yes; in regards to this Age, you must be on your guard. Keep a weather eye out." I sigh. "In the past, I had jokingly nicknamed this Age, 'Sauron's Plaything.'"
Gil-Galad lets out a joyless chuckle. "That sounds rather ominous."
I continue: "And this is because, soon, Sauron will take the centre stage and act as puppet master to all."
"Despicable." The king smirks bitterly. "Then we shall have to concoct our own puppet master."
I mirror his smirk. "Ada and Lady Karia know him well enough."
"As do you."
"And I know the future."
"Then you must tread carefully, young one."
"Sauron also has his own formidable allies."
"It will definitely not be easy. Not even close."
"Of course – where is the fun in that?"
The High King laughs, and the rain ceases its' annoying thumping against the windows.
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For the past few days, I have been making constant visits to see Mystery Elleth as I am honestly curious about her and I really do hope that she will wake up soon.
I desire to know who she is; where she came from; what was her life on Earth like; and, what year she had died in. I would very much like to know that last bit because I want to gauge the time differences between the two worlds . . . That is, if there is a time difference. I'm also curious about the possibility of her knowing about this universe that J.R.R. Tolkien had created; and if she does know it, then how much of it?
Currently, I am visiting her for the sixth day in a row. Shutting the door to her guest chambers, I am relieved to see that there is no one else here; and without any further ado, I make a beeline towards the simple wooden chair that stands by her bed. It is quite sunny and a lovely, sweet-smelling spring breeze wafts in through one of the opened windows. A couple of bluebirds sing in the distance.
I smoothen out my simple lilac dress as I settle myself comfortably atop the chair. "Still asleep, are you?" I ask the unmoving body of Mystery Elleth in a deadpanned tone. "Honestly, how can you be unconscious for this long? It's not like you were so severely injured, that said injuries rendered you in a state of comatose."
Slightly exasperated, I glare at the body with a pout. "Did you know that I woke up as soon as I came to Middle-Earth? Why can't you do that, too? Heeeeyyyyyy . . ."
I lean forward to scrutinize the elleth. Other than her breathing and the vague rise and fall of her breasts, she continues to make no other form of movement nor sound. Akin to a kitten, I lightly poke her cheek. "Heeeyyyyyyyyyy, wake up."
Poking her cheek another three more times, I slump back on the chair . . . And then I lean forward again to fiddle around with her hair. It is quite soft . . . Hm. I have this feeling that she could be someone that I had known, but no face from the past comes to mind as of yet.
A bit of ink captures my attention, and after lowering my face by Mystery Elleth's shoulder, I see a palm-sized monarch butterfly tattooed in black ink across the nape of her neck. I sit up straight again.
Hm. That looks familiar, yet simultaneously unfamiliar. I mean, butterflies are a common design for tattooing and the back of the neck is a very popular area to ink it on . . .
Pouting again, I stand up and make my way towards the door. "Bye; I'll see you tomorrow, then."
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"Felicitations, Scatha, you are now a father!" Sauron exclaimed with a wide grin as he tossed a large, shiny black egg towards the aforementioned dragon in his secondary form. The wind was chilly within the lower mountain range and the sun was bright.
"What?" Scatha caught the dragon egg with ease; soon glancing at it in repulsion. "Why me?"
"I think it will be good you. And it would not be wise to gift it to Daaria, knowing her history with her previous family . . ."
"No, it would not be." The scarred dragon smirked. "Where did you find it?"
The snowy white-haired Maia with fiery ruby red eyes gave him a flippant shrug. "My precious wolves found it all alone. No mother, no father; merely lying by the foot of a cave a little further up this mountain."
Suddenly, everything within the vicinity seemed to procure a warm yellow-and-orange glow; and a great golden dragoness with piercing icy-blue eyes appeared around the corner of one of the mountains, beating her wings before then landing in front of the two males. "Hail Lord Sauron," Daaria greeted almost flatly, albeit with respect. The sun's ray reflected off of her scales so brilliantly, so blindingly.
"Well, speak of the demon and the demon shall arrive," Scatha mused to himself with a half-smirk. His new black dragon egg was nestled in the crook of his left arm.
Pleased, Sauron regarded her. "Welcome! What have you got for me?"
"Newfound lands worthy to serve as your realm," Daaria answered. "There is a grand mountain of fire; although not of the same calibre as Lord Morgoth's Thangorodrim, but I think that it shall suffice. Rivers of fire also flow throughout this land. Shall I bring you there?"
Akin to a giant forge, Sauron thought with such mirth. "Do take me there. Where are these lands?"
The dragoness lowered herself for the Maia to climb on top of her. "In the far east, just below the Easterling's new territories."
Sauron settled himself between her massive golden shoulders and before Daaria took to the skies, she took a menacing gander at Scatha. "Raise that thing well, or I will have to kill it."
Ten seconds after she left with the Maia, Scatha burst into rambunctious laughter. "HA! What kind of pathetic threat was that?!" He rose his new egg to his eye-level. "Do not worry, little one, you will be safe with me," he promised as he continued to guffaw.
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Such horrible words, deep chants, and a sudden inexplicable headache filled with all of the pains of the world woke the young elleth from her deep slumber.
Eh? What is this? I died, so why am I apparently still alive? Where am I? This room is nice but it's so unfamiliar! Who is that?
A small whimper released from her lips as her forest green eyes met the deep grey irises of a man who sat upon a chair by her bed. "Who are you?" she asked in a weak, yet scared voice.
She thought the man to be beautiful, and he owned a pretty head of long, glossy ebony black hair. He seemed to be both relieved and startled . . . And then he spoke to her in an elegant language of which she had never heard of prior this second.
"W-what are y-you saying?" her voice faltered with fear.
The man seemed a little confused, and then he changed his speech to one that sounded similar to the first language, yet it mostly differed from it.
"N-no, I can't understand that one, either . . . NO, GET AWAY!" she then yelled at him as he moved a little towards her.
He immediately recoiled from her, and that was when the elleth saw his pointed ears. "What are you?!" she demanded of him.
The man-who-was-apparently-not-a-man changed his speech for the second time; this time, speaking in a language that was not even remotely close to the first two languages. Additionally, it did not sound as "musical," so to speak.
No, no, no, no, no! I don't understand anything!
Tears clouding her vision, she shook her head. Another headache proceeded to build upon her forehead and she could hear a threatening, creepy voice.
This "man" could not hear it, however.
Absent any warning, her vision was consumed by darkness; the voice that spoke in a completely different language grew louder; her headache worsened tremendously; and then, she began to scream.
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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***
*** After Note II – Precious cinnamon roll young Elrond is fun to write, LOL. xD It'll also be fun to write his development from now to when he's much, much older~ Side note: The original plan was to have Jura and Corulagon return this chapter, but I've changed it to around the beginning of the next one. ***
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Guest: Thank you very much, and you're welcome! I hope you have a great week~ =D
Sam: THANK YOU VERY MUCH, AND BLESS YOU FOR YOUR ENTHUSIASM! Seriously, I love it – it sometimes reminds me of me whenever I comment on some of my favourite fanfics – and I'm glad to see that you're still enjoying this story. x3 And yeah, despite the fact that his mama is alive, Smaug is still kind of a loose cannon, LOL. Dem feels, though. But I know that I'll be having a ton of fun writing their redevelopment. *chuckles* Thank you again, and have a lovely week~! \(*0*)/
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