Re-posted chapter UPDATE!
Hi guys. Thanks for those who have read this latest chapter over the last few days, just a quick A.N here to those who actually bother to read these things.
Ok so, I got a guest review on the 26th which was not rude at all but still kind of irritated me because the reviewer mentioned something I have already covered in an A.N showing that he clearly didn't read my story properly. Which annoys me because I do in fact write these A. N's for a reason and not just for fun.
It annoys me, because I've already covered this literally last chapter and I don't want to cover the same issues time and time again. It is just annoying and a waste of my time.
So, hopefully, for the last time, this is how dialogue works in my story.
If there is a paragraph with multiple sections of dialogue in it. Then that is the SAME PERSON TALKING. I don't really know how to explain it any better, but I never ever put multiple people talking in the same paragraph. So, I am already doing what the reviewer suggested. That is why I am annoyed, because he isn't reading it properly.
This reviewer was basically saying that I have a habit of making a wall of text and he can't differentiate between different people talking in paragraphs so suggested that I always start a new paragraph for a new person talking
While I appreciate his advice, I am already doing that.
Here is an example from the previous chapter:
'But It will take us months to get back to the forest walking!' Fëanor insisted, stubbornly holding his ground. When Brom simply folded his arms, and held his ground against the angry dragon, Fëanor huffed and instead turned his attention on the dwarves. 'Anhûin, Vermûnd! What do you think? Should we go the fast way, or the stupid, slow way which is keeping me from a nice comfortable bed in two days' time.' Fëanor asked, leaning forward, to stare the two dwarves in the eye, impatiently awaiting their answer.
Now, in the chapter, Fëanor speaks twice. Not once, but twice. The second section of speech isn't someone else taking over, it's Fëanor continuing speaking. In the next chapter, Anhûin speaks and so it is a new paragraph to indicate that.
I am really sorry if I am being a patronising asshole about this, but I have got to be honest, I don't think it is that unclear. If it is, and multiple people are struggling with this then let me know and I can try and make it clearer in the next chapter, but beyond saying 'Fëanor said' after every single piece of dialogue there isn't much I can do. Because I am starting new paragraphs for new characters speaking anyway.
Now, from now on, if someone makes a review about me starting a new paragraph for new dialogue, I am just going to ignore you because it will be getting stupid by that point. Unless of course, I have made a legitimate mistake, and put two paragraphs together, they will always be separated so if you comment about it again, I will just ignore you as you aren't reading it properly.
Also, if it still isn't clear to you or you can see that I do in fact put multiple people talking in the same paraph a lot then do tell me in a PM or review, (but an account made review is way better because I can actually reply to you.) Because that is a mistake. I want to change it, but you need to PM me with examples, not just leave a guest review saying I am doing it, because that doesn't actually help me at all and is totally useless. I need examples I can go back and edit out.
Sorry again about the rant but this just felt really silly to me.
One example of bad language in this chapter.
Fëanor had been having nightmares. Well, not always nightmares. Sometimes the events of his dreams were so wonderful he wished with all his heart they were memories. But sometimes, they truly were the stuff of nightmares. Those dreams, he wished to never experience again. But, no matter how hard Fëanor wished, night after night, day after day, they kept coming back.
It had all started on his Eleventh name day. Ever since then the dreams had started. He had been so shocked by them, that he hadn't even told anyone. At the time, all everyone was concerned about was his dragon transformation. He didn't want to pile more problems on his family's shoulders by complaining about a few 'bad dreams'. So, he had kept his mouth shut and endured.
But recently it had been getting worse. It was almost like the more he tried to ignore it, the harder they came. It was like he had locked and barricaded a door and the moor he refused entry, the harder the person on the other side banged on the door, demanding to be let in. That was until the fight with the twins.
When he had let instinct take over and he had trusted in his magic to save Brom's life, he had inadvertently, unlocked the door. Not just unlocked it. He had pretty much opened the door, and posted a sign outside it saying 'COME ON IN!'. For that brief moment when he changed from dragon to elf. He had a moment of perfect clarity.
He saw things in that moment. A women's scream and a green flash. A staircase, with a dark foreboding cupboard underneath it, which even now, still made Fëanor shiver though he knew not why. Two human children. One of red hair and one of brown. A man, with the face of a snake and evil red eyes. And a name. One simple, name which reverberated within Feanor's very soul every time he uttered it.
Fëanor saw all these things and hundreds more. And ever since, for the two weeks they had been travelling down the river towards the mountains, these things had been playing on his mind. Brom and the others had begun to notice, but had respected his privacy. Fëanor had been through a lot after all. They presumed he was just taking some time to himself. Which in a way he was? But he was also convening with the Eldunarí which the others believed to be asleep after their own ordeal since they had introduced themselves. When instead, they had been talking to Fëanor. Teaching him, guiding him, and offering their council. To Fëanor, it was the only thing keeping him from believing he was going mad.
They were now a day away from the Dwarven city of Tarnag. They intended to throw off any potential pursuers by not travelling directly to their final destination. According to Anhûin, Tarnag was even now, abandoned like a ghost town. It had been exactly so ever since the fall and the rise of Galbatorix to power. Ever since that fateful day when Ilirea had fell, the outlying Dwarven settlements were considered too dangerous and undefendable. So, all of the dwarven people had retreated, deeper into the mountains where no one could find them. Many of their people had retreated to Tronjheim itself. Or the City of Eternal Twilight as Fëanor had heard it be called by the elves. And that, was their eventual destination. Anhûin and Vermûnd would guide them to the sacred heart of the dwarven people where only an army could take them, dragon or otherwise. There, Fëanor and the Eldunarí would be safe.
'But what do these dreams mean?' Fëanor asked the Eldunarí, his frustration burning through clearly to the assembled minds of the dragons. Fëanor was sitting with the Brom and the others by a small campfire but was still silent to the world around him. Fëanor didn't even notice the concerned looks the rest of the group was sending his way. He was far too concerned with talking to the Eldunarí to care or notice.
'That is not for us to know.' Agaravel responded calmly. 'If they are anything more than dreams, then their relevance and importance will only be revealed with time. This is not something that can be forced young one. You still have much to learn.'
The group were camped in the foothills of the Beor Mountains. In the far distance Fëanor could see the faint outline of Tarnag illuminated by the moon, even in the darkness thanks to his superior eyesight. Due to his distracted state of mind, Fëanor couldn't really tell anyone how their anonymity in their journey south was faring. As long as he didn't hear the dragon roars of Forsworn coming to attack them from the sky, he felt they were doing pretty well. But, as Fëanor looked at the faces of the others sitting beside him, he saw for the first time their looks of concern, and realised that maybe, they weren't just concerned about him.
'Brom' Fëanor forced out the words with difficulty. He hadn't spoken a word in days so his voice was somewhat raw with disuse. However, in the silence of the night, his voice was loud enough to bring the attention of his companions directly to him.
'Fëanor, I am happy to hear your voice! How are you feeling?' Brom said, shifting closer to him from the other side of the fire, bringing a small bowl of food with him. 'Here, you should eat, you must be starving, we haven't seen you eat anything in days.'
Now that Fëanor thought about it, he was close to starving. He held his stomach as he felt it rumble with neglect. He looked at the bowl Brom was offering. He could clearly see it was meat. But his draconic side was starving so he didn't even bat an eye as he took the bowl and spoon with a grunt of thanks and began to shovel the mixture into his mouth with vigour.
'What have I missed?' Fëanor asked between mouthfuls.
'Not much really.' Brom said, bringing Fëanor up to speed over the sound of crickets and wind blowing through the trees around them. 'Absolutely no sign of the Forsworn. It would seem, that Anhûin was right. Going south was the right call.' Brom acknowledged with a dip of his head in the women's direction. Something she appreciated by nodding politely back.
'Things should be much easier once we get to Tarnag. Though it is abandoned, King Hrothgar has been keen to maintain even a minimal presence in the region, so patrols are common. We should be safe once we reach the city. With any luck, we should be safe and sound in the capital within a week or two.' Vermûnd explained, eyes constantly darting around in the darkness as he included himself in the conversation quite absent-mindedly.
The mention of the Dwarven King roused Feanor's interest. He had learnt a little about him during his lessons, but was curious to hear what Anhûin and Vermûnd had to say about him considering they were dwarves themselves. An elf's perspective on these sorts of things was practically worthless considering how different elves tended to be from the other races.
'Tell me of Hrothgar. What is he like?' Fëanor asked, having finally finished his bowl, and leaning back against the fallen log beside the camp fire to relax to let his meal digest.
'Hrothgar has been a good king for our people. He is respected by the clans. Though not all like him, you can be sure of the fact that all respect him.' Anhûin began to say. She had the full attention of Brom and Fëanor now. Fëanor because he asked but Brom because the dwarves were quite a secretive people and a dwarf talking freely like this about their king was almost unheard of. Considering the political climate, any information on Hrothgar was good information in his opinion. 'The last few years have been a dark time for our people just like the rest of Alagaësia. Hrothgar has gone through great pains to keep our people relatively united.' Now, Anhûin's words turned slightly darker. 'Despite several close calls, we are not yet doing Galbatorix's job for him by slaughtering each other. And that is largely down to Hrothgar.'
This surprised Fëanor. For while he learnt history and knew that wars between the dwarven clans were not unheard of and had certainly happened in the past. The idea was still so bizarre to him. Apart from a few isolated cases like lone individuals and of course those who had joined the Forsworn, his people had been united ever since they had come to Alagaësia. Not since the dark times had his kin fought between themselves. Brother against brother. So, to Fëanor, the idea of a civil war happening was very surprising. Fëanor could admit to himself that he was a victim of his upbringing and despite condemning many of his kin for the same, he had a habit of considering elves to be on some level superior.
One could hardly blame him after all. Physically, mentally and spiritually, elves were superior. That was a fact that no one could dispute. Not only that, but looking back at his lessons, he could count on the palm of his hand the number of serious issues the dragon riders of old had to face that weren't caused by either the Razac, Urgals or Humans. With this in mind, one could hardly blame Fëanor for having a higher opinion of Elves and to a lesser extent dwarves as well, as simply being a slightly more sensible lot on the whole and above such silly things as a civil war.
While he wasn't so ignorant as to paint all Humans and again to a lesser extent Urgals with the same brush. If you look back over thousands of years of history you do tend to see a pattern emerging and unfortunately, that pattern did not reflect well on some of the lesser races. In Feanor's humble opinion, anyone who said the riders were not necessary was a fool. The only reason total war had not broken out between the races of Alagaësia in the last few centuries was because of their efforts. Galbatorix would certainly not be the first human monarch to look on the elven or even dwarven lands with greedy eyes and Fëanor doubted he would be the last.
It wasn't entirely their fault after all. For Humans it was simply in their nature. As beings with such a short life, humans tended to live life to the fullest. The highs and the lows. And with that, they became susceptible to darker temptations. In truth, Fëanor found the lesser races to be extremely concerning. To elves who were immortal it felt like in the blink of an eye, the Humans had arrived, created a Kingdom to rival the elves own, and were still growing and multiplying. It scared Fëanor. With or without Galbatorix, the humans scared him because he knew that with the dragons gone, there was nothing standing between them and deciding that the ancient forests of his homeland would be much better as houses, furniture, and firewood. And a few pesky elves were not going to stand in the way of progress.
Fëanor realised suddenly that he had gone on a tangent again in his musings about the future or lack of, for his people. Thankfully it had only been a moment or two, and Anhûin and Vermûnd had gone back to staring into the fire. He did want to discuss Hrothgar a bit further though.
'Is Hrothgar the one against the dwarven clans supporting the Varden?' Fëanor questioned, breaking the silence again. He was surprised when his question was met with a scoff from Vermûnd.
'Are you joking? He is practically foaming at the mouth to get involved. No, the problem is the clans themselves. While Hrothgar is king, his support amongst the clans could erode in an instant and there are several clan leaders who look at him very closely for any weakness they could exploit.' Vermûnd explained, taking a swig from a water skin with something in it that Fëanor strongly suspected was not in fact water based on the flushed look on Vermûnd's face.
'Hrothgar is currently playing a very dangerous game. He has to do a balancing act between keeping the clans happy, and doing what he believes needs to be done to keep his people safe. If he pushes to hard though, to get the dwarves to act, he could be accused of war-mongering and that is something no one really wants after we suffered so many losses during the fall.' Anhûin finished of for Vermûnd who was far more focused on his 'water' at this point.
Fëanor understood enough about politics to realise what Anhûin was saying. The dwarves like the elves would hopefully get involved in the war but that would only come with time. And pushing too hard could have very dangerous consequences.
'As fascinating as politics is…' Vermûnd interrupting before cutting himself off with a very loud burp. 'I'm going to get some sleep. Only wake me if we're under attack by dragons.' And with his clear instructions, Vermûnd was out like a light, snoring away, breaking the quiet tranquillity of the night.
Brom and Fëanor glanced at each other and laughed softly at the quite likable but gruff dwarfs' antics before silently agreeing to follow Vermûnd's lead and get some sleep after Anhûin agreed to take the first watch. Soon, Fëanor was in the realm of dreams. He was greeted by a shrouded skeletal figure softly calling his name.
Elsewhere, a long rider on dragon-back was flying with all haste towards Tarnag.
'I'm coming for you.' She whispered into the wind blowing through her hair. Her dragon roaring in agreement, eager as it was for blood.
In the Halls of Faelar, Naudra, was arguing with the elven council.
'You can tell me no till the world grows old and dies as much as you like! I am going, and there is nothing you can do to stop me!' Naudra growled at one of the elven lords who dared to stand between her and her son, who she could feel was in great peril.
When Oromis had come running in as fast as his disability allowed, clutching a crumbled piece of parchment with panic in his eyes, Naudra had instantly known what it meant. Fëanor was gone. She wasn't surprised. She knew he was increasingly frustrated by the inaction. Despite being an Elf, Fëanor was still young, and had as of yet, not learnt the value of patience like the rest of his kin. He had expressed to her his anger knowing that Galbatorix still sat on the throne countless times. She had listened, truly she had! But she had done what any mother would have done, and tried to shelter him as much as she could from the concerns of the world, by easing his worries, soothing his anger, and trying to guide him towards a more patient course of action. It seems, her work had been in vain.
Naudra was no fool. She knew with Feanor's power he was fated to take part in the wars to come one way or another. But he was her son! Not to mention the fact that he was only eleven years old. He should not have to deal with war and death for a good century or two if she had anything to do about it.
But alas, it seemed the temptation of joining Brom on his damned quest was too tempting an opportunity to pass up. And that, led her back to her current predicament. That of getting 'permission' to leave in search of her son.
It was enraging, but the elven lords on the whole had advised the Queen to restrict the borders even tighter since Fëanor had left. In truth, Naudra could understand why. They were absolutely terrified. No one in, no one out was their motto now. They were wholeheartedly against allowing Naudra to leave for fear of not only losing another valued member of the nobility to Galbatorix but also of provoking Galbatorix into a war they had absolutely no hope of winning.
She had been arguing with the council now for days. Ever since, Feanor's departure, she had spent every waking moment begging the Queen and the council to allow her to leave. She could see the conflict in the Queens eyes even now. She knew the Queen had grown to care for Fëanor, but she was having to make tough choices for the good of all her people. Naudra truly couldn't hate her for that. No, the ones she hated were the lords of the council. Those who had looked on her family's favourable position in the court for centuries with jealously and now smelt blood in the water. She knew they didn't intend for Fëanor to die. That was against everything elves stood for. No, this was merely their way of making her husband sweat a bit. For once, they held the power over him, and the vicious bastards were enjoying it. This was exactly why Fiolr, who was standing beside her hated politics.
Her husband, Fiolr, was as rigid and firm as stone, standing tall and proud before the Queen. But, Naudra only had to glance into his eyes for but a moment to see the blazing inferno that was his rage. He would never forget this. Fiolr never forgot an insult. And like her, he was terrified for their son. Let no one say that Fiolr did not love Fëanor. He loved him more than anything in the world, he simply had a different way of showing it. And he would hate those who stood between him and his son till the end of time.
'I am sorry Lord Fiolr, Lady Naudra, but the decision has been made.' The Queen said, cutting off the obnoxious lord, 3 seats to her right, who was about to make another cutting remark, which may well see Fiolr kill him for it. Naudra could see a tear fall down the Queen's pale cheek even as she spoke, regret clear in her features. 'Until we have more knowledge of the situation, we cannot allow an expedition beyond our borders to find Fëanor. We cannot risk aggravating relations with the Broddring Kingdom at this time. However, you have my word, that I will personally see to his safe return at the earliest opportunity.' Here she leant forward in her throne. A pleading look in her eye. 'Naudra, I ask you to trust me, Brom will keep him safe, even if he does not know his true identity. He would never let another dragon fall into the clutches of the Forsworn. Have faith.'
With that they were dismissed. Naudra simply turned around and left, not even bothering to bow to the council and Queen behind her, considering them unworthy of it, causing them to mutter scandalously in response. Fiolr, did manage to force out a small bow, before storming out of the council hall following behind his wife.
They made their way silently through the cavernous hallways, before they eventually found themselves in the family wing, slamming the door to Fiolr's study shut hard with a crack. The frame, splintered and cracked from the force, Fiolr put on it. Inside the room waiting them were Oromis, Faeranduil, Folduin and Fraeya, all looking at them with disappointment. The result of their meeting with the Queen and council was obvious based on Fiolr's anger.
'So, they said no?' Faeranduil asked sorrowfully. Already moving towards a crystal decanter in the corner feeling that now more than ever was the time for a stiff drink.
'The council in their wisdom have come to the decision that now is not the time to save my son from almost certain torture, imprisonment, or worse, death.' Fiolr said sarcastically before taking a large swig from the glass handed to him by his father, before shouting in rage and throwing the offending object at the wall, causing it to smash into a thousand pieces. The rest looked on, silently, not caring about Fiolr's outburst nor the fact that an extremely expensive object had just been destroyed. They had more important problems after all.
'Well, we knew that was going to happen based on the fact that they said no the last thousand times any of us asked them. So, when are we leaving?' Folduin asked, casually leaning against the far wall with his arms folded. His posture seemed relaxed, to a casual observer, but if you looked closely one could see he was alert, and ready to pounce at a moments notice, his eyes were also flicking to the door for any sign of disturbance, or curious ears on the other side every few moments.
'We cannot all leave. Fiolr and my absence would certainly be missed. Naudra, you…' Faeranduil was cut of by a now enraged mother.
'Finish that sentence, and I will cut out your tongue. If we are sneaking out, I am certainly going. My son needs me!' Naudra announced, her arms folded in defiance, eyeing everyone in the room daring any of them to argue with her. She was soothed by Fraeya gently placing her hand on Naudra's shoulder, sending calming thoughts to her while soothing the tension in her shoulders.
'Then it is settled. Naudra, Folduin and I will sneak out tonight. This is our home, and even with the increased security from the queen's presence, we still know it like the back of our hand. It shouldn't be too difficult. Fëanor was last spotted heading south towards Hedarth. So, we start there.' Fraeya announced. The tension in the room seemed to ease as their level headed Fraeya came to a decision collectively for the group.
Everyone in the room looked at each other.
'Tonight.' Naudra said firmly.
'Tonight.' The rest agreed.
The rest of the day seemed to take an age to pass for the family as they went around their lives as best, they could, trying their best to keep to their daily routine. For the most part, they tried to stay out of everyone's way. The Halls were still swarming with visitors as the Queen had yet to depart back for the capital, so there were almost always eyes upon them.
Naudra even had to slam the door in the Queen's face when she had come to apologise, and offer some comfort, for fear of giving the game away. Even with a door standing between them, Naudra had felt the Queens pain at the rejection. But Naudra had no choice. Islanzadí was only going what she had to do and so was Naudra. It wasn't personal.
Finally, after what felt like centuries to Naudra, she and her niece and nephew were packed and ready to go. They were intending to use a secret family escape route, build deep into the mountain which would carry them miles away to the south-east. Their, they had arranged for a loyal family to have horses waiting for them. They were hoping to be well out of the council's reach before anyone even realised, they were missing. Fiolr and Faeranduil were already doing their own part. They had cornered Däthedr and the Queen to ask her permission to attempting a scrying spell.
Even then, as Naudra, Folduin and Fraeya hastily made their way through the dark, shadow filled hallways towards the secret passage, Fiolr and his father should already be doing their part. They were round the corner from the ordinary looking store room which housed the secret passage when they froze as they heard a sudden commotion behind them.
Coming out of the darkness, running towards them like Galbatorix himself were on their heels were Fiolr and Faeranduil, accompanied by twenty of their best warriors. 'Däthedr suspected a trick! They are already on their way, right behind us! You have to go now; we will hold them off!' Faeranduil shouted, as he drew his blade, turning around to the deserted darkened corridor they had just come from. Faeranduil and the other warriors following his lead and drawing their own blades.
Naudra began to run towards him but Fiolr turned around, shouting, 'NO! GO! There isn't time!'
No longer had Fiolr spoke, Däthedr accompanied by a hundred warriors of the royal guard, all, adorned in golden armour of the finest quality arrived from around the corner. 'Fiolr, Naudra, don't be fools! You cannot disobey the queen's command, surrender now, and the Queen is prepared to see this as having never happened.' Däthedr said, imploring his friends to see reason.
'They will destroy him Däthedr, you know I have no choice.' Fiolr said firmly, before turning around to Naudra. Smiling at her warmly, but with a firm resolve in his eyes. 'Protect our son, my love. When you see him, tell him I love him?' And with those final words, and a war cry, Fiolr, Faeranduil and their warriors charged the royal guard assembled in front of them.
The royal guardsmen, lowered their shields, and spears. Ready to meet Fiolr's charge with a wall of death. Däthedr, stood behind the line, with his sword drawn, looking heartbroken by what his duty was forcing him to do.
However, a few strides from the line, Fiolr cast out his hand, shouting loudly in the Ancient Language 'Vindr fram!' Däthedr seemed to have been expecting this as he was already chanting back, attempting to stop the push of wind from succeeding but the damage was already done. The shield wall buckled under the strength of Fiolr's spell, giving his warriors the chance, they needed to charge unimpeded into the guard's line.
The last thing Naudra saw before Fraeya and Folduin dragged her around the final corner towards the passage was Fiolr and Däthedr clashing with swords.
As Folduin and Fraeya dragged Naudra into the storeroom, and down through the passage behind a false wall, they could hear the sounds of battle behind them growing ever fainter. Only when Naudra could no longer hear the sound of battle, did she stop struggling.
'Naudra, we need to focus. They will be fine, Däthedr won't want any of them harmed. Remember, Fëanor needs us.' Folduin said to her firmly, as he lit started leading the way through the dimly lit passage.
The reminder of Fëanor instantly brought Naudra back to reality. Folduin was right! Naudra realised. Fëanor needed her. But she felt like she was a piece of rope pulled tightly apart. On one side, Fëanor, her son, the most important thing in the world to her. On the other, Fiolr, her mate, her heart and her soul. She was being pulled between them, and if someone pulled much harder, she feared she would break. If anything happened to either of them…
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she nodded firmly. Looking down the dark passage ahead of them which seemed to stretch on for miles into the darkness as far as her elven eyes could see. 'Your right, we better get moving. They will send people after us soon, Fiolr and Faeranduil won't be able to hold out for long.'
And so, the trio began to run as fast as they could through the tunnel carved directly through the rock. It was straight as an arrow. They ran for hours, with nothing but silence to accompany their journey through the darkness. Until finally, Naudra spotted a faint light in the distance. They had reached the exit.
A while later, they finally emerged from the tunnel. The exit was hidden in a small grove of rocks, covered in moss, ivy, and a willow tree hanging overhead. Looking at it, you would never in a million years be able to see where the entrance was. It was an exit only. It was specifically designed so that not even denizens of the fortress itself would even be able to find it, so to ensure that potential traitors could not reveal the location to enemies.
Thankfully, they did know their general location and so began to make there way south-east towards the pre-arranged meeting point where horses and supplies would be awaiting them.
As they walked through the forest, though, the trio began to feel a very heavy presence fall upon them. As they passed through a small glade, which was one of thousands dotted throughout the forest, a flash of light appeared before them. Bathed in the ray of light, shining through the trees, was Gilderion the Wise, wielder of The White Flame of Vándil. He was dressed as he had been for centuries, during his vigil as protector and guardian of the forest. In white flowing robes and a silver circlet upon his head.
'Greetings Naudra, Folduin and Fraeya, what brings you so far from your home at this time of night?' Gilderion said conversationally, completely ignoring the sword, Folduin had raised towards him and the drawn arrow, Fraeya was currently holding, aimed directly at his throat.
'Have you been sent to take us back? You know we can't let you do that.' Naudra asked from behind the twins.
Gilderion chuckled softly in response, which made Folduin tighten his grip on his blade. 'We all know that you can't stand against me. Your son however, he is something altogether quite different.' Gilderion said, still ignoring the weapons aimed at him, as he continued to stare at Naudra, and her back at him in turn.
'Yes, Fëanor is amazing and powerful, but right now he is probably about to either get himself captured or killed so can we get this over with?' Folduin asked impatiently, not liking where this conversation was going, and the fact that he was potentially about to fight one of the most powerful elves to have ever lived.
'The Queen is concerned for your wellbeing. She mentioned to me that it would be most appreciated for me, when on my travels, if I happen to come upon you, to return you to…safety.' Gilderion explained, not having moved from his position where he had appeared in the forest. Naudra was about to retort when Gilderion continued. 'I however, shall inform her that I haven't seen you this evening, and was otherwise occupied, dealing with an Urgal incursion to the far-west, which is where I am actually going now.'
Silence, greeted his words for a few moments, before Folduin and Fraeya lowered their weapons slightly.
'Fëanor must be found, before the enemy finds him. Should Galbatorix capture him, he could turn him into an evil beyond our darkest nightmares. I wish you the best of luck in your search.' And, not saying another word, Gilderion faded into nothing, with a brief flash of light.
The trio looked at each other before Folduin, eased the tension by shrugging his soldiers, and leading the way through the forest once again. An hour short of dawn, they arrived at the meeting point. An elf was waiting with three horses and supplies. No words were exchanged. The three simply got on the Horses, and rode off towards the border at full galop, passing through the treeline just short of dawn, using the last shadows of darkness before the dawn, to slip pass the eyes that were doubtlessly watching the border at that very moment.
Fëanor was woken up far too early the next morning by Vermûnd's heavy armoured footsteps moving around the camp frantically. Fëanor rubbed his eyes tiredly, as he looked at the others, beginning to pack away their camp. 'What's going on? What's the rush?' He asked, tiredly, as he stretched his arms yawning. Now normally, elves didn't need much sleep at all. But not only did Feanor's dragon aspect, enjoy sleep quite a bit, but Fëanor was mentally exhausted from his dreams, so he found himself sleeping much more than he was used to. So being waken up in the early hours when it was still somewhat dark was not exactly his idea of a good time.
'I had last watch and I thought I saw the shadow of a dragon, passing over the peaks in the light of the moon. Decided we shouldn't risk it, we need to get to cover in Tarnag, we are far too exposed here.' Vermûnd said as he looked at the peaks surrounding them nervously. Fëanor was up and awoke instantly, not feeling nearly well enough to take on a Forsworn right now. He was practically dead on his feet, having not gone much rest at all now for weeks, which at his age, elf or not was rather detrimental to his wellbeing. But he none the less began to move towards his pack, to assist in packing up.
'Ignore that, we'll deal with it. Grab some food from Brom, he said he would find something for you, you don't look too good.' Vermûnd instructed, moving towards Feanor's possessions and rapidly packing them up before Fëanor even knew what was going on. Too tired to argue, Fëanor obediently moved towards Brom, who was rummaging through his own pack.
'How are you doing?' Brom asked sympathetically, as he looked at Fëanor over his shoulder from the tree-stump he was sitting on. He had a plate of food, laid out on the stump next to him and he was currently tending to the blade of his sword. Noticing Fëanor watching him, Brom looked back down at sword in his hands. 'If Vermûnd is correct about what he saw, I may well have need of it soon. Get some food down you, you aren't looking too good.'
Fëanor again allowed himself to be ordered about and sat down on the stump next to Brom, inelegantly, shovelling the food into his mouth. He sat in silence, too tired to bring up conversation and Brom seemed to have his own thoughts to deal with so didn't try and make small talk. As soon as Fëanor was finished, Brom was on his feet.
'Right! We better get going, if we are quick and stick to the trees, we should be able to reach Tarnag without too much trouble. If it was a dragon Vermûnd saw, we need to stick to the cover as much as possible. We should use the darkness while we can.' The rest, agreed wordlessly, and soon they were leaving the camp behind, as they walked through valley, walking closer and closer to Tarnag in the distance. No dragons, or forsworn, descended on top of their heads as they continued their journey. By mid-morning they had arrived at the gates of Tarnag itself.
'Welcome to Tarnag, Fëanor, the city of Celbedeil, the great temple of our people.' Anhûin said from beside Fëanor, who was frozen in shock looking at the walls arrayed in front and above him.
Anhûin noticed he was staring at the walls specifically and chuckled. 'They're quite impressive, aren't they? We dwarves pride ourselves on our work with stone. And to this day, the walls of Tarnag have never fallen to an enemy army.' Anhûin announced proudly.
The walls she was referring to were easily forty feet thick and easily more than that in height. Barring the way further into the next wall, which Fëanor could see was even more imposing, was a giant gate made of steel and iron. All in all, the walls of Tarnag consisted of five walls and five gates, each harder to breach the last, all guarding the path to the city itself. Fëanor held his tongue from reminding Anhûin that the reason it was abandoned was that it clearly wasn't as impregnable as she was claiming. The Forsworn could make all those walls totally useless.
'So, how do we get in?' He asked the group. No one bothered to respond, instead they simply grinned at him.
Anhûin and Vermûnd led the way around the wall, doing their best to ignore the foreboding drop to their side into the valley below. Eventually, they stopped at what seemed to Fëanor to be a perfectly ordinary cliff facing, rising above the wall, and around it, leading further up the mountain. The dwarves were looking at Fëanor seriously now.
'This, is the great staircase of Tarnag' Vermûnd began, pointing to the cliff face behind him. 'Do exactly as I do. Don't take a wrong step or it is a very big drop.' And so, Vermûnd walked forward, and to Fëanor and Brom's amazement, began to walk up the seemingly ordinary cliff face. As Fëanor looked closer, he realised with amazement that it wasn't an ordinary cliff face but instead was an actual staircase. Perfectly camouflaged into the natural face of the cliff. Fëanor had to admit, dwarves truly were masters of their craft.
'I heard rumours they could do this, but I've never seen it for myself. The dwarves, have never released the secrets of their craft easily to outsiders.' Brom said standing beside Fëanor, watching as Anhûin followed on behind Vermûnd, climbing up the mountain.
He didn't say anything else instead, following on behind Anhûin only slightly more slowly, climbing up the dwarven staircase, up and over the Great Walls of Tarnag. Realising he couldn't wait any longer or risk losing the path completely, Fëanor took a breath before joining the others in climbing up the staircase.
Despite the staircase rising only slightly higher than the fifth and final wall of Tarnag, the climb up took a considerable amount of time. So long in fact, that it was nearing lunch time by the time, the companions had finished, climbing up and over the walls and down onto the cobbled deserted streets of Tarnag itself.
'I have not been her since before the fall. When I marched to Ilirea with my warriors, we assembled here. I've not been back since.' Anhûin, spoke to herself more than the others softly. Pain clear in her eyes and voice, as she seemed to see memories in the streets before her. The greatest and finest warriors of her clan and the dwarven race as a hole, dressed in the finest armour, marching proudly out of the gates of Tarnag to the cheers of the crowd assembled to see them off. Warriors, who almost to the last dwarf, were marching to their deaths. When she blinked again, she was looking at the once again empty streets.
Come, we will sleep in the Great Temple tonight. Gûntera will protect us while we rest and recover our strength. We can reconsider our options in the morning.' Anhûin announced, leading the way through the empty city-streets towards the grey pyramid of Celbedeil in the distance.
That was something everyone could get on board with not just Fëanor. Ever since they had fled south, they had been maintaining a gruelling pace with minimal rest due to the fear of Forsworn attack. So, they were all due some rest. Taking the rest of the day, in the safety of the temple, whether the dwarven deities existed so as to protect them or not, was something Brom and Fëanor could equally get on board with.
Tarnag, was build upon terraces, built into the side of the mountain it rested upon. The lower terraces they were walking through were used primarily for farmland. Overall, the city actually covered a substantial amount of space despite sitting in the mountains due to the fact that, every effort had been made to provide as much food for farming for the rest of the dwarven nation as possible. Considering it being deserted, Fëanor wouldn't be surprised to hear that the dwarves were now struggling more than usual to find enough food to feed their people.
As they climbed higher, they finally reached the city itself. The buildings, were made of many different colours, which was something Fëanor had never seen before. He looked around him as they walked between the buildings at the intricate carvings of anything from animals to scenes of nature in general.
Anhûin and Vermûnd were still deathly silent, not having spoken since they entered the city. This was clearly an emotional moment for them, so Fëanor was happy to leave them to their own thoughts and enjoy seeing a totally different culture for the first time.
Finally, they arrived in the city square. A vast, area, with a statue in the middle. The statue was shaped in the form of a dwarven warrior of old, standing on the body of a slain dragon. Fëanor winced at the imagery. Remembering from his lessons that in the days of old, dwarves and dragons would regularly fight for supremacy of Alagaësia, before the elves and humans came along.
Behind the statue on the far side of the plaza was the entrance of the temple complex, guarded by two ancient stone guardians in the form of dwarven warriors, holding giant stone battle-axes across the entrance barring entry, from invisible foes. To enter you had to walk underneath their axes, passing through the foreboding shadow of the guardians. It was an impressive sight to Fëanor.
Gardens extended behind the guardians which while not as impressive as anything an elf could create with nature, were still very beautiful and while having been abandoned for years now, true effort and care was clear in the gardens design and beauty, despite it being slightly wild and overrun now with the city deserted. Finally, behind the gardens, was the Great Temple of Celbedeil itself. Fëanor was again impressed by the majesty of dwarven architecture and the beauty they had created through stone. While he was proud of his home, and it was certainly impressive, nothing the elves could create would ever compare to dwarven stone architecture.
The Temple itself rose far into the sky, far above the rest of the buildings making up the city, high above in the higher reaches of the mountain. To enter it, one had to climb up hundreds of stone steps, with the Great Temple standing tall and proud in the sky above. The temple itself consisted of a pyramid of grey slate, with a white cupola ribbed with gold standing atop it, shining in the sunlight for miles around. To Feanor's eyes, it was beautiful as it shone and glittered like polished moonstone. Realising that the stairs were not going to climb themselves, Fëanor began the climb up the mountain towards the temple doors.
When Fëanor reached the top, slightly ahead of the others, he stood in awe of the doors in front of him. Fëanor had always had enjoyed adventure and exploring new places and things, so despite his exhaustion had found a new source of energy and had raced up ahead of Brom and the dwarves, who were content to take their time, due to the huge number of steps they still needed to climb.
Fëanor waited impatiently, for the other to arrive at the top, and then for Anhûin to step forwards and open the doors to the temple itself. When Anhûin pulled the doors open towards them, the stale air which had been trapped inside the temple in its abandonment, flowed towards them like the temple was letting out a huge breath of air like a sigh in the wind.
The companions moved to enter the temple together and Fëanor was again awed by the beauty of his surroundings. They stood in darkness for a moment just within the temple itself before Anhûin went to the side, whispered a few words, fiddling with some unseen device, and suddenly the entire temple was bathed in light from the dwarven lamps adorning the walls and ceiling.
'Come, we will stay in the Quan's quarters tonight.' Anhûin said, leading the way, the rest following close behind her. Brom and Fëanor were slightly slower though, enjoying the sights around them, neither of them having seen true dwarven architecture of this beauty and majesty before.
The walls of the temple sparkled in the light of the lamps. They were inlaid with gems and precious stones which sparkled in the light. Fëanor could see everything from pearls, diamonds and even jade. Scattered down the hallway, were statues that were unrecognisable to him, but he deduced were related to dwarven myth. After a while of walking, they arrived in a large open circular space, with a domed roof, with beautiful painted carvings, adorning its surface. Surrounding the space on the walls was the most intricate mosaic Fëanor had ever seen. Fëanor had no idea what it was or signified, but could tell whatever it was, it must be important. In the middle of the space, was another statue, consisting of a large number of beings that looked somewhat like dwarves, to Feanor's eyes but had a majesty and beauty to them that just felt more.
'Gûntera and the rest of the gods.' Anhûin explained, as she saw Brom and Fëanor looking at the statues in front of them. 'Come, lets get some food and rest, if you're interested, I am sure we can return here later, and I can tell you all about them.
Fëanor and Brom were led deeper into the temple, past many rooms, some which had a very clear function, storerooms, armoires, even training rooms. They even passed a giant metal door, which led to a vault of some kind, which interested Fëanor greatly, but Anhûin and Vermûnd walked straight passed it to a small dormitory fit for several people. It would do perfectly for the night.
'These are the quarters of Gannel, the high-priest of the temple. It has everything we need to keep us comfortable.' Anhûin explained. 'Vermûnd and I will get some food going, you should rest Fëanor, you still look tired.' Anhûin said as she got to work, walking through a doorway to what Fëanor presumed was a kitchen of some kind. Fëanor didn't complain and was soon falling asleep on one of the beds in the room.
Finally, Nazjara's dragon roared in triumph as it picked up a scent. A scent it recognised from the campsite back near Hedarth. Nazjara petted the beast in approval at its success and gestured for it to follow its nose, as the great beast of the skies, angled its flight East.
'Patience, my sweet.' Nazjara said soothingly to her dragon who was eager now that it had caught the sense of potential prey. 'We will soon find them, and then, all will be ours.'
Several hours later, Fëanor began to awaken as he felt someone softly calling his name. When he finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to find the room empty. After getting up he moved through the rest of the rooms to see if Brom, or the dwarves could be found, but they were nowhere to be seen. The entire dormitory was deserted.
'Hello?' Fëanor asked hesitantly, feeling slightly uncomfortable now, wondering where his companions had gone. The silence was heavy in the stale air of the temple, his companions not responding to his call. But then, he heard it again. A whisper, barely even a sound, more a rush of wind blowing through the halls of the temple.
Fëanor, hesitantly followed the whisper, through a maze of passages and corridors, he would never be able to remember. It got to the point where he was starting to feel incredibly nervous. He had doubtlessly lost the passage back to the dormitories and was now hopelessly lost within the temple. The whisper was so soft, he was almost tempted to think that he was imagining it.
Finally, just when he was beginning to panic, Fëanor arrived, in the same atrium as before. With the mosaic and the statues of the Dwarven Gods. Standing in front of the statues, was a figure. The figure looked like a dwarf. But there were a few clear discernible differences between the figure and a normal dwarf. One, he was bathed in fire from head to toe, secondly, he did not share the dwarven peoples stunted stature and instead dominated the room with his physical presence, the top of his great mane of hair, reaching the ceiling of the atrium.
When the being seemed to notice Feanor's presence, he directed his fiery gaze down on the tiny form of Fëanor, with eyes filled with literal fire. 'So, you are the one, those who stand above all would have me meet?' The being asked, getting down on one knee, so as to not tower above Fëanor so much. Not that it really made much difference as he still towered over Fëanor, but Fëanor still appreciated the gesture none the less, as it put his mind at ease.
'I…erm…' Fëanor was totally speechless. He had absolutely no idea what to say in response. What was going on?!'
'Oh, don't bother I can tell just by looking at you.' The being said, dismissively, while leaning forward so that his face was directly over Fëanor. The being, inhaled through his nose deeply before looking at Fëanor surprise. 'Well, isn't that interesting.' The being looked much more interested in Fëanor now. 'You're definitely one of mine, I can smell it on you.' Here, the being looked very confused. 'But I can smell Gûntera on you as well, and something altogether quite different.' The being leaned forward again and smelt Fëanor once more, before recoiling slightly, in surprise more than disgust. 'Smells of him.' The being said, in surprise. 'No wonder the ones above all are so interested in you.'
'Wha...' Fëanor went to speak again but was cut off by the being before him once more.
'Oh, we don't have time for all your questions, I came here to deliver a message, seeing as you have been totally ignoring the ones you've already been given.' The being said, chastising Fëanor slightly at the end with a disapproving glare.
Suddenly, things began to click into place. His weird dreams, were they sent by whoever this was? Or perhaps the beings he referred to as 'Those above all?'
Of course, it isn't entirely your fault. Immortal or not, a divine being shoving visions into your head certainly takes it out of you from what I've been told. But this really isn't what I want to be doing with my time, despite how interesting you are.' Here, the being looked closely at Fëanor again. Less, at him but more into him. It was quite the unnerving experience. 'Anyway, I'm distracting myself. The message! I'll cut straight to it boy. You will face a choice. One path will put you through quite a lot of pain the other will lead your friends to certain death. Entirely your choice which way you're going down. But there will be consequences whichever path you take, for good or bad.' The being said dismissively, as if he didn't see how horrifying it was for Fëanor to have a horrible choice like that laid bare before him with such perfect clarity.
'But how…' Fëanor was to his increasing annoyance interrupted by the being.
'Oh, I was also told to tell you that should you see no other path before you but force, but need a helping hand, then all you have to do, is think back to that incident in the Malfoy House. Whatever that means.' The being said, clearly as confused by the message as Fëanor was. If a presumably divine being had no idea what he was talking about then how the hell was Fëanor supposed to know? And what exactly was the Malfoy House?!
'Anyway, best be off, I think your friends are in a spot of bother already so you better go about waking up!' The being ordered, confusing Fëanor further.
'Wake up?' Fëanor asked.
'Yes, wake up Fëanor, you need to wake up. Fëanor, listen to me wake up.' The being ordered, but as he continued to speak, his face and voice morphed to that of Brom looming above him, shaking his shoulders rather frantically in an attempt to wake Fëanor from his slumber.
'Wake up!' Brom cut his actions off when he saw that Fëanor's eyes were finally open, even if he was looking at Brom, in surprise and a lot of confusion at the same time. 'Thank, the heavens, you were sleeping like the dead, we have problems, the Forsworn have found us. We have to move.' No sooner, had he spoke, he was dragging Fëanor out of bed and towards the door. 'The others, will hold them off, giving us a chance to escape. We have to move!'
As Fëanor allowed himself to be dragged off by Brom, the events of the dream, and what was going on slowly began to register. He awakened fully to the world around him, and began to hear the roar of a dragon and the thud, of its enormous body, banging against the temple doors in the distance. He could see dust falling from the ceiling whenever the dragon's body smashed against the doors repeatedly in it's attempts to get in.
'While you were sleeping, Anhûin showed me a passage out of the back, deep in the Temple, which the Quan use for easier access out of the temple towards Tronjheim. It will take us straight towards the capital, we should be safe there, come on we have to hurry.' Brom explained, as he guided Fëanor, deeper and deeper into the temple and further away from Anhûin and Vermûnd who at this very moment were about to try and fight the Forsworn for him. They were going to die for him. Fëanor realised suddenly, with a fierce certainty, that he wouldn't allow anyone to fight his battles for him. And he wouldn't allow his new friends to die for him, not today and not ever. So, even while Brom was trying to drag him further and further into the temple, Fëanor stopped, dragging his feet, causing Brom to turn towards him with an irritated look on his face. 'Look Fëanor, we don't have time for this! We have to move!' Brom said in frustration.
'No.' Fëanor said simply.
'What do you mean no?! Anhûin and Vermûnd are giving us a chance, but they won't last even a few moments once that dragon out there breaks down the doors, we need to be as far away as possible from here before that happens now move!' Brom ordered.
'I won't let them die for me, you take the Eldunarí and get them to safety, I'm going back for the others.' Fëanor already turning around back the way they had just come, before having his arm grabbed tightly by Brom again.
'Fëanor, I promised myself I would get you home safely and that is exactly what I am going to do.' Brom said with determination.
'Don't make me force you Brom, I can't leave them to die. Besides, no matter how powerful I supposedly am, we can't let the Eldunarí fall into the enemy's hands again, and I am strong enough to give you the time you need to escape with them alive. Now go.' Fëanor now ordered Brom, holding out the small pouch which held the slumbering Eldunarí.
The frustration in Brom's features was clearly visible to Fëanor as the dragon-elf watched Brom debate over his seconds, over a matter of only a few seconds. Fëanor knew that his logic was sound. If they ran now, they would be over-run well before they could reach safety. Their only choice was for Fëanor to go back and hold the Forsworn off long enough for Brom to escape. Maybe he could beat them? Maybe he couldn't. But what mattered was that the others were safe, and Galbatorix would have lost countless powerful Eldunarí from which to subjugate the people of Alagaësia to his will. Fëanor would die before letting them fall into the enemy's hands once again.
'You come back, when your done.' Brom ordered firmly, a small tear in his eye. It was clear in his face, that he had grown to care for Fëanor very much. Fëanor truly felt the same way. Brom and he had bonded and were now as close as brothers, trusting each other with their very lives.
'Ill be right behind you.' Fëanor said with a slight grin on his face, as Brom took the Eldunarí pouch from his hand, and after a small nod, continued on his way deeper into the temple and eventually to safety. Leaving, Fëanor alone, but with a clear goal in mind. Saving his new friends.
Fëanor ran as fast as his small form could carry him back towards the sound of the dragon attacking the doors. He didn't know the way to the entrance, but it was easy enough to follow the roars of the dragon, and the louder and louder thuds of the doors, being attacked. Fëanor increased his pace suddenly, when he heard a roar of triumph and the doors smashing into pieces in the distance. He heard the faint war-cry of Anhûin and Vermûnd as they began to defend the now open entrance.
He heard the faint sounds of battle grow louder and louder, before fading into silence. Fëanor, feared the worst and felt a rage in his heart for what he thought was the fate of his friends. He had been too late. He finally came around the final corner to the corridor leading to the entrance to see a great dragon, standing in the entrance, with Vermûnd pinned underneath one of his mighty clawed feet. Wounded, but alive.
In front of the dragon, stood a beautiful female elf. Dressed in the black armour of the Forsworn with flowing red hair, and red eyes. When Fëanor took in her appearance, he thought her a shade for a moment, but then realised that was just her natural appearance. She truly was beautiful as all elves tended to be. But there was something otherworldly about her, which, if not for Feanor's iron will was even then trying to snake its way around his being, and ensnare him to her will.
The she-elf was standing with a blade to Anhûin's throat, her red hair flowing in the wind, coming in from outside, staring at Fëanor warmly. 'Oh, now I see it. So, you are the one who managed to kill the twins?' The she-elf asked Fëanor rhetorically as her eyes roamed up and down his form. Fëanor could sense her using not just her eyes, but her magical sight as well, to look upon him. She clearly liked what she saw, because she began to look hungrily upon him.
'My, my, such power, in one so young.' She commented, still holding the blade to Anhûin's throat, but momentarily pulling it tighter, as Anhûin began to struggle, realising the danger Fëanor was in. 'And adorably cute as well! I think we are going to be very, very good friends. You'll see.' Fëanor continued to stare hatefully at her, as he racked his brain for a way to attack her without causing the she-elf to slit Anhûin's throat and the dragon to crush Vermûnd like an ant.
'Who are you and what do you want?' Fëanor asked, through gritted teeth. Every fibre of his being wanting to obliterate the she-elf where she stood for daring to harm his friends.
'Me?' The woman asked in surprise. 'Well, my dear, I am Nazjara. Your newest and future best friend. As for what I want…well you of course.' Nazjara said as she continued to stare hungrily at Fëanor.
'Never going to happen you fucking bitch!' Vermûnd snarled from underneath the dragon's foot. The dragon responded, by pressing his foot ever so slightly onto Vermûnd's body causing the dwarf to cry out in pain.
'My, my, you're rude, even for a dwarf. Your little friend and I were just having such a lovely conversation.' Nazjara tutted softly, looking thoroughly irritated by Vermûnd's outburst.
'Let them go.' Fëanor ordered, as his rage began to build.
Nazjara surprised him by agreeing. 'I would be happy to! Provided you agree to come with me.' Nazjara said, grinning at him as she made her offer.
'Fëanor no! Run!' Anhûin shouted as she began to struggle, but was stopped quickly by Anhûin's blade tightening further to her throat, causing blood to trickle down Anhûin's neck.
'Now, now. Don't order the boy. He is perfectly capable of making his own decisions aren't you Fëanor?' Nazjara said warmly, perfectly at ease as she knew and everyone else knew that she held all the power at the moment.
Fëanor gritted his teeth as he thought through potential strategies to come up with something but dropped his shoulders, as he realised, he had no choice. If he attacked, both Anhûin and Vermûnd would certainly die. He dropped his head, as he silently apologised to his mother and father wherever they were and Brom, for he was about to break his promise. 'Promise you will let them go alive, and no further harm will come to them' Fëanor said, gritting his teeth as he stared at Nazjara with hatred. 'In the Ancient Language!' He added hastily, not trusting the woman at all on her word. That would be foolish.
He watched as Nazjara thought for a moment. 'Very well, provided you promise to come with me willingly, from the moment I release them.' She said, still with that disturbingly beautiful yet hungry smile on her face.
Fëanor nodded, and so the two made their promises to each other in the Ancient Language. Ignoring the protests from Anhûin and Vermûnd as they did so. The moment Fëanor finished his oath, he felt the weight of it on his very soul, it was a very powerful but unnerving feeling, to feel the weight of an oath in such a way.
'Good, now we can get going.' Nazjara said before knocking Anhûin unconscious with the pommel of her blade. Her dragon did the same, with his claw, showing a surprising amount of care, to be capable of knocking out Vermûnd as apposed to crushing his head with his mighty claw. At Feanor's horrified and betrayed look, Nazjara sighed. 'Oh, don't be so dramatic, I didn't break my oath, they are more than capable of waking up once we are long gone. Now come along.' She held out her hand, for him expectantly.
Fëanor feeling the weight of his promise on his soul, reluctantly moved forward, passed the unconscious form of Anhûin and to Nazjara's side. He refused to take her hand. She seemingly laughed lightly at his stubbornness. Even her laugh was beautiful. Fëanor hated it.
'Don't worry my dear, you will love it. We will be firm friends in no time.' Nazjara said warmly, yet it still caused a chill to down his spine. 'If you survive of course.'
What had Fëanor done?
Hi everyone, what did you think of the chapter!
This was my longest one yet at 10500 words and I must say I am quite happy with it. I think it turned out really well, so let me know what you think in the reviews. I truly love reading them and it is great to see the same faces who go out of their way to comment each week. It really is awesome of you.
Thank you as well to each and every one of you who helped me out with my call for information about Dwarven deities. I just couldn't find the right path to the information I presumed to be on the wiki, so I really appreciated the help!
If any of you have good knowledge of Tolkien lore and fancy brainstorming with me on the sequel I have in mind, but don't mind having a few spoilers for what happens at the end of this story then please get in touch. I need someone who knows their stuff to help me come up with a few things for the story. I have the base outline but I need some help so let me know if you're interested.
Other than that, see you next time, and stay safe!