26The Dragonets' Burglar
All was still. Everything was quiet around the hobbit. The air was calm, and there was not a single noise to be heard from all around, for at least a couple of miles. Then he felt a series of thumps that grew louder and louder as the figure approached him further. A large figure towered over his little body, its breath heating up the skin like it was being seared over a hot pan, and the knives in its fangs were widening in preparation to snap down. For a moment, he thought he heard the dreaded voice of Smaug, and frozen stiff, dared to open his eyes, and stared into the piercing gold of the calamitous monster…
"WAKE UP!"
Bilbo shrieked and stumbled at the loud voice, falling head over his great feet tumbling off the rock and onto the grass. With great embarrassment, he stared up into the very annoyed eyes of Tsunami.
"Three moons, you sleep like Clay," she huffed.
"I am terribly sorry, Tsunami. I must have dozed off sometime in the night," Bilbo replied. He brushed off his coat, checking that each pocket was not missing anything—nothing; good.
"Yeah, I noticed. Luckily, Glory took over before me. Come on, the others are waiting."
"Right behind you."
The hobbit followed the SeaWing princess through the forest, almost at a running pace with how impatient she was. He didn't like running if he could help it, of course being chased by Orcs riding Wargs or being stalked by a giant dragon was a good enough motivation; he was in his middle ages and apt to begin moving slower in the very near future. Unfortunately, in the very short time of this forest, he had forgotten to look for a walking stick, not that it would have been an essential traveling tool.
Soon enough, the pair breached the forest onto the sandy banks of the river. Tsunami walked forward without thought, but Bilbo hesitated at the very edge of the water. Somehow the river looked much wider at this perspective than before, or had it always looked this wide?
"Hey, what's wrong?" Tsunami asked. "Can't swim?"
"Yes, yes I unfortunately can't swim for the life of me," he replied, embarrassed.
The dragon rolled her eyes. "Alright. Hold on."
In an instant, she hoisted the hobbit up by the talon and hopped across the river as if it was a little creak. She dropped him on his feat right behind the others.
"Thank you," Bilbo said. "Good morning, everyone."
"Morning, Bilbo!" Sunny beamed.
"Good morning," Clay smiled.
"Morning," Starflight and Glory said.
"Did you sleep well?" Clay asked.
The Arkenstone weighed like a heavy boulder inside his pocket, as did the little nightmare he had before waking up. For a moment, he almost said it, until he second-guessed himself, and decided to keep both revelations to himself.
"Very well, in fact," he nodded. "So, where are we now?"
"We're at the Diamond Spray Delta, and the MudWing village that Kestrel told us about is just in sight," Glory replied. Her face, normally non-committal, became especially grim. "Only…"
He did not like the sound of her tone, it betrayed a feeling of an uneasy sight. "Only what?"
"Only…something happened," she said at last, rather vaguely.
"I…don't think you should look," Starflight voiced softly.
Heeding his warning, Bilbo slowly crept forward from under the folded wings of the dragonets and looked. They were standing on a cliff's edge and indeed the MudWing village they were searching for was just down in the valley below…but so was something else. The sight alone turned his skin white as snow.
"Oh, no!"
Right beneath the cliff's edge, where the river ran over as a waterfall into the river cutting through the valley marshland was a terrible sight. Bodies of large dragons lay in all directions, covered in teeth marks or impaled with long spears. The large brown dragons, MudWings by the looks of them, were bleeding from sharp marks all over their bodies—one had been on fire for a while, and only a burning corpse was left. The white dragons were the ones with long spears implanted through their scales, and their blood was dark blue like the deep sea.
The land, brown as mud, was coated with the blood of fallen soldiers, both of different scale colors and races. What were they fighting for that resulted in such a bloodshed?
"This battle must have happened recently," Glory remarked. "Look, some of the fires are still burning, albeit faintly."
"Who do you think won?" Tsunami wondered aloud.
"Nobody!" Sunny shrieked. "Who could look at this and think 'we won'?!"
Bilbo stared long and hard at the sight of the battle. He couldn't help but imagine the dwarves of the Company laying in place of the dragons, surrounded by the bodies of Orcs, Elves, and Men bleeding from every impaled orifice. Was this what the sight of war truly was? It was horrific, there was nothing gratifying or glorifying about it! It was nothing but wasted lives for some ridiculous notion, and the price of it all were the fathers, sons, brothers, and everyone. These dragons had lives, they came from families, they left their home to die somewhere else in entirely unfamiliar lands, and all for what? What was it all for in the end?
Never before had such a horrible sight made the hobbit sick to his stomach. He stumbled, clutching his mouth in an attempt to hold down his supper. It almost came out right then and there; the taste of trying to hold it down was revolting.
"Oh, Bilbo! Are you alright?" Sunny asked.
"Yes…y-yes, I'll be alright," Bilbo replied. He kneeled over, fighting to keep his breathing at a normal pace. "I just…need a moment to sit down. Then I'll be okay."
"Oh! Don't worry! I'll get you some water."
Sunny zipped around in a flash that nearly sent the hobbit over had Clay not caught him with a wing. She returned as quickly cupping a large talon-full of water; about the size of his own sink, it looked like. Realizing just how thirsty he really was, Bilbo cupped some water, and then scooped handful after handful until his throat was no longer parched.
"Oh, thank you many moons, Sunny," he sighed.
"You're welcome. Anything for a friend," she smiled.
"When was the last time you drank something?" Clay asked, concerned.
Bilbo wiped his wet face. "I probably left my canteen behind, is what. Blast it all, I really do need one. Unless either of you has a canteen."
"Huh. I wish," Tsunami mumbled.
"Are you okay now?" Sunny asked.
Probably not for a while, my dear Sunny, he thought. "I will be now. Oh, my goodness. I will never be used to all this adventuring."
"First time seeing a battle?" Glory asked.
"No, it's…" He slowly breathed in, then exhaled. "First time seeing the aftermath of one." He thought back to the time the Company battled against the Wargs in the fir trees, how they risked their lives against certain death in the raging fires, lucky to have been rescued by the Eagles. Then there was when he rescued the dwarves from the giant spiders, how he risked life and limb against the vicious monsters, saving them all from becoming a feast. Suffice to say, he has seen his fair share of battles, but he had been spared the brutality of seeing one of his friends severely wounded or killed in any such battle.
Those dragons lying still in the valley were not as lucky; neither were Thorin's father and grandfather, and several other dwarves of his kin.
"Yeah," Clay sighed. "I can imagine that it'd be hard to process." He turned to the others. "Alright, we're on the edge of the Mud Kingdom now. I should go on alone."
"What? How come?" Bilbo asked, suddenly frightened.
"You can't go in alone!" Sunny exclaimed.
"Kestrel said this is where I would find my family. The MudWings won't trust the four of us all together."
"It's true. Especially Tsunami. The SeaWings are on Blister's side," Glory added.
"And who knows what they'll think of Sunny and Starflight," Tsunami finished.
"Why, that's ridiculous!" Bilbo stood up. "Surely they would understand that we're only going to see your family! That's no reason at all to get up in arms about different looking dragons!"
"It's not that simple," Starflight meekly pointed out.
"How so?" the hobbit asked calmly.
"Well, it's…just that…well, with the war and everything, I would take a guess and say that just about every kingdom involved is on edge. The MudWings and SeaWings in particular are in territorial dispute not too far from here. It's been going on for a while now."
Of course. Something ridiculous has to come along and complicate matters, Bilbo seethed.
Of course, this was a simple venture to find his family…and a small detour along the way. "Well, Master Clay, as your designated hobbit servant I am pledging my service to accompany you into the Mud Kingdom."
Clay was baffled by the complete seriousness in the hobbit's voice, and taken aback where he could not speak for a moment or so. Slightly apprehensive, he replied, "A-are you sure about this, Bilbo? You don't know what they might do to you."
"I have been through much riskier situations. Besides, this is a big moment for you, Clay. You really look like you could use some company, just in case something goes wrong or someone says the wrong thing against you."
"You're so brave, Bilbo," Sunny smiled encouragingly.
"Are all scave—humans brave as you are? That would be an amazing study," Starflight grinned.
Poor Bilbo, unable to shield his apparent embarrassment, but ever so grateful for the support from the dragonets anyway. "Th-thank…thank you, both."
"Wait a minute," Glory spoke up. "You're up to something. What else are you looking for?"
Bilbo ran his hand over his face, cursing his lack of foresight. "You're right, Glory. It was silly of me to try and hide it. But…I feel that it is also as important as finding Clay's family."
"What is it?" the MudWing kindly asked.
"Starflight. You said that Burn was allied with the MudWings, right?"
"Yes. Yes I did," the NightWing nodded.
"And it's only been one day since Smaug's attack on the Sky Kingdom, right?"
"Uh…by my count, yes."
"So, it would stand to reason that we have to inform the MudWing queen of what happened, and of the danger that Smaug poses for the rest of this world."
Sunny squirmed and tried to hide it. "Is it…really that bad?"
The hobbit looked the scared precious dragon in the eye and fought to hide the hard pain in his eyes. "My goodness, Sunny, I'm afraid it is." He turned back to the others. "You all have seen how devastating the destruction that Smaug can cause, which is why I feel that we have a responsibility to tell the queen of the danger that Smaug poses in hopes that the MudWings will be better prepared should he attack."
"Attack? Could that happen?" Sunny squirmed again.
"It would stand to reason that there is the possibility of Smaug attacking the Mud Kingdom because of their ties to Burn. He seems like a vindictive dragon from what we've seen and what you've told us, Bilbo," Starflight ascertained.
That was the big worry, and as scary as the thought was, he was grateful that Starflight had fully encapsulated the eminent danger, and the potential doom that would spell over this land. He could only hope that the queen was more reasonable and less intimidating than Scarlet and willing to listen; his adventuring had shown him just how rare that ability really was.
He heard Tsunami huff again. "Okay, yeah, I understand why this is important to take to Moorhen. Bilbo's going with Clay. Just be careful, we don't know what she's like."
At the same time, Bilbo recognized that Clay would need all sorts of help that he could get, because there was only so much that a small burgling hobbit could do in a muddy swamp of a kingdom of dragons. The others had made excellent points against their going in for help, which was a real shame. He could hide enough, better than anything alive thanks to his lucky magic ring…
"I'll go with you guys."
At first he was surprised at Glory's voice speaking up, until he remembered what she had shown him earlier back in the woods by the waterfall basin back up the river.
"Are you sure, Glory?" Starflight asked.
"No one would care I'm a RainWing since they're not in the war. But I can also do…this!"
In no less than five seconds, Glory had changed the light colors of her scales into shades of muddy brown, chocolate brown, and dirty red and orange. From a distance she looked unmistakably like a MudWing. But as Bilbo noticed looking up close and next to Clay for reference, there were very slight differences between them that could ascertain as to who was the authentic MudWing, and it was no less than the scale patterns along their torso, heads, the sizes of their feet and the shapes of their tails were effectively inconsistent. Even so, Glory had a set of amazing inherent abilities in her race of dragon that was commendable and no less than excellent.
"That is amazing, Glory, how you can do that so fluidly and exponentially convincingly!" Bilbo smiled.
"I think you're too pretty to be a MudWing," Clay said.
"Definitely!" Sunny agreed.
"Nonsense. You're just as pretty as Glory, Clay," Tsunami remarked.
"I'm not sure how to take that," Clay deadpanned.
Bilbo took a moment to chuckle to himself. The dynamics of the five were definitely as if they had been together as good friends all their lives, which he ever so loved.
Glory grumbled at the hobbit. "Okay, can we get moving before my scales give me away?"
Bilbo calmed down his laughter then cleared his throat. "Uh, sorry about that, Glory."
"It's nothing, really," she quietly mumbled.
"We'll wait by the river. Be safe, you guys," Starflight nodded.
"Thank you, Starflight," Bilbo nodded back. "And you happen to see any unruly dragons coming for you, hide yourselves in the trees or the river. Should that happen and neither of you get caught, let us know."
"We'll do that!" Sunny nodded. "See ya!"
With the agreements squared away, the pair of dragons were ready to take off. Bilbo walked over to Clay's large talon, only for the big dragon to lower his neck. He was confused at this move, but obliged nonetheless. He clumsily clambered over the large neck, settling in a less than comfortable position right on top of the dragon's head, holding sharply onto his small horns compared to, say Glory's thick curved horns. It could have been better but he knew better than to complain about a kind gesture.
The marshland of the Mud Kingdom was sort of appealing from an aerial view, with flat land dotted with little ponds of water, light green grass, and large huts that looked like wasp nests. The dragons landed in the flat plain where a group of MudWings were practicing what appeared to be battle formation tactics, with the largest MudWing—the color of dried mud—barking orders at them as if he were the battle commander. The sight reminded Bilbo of how the dwarves were always working together when in battle, not daring to leave one of their own out to dry so to speak. It was a refreshing reminder of something familiar that made this new experience much better.
Clay and Glory approached the leading MudWing, who at first dismissed them, saying that his troop had no need for "unsibs". Bilbo and the dragonets were likewise confused, and Glory explained that they were looking for a pair of MudWings who had lost their egg some six years ago; a red egg that might have been stolen. The MudWing had actually shouted in anger at the thought of the egg being stolen, which heavily startled the hobbit, nearly falling right down Clay's neck had he not kept a tight grip by the horns. Glory managed to grasp the situation before it got severely out of hand, suggesting it may have been given to a dragon named Asha. The MudWing calmed down at this, and told that Asha's sister, Cattail in fact had such an egg some years ago, and indeed had not been stolen.
This was good news to Clay, suggesting that this Cattail MudWing was indeed his birth mother. He quickly asked if she was still alive, to which the MudWing was uncaring of the matter, feigning surprise that her particular troop managed to stay alive even with four MudWings left. Glory then asked where she could be found, and the MudWing pointed in the general direction of the path, telling them to look for the "broken sleephouse". Clay gave his thanks and they went off on their way.
"They remind me of the dwarves in a sense," Bilbo remarked.
The path ran through more marshland, with fresh mud pits lining either side, and large trees jutting out that had large snakes coiled around the large branches. The MudWing acting as his ride was more happy than a dwarf at a feast of wine and meat.
"Cool snakes!" Clay smiled.
"Mm," Glory mumbled, uninterested.
Off the path in the mud patches, Clay noticed a small frog idling, silently minding its own business. "A frog!" His childlike wonder of everything around him was heartwarmingly amusing to the hobbit, who simply smiled at whatever he was doing. Clay then tried jumping over to grab the frog, only to miss it right as another dragon rose sharply from the mud, startling them both.
"WATCH IT!"
"My goodness!" Bilbo shrieked.
Clay immediately retracted back to the path and right behind the disguised RainWing. Bilbo clambered the best he could—being head over hobbit-feat and all—back into a sitting position from his grip on the thin horns. "There's a dragon in there!"
"There's one there, too," Glory replied, indicating the visible MudWing spine poking from the mud like a fish on a hook.
"What an interesting look," Bilbo added. "I've never seen anything like this on my adventure."
"Gosh, they look comfortable," Clay sighed.
"Hmm, they certainly do," the hobbit agreed fondly.
"I could never sleep in mud," Glory remarked. "My dreams would be full of mosquitos and muck I could never wash o—what's so funny?"
Bilbo quieted his sudden laughter. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just that…I remember those exact sorts of dreams while on my adventure. They were unpleasant, and I certainly don't miss dreaming about them."
"What did you dream about instead?" Clay asked.
"I dreamed of pleasant things: eggs, bacon, cakes, fried fish, cooked steak with beautiful seasoning, buttered toast with marmalade, warm sunshine, sitting in the garden or in my sitting room by the warm hearth and reading a good book. Most nights I try to remember what it feels like to sleep in my own hobbit hole again."
Glory looked despondent but tried to desperately hide it, while Clay had a blissful smile sprawled across his snout. It was sort of adorable. "Oh, moons! I'm getting hungry just trying to imagine all that delicious food!"
"You're always thinking about food. It's way too easy to tell," the RainWing remarked.
"I can't help it that I'm always hungry!"
Bilbo couldn't help but think of Bombur. Despite being the fattest dwarf of the Company, he was the best cook they had, perhaps because he would always want something in his stomach to quell his never ending hunger. He remembered that Bombur had been lost in an induced dream after falling into the enchanted river while lost in Mirkwood; it was agonizing for the dwarves to carry his large sleeping form around.
It was during his thinking spell that he noticed something that was quite lacking for the situation. "Have you noticed that no one is paying much attention to us?" he wondered aloud.
"Yeah, I've noticed that, too. I wonder why that is?" Clay added.
"I have a theory about that," Glory said. "The scrolls we had on the MudWings were never any good. But you see these groups of dragons flying around?"
"They fly like they are troops of an army," Bilbo filled in.
"Exactly! Maybe that's what makes them good fighters: their army's made up of these small loyal units."
"A very effective stratagem, I must say. The dwarves are like that as well. They are very loyal to their kin, and so their king is more than just their king: to them the king is important to their families."
While Bilbo and Glory were exchanging various thoughts concerning disproven ideas about the MudWings, Clay had noticed a smaller MudWing with a little scar across his snout staring at him from out of his sleephouse. Because Clay noticed him, so did Bilbo, and the two of them gave the little MudWing a friendly wave. In response he ducked back down out of sight into the sleephouse much to their surprise. After that little moment, Clay rushed to keep right behind Glory, who had stopped just in sight of the broken sleephouse at the end of the path the first MudWing from much earlier had told them about.
"That was sure strange," Bilbo pondered.
"Never mind that, here we are!" Clay skidded to a halt, shaking like a tree in the autumn wind.
Glory's strong voice—it reminded Bilbo again of Thorin—must have caught someone's attention, because there was a tired assortment of voices from inside the sleephouse. One MudWing emerged. From the sound of her voice she was female and definitely older than the pair of dragonets standing outside. A rude voice from inside shouted for them to get lost, much to Bilbo's frustration.
Poor Clay had no clue whatsoever to say to the dragon, with her being his birth mother and all and having never once seen her face in all his life, so of course the soft-hearted giant would have his tongue tied like a ribbon. The dragon in question interrupted with a rude tiredness, which put off both Clay and Bilbo, high hopes slipping fast for the moment. Luckily, Glory kept the conversation moving forward, asking if she was the Cattail they were looking for, who she was, to which Clay smiled brightly saying that he might be her son.
She replied with a tired "So?" Clay tried again, saying she might be his mother, and again she replied with the same callous uninterest. Bilbo did not like how this conversation was turning into something very unhelpful. Glory tried putting things into perspective with Clay's blood-red egg being the one she had lost six years prior, except that Cattail had replied with a yawn and a dismissive talon that she had sold that very egg to the Talons of Peace, all for the price of some cows.
Sold. She sold poor Clay to that horrible organization all for the price of some sodding cows?! Bilbo cursed, daring not to speak out loud.
And even worse, Cattail gave no care for whoever his father was, saying that MudWings have annual breeding nights, as she had no idea who he was either. Poor Clay was in terrible shock and Glory was looking more and more like she wanted to strangle the MudWing in front of them, and Bilbo disagreed with neither of his friends.
To add more to his growing ire, Cattail turned her attention to him. "What about that scavenger? Are you gonna eat—"
"Don't you even think about it!" Glory snapped. Her scales were turning a faint red-brown.
Cattail lazily backed down. "Alright, whatever you say."
And that was that. The dragonets and Bilbo went their separate ways with Cattail, which was more than alright with the hobbit, who was about ready to explode with the ferocity of an entire volcano. He could not remember the last time he ever felt this angry at someone—sure, he hated Smaug for a number of reasons, but that was only because of the myriad of motivations. The anger he felt against Cattail was nothing more than pure unfiltered anger, cooking just as hot as the fish on his stove.
"Why that callous, uncaring, apathetic, cold-blooded, thick-skinned, hard-boiled, insensible, indurated, stone-hearted clothead!" he snapped. "The absolute nerve of her! To sell one of her children for nothing more than a pair of cows?! Oh, I hope the taste of them was absolutely revolting!"
"That has got to have been the most unique series of clean swear words that I have ever heard," Glory remarked. She turned to Clay, fully sympathetic for her dear friend. "She could be wrong. Maybe your father would want to know you."
It was a futile effort. Poor Clay's spirits were crushed with the weight of an entire mountain's worth of boulders helmed by the great Stone-Giants. "There's no point. I have nothing here." He became so depressed that he absent-mindedly began walking through the shallow mud beside Glory and the path.
The hobbit's anger was dashed at the dragon's stooped figure. The sight of his friend, only a mere child thrust into the world without so much a handshake, depressed at how his birth mother had been careless with his egg had broken his heart. Not even Thorin would stand for something like that, dragon or not. It was a universal law that a parent must care for their child and at no point must they ever be abandoned, lest that parent risks eternal damnation for their careless acts. Perhaps his thoughts were being much too extreme, but the point still stood.
"Clay, I am so sorry that things did not turn out in the way you wanted," Bilbo sighed. "No one should have to go through what you are right now. It's not fair for you." For support, he gave the large neck a nice and comforting pat and rub. It was like petting a horse or a pony, which he felt was a great disservice to Clay at the moment; he was so much more than a simple riding pony.
He felt the MudWing's body slightly perk at his words and petting of encouragement and nothing more than just that. "Thanks, Bilbo," he mumbled, not quite so quietly.
"We are here for you," the hobbit nodded. "We all are: Glory, Sunny, Starflight, Tsunami, and myself. We are your friends, as you are ours."
Thankfully, it seemed that the big dragon's spirits had been lifted substantially from only just a moment earlier. Of course he was still rather mellow—that mellowness would probably remain for days on end, it was hard for someone to overcome. Clay—and by extension the rest of the dragonets—did not deserve this lifestyle of never ending unwanted responsibility with no love and nothing but callousness and anger from their supposed entrusted guardians, those bothering confounded Talons of Peace. If Kestrel was anything to go from, that was a given.
"Thanks, Bilbo. Really. I needed to hear that," Clay mellowly smiled.
"Who needs Cattail anyway? You got us, remember?" Glory grinned.
"Yeah, yeah you're right." He cleared his throat. "Well, now what?"
"Well, Bilbo said we still have to talk to Queen Moorhen about—"
But she was suddenly interrupted when the little scarred MudWing from before had appeared right before them, stopping the group in their path. To their further surprise, another four MudWings appeared right beside the little one. They were curious about Clay and Glory were asking about Cattail's blood-red egg, and the little one even asked them directly what they knew of it. When Glory confronted them about the questions, the largest MudWing—definitely the leader of the group—introduced himself as Reed, as well as the others: the dark brown MudWing female was Sora, who was the most sullen, the bright orange second-largest one—and largest female—was Pheasant, who looked indifferent to the newcomers, Marsh was smaller than Pheasant and Sora and male, who looked the most apprehensive about the newcomers, and the smallest MudWing male with the scar was Umber, who looked like the youngest of the five. He waved a talon at Clay and Glory, to which Bilbo politely reciprocated with a polite friendly smile. Umber was surprised at the gesture, as Bilbo figured he would, but said nothing more, turning his attention to Reed and Clay.
The large MudWing leader mentioned the blood-red egg once again, and asked if Clay was from that very egg. And then there came the big question: was Clay in fact their missing sibling?
Could this be it? Are these MudWings Clay's missing family at last? Bilbo wondered, praying that his hopes were all for it.
Clay confirmed that he was indeed hatched from a blood-red egg. The excitement in his voice was almost unrestrainable, and the feeling was palpable with little Bilbo sitting on his head. It was aligned: Clay was the missing sibling—or "sib" as the MudWings put it—of Reed, Pheasant, Marsh, and Umber. Bilbo was loving every moment of the reunion, it almost brought him to tears apparently, and Glory had a ghost of a smile across her muzzle, which warmed Bilbo's old heart. The little one, Umber, was flying in all directions across and over Clay's head, positively excited like the entire family had come together for the Yule holiday; so close in fact that Bilbo nearly fell off, but he could not care any less about his own misgivings.
"Steady on, young Umber," he chuckled. "There's only so much room for me to hold on to."
As he had come to expect, Umber had stood stock still hovering in the air, focusing with childlike wonder at the little hobbit smiling tenderly back at him. Every little thing he did warmed his heart like a log in a fresh hearth. It was like Sunny in a sense.
"Reed! Reed! Did you see that?!" Umber shrieked, pointing a giddy claw at Bilbo. "That little scavenger just spoke to me!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Umber. Scavengers don't talk," Pheasant dismissed.
"And a very good day to you as well, Master Pheasant," Bilbo cheekily replied.
Now all eyes of the large dragons were on him, and in an instant he remembered just how small he really was compared to their massive sizes. He had certainly grown braver over the course of the adventure but he still did not particularly like being scrutinized at a close glance or with earshot. Sensing his plight, Clay kindly lowered his neck so Bilbo hopped down back onto solid ground; a tad rough, but that was what hobbit-feet were for.
"What in the world?" Reed peered.
"Reed, everyone, this is Bilbo Baggins," Clay introduced. "He's not a scavenger, he's a hobbit. We don't know why he can talk to us, but talking with dragons is normal for him."
"And it is my pleasure to finally meet Clay's family," Bilbo politely bowed. "You all must be very grateful to know that your missing brother is alive and very well."
"He's not just our brother." Pheasant approached Clay, literally sizing him up. Bilbo quickly sidestepped to avoid her large talons. "Look at the size of him! He should be our BigWings!"
Bilbo noticed that Reed looked remorseful at that. "Oh. That's true."
"Er…what's a BigWings?" Clay asked.
"MudWing nests are really safe, so mothers don't check on them often, you know? We usually hatch alone."
Perhaps that was why Cattail was so callous, but it seemed to the hobbit that she was a terrible example of the whole race. Reed and the others were very happy with one another, so they had no need for Cattail's horrible influence.
"The first one hatched is always the biggest," Reed continued.
"That's why he's the BigWings!" Umber chimed in.
"The first thing that a BigWings does is help his sibs hatch by cracking open their shells."
That was certainly an interesting point of MudWing life, but not so much as what Glory said next.
"Clay! You know what that means? You didn't try to kill us. You were helping us!"
"I was…!?" Clay was absolutely astounded.
"Wait, what?" Bilbo interjected. "Who said anything about Clay trying to kill the others?"
"So, you know how Kestrel was calling him a monster?" Glory asked, to which he nodded. "Well, that was the reason: she and the others—her colleagues, I guess—thought he was trying to kill the others when they were still in the eggs. And they never once let him try to forget that when we were in that mountain."
What?! How can someone that calls themselves a parental guardian hammer over poor Clay's everyday that he was a monster and tried to kill his friends?! The complete and absolute nerve of them! They were the true monsters to be so unkind and callous to them…all of them!
The poor hobbit was just about ready to tear out fistfulls of his hair right where he stood. Those monstrous dragons that stole their eggs and raised them like cattle because of the prospect that they tried to destroy their emotional state and manipulate the truths that they probably never bothered to understand. How dare they declare Clay a monster: Clay, the biggest dragon with the biggest stomach and a heart of gold; never greedy and always so full of nothing but love for his friends and family, who might as well be his true family on top of his birth family. Now he had more dragons to open his heart to and love…it was so precious.
Precious…why on Middle-Earth was he thinking of that nonsense? He shook his head clear, and noticed that the mood had soured completely. Reed and the others were hanging their heads over in reverence, indicating they had lost someone dear to them.
"Did you—did we lose someone?" Clay asked.
"Our sister. Crane," Reed solemnly replied.
"Three days ago in the battle by the river," Pheasant likewise added.
Oh, goodness. That would do it alright. Losing a family member was certainly a terrible experience that is in fact inevitable but nevertheless heartbreaking. Bilbo knew it all too well, having lost both of his parents after coming of age for a hobbit. Still, one of those dead dragons by the waterfall basin was one of Clay's siblings, slain by an unknown and unnamed enemy who had appeared far from their home just to murder an unnamed MudWing; except one of those MudWings had a name, and it was Crane. Crane, who had many brothers and sisters she loved and who loved her in return.
Was this what war was truly like? Seeing all of those you cared about mercilessly killed all around you for some ridiculous notion? Suddenly, the memory of that sight returned with a fighting vengeance, but Bilbo fought to hide it down, hoping that neither dragon noticed. By the sounds of it, no one had, and luckily he recovered in a sense. He saw that Reed was looking downcast, guilt-ridden about the death of his sister, feeling that he failed his responsibility as the BigWings, and despite the encouragement from both Marsh and Pheasant was overwhelmed with relief that perhaps Clay could take his place as their BigWings.
Bilbo watched as a wonderful smile appeared on Clay's large muzzle. Perhaps he was dreaming of spending much needed time with the siblings he was meant to have: playing around, eating all they could, and sharing information with their different experiences and how they could benefit each other because of it. And maybe at night they would all sleep in a warm clump of bodies of nothing but unfiltered support and love.
And yet…that would also mean leaving behind the friends he knew since his hatching, the ones he tried to help hatch, the ones he grew up and learned beside and escaped together, the ones that toiled and tortured away in the chains of the Mad Queen Scarlet. And at the same time, what would it mean to be the BigWings of his siblings? The MudWings were at war, weren't they? And, bless Clay's wondrous heart, it was clear he knew nothing about war. And such an inexperienced leader was bound to get the others seriously hurt…or ever worse. And what of Glory and Sunny and the rest? Could he live with perhaps never seeing them again? And being potentially…as well as Reed and Umber and…
…
…
…
"Reed…you're their BigWings. I couldn't replace you even if I tried."
Clay's kind gentle voice broke Bilbo out of his dark thoughts. In place of a grim frown was a smile: reassuring, warm but not bright, and nonetheless kind. Truly, it was as if the dwarves were right beside him at this moment. Perhaps it was in this moment that Clay realized he had his own responsibility as the BigWings of the other dragonets; it was a very difficult decision for him, to choose between one family or the other, and at the end he decided that his siblings could take good care of themselves.
"Besides," Glory remarked, "he can't stay with you. He's our BigWings."
"You are my friend, Clay," Bilbo added. "I will trust whichever decision you make, for it is your own, and I have promised my help should you need it."
"Are you sure?" Reed asked. Poor dragon, worried for the sake of the brother he never knew and afraid of taking on the responsibility and the hardships that came with it.
"I'm afraid I have a destiny," Clay explained. "We're going to try to stop the war."
Umber appeared out of nowhere, face full of shock right in front of the three newcomers. "The Prophecy? That's you?!"
"That's us," Clay politely clarified.
"More or less," Glory side-grinned.
At this, Bilbo pressed a hand to his eyes, embarrassed with himself. "Oh, my goodness. It seems that in all the excitement of this new adventure for me, I had forgotten to ask what this whole Prophecy business is all about."
Clay explained it to the best of his abilities. "Well, Starflight pretty much has the whole entire thing memorized, but basically: each one of our eggs: myself, Starflight, Tsunami, Sunny—"
"I was the replacement for the SkyWing egg that Scarlet destroyed," Glory added.
"Yeah, and we were hatched under the "brightest night". We were then supposed to choose between which of the three—well, now two—of the SandWing heirs: Blister and Blaze."
"…is that it?"
"That's it?" Glory asked, grumbling. "What do you mean, 'that's it?'"
"That is supposed to be this all important Prophecy that's so important it warranted having your eggs stolen from your nests?" Bilbo frustratingly shuffled in place. "Either it must be the most fantastical prophecy that has ever been constructed or some clothead made it all up."
"To be honest, everyday it's sounding more and more like Morrowseer made it up."
"Uh…?"
Unfortunately, the sudden deviation in the conversation had left the MudWing siblings completely in the dark about the recent events, which was terribly embarrassing for the hobbit especially. It then occurred to Bilbo that since the Sky Kingdom attack had happened only the previous day, which meant all attention in the Mud Kingdom was on that one battle at the waterfall basin.
He turned to Reed, clearing his throat. "Master Reed, I know this may sound premature, but we have very urgent business with the Queen in regards to her ally: Burn. Could you please take us to the palace?"
He expected for there to be some very copious amounts of apprehension. "A-a-are you…are you sure it's…really that bad?"
Clay and Glory grimly nodded. "It really is," the former replied.
"Alright. I'll take you to Queen Moorhen. Follow me."
They said their goodbyes to the other siblings, sad that they had to see them leave but also afraid for any coming dangers wrought by the infernal prophecy known worldwide. Bilbo clambered onto Clay's head once again before taking off to follow his birth brother. Leaving the Diamond Spray Delta behind, the land changed from mossy green to dry yellow but was still very much marshland as far as the eye could see. The structures also became much more larger in size and shape, and as they got further and further away from where the dragonets first landed, Bilbo noticed the large forest of trees in the distance growing larger. He was taken in instead by the largest structure that loomed in the distance.
It was most definitely a castle by its shape and design, with a wide base, outer wall, and towers that made up the defense of the building sticking out like pebbles in a stream. The color of the walls were as brown as the land around it, with waving lines that curved like the layers of aged rocks. Like the Sky Palace, there were large windows with large balconies, acting as points of reference for dragons to take off from and land on, should they be expecting an audience with the Queen. Most likely for the group, as they were—appeared to be mostly—lowly MudWings from "the poorest region of the Mud Kingdom" according to that snake Kestrel.
Reed guided them to the front gates, where a drawbridge stretched out over the largest mass of marshy swampland Bilbo had ever seen. There were two of the largest MudWings standing on the tower platforms either side of the main gate. Reed called up to them.
"Excuse me! We request an audience with Queen Moorhen! It regards the Dragonets of Destiny and Burn!"
That immediately got their attention and Bilbo was helped down to his feet. The guards nodded and one disappeared from view. Reed turned to Clay.
"I have to go now. My sibs need me, you know?"
"I know, Reed," Clay nodded. "Maybe once the war is over…I could come back?"
Reed nodded back. "You're one of us. Come back anytime."
And with that, and a few other polite farewells, Reed took off and vanished into the long distance that led back to the Spray Delta. All that was left now was for their audience to be granted, even if it was on short notice. Bilbo prayed that their luck and the almost divine status of the Prophecy would catch the attention of Queen Moorhen. As far as he had seen of the Mud Kingdom, there were hardly any fortifications, as they solely relied on the closely-knit army groups of the siblings. They certainly appeared strong enough, but he had yet to see them in practice, only the aftermath of a battle, and Smaug was a beast on an entire level of his own.
"Do you think Queen Moorhen would want to see us?" Clay asked aloud.
"Let us hope so," Bilbo replied.
"I mean, it doesn't seem likely that Smaug would attack the Mud Kingdom, but on the other talon…"
"I see what you mean," Glory nodded. "The MudWings are definitely no slouches when it comes to military strategy and strength. They just might hold their own against Smaug."
"And if he does decide to attack? They won't even see him coming until he's right on top of them," Clay blanked, growing pale.
"Which is precisely why we must warn the Queen ahead of time, and of the danger he poses," Bilbo affirmed. "I agree that the Mud Kingdom would be one of the last places he could attack, but I dare not take any chances with a monster like Smaug left on his own vices."
On that grim note, the large gates began opening up, and the great wooden doors behind them started swinging out towards them. Behind them appeared the largest MudWing in size Bilbo had ever seen—the guards on the towers didn't even come close. Her shades of brown and orange were slightly darker than Clay's, until he noticed the copious amounts of jewels embedded in her scales ranging in shape and size around the horns on her head and down her spine to her tail. There were likewise brackets on her limbs and a few rings on her talons, all which had the same colored gem in it, but the eyes of the hobbit went to one ring in particular.
On the left front talon, on the middle claw, was a ring with a golden bind in the shape of a small inconspicuous dragon with a gem in the middle that was darker than the rest. Perhaps it was a sapphire. He was confused as to why he was paying attention to this ring apart from the other odd jewelry dotted around her scales.
It was then that he realized how rude he was being, and that she was standing right over his small figure. To correct this, he gave a polite bow.
After a moment, the Queen spoke. "You must be the fabled Dragonets of Destiny. I must say I never expected to have you knocking on my front door."
"We are terribly sorry about any inconvenience we may have given you, Your Majesty," Clay bowed as well.
"Oh, please don't bow to me. You are not my subjects but my equals."
This was surprising to all three. Bilbo's mind again returned to Thorin, and how he endured decades of neverending strife to provide for his people, walking with them and working alongside them. To Bilbo, Moorhen was the leader he wanted to see in Thorin, the leader he was meant to be.
"Please come inside. I have a feeling this business involves very trying subjects."
They followed Moorhen inside the palace past the large gate and massive doors and into the palace itself. They stopped when she whirled around as if holding one talon on a staff.
"Also I simply must compliment that very convincing MudWing disguise, my dear."
They were all taken aback quite suddenly. It seemed that they were not the only ones that could discern Glory as a RainWing, but the problem with Moorhen is that this little deception could spell any sort of doom for all of them, but especially Glory.
To their surprise and shock, Queen Moorhen simply chuckled. "You understand why I had to pull that on you, right?"
Glory nodded.
"She's with us," Clay spoke up quickly. "She's part of the Prophecy."
"Very well. Just so we are clear, none of us are to share any resentment towards another, understand?"
They all very much understood alright.
"Good. Please continue to follow me."
At last they reached a room that was no doubt in the center of the palace in the largest tower. The hall was rounded in the widest way possible for the structure, but it looked more like a large banquet hall rather than a throne room. There was no throne at all even, just a simple platform that was only elevated by a small step, where large red banisters depicting artistic renditions of MudWings of odd shapes. Queen Moorhen positioned herself on this step.
"Now then, what is it you wanted to tell me?"
For a moment, neither of them said a word. Clay looked to Glory, very embarrassed about speaking before the Queen of his own race that he just slightly learned of their customs, but she shook her head back at him. Perhaps she was still intimidated by being found in her disguise. Bilbo gave a good long look at the Queen. Her gaze at them was by no means cruel or conniving in the case of Scarlet, but rather it was hard because she tried to remain soft at the same time. She presented herself as an equal of her race, standing with them instead of above or below them. He then had a thought. It was a dangerous thought, but one that could move them forward nonetheless. He patted Clay's head, indicating to be let down. Once he hopped off, he looked back at his friend, who was very concerned about this. Bilbo gave a reassuring look, which lessened Clay's tension.
With that, Bilbo approached the Queen, now in sheer awe of her massive size. He looked up to her analyzing eyes and spoke. "Your Majesty. My name is Bilbo Baggins. I am a hobbit in service to the Dragonets of Destiny. We come before you with the greatest of urgency in the fact that there is a danger that could spell doom to this entire world, as well as your very kingdom."
Queen Moorhen widened in surprise, as he expected. And perhaps he also expected her to be subject to her scrutiny, from her peering eyes analyzing every little aspect of his figure. She stepped down from her little platform and approached him, close enough to where he could look at her golden sapphire ring up close. Something inside him wanted to stare at its beauty for a long time, and maybe even reach out to grasp it away from the Queen and keep it for himself. For a moment, he felt something wash over him, as if he could feel the inherent power emanating from the Queen's ring.
…
…
Of course he knew that was ridiculous. It would be improper and ill-mannered to snatch away jewelry from royalty, especially if the royalty was one you were trying to appease and meet for good tidings, hopefully. Besides, what need would he have for dragon queen rings? He was perfectly fine with his own.
Her face gave away no malice, only curiosity. He admired how closely knit she kept her composure even in the face of pure ridiculousness as a small hobbit speaking fluently to a dragon,
At last, she spoke. "I only thought it was nothing but legend, but perhaps I was wrong."
More questions were generated rather than answers. It appeared to be that Queen Moorhen knew something of creatures talking to dragons, but to what extent?
"What do you mean, Your Majesty?" Glory asked.
"Oh, please don't refer to me as that. It makes me sound uptight and stuffy," Moorhen chuckled. Then she became serious again. "But as to what I mean, I mean to say that I have read legends of strange creatures that dragons have encountered and were spoken back to." She shook her head. "But I also see that you have more pressing matters. Please go on."
Bilbo looked back to Clay and Glory, who both nodded at him. He nodded in reply, knowing exactly what they wished of him. He turned back to Queen Moorhen, dreading the very words of the thoughts that were spinning in his head.
"Yo—Queen Moorhen, my apologies. Just yesterday, in fact, I was captured by two SkyWing brothers and taken to the Sky Kingdom…"
And so he explained the entire story of the adventure in the Sky Kingdom. From being caught, sent to the kitchen, escaping being chopped alive into slices, and unfortunately sneaking into the killing ring. From there he spoke about the terror of Scarlet and the evils of her bloodthirsty nature, the pillars of chained up dragons, her special guest being Burn, how he ended up facing against Tsunami and Starflight, the riddle game and sparing their lives.
And at last he reached the part he had been dreading the most. The golden eyes of Smaug raged like an inferno within his heart, tearing away at his very soul, but he remained strong. He relayed of how he appeared in the sky in a storm of fire, destroying whatever he could of the kill ring, confronting Scarlet and Burn, how chaos erupted followed by Burn's severed head falling out of the sky landing right in front of him. He watched Moorhen's expression throughout all this, noting how she wisely kept herself solid as a stonewall despite the subtle nuances in her body language: the twitch in her ears, snap of her eyes, and the slight twitching in her claws, neck, tail and wings.
He ended the tale with how they managed to gather together and escape as one. "And that is all, Queen Moorhen."
The Queen sat back against her haunches, staring off into some undiscerned distance. It was certainly quite a bout of information to process at a moment's notice, and he definitely felt bad for doing so. Clay and Glory shared the same look of uncertainty, none more so than Bilbo, still pondering on what she was keeping at bay from him. It would be for a good reason; they had only just become acquainted.
"So Burn is dead, then," Queen Moorhen finally said.
Bilbo reluctantly nodded. "Yes, yes she is dead. Slain by Smaug's claws."
"Smaug…I know that name."
"Y-you do?"
"You know him?" Glory asked, wide-eyed.
"How do you know about Smaug?" Clay asked. "Have you met him?"
"No, and thank the moons that I never did," Queen Moorhen spat. "I have heard of his name in stories and legends. They say that he is the last great fell-drake of a dying race, one that causes destruction and suffering in their wake. He kills where he wants and however he chooses to, and values nothing more than treasures of gold and jewels and precious valuables."
The hobbit grimly nodded. "Yes, all of which is true of Smaug. I have seen it for myself."
Now it was her turn to stare at him with widened eyes, this time of terror. "You have faced the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities and survived his ire?!"
"Twice, actually. The first time was in the kingdom of Erebor, a dwarven kingdom that he sacked and stole so as to take the treasure for himself more than ninety years ago. And the same thing happened again in the Sky Kingdom: he killed many of the guards and unfortunate dragons that were caught in his fire."
"And they would, with Scarlet the Terror for a Queen," she snarled. At that, something crossed her mind. "Did you say 'dwarves'?"
"Uh…yes, yes I did."
"Would it be alright with you dragonets if I spoke with Master Baggins in private?"
All three were surprised at this, Bilbo especially. It was a great honor for any other creature alive, but to him it was more of a shock that he, a simple hobbit, had been singled out to be spoken to at length in a private setting with royalty. No doubt he must have been the first ever to speak privately with a dragon queen; what a story that would be back home.
"I have no quarrels," Bilbo nodded.
"Yeah…sure thing," Glory added.
"I mean, if it's alright with you, Bilbo," Clay said.
"I'm sure it's alright," the hobbit assured.
"Very well then," Queen Moorhen affirmed. "You both shall wait here until we are finished. Master Baggins, please follow me."
He rushed up to walk beside her, following her to a space behind the throne room to a door that was hidden out of the way. The door was of simple make and design, the kind that would be bypassed without a moment's notice or hesitation to the regular hobbit or MudWing in this case. Queen Moorhen opened it ajar and stepped inside, Bilbo following after. Inside it was very dark as a dark forest, until Queen Moorhen lit a small torch attached to the wall right above a small shelf with only a small puff of flames. After which, she closed the door behind them.
Looking around, he took in just how small in size the room really was. Aside from the torch and shelf, there was a small round table in the middle with large dragon-sized cushions plotted all around it. There were even large parchments of paper placed haphazardly on top, one of which spilled over the side between two of the cushions. Curious, he approached it, surprised to find that he could read the letters, however ancient the parchment and wording appeared to be.
"I do apologize for not keeping this room as organized," Queen Moorhen spoke up. "As you can see, I'm not used to bringing guests."
"I perfectly understand," Bilbo nodded, remembering his own party of unexpected guests. "I was curious about this," he said, pointing at the parchment.
"Oh, yes. That one is one of my favorite scrolls in here."
"Scrolls? Is that what you use for reading?"
"Yes. Doesn't everyone?"
"Well, usually I read from books. They are like scrolls, except there are multiple pages in between thick coverings meant to protect the paper from the elements."
"Fascinating. Your world definitely has made more advancements. Anyway, about this particular scroll, take a look and read what you see."
Bilbo nodded and approached it more closely. Making sure not to step on the old paper, he hopped onto the large cushion and looked at it from its side. The ink was of an old quality and some of the letters in the words had faded from prolonged use and from age. He looked up, following the writing to where it appeared that the beginning paragraph started where the scroll draped over the side of the table, and that was where he started reading.
To his surprise, the story involved a MudWing by the name of Mire, a name fitting of his race but definitely old-fashioned sounding. The paper had quite a few tears and burns into it, none of which impeded on the wording. He continued to read:
"Mire clambered over the rocks with great ease, stopping to rest where the cliffs overlooked the forest below and the lake that was a short distance away. The moon glistened like diamonds were dropped from the heavens above and were swimming all around, and the trees, tall and mighty, sank into the valley as if the ground had been crushed by a large boulder some years ago. It was the sight in the distance that truly took his breath away. Strutting against the night sky were three large peaks of stone adorned with snow, large, strong, and proud as any MudWing.
'Gone ahead to hoard the view all to yourself, have you?'
'Perhaps I have, for it is a magnificent view that deserves such undivided attention to fully understand and encapsulate.'
'Then I am sure to enjoy it as much, maybe even more.'
'Your beard is still short enough.'
'Maybe so, but there will come a day when the beard of Durin has grown long enough that his name will reflect so.'
Mire chuckled with his dear friend, who had since joined him by the cliffside. 'Your name will always be remembered long from myself and my brothers and sisters, for you have been a special friend to me, Durin.'
Durin smiled, looking across the valley to the Three Peaks. 'I will never forget the day when Mire the Dragon-with-Wings-of-Mud rescued me from a dire mistake. You have never left my side ever since.'
'You are most welcome.'
Durin stared ahead in amazement, staring at the Three Peaks that stretched high above him, great respect and admiration in his eyes. Such a moment of natural wonder untouched by the people of the world forever undeterred and waiting to be explored even further.
'This place, I shall name as my kingdom,' Durin declared, 'and I shall name them Mire's Peaks, after the friend in me who braved every step of the wild lands by my side.'
'Mire's Peaks. That is quite a cheek,' Mire grinned.
'It was no cheek, my friend. I truly have you to thank for everything, and as such your name deserves long lasting recognition for it.'"
"DURIN?!"
The scroll had cut off the reading at a large tear where an ancient scorch mark was left, no doubt where much more of the story would have continued on where it abruptly stopped. Bilbo was left in a whirlwind of shock at what was written. Legends were common as they came in Middle-Earth across all races of Men, Elves, Dwarves, and even Hobbits, but none included stories of friendly dragon companions on world-crossing adventures, no less involving Durin the Longbeard, Thorin's greatest ancestor.
"I take it that you know of Durin also?" Queen Moorhen asked.
It took Bilbo a few moments to process the question, as in his state of shock he had fallen off the large cushion onto his back. He stumbled back to his feet before replying. "Yes, yes I do. But only through his name. The dwarves name the last day of autumn when the setting sun and rising moon appear in the sky together before the season changes. Durin is also the ancestor to the line of Erebor."
The Queen smiled brightly. "So you know of dwarven legends, yes?"
"Yes, only very little. No dwarves ever came walking through the Shire." Not expected to, anyway, he grumbled. He kept the thought to himself though.
"The tale continues in another scroll. It is said that the dwarves regarded this land as sacred, for Durin would only see his reflection in this lake, and the stars would reflect in a constellation which Mire named as Durin's crown. They would build Durin's Stone to regard it so, and named it Kheled-zâram, or Mirrormere. They would build a great city into the Mountains and called it Khazad-dûm, also later known as Moria, and built it as such so that their friends of Dragons-with-Wings-of-Mud would join them in harmony. Mire named the Three Peaks above the Mirrormere Redhorn, Silvertine, and Cloudyhead. Also known as Caradhras, Celebdil, and Fanuidhol respectively."
She became sad. "Durin died before the First Age would end, and made a promise that his descendants would honor their friendship with Mire's family. They would not, for something truly terrible happened."
Bilbo almost wanted to not ask. "What…what happened?"
"There was a great war of massive magnitude, and the Dark Lord used great and ferocious dragons in his armies that decimated entire cities and many people. The good name of dragons were forever tarnished and the dwarves severed all ties with them. The seven races of dragons disappeared from the world and found this one. No one knows truly how the dragons came to inhabit Pyrrhia, but there are many legends with mystical themes."
The stories told in the words of faded ink spun around inside the hobbit's mind so greatly it was a wonder that he kept his wits together and had not fainted altogether. Legends and stories were as common to be found wherever the many races of Middle-Earth fancied, told in texts, stanzas and songs wherever their people should be found. He always had a fascination with stories ever since he was a young hobbit and his mother would spin tales of adventures, and the moment he learned to read he would usually be found reading stories of grand adventures and far off exotic locations. Maybe that was why he enjoyed Gandalf's company regardless of such oddities that followed him around…and influenced him to accept the job as burglar to the Company.
Curses a thousand times over.
But another thing he learned as he grew older: even the greatest legends stemmed from some sort of event that history accounted for. The stories had to come from something, and then someone had to share the story around, and then someone down the line had to record it in a book—in this case—scroll of some kind. This tale of Thorin's distant ancestor, Durin I being good friends with a distant ancestor of the MudWing dragons could be nothing more than a bedtime story, but on the other hand, judging from the aged quality of the parchment and faded ink it could have derived from an actual event.
"If the stories tell of dragons leaving Middle-Earth to this world, how did it come to pass?" Bilbo pondered aloud. "What sort of…device allowed such travel to happen?"
"Such information has probably been lost to time," Queen Moorhen sadly replied. "These scrolls are all that remains of our history with your world, Master Baggins."
The hobbit chuckled to himself. "Starflight would love all of this. Rich ancient history kept alive in the scrolls of ancient years…I wonder what he would think of it all."
"Starflight?"
"He's a part of the Dragonets of Destiny. He reminds me a lot of myself in a sense. He's quite bookish, loves learning new things, and is loyal and caring to his friends."
"Is he a NightWing, perchance?"
Something about the phrasing of the question did not sit right with the hobbit. If anything, it sounded like the Queen was suspicious of the fact, which did not sit right with him.
"Yes…as per the prophecy, Starflight is a NightWing," he carefully answered, "as is Clay being a MudWing a part of the prophecy."
"And what of the RainWing? I was told the prophecy speaks of a MudWing, a NightWing, a SandWing, a SeaWing, and a SkyWing egg being hatched under the Brightest Night," Queen Moorhen added.
"That would be in part of Scarlet destroying the SkyWing egg, and I was told that Glory's egg was meant as a replacement. I was also told that their guardians, the Talons of Peace, made sure to remind her of her replacement status every moment of her childhood. They also told Clay that he was a monster that tried to kill the other eggs as soon as he hatched."
"They told him what?!" she shrieked.
"That was why we had to find his family. His mother Cattail had sold his egg to the Talons of Peace for nothing more than some blasted cows."
"A MudWing would sell her own child for cows? Oh, I hope they tasted absolutely revolting!"
I quite agree, he thought. "As we discovered from his brothers and sisters, the first MudWing to hatch is considered the BigWings and they help the others hatch out of their eggs."
Queen Moorhen harrumphed with pride. "That just goes to show how little those Talons of Peace muck-heads bothered to learn about MudWings in the first place." She then became skeptical, turning to face the little hobbit. "You come to tell me of what happened with Burn, but you had something else to do first?"
He almost cowered under her gaze, and then he remembered the overwhelming joy on Clay's face at meeting his brothers and sisters after so long. Only a selfish fool would have disregarded the joyous moment for his friend. He also remembered that many of the dwarves in the Company were brothers themselves, furthering the connections that MudWings had with dwarves in general.
"I beg your pardon, Queen Moorhen, but we had traveled to the Mud Kingdom to find Clay's family and move on," he explained. "It was by my suggestion that we meet you to explain the circumstances of Burn and warn you of the danger of Smaug."
Her skeptical look never left, rather it intensified. And then it became mellow, to his surprise, and quite sorrowful. "If you left the Sky Kingdom, then you would have came to the Diamond Spray Delta, correct?"
"Yes. Yes, that is correct." He had a feeling he knew where she was going with this.
"Then you would have come across the battle that happened only three days ago." She paced to the other side of the room, as if looking at something that used to be there but had since gone away. "A party of IceWings ambushed a party of MudWings by the basin of the Delta. They engaged in battle and only one IceWing was said to have escaped. An entire group of MudWing sibs was killed along with one other from another sib group."
That was Crane, Clay's sister, Bilbo swallowed. "Did you ever find out what caused it to happen in the first place?"
For the first time, the Queen snarled fiercely, causing the hobbit to step back in alarm. "The IceWings are allied with Blaze while we are—were allied with Burn. Isn't that reason enough?"
A difference in allies. He heard the exact same thing from the dragonets. Nothing more than a ridiculous notion to further the deaths of countless innocent people. There were many questions he had to ask, and Bilbo knew he had to tread carefully with what he said in regards to her agitated manner of mind.
"How did you become allied with Burn in the first place?" he asked.
To her credit, she did not get up in arms and destroy him or anything else. "We were originally allied with Blister, until one fateful night. The SeaWing's top general, Tempest had come to discuss battle plans, as the SeaWings are Blister's allies they were our allies likewise. When she was leaving she was assassinated using a MudWing spear. We never did find out who the assassinator was, but the event had scared the SeaWings, so the had severed ties with all of their allies besides Blister, so we had severed ties with her in tandem...which was when Burn attacked right at the correct moment. She forced us to ally with her instead, otherwise she would destroy us one by one. Her intimidation matched her brute strength, Master Baggins. I would not have dared cross her, unless I risked many innocent MudWings being slaughtered by her claws. And because the IceWings are allied with Blaze we have engaged in countless skirmishes for as long as the war has gone on. We all wish for this war to end, and I would do anything to keep my MudWings safe. You have seen how much we value our families, and it is beyond heartbreaking to see someone you care about so greatly being killed or lie dying right before your very eyes and being powerless to save them. I am their queen, and the responsibility of keeping them safe lies solely on my wings."
His thoughts returned to the aftermath of the battle they had discovered by the basin, and the fires that had diminished after three days. MudWings deeply valued the connection they had to their brothers and sisters, so it was no wonder that Queen Moorhen would be deeply affected by the tragic loss of life, as were Reed, Sora, Pheasant, Marsh, and Umber, and likewise Clay. Thorin had lost his father and grandfather in a vicious battle against Azog and the Orcs that had taken Moria, which had hardened his heart against Orcs and the dragon that killed countless dwarves all for the treasure of Erebor.
…
At that moment, a dangerous idea appeared in his mind. A very dangerous thought that had the potential to ruin and destroy any such goodwill he had respectfully and politely given to the Queen. Not only that, but with his connections to Clay…he dared not think of the worst.
He swallowed in his spit, and lightly cleared his throat. He felt a twitch in his nose. "Queen Moorhen. The question that I'm about to ask you may sound prudent and quite possibly warrant my death, but when was the last time you met with the IceWings, or at least their queen?"
He steeled himself as firm as a brick in anticipation. The large dragon before him tensed up for a moment, and he watched her claws grind into closed fists and her wings threatened to shoot out with the snap of an arrow from a bow. For a moment his entire body froze up entirely from the sound of scratching claws against wood, and then his ears were assaulted with the scratching against the material of the wall. Then all became painfully silent. He dared not even squeak a single puff of breath, nor even a single twitch of his fingers or toes.
The queen's face became tragic, something the hobbit was not intending. "Not once, probably only once before the war started, did I ever sit down in the same meeting with Queen Glacier. And even if I did now, there's no guarantee that we would ever see eye to eye. You have no idea of what this war has cost me, Master Baggins. What Glacier has inflicted on my MudWings, you cannot even comprehend the magnitude of the tragedy. You're asking for forgiveness to my enemy? I dare not even think of the idea."
Bilbo stammered where he stood. She was absolutely right: what did he truly know of what she has suffered through the war? He knew there was no way Thorin would conceive of ever forgiving the Orcs—good gracious, he had no intention of either—his experience spoke for itself. Queen Moorhen had her own, perhaps more than thirty years, of experience in this brutal war, and she was positively right in that he could never think of how many MudWings she had lost over the years.
"I wasn't…thinking of forgiveness," he said quietly and carefully. "And you're right: it's not my place to ask about such a great tragedy. I have never met Queen Glacier of the IceWings, so it was inappropriate of me to put you in that dreadful state of mind. I only wish that…" He swallowed his spit and wiped his forehead. "I only wish that there could be another way so that so many people—dragons, really—would not need to die so…so wastefully. I beg your forgiveness because of my ineptitude, Queen Moorhen. I apologize if I have jeopardized you in any capacity."
Perhaps he was being premature, but he was washed over with immense shame in himself for the Queen's state of mind. No doubt if his mother and father were watching over him at that very moment, they would quite agree with the shame in his heart. This time however, more than just his shame was on the line: because of his inappropriateness, it was possible that his immediate execution could be ordered, or that himself and the Dragonets would be exiled from the Mud Kingdom, and Clay would never be allowed to see his brothers and sisters ever again…all because some little clothead of a hobbit had to go and ask the stupidest question imaginable to a queen that knew more than he will ever dare to know of the realities of war.
But he heard no such angered growling, no such glint from the sharp fangs beneath her great snout, not even a single sound of the shuffling of her talons. The room was deathly still as the dark twilight, the only sound that broke the silence was the crackling of the lone torch burning above the shelf of scrolls. Had it been any other figure besides Moorhen, he would have felt more washed over with fear and uncertainty; the silence was deafening and terrifying.
Words would always be as scary as swords, ink and quill and the like.
"You are the strangest creature I have ever met, Bilbo Baggins," Queen Moorhen had spoken at last.
Suffice to say, her response was another mark on the ever increasing scroll of every single moment in all his adventuring. He had passed the point of circumstances amounting to nothing but pure preposterous, or perhaps he was simply delaying the inevitable of reaching that forgone conclusion. Perhaps it was long enough to where he could write his own scroll—or book. If he ever did publish that book or scroll, how many people would even read it? It would most likely be forgotten after the first month or so.
In the current moment, his face contorted to immense confusion. Nothing he could say would satisfy as a response to such a mind-twisting riddle as the one that Queen Moorhen just spoke.
"H-how…how so?"
"You think of things so differently. Instead of thinking of things that cause such grief and nothing but endless tragedy, you choose instead to think of things that are…kind, the little things that bring happiness, and you have a marvelous ability to spin the simplest words into the most grand of eloquent stories."
Aside from the immense relief cascading like a waterfall over his heart, head, and stomach—but not so much the cold shaking in his legs—the bashful embarrassment had returned in all its glory. Personally, he preferred it over fretting over his survival from bloodthirsty beasts.
"Oh, my goodness," he shamefully smiled. "I heard the same thing from dear Starflight when all I was doing was describing my homeland. There was nothing more to it than that."
"And even after what you have discovered, and the burden that I have shared with you, you remain humble. You surround yourself with dragons that are so very different from each other and you never think twice of it. I wish I were like you."
There it was again. That feeling of pity towards a dragon, except this time the dragon in question was the Queen of a race that was of Clay's home kingdom where his brothers and sisters lived. It was hard not to pity Queen Moorhen: burdened with her entire kingdom and the people she is meant to protect and yet has become hardened by all those that had perished, but she still retained the goodness of the soul, and cared nothing for power and instead loved her MudWings like they were equals. Her courage was admirable of the highest standing of what a king or queen was meant to be…
Thorin was like that. He put his very life on the line for his entire kingdom and made it his life's work to set up a new home and life for his people in the Blue Mountains. He could have been the best king for his people.
No. He was the best king, the only king he ever knew but he would be damned if Thorin had no honor.
Curse that Smaug, and curse that blasted treasure for clouding his mind.
"Thank you, Queen Moorhen."
She turned around and looked at him, perplexed. "Thank me for what?"
Bilbo sighed sadly. "We as people tend to forget sometimes that what truly matters most is not the victories or the material treasure that is obtained. It is the little things—love, friendship, the smell of the morning dew on the flowers and grass and the color of sunset and twilight—that truly make this world a wonder to live in."
He grew homesick at the words. He had not put much thought into them, rather instead they spilled out as if he were in a casual conversation with some of the other hobbits having a meal and a drink in The Green Dragon pub. Perhaps he was more right than he realized: the little things such as having a discussion with a dragon—let alone a dragon queen—would be the greatest honor among elves, men, and dwarves alike; hobbits would dismiss it as nothing more than a fantastic story from "those blasted adventurous Tooks", but that was beside the point.
He had pretty much forgotten what the Shire grass and earth felt under his hobbit-feet. It had only been one year since his grand adventure started; Thorin and his people spent decades in the Blue Mountains with Erebor miles away in the East, while Clay, Tsunami, Sunny, Glory and Starflight were stolen from their nests and spent who knows how many years locked away in a mountain where they were beaten-down and unloved while being the supposed selected few as the fabled Dragonets of Destiny. Destiny or prophecy or whatever it may be, it was no excuse to treat those dragonets, who were practically children depending on what a dragon's age was about, as if they were weapons to be molded in the scorching fires of the forge; what a ridiculous notion.
He even missed seeing the sight of the Misty Mountains and the pass the Company took during that thunder-battle, sleeping for a night as guests of Beorn, the nice feast and lodgings the Master of Laketown provided for the evening before venturing to the shores of Dale and the foot of the Lonely Mountain, and even the peaceful week's rest in Rivendell. Being lost in another world made him think of his own world in a much different light. There were no Misty Mountains to look to in the distance, no Bywater on the over side of the river, no village of Bree east of the Barrow-Downs, and not even a Wandering Gray Wizard with a cart full of fireworks.
He did not even have a map. Where were the Blue Mountains again? West of the Misty Mountains...but were they also west of the Shire? He suddenly remembered that he was quite middle-aged and not as spry as the decades old warrior-trained dwarves, wiping his sweating brow with a shaking hand which landed at the hilt of Sting. It was certainly a prize of immense value, and maybe that value increased with each drop of blood that landed on it; it certainly fired up high in value after stabbing a feral dragon to death. If he returned home alive in some capacity it would be nothing more than a fanciful antique mounted over the hearth and collected dust. A memory slowly being forgotten with age…and an old hobbit haunted with old regrets.
Above the dwindling cracking of the torch there came a small noise. It was soft but noticeably big on the hobbit's ears, for it could only come from the largest person between the two differently sized creatures. He looked up, and just for a fleeting moment he saw something damp being wiped from under the Queen's eye with a claw, and the tear plopped onto the ground like it was a raindrop; maybe to Queen Moorhen it was nothing more than a water drop like from a faucet, to Bilbo it reminded him of occasional Shire rainstorms that gave life to his garden during the Spring and Summer seasons.
"Are you alright, Queen Moorhen?" he softly asked. "It…it was not my intention to make you emotional."
The Queen sniffed and tried to hide it, raising a talon to her face behind a wing. "It…don't blame yourself, Master Baggins. I know it wasn't your fault. It's just that…I was remembering a time when myself and my sibs would go swimming in the lake just outside the palace, and how my oldest sister—who's younger than me—would like throwing mud from the mudbanks just to be amusing. Then my twin brothers would try and wrestle her on the bank, getting themselves covered in mud, and then they would lose their balance and fall into the lake splashing me and we would all be laughing like fools for the entire day."
The joyful look on her face slowly faded away. "I can't remember how long ago that was. It was definitely before I became queen. Was it during the war? It couldn't have been. There might have also been some sort of celebration because of my coronation; I can't remember any of it."
Bilbo simply nodded. "I remember when I was a child, I always looked forward to the Old Took's Midsummer-eve celebration."
"Midsummer-eve?"
"Every year one night during the middle of the summer, the Old Took would host a grand party and the entire Shire would be invited, and I remember that the best part of all was the massive fireworks display. Gandalf…he's an old friend, and it was his fireworks that made him popular among all the hobbit children. He was the oldest living hobbit in all of history, and he would host his midsummer parties every year before his passing. The Shire was definitely more quiet afterwards. He was my grandfather, and had lived an impressive 130 years in Shire Reckoning—we have our own calendar, you see—and he was known as the Old Took because of how many descendants he had in his lifetime."
Queen Moorhen warmly smiled. "That sounds like quite a celebration. I wonder if there is such an occasion for us MudWings." She shook her head. "If there were any, then they were probably forgotten because of the war. You don't like making enemies, do you?"
"No, I do not. If that were to happen, then it would be out of my hands because of someone else," Bilbo replied. "I would much prefer to have friends in place of enemies."
"You have such wisdom that should be valued. It surprises me that you are not a king yourself."
The hobbit sighed, smiling. "If you were to ask that from my father, were he alive, he would say that 'wisdom that is considered wisdom is considered that only because it is meant to be common sense'. My mother laughed and wholeheartedly agreed with him. Sometimes I think Gandalf gave him that advice; he is the one who is wise enough. Strange, I will say that, but I owe him my life—and my grievance is with him in my being on this adventure in the first place. I don't think he could have ever imagined that I would be in this situation: having a conversation with a dragon-queen."
Queen Moorhen nodded, likewise. "I never expected to have a friendly conversation with…well you're not a scavenger, but you understand my point. And to hear that you come from the world of our ancestors? It's like something out of a fairy tale, and yet…I believe it."
Her wings sagged unfolded to the floor. "Smaug the Terrible: raveging this very world. One kingdom has already fallen, and you are right in that he cannot be stopped with one kingdom alone regardless of our MudWing strength in sibling units. Where will you go next?"
Bilbo thought for a moment. It would be the best course of action to keep secret about where they were headed next, considering that both kingdoms were locked in a feud, not to mention the delicate technicalities of the specifics of why. But in the time that he got to know the Queen, she appeared to be calculative but understanding, and had not forgotten what it meant to be kind despite everything. MudWings valued family above everything else, something Bilbo greatly admired.
Even still, he carefully answered her question. "We will be leaving the Mud Kingdom to the Sea Kingdom. We have business there. And…and we will have to warn them of Smaug as well."
Queen Moorhen simply nodded, nothing else about it. "I hold no reservations with where your travels will take you, but remember what I told you earlier."
Bilbo nodded in understanding.
"The SeaWings have no allies besides Blister, so they only trust Blister as an ally. They will especially not like having a MudWing enter their kingdom, no thanks to the land dispute along the Bay. Like with Burn, Blister is not a dragon you would want to make an enemy of, Master Baggins, she is well known across the continent for her cunning strategic mind."
She was very angered when speaking of the land dispute and of Burn, but then her face became grim. "Their queen, Coral, has not been in the best of mind for years now, not since when her daughter, Orca, challenged her for the throne and lost…costing her life."
She turned to the hobbit. "Orca lost the challenge, and Coral, her mother the Queen…killed her."
In an instant, the hobbit gave a sharp gasp as if he inhaled a puff of pipeweed painfully incorrectly, catching himself while he stumbled backwards. The skin on his hands grew deathly numb like he was back on Long Lake, or dreading the biting winds of the Misty Mountains. The horrible thought terrified him to no end. Just imagining a father and son fighting to the death leaving one of them dead at the hands of the other was as terrifying as facing Smaug face to face for the first time under the Lonely Mountain.
Just what force compelled either party to partake in such a travesty? The only such reason that was logical was the lust for treasure…and power. He often heard tales of bitter jealous heirs challenging their predecessors for the throne of the kingdom, leading to a bloodbath of many people on either side, sometimes even killing the leaders of both respective causes.
Get a grip, Bilbo. It's only a warning and you have yet to meet Queen Coral, he admonished himself. But he still felt a lingering dread. But does Queen Moorhen speak from experience?
"In the few times that we have met face to face," Queen Moorhen continued, "she was always of an unreasonable mind and would never listen to myself or any of her allies…aside from Blister. Sometimes she would lash out at her own guards, even killing one on accident. Her face conveyed a long-staying haunted expression as if she was out of touch with reality. I have seen that same look on my MudWings: whenever we lose a sibling the pain is unbearable, and the grief is insurmountable to the point where the mind cannot sustain itself. I have seen it happen, and when that happens we become walking husks, lost in our own world, unable to function like ourselves…becoming a danger to ourselves and everyone around us.
"With each instance, I saw Queen Coral become more and more muddled, jaded, slowly detaching herself from what was around. She chose to lose herself in her little writings, neglecting her counsel. She's becoming mad with grief, Bilbo Baggins."
Mad with grief. Balin said that Thorin's father went mad with grief after Thror's death. Now he was starting to doubt if the trip to the Sea Kingdom would be such a good idea. But again, the Queen gave him only a warning—speaking from experience—and he remembered the glowing joy that Clay felt when he found his brothers and sisters. Tsunami deserved the same happiness that was stolen from her likewise as her friends.
Not to mention, there was the threat of Smaug. There had been nothing, no hide nor hair heard from the large fire drake, not even a veiled threat of fire and death. Maybe news took much slower to travel around the world of Pyrrhia, but then again it had only been exactly one day since he made his entrance. He has to be planning something, and he must be calculating it. The hobbit never knew the fire drake as being calculative, but he would not put it past him either.
It seemed that there was no space in this entire world where there was tranquility and peace, only ugly splotches of destruction and tragedy.
"I understand what you mean," he replied to the queen. "I have seen for myself what happens when someone—someone you consider a friend—loses themselves to a painful heartache or dark desire."
"Then you know to take great care," Queen Moorhen nodded. "Unless you have no more to say, then our time together is at an end."
Bilbo nodded in understanding. Without another word, Queen Moorhen grabbed the torch from its pedestal, leading the hobbit out of the room. He took one last look at the darkening room behind him, pondering on the vast collection of long forgotten knowledge. If perhaps he were a dragon himself, then his hoard would consist of nothing but endless treasure hoards of ancient texts and readings; a hobbit needs to have his reading material on hand for such an occasion at some point. At the same time, he came to meet on the same level as a dragon queen, and he listened to what she told him.
Even being an entire world away from home, many things remained the same.
Vengeance was one of them, something that was an incredible hard truth.
He turned and followed Queen Moorhen back into the throne room. She replaced the torch on some random brazier, returning to her elevated platform. Bilbo returned to where Clay and Glory were patiently waiting—in Glory's case it was more reluctant patience, thanks to a more prevalence of deep dark orange scales while thumping her tale. Perhaps it was due to Clay humming some sort of tune while standing right next to her; if that was the case, then Clay must have been singing for quite some time now.
The whole scene was amusing to the hobbit, choosing not to say anything to spoil the good fun. At last, Glory noticed him, and her scales flushed in a myriad of colors; was that meant to be relief?
"Oh, thank goodness! Hey, Clay! Shut up!"
Clay blinked at the interruption. "Huh, what?"
"They're back?"
"They're back?" He then noticed Bilbo's amused smirk. "O-oh, Bilbo! You're back! When did that happen?"
Looking at Glory's grumbling facepalm, Bilbo fought to stifle another laugh. The poor RainWing was flushing dark colors that he never thought would even be physically possible to exist. To his surprise, even Queen Moorhen was chuckling at the situation.
"Yes, we have returned from our private discussion," she said, once she stopped laughing like a fool. "And I must say that it was…rather enlightening in many aspects."
Bilbo shuffled in place, the words they shared rushing back through his mind.
"In that case, I have nothing more to say."
"If you have nothing more to say, we shall be leaving now," Glory replied.
"Uh, yeah. We should be going," Clay added.
Queen Moorhen nodded. It was focused in Bilbo's direction, who nodded back. Nothing more needed to be said; it was finished only a few minutes prior.
"Very well. I wish nothing but the best of luck. You are the Dragonets of Destiny: the ones prophesied to bring about the end of this blasted thirty year war. May the winds keep your wings aloft on high and the breeze to follow in the right direction."
She bowed in farewell, which the three friends reciprocated in kind. Clay waved goodbye, smiling brightly while Glory made it a race to escape the confines of the palace. Bilbo being the slowest walker remained behind a little with Clay. It was only polite to return the farewell.
"I hope we shall meet again someday," he waved, "when the situation for this world is more favorable for all of us."
He took one last look at her Sapphire ring, that seeping feeling of want poking through. It only lasted for a short moment, as he turned around and never saw it again.
Clay lowered his head, letting the hobbit clamber over to regain his seat once again. In no time, the three reached the palace entrance and cleared the gate. The MudWing looked over the land for a good long while, and the hobbit perfectly agreed with the sentiment. For Bilbo, the green lands and murky waters took him all the way back to the Shire, specifically the night when he had his unexpected dinner party: instead of big and burly dwarves making a mess of his dining room it was a gaggle of MudWings, with Clay being the biggest of them all…and eating just about everything in sight that belonged to the poor hobbit's pantry.
Both hobbit and dragon flew the same flight: they had to leave their homes to save them. Well, not so much in the former's case, but it still stood regardless.
"Hey, stragglers!" Glory called from up ahead. "You coming, or what?"
"We'll be right there!" Clay called back. He turned back in the direction of the Delta. "You think they'll be okay, Bilbo?"
That was the first time such a question had been posed to him. "I know nothing of war. All I say is: hold out hope. You MudWings have the strongest units I have ever seen. Perhaps that comes with the benefit of being raised to fight alongside your families."
He felt the MudWing snort. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I can't help but worry for them."
"That's to be expected," Bilbo sighed. "There's no shame in it. That just shows how much you care. There is great strength in that, but never forget those that care for you as well."
For a short moment, the dragon was quiet, no doubt mulling over the hobbit's words. This surprised Bilbo slightly. He never expected to be speaking such words of wisdom to rival those of Gandalf. Then again, adventures had always been formally defined as nothing more than: completely unexpected.
"Huh. You know what? You're right," Clay replied at last. "I'm the BigWings: it's about time I start being one."
"GUYS!"
"We are on our way, Glory! Have patience!" Bilbo cried.
"MY PATIENCE WANTS TO CRUSH A TREE RIGHT ABOUT NOW IF YOU DON'T HURRY UP!"
Clay chuckled. "Glory will be Glory, but I still love her. We…should probably get going."
"Right," Bilbo agreed.
Anything to avoid the wrath of Glory, lest he cross her poisonous venom of disintegration.
The pair followed the grumpy RainWing across the edge of the Mud Kingdom. It did not take long for them to reach the Delta once again; the battle scars from days ago were still prevalent, though the fires had all diminished most of the bodies still retained their dried blood. Bilbo looked away from the sight, though the horrible stench threatened his stomach, something fierce.
For some reason however, the three they left behind had somehow disappeared from sight.
"That's odd," Bilbo frowned. "Where did they go?"
"I don't know," the MudWing gulped. "I hope they had no need to run away from something."
Glory came up beside them, shedding her disguise. "Probably. I found them hiding under the treeline."
She nodded over to the three dragonets as they appeared, allowing for the duo to sigh with great relief. Bilbo smiled at Clay, who just about drooled at the sight of Tsunami holding a bundle of fish in her jaws. Sunny was greatly relieved to see all three of them safe and sound.
"You guys are okay!" she chirped.
"Glory flew ahead of you," Starflight shuffled. "Did something happen?"
"Uh, no nothing happened," Clay replied. "Though, why were you guys hiding in the trees?"
Tsunami spat her load of fish right in front of Bilbo, who jumped back in alarm. She probably did not see the hobbit, if the size of the fish were anything to go by. However, some of their dampness splashed a little onto his person, which disgusted him. He was only good with cooking fish, not fishing for them; he was not a river-hobbit, or a human living in Laketown.
"You're not going to believe this," Tsunami replied, "but Morrowseer and the NightWings were out here looking for us."
The eyes of both Clay and Glory widened in surprise, Clay more so than Glory, who turned to scowling. Bilbo had suddenly forgotten to be disgusted and held off a growing grudge for the sloppiness of dragonets. So apparently NightWings could be sighted as living proof of not being of ancient legends, and instead chose to keep themselves isolated from public view and appear whenever they chose too. Just like Gandalf.
"Wait, really?" Clay said.
"Morrowseer didn't do anything, did he?" Glory growled.
"Well, Starflight wasn't too concerned about it, so I had to force him to hide in the trees," Tsunami remarked. "They flew right over us and didn't look back."
"I would have gone compliantly had you asked with consent," Starflight quipped. "I was only wondering what they were doing out in the open in broad daylight when they usually keep themselves hidden."
Bilbo shuffled around the pile of fish, careful not to inhale the smell of raw fish; he had enough from his time in Laketown, thank you very much. "Excuse me, but I don't think Clay or I saw them on our way back. Did you see them?" he asked.
"Uh…no, no I didn't," Clay replied.
"I didn't see them either," Glory shrugged. "We must have been in Queen Moorhen's palace at that time."
"Oh! How did that go?" Sunny asked.
Tsunami added to that. "What did you find out? Did you find Clay's mother? Did you warn Queen Moorhen? You must have met her at least, because you said you were in the palace."
Bilbo could see that Clay was most reluctant to answer. It was not his fault, the poor fellow had been put through quite a lot in the past thirty or so minutes alone. Just thinking about that cow Cattail was enough to imagine her being crushed under the weight of one hundred cows; that would serve her right most definitely.
"We did in fact find Clay's immediate family," Bilbo answered, carefully watching Clay's reaction. "His mother left quite a lot to be desired, and will probably never find out who his father is."
"What? Why not?" Sunny gasped.
Clay finally mumbled a response. "MudWing mating habits work so that females mate with whichever male they chose to on 'breeding night' every month. The parents don't stick around to raise their hatchlings."
As expected, the faces of the three dragonets shuffled between shock, aghast, and then perpetual anger. Sunny gasped the loudest, hiding her muzzle behind her talons. Tsunami had gone so red she might as well have burst right then and there. In Starflight's case it was apparent curiosity, after the immediate shock.
"That's awful! That's just terrible!" Sunny cried.
"And I thought the Talons of Peace were bad," Tsunami grumbled.
"I'll admit, that is not what I expected MudWing habits to be like," Starflight calmly noted.
Bilbo expected their reactions, any such being in their place would have reacted in any way like the three dragonets. However, poor Clay was becoming further and further downtrodden at each remark, unintentionally hurting his soul when he had so much reason to be hopeful regarding his family in the Mud Kingdom. Besides, Glory was pitching to explode like one of Gandalf's fireworks after being handled improperly by a pair of young cheeky hobbits.
Forget politeness. They needed to hear what he had to say. "There is some hope though! Sure, the parents don't look after their children, but that is because the brothers and sisters of their nest look after each other."
Starflight first perked up. "What do you mean?"
"Well uh," Bilbo grinned, stammering, "the first egg that hatches from the nest becomes the sort of uh…automatic leader of the group. They are what the MudWings call the BigWings, and they are responsible for looking after their brothers and sisters."
"That's right!" Glory grinned. "And the important thing we learned is that Clay wasn't trying to kill our eggs. He was trying to help us hatch!"
"Quite right, Glory!" Bilbo nodded enthusiastically. "That is another thing the BigWings does: they help their brothers and sisters out of their eggs. There is none of this monstrous talk about trying to destroy them, nonsense! That just isn't so, and it goes without saying!"
"I KNEW it!" Sunny chimed. "You would never try to kill us! I just knew it!"
Tsunami gave a warm smile, bowing before a bashful Clay. "Me too, Clay."
"It did seem unlikely," Starflight added, smiling. "It never made sense for you to be a monster, Clay. You're way too protective."
Bilbo smiled warmly at the five friends. Truly, they were the shining lights in this bleak world. He liked these dragons, and Clay was the perfect example of the older brother: kind, strong in size and will, and the biggest heart he had ever seen. Many people of Middle-Earth: be they elf, dwarf, human, hobbit or wizard, should learn many from the great BigWings.
The hobbit approached the large dragon. "I know you were not given a proper childhood and family, but you have perhaps one of the greatest families I have ever seen. I am in your service, Master Clay, and I shall follow you to wherever your wings bear."
Clay again became bashful at the hobbit, much to the delight of the others. Suddenly, they all embraced each other, unabashedly. Sunny smiled ever so brightly with unbridled love for the closest people she ever knew. Even the cold-as-stone Glory cared nothing for her scales turning bright pink, or that she was actually genuinely smiling. Starflight offered his love, though perhaps he was more used to trusting written ink than his own emotions; he was still very much grateful. Tsunami, though strong as she was, let herself become soft in a show of support that was aside from her visual strength.
Gandalf would love this, Bilbo smiled. I do hope he is doing alright, wherever he ran off too.
Tsunami was the first to break the embrace, followed by everyone else; only Sunny remained fixed to Clay's sighed, looking like she had fallen asleep like a little puppy. Clay was so bashful that he had no heart to move.
"Alright." She turned to Bilbo. "You guys at least warned Queen Moorhen of Smaug?"
At this, Sunny stirred. Starflight and Clay comforted her the best they could. Bilbo tensed for a moment. "Yes, we did," he answered. "And she wishes us luck on our journey to the Sea Kingdom."
The SeaWing flashed immediately from calm to angry. Starflight stepped behind Clay and Sunny, while Glory frowned. Tsunami stepped dangerously before the hobbit, reminding him of how they first officially met back in the kill-ring. This time, Bilbo was not afraid, and moved not an inch.
"Are you serious?!" she cried. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?! You know the MudWings and SeaWings are enemies in this War! You might as well bring the army against the front doorstep! You don't simply tell a Queen that you are visiting her enemy!"
Her fangs were barred and she was huffing and puffing greatly; if she could breathe fire, there might have been smoke pouring out of her nostrils right in his little face. Tsunami's words were entirely justified. And Bilbo realized that there was the possibility that Queen Moorhen would launch an attack on the Sea Kingdom because of the Dragonets' journey.
In the moment, it was like talking with an ill-tempered child.
"Are you quite finished?" he asked calmly.
The great SeaWing tensed, then her anger subsided, and hanging her head she stepped away. The others had mixed expressions of shock and surprise.
"That has got to be the first time someone ever got Tsunami to back down," Glory remarked.
Bilbo ignored the RainWing, who returned to her normal height; even when downtrodden, she still towered tremendously over the hobbit.
"Your concerns are valid, I'm aware," he spoke, carefully. "I merely told Queen Moorhen that we had business in the Sea Kingdom with your mother. I did not tell her of your heritage, or disclose the actual reason of why we are heading there, aside from warning Queen Coral of the danger of Smaug. Twice now, he attacked kingdoms by surprise, and it was their unawareness that caused so much destruction and loss of life."
Tsunami was quiet for a moment. "How do you know that both kingdoms won't attack each other in the chaos?"
He shook his head. "I don't."
Glory huffed after a moment's silence. "We should get moving while we still have daylight."
Bilbo nodded. His eyes would leave Tsunami, as she struggled to keep herself composed. He could not imagine how emotionally stressful the journey ahead meant for her. He swallowed, hoping that this darkened cloud passed by the journey's end.
"Shall I ride with you again, Clay?" he asked.
"Sure thing," the MudWing nodded.
And that was that. Clay firmly but carefully grasped the hobbit in his claws, taking off just behind Tsunami. The other three followed behind them. Bilbo once again began to dread the upcoming journey; he had certainly traveled further than the adventure that brought him to Erebor. For sure, when he returned home to his lovely hole under the hill in Bag End he would write his memoirs, so that all his friends and children would be able to listen to the extraordinary tales that he fell right into.
If he made it home, that is.
"How long until we reach the Sea Kingdom?" Bilbo asked over the wind.
"Not far," Clay answered back. "The Bay-of-a-Thousand-Scales borders right along the Mud Kingdom. We'll be there in no time; give or take a few days."
Long enough to drown learning how to swim, he dreaded. I never had to worry about the vast ocean back home.
A nice long smoke of pipeweed would have certainly eased his nerves over the long journey ahead. Perhaps there were some new flavors of pipeweed yet to be discovered somewhere in Phyrria. What a discovery that would be.