Wings and Fire

Chapter 3 – Silence and Words
It had been a fortnight since the Fellowship had set out from Rivendell, fourteen days and the Dragon had said not one word even in passing to any of them save for Gandalf and, occasionally, Frodo. Sam wasn’t entirely certain as to why the others shied away from her, she’d been nothing but helpful; she found wood to start the fire each night and looked to work very hard at not scaring anyone. Maybe it was because she was a Dragon that everyone was so very distrustful of her. Well, as far as the stout little hobbit was concerned, that was no reason at all to exclude her so; she was, after all, a member of their Fellowship as well.
“Hey, Merry,” Pippin touched his friend on the shoulder and Sam noticed that he was following Leiawen with his eyes. “Do you think she might breathe fire? You know, since she’s a Dragon.”
Even though the Dragon in question was well ahead of them, walking alongside Gandalf at the head of their group, Sam saw her shoulders jerk back at his kinsman’s thoughtless question. He knew Pippin hadn’t meant to, but his words had obviously struck a nerve in the woman; something about her not being a “True Dragon”. He remembered it from what both Gandalf and Lord Elrond had told them of her kind that night at the banquet, before they had left Rivendell.
“Pippin…”Sam started, but then Gimli was beside them.
“No, she cannae breathe fire,” he told them gruffly. “And if I were you, I would no’ mention such a thing where she can hear you.”
“I was just asking…” Pippin insisted stopping for a moment as the dwarf walked away swiftly.
Merry shrugged and gave him a look that said, “Well…oh well” before hurrying to catch up.
With a small sigh Sam look back at Strider, Aragorn, as he walked alongside Frodo. He knew Pippin’s infamous curiosity had once again simply gotten the better of him and that he really hadn’t meant anything by it, but all the same. He wished the other hobbit would at least try to mind the words that came out of his mouth. It wasn’t in his nature to be mean or cruel or to wish the same upon others and despite what the woman was, he simply couldn’t find it in his heart to feel any malice towards her.
“Take care of your thoughts, Sam,” Legolas said softly, suddenly right beside him. “Though she doesn’t look it, she is still a Dragon; there is good reason for the way she is. The Valar do not lightly place curses upon creatures.” Sam looked up at him as he walked on. “Those of her kind are cruel and care naught for anything or anyone. It would be best you remember such.”

The silence of the next month from Leiawen truly bothered Frodo; she spoke sparingly to him due to Aragorn’s constant presence at his side. Though, whenever he heard the voice from the Ring or felt its darkness begin to grow, she was there with a comforting hand upon his shoulder. There was something in her eyes, something that seemed to go all the way through flesh and bone down to her soul that told him she would always be there in such a way. The warmth of her touch chased away the voice and the darkness; it brought him back when his thoughts took an ill turn. He was beginning to wish the others could see that in her; that she wasn’t just a Dragon, but she was good, too.
He’d had just about enough of the dark looks that were sent her way and the silence that followed. “Leiawen.”
The Still-Cursed Dragon looked back at him and stopped walking beside Gandalf all in one motion. It was strangely beautiful, the way she moved. It wasn’t anything like the graceful way the elves moved, but it reminded him of a dance. Every movement she made had some purpose behind it and one motion always kind of flowed into the next. As she waited for him to reach her where she had stopped, he could all but feel her looking for some sign that the Ring was weighing him down or whispering to him.
“I’m fine,” he assured her as he moved from Aragorn’s side to her own. “I wanted to know how you were doing.”
Aragorn was looking at her warily, he knew, the ranger always did so whenever she came close to him. Frodo was beginning to hate it, that they always treated her so unfairly. She seemed to be taking it in stride though, as if none of the looks or the softly spoken whispers bothered her. Such a thing would be admirable if he could stand to stomach even one more moment of it.
“I am well, Frodo,” she said and her voice reminded him once again of smoke and mist.
“Well, we haven’t spoken much, at least not since the night before we left Rivendell; I wanted to know a little more about you.”
He reached up and lightly tugged on one of the braids in her hair, a habit he had formed in the days past, something that drug her mind from its depths and kept her from unpleasant thoughts. Without even a glance down, she plucked his fingers from where they began to tangle in her locks and gently squeezed them reassuringly. As he gazed up at her he saw the light of the sun catch in her eyes, it made them glow like dying embers; they had an odd habit of reflecting light in that way and he couldn’t help but notice the comparison to a cat’s eyes when they did so.
“About me?” she asked, her voice wrapping around him like an embrace.
Then before Frodo saw him, Pippin was suddenly at her other side, Merry just beside him as always. “Where’re you from?” he chimed in, obviously curious about her as well.
“Pippin! You can’t ask her that,” Merry insisted, mortified that his friend had asked such a thing.
“Well why not? Isn’t everyone from somewhere?” and together their gazes turned towards her expectantly.
The Dragon thought about the question for a moment, the hobbits all waiting with baited breath, hoping for something, anything to make her even slightly more personable. She was such a mystery to all of them and despite the fact the others didn’t entirely trust her, they wanted more to be her friend than to question her every action.
“The Iron Mountains, I suppose, would be my land of origin.”
“Where’s that?” Sam asked, Bill trailing behind him as he followed closely to Frodo’s side.
Leiawen didn’t quite understand how it had happened, but all four of the hobbits had quite suddenly shaken her from the careful silence she had managed to keep. Over the next hours the four of them spoke to her as if they had been friend to her for years and nothing of what she was would deter them from wholeheartedly including her in their group. These small creatures who had never so much as seen a Dragon before embraced her presence more than any other person had before them. It astonished her that they were so very accepting despite the warnings of the Firstborn and the Gondorian.
They told her of their Shire, the fields and the farms, the party tree and “Gandalf’s” fireworks on the night of Bilbo’s birthday party. Pippin and Merry spoke fondly of a place called the Green Dragon, a tavern she learned later, and how it was a funny thing that she was a Dragon and should come with them to visit when they all went home. Sam spoke fondly of a girl he had taken a liking to named Rosie Cotton and she saw a very genuine smile light up his face when he said that he wanted to marry her. Pippin told her of Farmer Maggot and how he always grew the best vegetables, but that he was a very old cantankerous hobbit with little patience for others.
She, in turn, told them of the places she had traveled, the creatures she had seen, and the Dragons she knew. It surprised them to learn that not all Dragons dwelt in the mountains of the world, guarding treasure hoards in ancient dwarven strongholds. They were even more surprised to learn of the cold drakes of her kind, that breathed no fire and of others that had no wings. She told them of the forest-dwellers she knew of and how some Dragons were so old and spent so many centuries in the places they had claimed, that they actually began to look like the land itself. Then she told them of the other creatures she had seen on her travels, friendly ones, dangerous ones and some that they had never before heard of.
She caught Greybeard’s gaze and he smiled at her. She had quite unintentionally charmed the four young hobbits and she doubted that she would have many moments of peace while they were awake from there on out. When Merry and Pippin asked if she danced and liked ale she could have sworn she heard the Grey Wizard laugh. There was, in fact, quite the debate over her dancing; Pippin declared that he wouldn’t believe it until he saw her dance and Merry then claimed that if she indeed could not dance, he would be the one to teach her. She saw Frodo smile at their antics as they argued back and forth and she couldn’t help but to smile as well.

That night, just as the sun had completed its decent beyond the horizon, the Fellowship stopped to make camp at the roots of the Caradhras. Gandalf and Aragorn both agreed that they had made good time thus far and could afford to take the next day and rest, allowing everyone to recover their strength before continuing South through Hollin, towards the Gap of Rohan. Boromir, Gimli, and Aragorn went about setting up the camp as the hobbits settled down, Sam beginning the preparations for supper. Leiawen set out to find wood for a fire, unknowing of the elf that followed soundlessly behind her.
Over the rocks and crags she went, Legolas silent as a specter downwind so that she would remain unaware of his presence. He did not trust her, or any other of her kind for that matter; the havoc that was wrought from the presence of Dragons was legendary, even amongst his kin. They were volatile and violent creatures, their greed and fury endless, dangerous amongst even their own kind. No, he would not be swayed by whatever charms she had placed upon the hobbits, he would keep his gaze steady, intent to learn of what the Dragons truly intended to gain from her presence within the Fellowship.
For a few moments the Still-Cursed held true to her task, gathering a good sized bundle of dry sticks, until an eerie call came from a few meters off in the distance. Two pairs of strangely glowing eyes appeared from within the growing darkness and Legolas ducked down to keep from being spotted by them. The Dragons drew closer until he saw that the two newcomers were the same ones that has accompanied Leiawen to Rivendell, had stood behind her at the council, and had disappeared the night before their departure. Their presence now only helped to further his suspicions of the Still-Cursed and her kind.
To his great surprise, once the two newcomers were but a few strides from her, they knelt to the female, lowered themselves to one knee and touched their brows in what he could only suppose was either respect or reverence. The two were a great deal larger than she, they were likely larger than Aragorn and Boromir as well; but most of the Nords were built so, evidence of difficult lives in the unforgiving lands to the North.
“Great Lady,” the spoke in unison, their eyes lowered to the rocks beneath their feet.
Leiawen, her bundle of sticks still in hand, gave a sigh and told them to rise. “What have you learned?”
Once the both of them stood once more, Legolas watched on as one walked a few strides from the Still-Cursed and his companion, keeping his back turned to them and looking out over the scape of the land. Legolas knew he was well hidden from the Dragon’s sight; he had nothing to fear of being caught save for if the wind changed direction, but he could do nothing to prevent that. This was his opportunity to have his suspicions confirmed; he would need to risk something, perhaps even the possibility of being found out, if he wanted to outsmart them.
“It is as you feared; he has sent them to raise the fallen.” The Dragon’s voice was tinged with something between fear and despair; if Dragons felt such emotions as fear and despair.
Legolas saw the Still-Cursed go rigid, the line of her shoulders jerking back sharply, suddenly tense at her kin’s words. He didn’t know what they meant or what significance they would hold in the days to come, but he intended to learn of what importance they were to the creatures before him.
“So he means to lay siege to the Door?”
“We believe so,” he said, lowering his gaze once more.
The Still-Cursed shifted, a movement she made that kept her focused, or so he had noticed over the weeks past. It was an odd thing to see, the movement seemed to direct the stress from her shoulders and back until it all but flowed from her like streams of water.
“How many thus far?”
“We heard mention they had risen three, that was some nights ago.”
“There are four more of the fallen near to the North in the Misty Mountains…” she drifted off, thinking of something and he wished that she did not have her back turned so he might be able to see her face. “What of the Iron Mountains?”
“They are well guarded, Great Lady, they shall not find him.”
“The Eldest must be informed; preparations need be made to guard the Door should the time come.”
The Dragon gave a nod, “Of course, though…not many of us remain. We have not the numbers that such an endeavor might require.”
“There are enough. I will not risk the Door, much less the Walls. If we are to keep such a thing from coming to pass, we must be prepared to fight once more.”
“Great Lady, many have already become rooted to their mountains and forests.”
She was silent for a moment, almost as if she was considering a possibility, weighing it in her mind. “Call through the Door if they do not come; there are many of our kin in the Night that may yet come to our aid should the need arise.”
Relief flooded the male’s face at the Still-Cursed’s words. “As you wish, Great Lady.” The second Dragon, who had until then been standing vigil, made his way back to them and touched the other male’s shoulder, “We shall take our leave now.”
Leiawen stepped back with a nod and then the group dispersed, the males drifting back into the darkness as she turned and made her way back towards the Fellowship. Legolas hurried ahead of her so his presence wouldn’t be noticed or his scent caught as she drew closer. He could only begin to guess at what the Dragon’s words meant, but from what he understood they seemed to be preparing for a war. If they were gathering in any number, be it great or small, he felt no matter the outcome, such a thing would not bode well for the world, especially if they were calling for more of their kin to heighten their numbers. Whatever the hidden meaning behind their words though, he would have answers, one way or another.
When he had reached an area just outside of hearing range from the campsite, he stopped and waited for the sound of her footsteps. She came up over the rise only a moment later and walked past him without a word. Before she could make it another step he was pressed up against her back, one hand with a knife at her throat and the other holding tightly to her wrist to restrict her movement. He could feel her back go completely straight and her shoulders tense almost imperceptibly.
“Conspirator,” he accused, his breath brushing against the left side of her face as he spoke softly into her ear. “You may fool the others with your deception and that fair guise to disguise what you truly are; you shan’t ensnare me. I know who you keep council with in the darkness, Lady.”
“You do not know anything, Firstborn, you remain ignorant for your prejudice; it blinds you more completely than any guise or deception.”
“Be silent!” he snapped, pressing the blade in further against her skin. “I would slit your throat here and now if such a thing would not rain down fire and death upon my people.”
The Still-Cursed let out a short, sharp laugh and the sound of it was wrong against his ears, “Would that you could, Firstborn.”
Then she moved, and in a flicker that both was and was not motion, she suddenly wasn’t in front of him anymore but a few strides to his right. The knife that had been so firmly pressed up against her delicate neck now lie buried hilt up in the dirt and a thin line of red ran from one side of her neck to the other; the deep and vibrant color stood out in stark contrast against her moonlit skin.
“You cannot kill me, Firstborn,” she told him, a grim look upon her face as she held her bundle under one arm. Then she wiped away the thin line of blood and beneath was not so much as a blemish. “See to your knife should you hope to salvage its usefulness; you may need use of it in the days ahead,” she said as she turned and continued on to where the others of their Fellowship waited.
Legolas stood silently, watching as the Dragon disappeared behind the sparse trees, his flaxen hair swaying lightly with the breeze. He did not understand how she had moved the way she had, as if he had been frozen still and she had been free to move. What she had done was simply not possible and he could not help but berate himself for not having seen it. He had her trapped against his body, she should have had nowhere to go in his grasp; his body pressed against her back and his arms wound tight around her.
When he knelt down to pull his knife from the ground he noticed that it was strangely hot to the touch. His eyes widened suddenly when he found that it was not buried in the dirt, but it had in fact been so very hot that it had sunken into a rock as if the stone had been made of churned butter. The fine crafting of the blade was surely ruined; no wonder she had said such a thing before she left him standing there without a care. With some effort he managed to pull the knife from where it had buried itself and examined it critically.
“Impossible.”
There, where the steel had been pressed against the Dragon’s throat, the metal was slightly melted; disfigured and pulled back from its original shape at the touch of the unnatural heat of her blood.

Greybeard was the first to wake the next morning; the land was grey and covered in thick fog in the waking hours of the world, the sun had not yet even risen above the tips of the Misty Mountains. The other members of the Fellowship slept still, the hobbits and dwarf snoring merrily as they lie around the dying fire. The Still-Cursed found this to be her favorite hour of the day, when all the world was waking from the slumber of night. It was a sign of hope if ever she had seen one, the world, for all the evil upon it, moved on and so would she.
“So, you still do not find rest amongst others?” Greybeard asked, his voice low from sleep, as he worked the stiffness from sleeping on the hard ground from his back.
“Until this task is done, I fear I shall find no rest, not even by myself.”
The Grey Wizard laughed a gleam in his eye. “Would this have anything to do with Master Green Leaf’s knife having melted at some point in the night?”
“No,” she said frankly, her gaze lingering upon the range of the Misty Mountains as they stood majestically before their camp. “And yes. I have received word, and a confirmation of my fears last night; there is a greater evil at work now than even you could have imagined, my friend.”
As a steady cloud of smoke drifted from the Wizard’s pipe he let out a deep breath, aware of the men and the elf as they began to awaken from their slumber. “Another time then,” he said to her.
He would not risk the others learning of a greater danger than the one they now faced; he knew that if Ancalalei felt they should remain in the dark, it was likely for the best. She had spent many more years upon the earth than he, though he was far older; she was not a child. Of one thing he was certain, however, she would not fail to tell him of what darkened her thoughts, and she never had.
It was not long after the men and Legolas awoke that the hobbits and Gimli woke from their slumber as well, the dwarf puffing away on his pipe as Sam began to make breakfast. Merry and Pippin had managed to convince Boromir to teach them to wield the blades they carried. “You know, just in case,” had been Pippin’s reasoning and the Gondorian had seen no harm in teaching them. Aragorn looked on, giving them pointers every now and again as Boromir first went over the basics before lightly sparring with them. Frodo sat up on a higher rock to watch as Sam handed him the first plate of food. Leiawen sat near Gandalf looking on as the Wizard continued to smoke, Legolas scouting the area; the two, since the night before, staying as far from the other as possible.
“If anyone asked my opinion, which I note they’re not,” Gimli began, watching Merry and Pippin as Boromir traded swings with Merry. “I’d say we were taking the long way ‘round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria, my cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome.”
A grave look crossed the Grey Wizard’s face and he stopped smoking for a moment. “No, Gimli, I would not take the road to Moria unless I had no other choice.” His tone was just as grave and unrelenting as his expression and it left no room for argument.
It was then that Legolas jumped onto a boulder before where Gandalf sat and looked up into the sky. Leiawen glanced at the elf for a moment before following his gaze; a dark splotch against the clouds was moving steadily towards them. She heard a shriek come from Pippin and her gaze snapped over to him in worry only to see him drop his blade and shake him hand in pain.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Boromir apologized quickly, trying to see if he had truly hurt the hobbit, but Pippin kicked him swiftly in the leg.
Merry laughed and knocked him in the other leg and together they forced the man to the ground. “For the Shire,” they proclaimed and egged each other on; tickling the Gondorian mercilessly until Aragorn stood and made his was to them to intervene. He came up behind them with a smile and a laugh.
“Gentlemen, that’s enough,” but they hooked their arms behind his knees and forced him onto his back as well.
They were alright; then she shifted her gaze back to the sky and the darkness of the spot upon it. “What is that?” she heard Sam ask.
“Nothing, it’s just a wisp of cloud,” Gimli assured him, content to wave it off.
“It’s moving fast,” Boromir said, back on his feet once more, Aragorn and the hobbits beside him. “Against the wind.
The Still-Cursed moved quickly from where she had been sitting, gathered together her swords and noticed that the “cloud” was breaking apart into distinguishable shapes. “That is not a cloud.”
“Crebain from Dunland,” Legolas affirmed.
Aragorn went to gather his things and get everyone moving as he yelled out. “Hide!”
Within seconds they had put out the fire, collected their possessions and food and were well enough hidden as the creatures flew overhead, screaming and squalling as they went. They circled around once as all the members of the Fellowship stayed completely still so as not to be seen, then they continued on; given the direction, both the Dragon and the Wizard knew where it was that they were headed.
“Spies of Saruman,” Gandalf said with a grumble as he came out from where he had hidden, the others followed shortly thereafter. “The passage South is being watched. We much take the Pass of Caradhras.”
As they all looked up to the foreboding mountain, Leiawen could not help the feeling of unease that descended upon her. Mountains and snow were not things she usually feared, but should Saruman know that was the path they were to take… Water in its most volatile form alone would be dangerous for the others, but with a maddened Wizard who held the power to direct its intent, there was no telling just how deadly a turn their journey would take.