The company led by Lenwe had finally scaled the mountain. After what seemed like an eternity they had finally reached the peak. It was a long and hard journey upon the peak but Rowan knew that the harder journey would be getting into the dragon’s lair. Rowan sat on the peak; they were at the dragon’s front door. He could see that the hearts of many were troubled and heavy.
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Child's post:
Instead of attempting to scale the last of the massive grey cliffs which stood between them and the dragon's lair, they'd pulled back to look for a safe place to camp. They'd left the horses tethered on a well-hidden ledge some twenty-five feet below; here the slope boasted a small, secret cave where their animals and gear could be brought inside and stored. This seemed as good a place as any to halt for the night.
Everyone desperately needed a few hours of sleep and Elentari was likely to require some time the next morning to assess the situation and figure out exactly what to do. Even if the Elf managed to decide on her course of action, it would not be safe for anyone to go out until after sunset, when dark shadows would provide some cover to hide their movements from the dragon's keen eye. Confusing his sense of smell was another matter altogether, and not something that anyone in the company had given any thought to before.
As the companions pulled back on the ledge and began taking out the few meager pieces of journey bread remaining in their packs, Lenwe quietly excused himself and set out under cover of night to get a closer look at the sheer walls of the cliff to see if it had any footholds and also to scrutinize the outside of the cave and determine where the opening was.
After what seemed like an hour of patient climbing, gradually going upward from one small slippery niche to the next, he reached a place where there was simply no further he could go without the aid of a companion or ropes that could act as a support. Before he inched his way back down, he craned his neck upward, staring up and squinting, trying to take in as much of the landscape as he could.
Much of what he saw did not surprise him: the continuing upward ascent of sheer walls, the large hole that marked the one and only entrance to the cave, and the scrubby ground foliage that ran along the topmost peak, half hiding the lair from curious eyes. Then he turned and peered even higher, straining to see the very top of the cave.
What he glimpsed was such a shock that he nearly lost his handhold, threatening to topple off the side of the mountain. He strained again to be sure he was actually seeing things right. Over the roof of the cave was a thick plume of black smoke rolling upward, not the tiny wisps of a campfire but a column that appeared to be as large as a giant treetrunk and blazing far upward into the night sky. What was a dragon doing with a fire in his cave? And why a fire of such amazing proportions? Surely this couldn't be intended simply for cooking.
None of it made sense to Lenwe. This was no fire-breathing monster but a cold-drake with sharp talons and teeth who certainly did not have the ability to use his claws in such a clever fashion to harness the power of the sun or the friction that comes from rubbing sticks together. The fire must have been started by one of the captives, undoubtedly at the dragon's command.
Lenwe was about to climb down and tell Elentari of his discovery when his eyes swept across the lower part of the ledge where he saw something even more startling that caused him to jump back with relief and surprise. There, standing on the narrow precipice where a few spindly trees were growing straight out of the rock was a dwarf of fairly slender build with a long grey beard touched with a bit of brown in places. He stood beside a large pile of firewood, holding a small hatchet in his hand, and was attempting to climb out on the limb of the tree to try and gather even more. Lenwe felt his heart drop, as the dwarf looked hastily downward from his lofty perch and stared straight into his eyes.
The two figures stood staring at each other from their distant perches. There was no way that either of them could bridge the gap of sheer rock and cliff that separated them. Lenwe raised his hand in acknowledgment, then slowly backed down the rock, and rushed back to camp to tell Elentari that there was at least one captive alive and well.
Elven Maiden's post:
Alcyávëiel sat alone. She was tired as everyone else was. She thought back to the day when Elentari had dismissed the dwarf brothers. She remembered Vráin’s words
“I will go with you till the end and should I perish on the way… then so be it. Don’t you see? There is no turning back – for any of us…"
These words echoed in her mind. She wanted to turn back right now but she couldn’t. The day she was accepted to go on the quest she had known that she couldn’t turn back. Her husband was in danger and she knew that she had to save him even if she perished in the end. Now she didn’t care if she did. She knew in her heart that she might die. She had to start what she finished.
[ July 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]
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