[Child of the 7th Age]

Annunfuiniel's post

Vráin walked towards the captives and tried to perceive what was going on. He saw many a dwarf and elf still bend over their work, sweating in the heat of the fire. But some had sunk to the ground and slept now uneasily. This seemed to be what the dragon meant with rest for his slaves. Only one or two gazes rose as Vráin finally reached them.

"Perin..." The elf whom Glawr had pointed to Vráin greeted him, a silent 'Thank you' clearly to be heard in his tone though not spoken aloud.

"I’m not he." Vráin spoke solemnly, his glance warning the other to keep quiet. In a clear, echoing voice he announced the dragon’s will – that the fire was to be put out.

"Iarlhach, Lossentilien!" Vráin called out, not daring to look at the group that gathered around him in the fear of revealing under the dragon’s watchful eye that he didn’t recognize his supposed companions. When doing this Vráin took a conscious risk for he had not asked Perin if he knew about these two captives, if they even were alive anymore. Luckily two elves stepped forward, the first being the man with whom Vráin had already spoken whereas the other was without a doubt Lostlondwen’s mother, so great was their resemblance.

"We need every bucket and pail you can find; Master orders the fire has to be quenched before the dawn." Glawr saw his command delivered and paid no heed to his crawling slaves anymore. Instead he turned his avid glance at the great iron mail and his thought wandered to the soon to be forged golden coat that would make him blaze like a dreadful sun.

Vráin took advantage of this moment when the dragon’s attention was dispersed. In hushed tone he told the two elves about the hunters and their quest, about Alcyávëiel and Lostlondwen who had come all the way to rescue them and about the plan to get the captives out and slay the wyrm. And to his great joy he saw a hope rekindle in the elves' eyes.

"The aid will come to us through the gap in the roof," he whispered, extending one more dusty bucket to Lossentilien. "If they see the dragon fly away they’ll come as soon as they can. And all must then be ready for a quick departure. Is everyone able to climb a rope?"

Eager nods followed Vráin’s question but they dared not to speak any more as Glawr turned to them again.

"Come now, we must be swift! We mustn’t keep Master waiting!" As the elves took to leave Vráin spoke quickly:

"Spread the word. All must be prepared."

For the rest of the night, the captives ran back and forth between a nearby stream and the cavern bringing back pail after pail of water. By the time the sun rose in the sky, there was only a heap of smouldering ash left in the fire pit.

* * * * * * *

Vráin watched as the last red flicker in the great fire pit died down. Every inch of his body ached, yet he perceived how mild his pains had to be compared to the prolonged sufferings of the slaved dwarves and elves. When he had first turned to them the only things he could read in their eyes were despair and weariness; even fear seemed to have left some of them as they had quietly accepted their inevitable doom.

But now, though still exhausted and nearly consumed by the travail of this latest task, they had all changed: hope had returned to them and the will to live once again free and in peace.

The fire was gone but still a red flame glimmered on the western wall of the gap, high up above Vráin’s head. He raised his glance and saw the light of the rising sun play on the top of the mountain. Morning has come – the new dawn and the doom that awaits us.

Vráin heard the sound of heavy footsteps but above all he felt them, the thumps that shook the ground. Even as he turned around Glawr spoke to him:

"Well done, Master Perin, very well done. Now, with your leave, I’ll go and get you the harder firewood that you have asked for." Glawr’s seemingly courteous speech was nothing but mocking of the dwarves' customs of old which he seemed to know better than Vráin was comfortable with. Perin's words echoed in his troubled mind:

"That beast… he can broke your will with menacing words and delight in the sight of your crawling. But beware his sweet speech! His soft words drip honeyed venom: first he praises you and then he breaks your neck – he strikes faster than his fell cousins, the petty vipers and black worms of the earth."

"We will soon begin to gather the gold from your chambers, Master. And I believe we’ll add some fine diamonds and mithril adornments to perfect it all. Only the best for you, Master."

Vráin had to answer quickly to hold the position he had gained. He could only hope the drake wouldn’t descry its own game in his words.

After a prolonged silence, during which Vráin nearly stopped breathing, Glawr addressed him again:

"Ah yes!" he exclaimed, blinded by a vision of precious metals and shining gems that would grace his splendid figure, his unbeatable power. "Make sure you use only the largest, flawless stones!" And with that the beast took to leave. But before entering the tunnels Glawr halted and swung his great tail in vast arch. The blast nearly capsized Vráin and the scaled tip of the heavy tail missed him only by inches.

"No tricks, you hear me? Or you’ll feel it in your skins – and deeper." With these final words, now plain in their menace, the dragon tramped off and the ground wailed. A moment later a tremor went through the halls and then all was silent. The road out had been blocked.

[ July 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]