[Child of the 7th Age]

Annunfuiniel's post:

For a moment the dragon stood between Gráin and the rest of the company and the dwarf couldn’t see what went on in the front. The drake’s tail whipped the air before him blocking his way to the fore. I must get to the others! he thought but was forced to step further backwards as the scaled tail nearly raked his face.

Suddenly Gráin saw Elentari run from under the beast and slash the swaying tail. Her sword broke to pieces and caused the dragon no real damage. But seeing the elf’s desperate charge Gráin knew he couldn’t cower any longer. With a cry he leapt forward, ducked a deathly lash and escaped.

At least one blow before the end! rang in Gráin’s head and he raised his axe. But the sight that opened before his eyes stopped him dead.

"No!" Dread echoed in his voice. The dragon held someone in his claws and, even as Gráin cried out, he flung his prey across the cavern like a rag-doll.

"Alcyávëiel..." Gráin’s whisper rasped in the horrified silence that landed on the battle field. His friend was gone; he had come too late. Time seemed to stand still.

* * * * * * *

As Vráin had seen the wyrm stoop down in charge he had made a final decision. With a ringing clang his axe fell to the ground. Steel flashed as he drew two knives from his belt and then pulled his arms behind his head. The dragon’s gaping jaw neared Rowan threateningly. Vráin aimed and spoke a silent prayer:

Gods, guide my hands…

And with the speed of lightning he flung his arms forward in an arch and threw his weapons towards the beast’s eye.

But it was fated that those knives would never hit their target. For the dragon turned abruptly to meet another enemy and the knives broke into shivers against the bronze scales of his neck.

What he saw next froze his blood: the drake had seized his prey. For a moment Alcyávëiel hung high above the ground in its iron clasp. Vráin’s mouth opened to a shout but no words came out. Alcyávëiel hit the wall, slumped down to the floor and lay still.

Vráin felt his heart stop beating. His thought flew from Alcyávëiel to Farin and then back to the fallen elf. Broken families, lovers that shan’t meet again… But his spirit wouldn’t yield - and suddenly his sorrow turned to flaming wrath.

"Curse and death! I won’t have it!" And with that he drew another pair of knives from under his tunic and leapt forward.

Just then the dragon staggered and let out a shriek of pain. Vráin looked up in wonder and saw the beast pull out an arrow from its pierced eye.

"He’s trying to blind the wyrm," he heard Elentari’s cry. "Let’s go, everyone! Keep the wyrm’s attention! It’s losing vision as we speak!"

Blessed Callo! Vráin breathed as his eyes finally caught sight of the elf on a high ledge. Now all we need to do is get back to the main chamber… But he rejoiced too early. For Glawr, rage blazing in his seeing eye, roared and stormed forth, resolved to crush the miserable creature that had dared to deliver such blow on him. With a gasp Vráin perceived the imminent peril.

"Callo, get down from there!" he shouted and ran after the rampaging dragon.

"Vráin, wait!" came a call from behind him. But he didn’t hear it nor would he have paid any heed to it had the call indeed reached his ears. So he rushed on, two small knives as his only weapons. Even if he had caught up with the beast in time it would have been to little avail.

Before him and beside him his companions ran, firing all their arrows or lashing with their swords in an attempt to stop the dragon. But luck seemed to have left them and fate played its cruel games with their lives. Callo managed to land safely – only to get stabbed by his enemy with a blade of one of his companions.

Vráin cried as if the sword had been thrust into his own flesh. Tears welled in his eyes and he halted. The knives fell clanking to the floor.

"Vráin?" This time he heard the call but didn’t raise his face to the speaker.

"Vráin, you can’t give in, not now! It’s time to avenge!" Gráin’s words were demanding but his tone was the one that roused Vráin.

"Here; take your axe and fight with me." Gráin continued, red flame flickering in his eyes. Finally Vráin looked up and the same fire burned in him. He closed his hand around the handle of his axe but instead of taking it he pushed it back to Gráin.

"Keep it for me once more, brother. For time has come…" With that he swung round and rushed on shouting back to the others as loud as he could:

"Come! Run! Run! Back to the main cave!"

* * * * * * *

"Come! Run! Back to the main cave!" Gráin heard Vráin call as he run away. Time has come…for what? Gráin thought, holding his brother’s axe in his left hand while clenching his own weapon in his right. No answer came to his mind but that didn’t matter.

"Elentari!" Gráin cried out; "We must follow Vráin!"

Elentari heard him and turned around. 'Why?' - Gráin read the question on her face but both knew there was no time for speech. The elf nodded and called for the remaining hunters, gesturing them to follow. Selvren, Ewinda and Rowan turned at her bidding and the companions steered towards the main cave. Gráin came last, running as fast as he could with his doubled burden.

* * * * * * *

Glawr still triumphed over slaying Callo and for a while he was unaware of what happened behind his back. But then he perceived, even through the deafening echoes of his own roaring, that the patter of the arrow rain had ceased and swords no longer banged against his scales. He swung round and witnessed the last lousy rat escape from the cavern to the tunnel.

Boiling over with rage Glawr tumbled after his prey. With couple of mighty leaps it reached the arched opening and shot inside. But, half blind as he was, he stumbled on the rough steppes leading to the tunnel. There was a great din as the dragon smashed against the wall. The rock cracked and the wall shattered.

But Glawr was unhurt and his fury unquenchable. Through the new opening he saw something that made him forget the runaways he had been chasing. His gleaming eye fixed on two elves cowering on the floor. When the other of them stood up and desperately swung her sword before his scaled nose a malicious laughter welled inside of him and came out as a horrid hiss.

Glawr rose and pushed forward through the hole. The squeaking voices of the intruders seemed to screech all around him as his two heavy whacks sent the elves flying across the hall.

* * * * * * *

Farin waited in the main hall, clutching to the rope but loth to climb up to where the captives waited. I can’t go! Not before Lenwe gets back with the other prisoners. Not before I see Vráin and Perin again… Her last thought sent shivers through her body and made her heart skip a beat. Would she see the ones she loved ever again?

Just then she saw a bowed figure totter to the cave, his grey brown hair stained with dried blood.

"Perin!" Farin exclaimed and ran to her brother, nearly knocking him over as she reached him. "You are hurt!"

"It looks worse than it actually is," Perin tried to calm down his sister but leaned heavily on her shoulder. "Vráin saved me…"

Farin trudged slowly forward, staring to the ground - and the question hang between the siblings.

"I don’t know," whispered Perin, feeling his sister's pain; "I don’t know if he’s alive…" He had hardly finished when the sound of running feet echoed from the tunnel.

"We will both know soon." Farin said and stood still, ready to face whatever doom should fall on them. Only little hope was there left in her heart.

* * * * * * *

Vráin stumbled into the cave, panting and sweating. But even as he raised his face new strength streamed into him. For there, standing brave in the middle of the wide hall, was Farin – the light of his life. And Perin, whom Vráin had not dared to even hope to see again, stood beside her, bent but grave and bold. When they saw the comer a relieved shout escaped both their lips.

"Vráin!"

And Farin ran to him and Vráin held her close in his arms, afraid to let go again. But he had no time: no time to stay longer, to explain his plan.

"Farin, you need to get up and out. The dragon is coming!" And when he spoke those words a great tremor went through the ground and shook them.

"Now!" Vráin cried and helped Perin to the rope. He tied it around Perin’s waist before he had time to object. "Pull him up!" he called to those waiting on the roof. Then he put his hand over the dwarf’s shoulder and spoke gravely.

"Like brother you have become to me in this short time… Farewell!"

"Say rather: see you soon! For we will meet again." Perin said and then he was towed up.

Vráin turned to Farin:

"Now you’ll go after your brother."

"Only if you follow me!" Farin put her feet down.

"I will…" Vráin said as the rope’s tail dropped to the ground; …after I’ve finished my task. He tied Farin like her brother and pulled the rope as a sign. "I love you…" he whispered as Farin’s feet rose off the ground. And then Farin knew he wasn’t coming up after her.

"Vráin…" her voice failed and Vráin turned away.

For a second he faltered. The escape was at his reach and up there, outside, the sun was shining bright. But no, he couldn’t go! Not as long as his companions, his friends and his brother were in danger.

He had lingered too long already. Like a madman he now dashed towards the hall’s farthest nook where a red ember still glowed. From the middle of the dying fire there stood a long wooden shaft with iron mountings. Vráin grabbed the shaft and pulled.

In his hands was now a great spear. Its tridentate tip towered up to thirteen feet and burned with red flame. The wrath of elves and dwarves had forged it from a plate of iron: the last plate that would have finished the dragon’s suit of mail. Vráin looked up, grim smile on his lips. Then he clutched the shaft tight, run back across the hall and plunged into the tunnel.

* * * * * * *

"Stop him, stop him!" Selvren yelled desperately from the other cave, behind the heap of cracked rock. He was unable to do anything else but watch in horror as the dragon’s mighty claws struck down both Lostlondwen and her mother.

"No!" Gráin cried and leapt forward, over the remains of the wall. He ran under the drake’s forelimb and with all the strength of his right arm he rammed his axe to the great elbow. His blow hit the unbreakable scales and the blade broke in two. Clutching to Vráin’s axe now with his both hands Gráin came from under Glawr and placed himself between him and the motionless elves.

"Turn away!" Gráin’s voice echoed in the depths of the caves and tunnels; and so grand it suddenly sounded that even Glawr faltered. But the echoes died away and the spell was broken. The dragon rose to its full height and burst into a hideous, mocking laughter.

"And what will you do if I don’t? Will you turn me away? Many mightier have tried – and failed miserably. But enough talk: are you ready to die?" And Glawr stepped forward and bent its neck ready to strike. But Gráin stood still, indeed like stone from which his race was said to have born.

"No," he spoke, his voice so cold and calm that Glawr halted; "Turn away and meet your doom!"

Shadow of doubt passed over the dragon’s face. For a second he hesitated, staring at his prey. But Gráin looked away, behind the beast and deadly red light shone in his eyes. Following that gaze Glawr swung round with a roar. His claws hit the ground and his jaw opened wide. Whatever would attack him would crush against the bronze plates of his breast.

* * * * * * *

Vráin had come behind the beast and seen Gráin standing in front of it – stern, unyielding. Vráin halted.

Gráin! he turned all his thoughts towards his brother. And Gráin felt his presence and turned. The brothers’ eyes met - and Gráin smiled.

"Turn away and meet your doom!" Vráin heard his words and needed no other sign. The trident gleamed its inner light as Vráin lowered it to shoulder height and ran forward, silently; a grey shadow defying eternal night.

And even as he charged the dragon turned around to meet him. But Vráin didn’t look at its gaping jaw nor at its yellow eye full of malice. Bronze blazed in front of him, hard mail of scales that had fended off all blows – till now. For Vráin didn’t halt or waver. Using what strength was left in him he took one final leap and thrust his spear up and forward.

* * * * * * *

Glawr heard a sound that he had never heard before, nor would hear ever again: the wailing screech of his scales as they met with iron - and were pierced. For the flaming trident was forged from the metal the secret of which only he knew; the metal that should have made him invincible. One of life’s little ironies, he might have thought if ever he had been given a chance.

The wooden shaft broke and Vráin tumbled down to his knees. But the trident fell on its target and the red flame stabbed and burned Glawr’s cold black heart.

It is done! Vráin thought. The drake swayed; soon it would collapse, over him. But Vráin was too weary to move. It is done…

Vráin watched and the dragon fell down. But strong arms were around him and hauled him aside, not a moment too early. The earth shook for the last time.

"Now, isn’t this a better place to rest than under that carcase?" Selvren’s clear voice called to him, ringing in the air over the echoes of the rumble.

And though great grief for the fallen burdened his heart heavily Vráin had to smile: "Yes, thank you, Master elf!" But then he paled at remembering his brother.

"Gráin! Where is he?"

"Calm down," Elentari walked over to Vráin and kneeled beside him. "He’s coming, he’s unhurt."

"Yes, I’m here and quite alright. Rest now, my brother: you have earned it."

Vráin leaned back and, sighing deep, he closed his eyes.

"It is done…" he whispered one last time.

[ July 12, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]