#smaugs-lair

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Yandere Smaug Headcanons (platonic)

Smaug would be extremely possessive of his darling and just as protective. They are the most valuable possession amongst his hoard after all, his most precious treasure. Their worth is more than all the gold and jewels in the world to him. So much so that he could never part with them. That’s why he insists, or rather demands you stay amongst his hoard, where he knows it’s safe. Besides, you’re surrounded by so many beautiful, shiney things and they’re all yours.

Of course you would be kept in the safety of his sanctum after he’s taken the Lonely Mountain for himself. Harbored amongst all the gold, gems and jewels you couldn’t possibly think of, right where Smaug wants you most. He couldn’t possibly fathom any harm coming to his precious one, not when you have him to protect you.

Smaug is extremely strict about allowing his precious one to go anywhere, even if it is to venture off to another part of his sanctum. He doesn’t like not having them within his sight. He hates the thought of them getting hurt or lost, but he especially despises the idea of them ever stepping foot outside his lair. If that were to ever happen his panic and anger couldn’t possibly be repressed.

If his darling were to stray too far or is gone just a little too long for his liking/comfort, Smaug will follow their scent and drag them back to where he feels most comfortable keeping having them. There are very few places he allows them to venture to and he knows them all by heart, being more than capable to go after them if need be and easily retrieve his darling, bringing them back to the only real space he’s comfortable with them staying kept in. It keeps them closest to him and he can keep his eye on them in every sense of the word, even when he’s sleeping he’ll know if they make even the slightest of changes in their usual movements. Smaug is very well aware of his environment and the space he’s resigned himself to, he’ll know if they take even just one step out of the perimeter he’s allowed them to move freely about.

As much as he spoils his darling, Smaug really only rewards good and obedient behavior. Anything less than or just blatant disobedience won’t be take lightly. Smaug demands respect, especially from his little darling. It’s because of him that you are safe and so well taken care of, the least you can do is show some gratitude and appreciation towards him.

As gruff and grumpy as Smaug can be there are times he can be quite playful with his little darling, especially if it’s what they want and they’ve been pretty well behaved. It didn’t take him long to realize that often then not when his darling would venture off and stray away from where he demanded they stay kept was to solely get him to chase after them in a playful game of tag or hide and seek. He can usually tell the difference in whether his darling is trying to make a run for it or is simply trying to get him to play with them. It’s the gigging that really gives it away.

Not only can Smaug be playful but he’s also an excellent storyteller. When he really wants some peace and quiet or to just get his darling to go to sleep in general, Smaug will use his tail to bring them close to him, curling it around them to keep them in place then he goes on telling them stories of his adventures. Sometimes when his darling is really restless he’ll ask them what story they want to hear but more times then not his stories usually involve him boasting and bragging about himself. He especially takes care to make it clear to his darling that he is in fact the biggest dragon to ever exist. Of course it’s a complete lie but his darling doesn’t know that, and even if they were to question him about it he wouldn’t let up. As far as Smaug’s concerned he is the biggest dragon around now.

As much as Smaug typically comes off as aloof or even flat out terrifying he does hold some genuine care for his darling, even if it is just a little. His obsession is primarily possessive with that possessiveness only becoming all the worse the more his obsession festers and grows. Eventually his darling will become something more than just an object for him to own, they’ll become a treasure he certainly doesn’t want anyone or anything else getting ahold of. And with that said he will do anything to keep them with him, and only with him. He will reign hellfire down on anyone or anything that dares to steal his darling treasure away from him.

[flawseer]

#31 - "Smaug"

Smaugust 2024

Beware the stalker of dreams.

"But Flawseer! The prompt says 'Smaug', you can't just draw Scarlet instead, that is against the rules!"

Nah, I totally can! Scarlet is pretty much a lady-version of Smaug. Here is a list of what they have in common:

Big red dragon.

Evil and cruel.

Loves gold to an unhealthy degree.

Humans or human-looking creatures always pining after her gold and invading her lair.

Covers her body in a protective layer of gold and gemstones.

Set up as the main antagonist at the beginning of a story (Arc 2).

Gets defeated half-way through that story and the plot carries on without her.

Point-of-view character delivers vital intel on a weakness to help facilitate her defeat, but does not kill her herself.

Rather, she is killed by a side character who only entered the story proper relatively recently, when it was already underway, and was not a major part of the narrative before.

Magical jewelry is involved in her defeat.

Name starts with "s", has two vowels in it, and the first one is an "a".

Terrible with kids (could you imagine hiring either Scarlet or Smaug as a babysitter? They would sit on the baby! Terrible!)

Cliff is very small, therefore a hobbit is technically involved.

I really should have ended this list three points ago.

It's over.

[horizon-verizon]

On this here day, GRRM wrote an entry clarifying several things about the dragon lore in his novels, and it vindicates so many Dany stans/Daenerys as the Azor Ahai:

Saying dragon "mysteries", in-world, will be revealed in the last two books AND Septon Barth got a lot right. I'm taking that to mean that dragons change sex (Viserion, here you come, baby!), like two particular Twitter mutes I have (danylanzhou and Branwynwitch). It also seems like he's confirming that dragons and the first 40 Valyrian families (which include the Targs, then and now) mixed dragon blood with their own in some long past ancient event AND that only these families, therefore, can bond with dragons to rides them safely or befriend them.

Which means Nettles is definitely of Valyrian/Targ-descent, which really should have been obvious. One of my mutuals also asserted that this makes the idea of Nettles-Sheepstealer/Rhaena-Morning being interchangeable for their supposed HotD merging GRRM-disapproved bc he makes a point to say that dragons don't tend to move far from their lairs that are usually very high up in mountains and volcanos. Sheepstealer can't be going to the Vale while having a lair in Dragonstone:

As for the thought of Sunfyre flying miles to get to Dragonstone...this is where he/they were born and where the real magic that sustains dragons is coalesced from hundred of years. It makes sense for him/them to fly to this castle even if Aegon weren't there after he had been bodied by Meleys/Meleys & Vhagar, looking for recovery. This is where the Targs get most of their eggs/dragons and it is near where most dragons in Westeros make their lairs.

Note that he says, in the very last paragraph, how:

Fantasy needs to be grounded.  It is not simply a license to do anything you like. Smaug and Toothless may both be dragons, but they should never be confused. Ignore canon, and the world you’ve created comes apart like tissue paper.

It appears he is VERY not happy about something to do with dragons in the show's second season, how they bond in the show, how a certain dragon is "explained" to have traveled a too-long distance for a certain pale-locked young girl who has been trying to hatch her own dragon for years...I see you GRRM, fighting for Nettles AND Rhaena I see.

Oh, and just bc he said he liked epi 2, doesn't mean that he cannot critique anything about HotD ever again...he is the writer and creator of this universe that they are capitalizing on. As long as a writer of any genre stays logically consistent and relatively undiscriminatory in their original writing, they definitely can tell any of us readers what is real and not real or possible in their own creations! That this is even up for debate is a travesty to logic.

Mind you, this is the same man who said the show and the book are two separate canons AND that adaptations "nowadays" tend to fail bc the adapters think they can make the story "better" and ignore critical lore details. And in his latest commentary on HotD's S2 first two episodes, he says, and I quote:

“Rhaenyra the Cruel” has been getting great reviews, for the most part.   A lot of the fans are proclaiming it the best episode of HotD, and some are even ranking it higher than the best episodes of GAME OF THRONES.   I can hardly be objective about these things, but I would certainly say it deserves to be in contention.   The only part of the show that is drawing criticism is the conclusion of the Blood and Cheese storyline.   Which ending was powerful, I thought… a gut punch, especially for viewers who had never read FIRE & BLOOD.   For those who had read the book, however… Well, there’s  a lot of be said about that, but this is not the place for me to say it.   The issues are too complicated.   Somewhere down the line, I will do a separate post about all the issues raised by Blood and Cheese… and Maelor the Missing.  There’s a lot to say.

Note that the latest post was about epi4 and this one I just linked is only abt epi 1 &2....so where are his thoughts for the hated/comedic epi3?! (we see each other, George). (BTW, I gave my thoughts on his thoughts about 1 & 2, HERE.)

I'll say it once again: though GRRM praised the portrayal of grief, defended Cheese being lost, and loved the dog (the last I don't fault anyone for, I also loved them) in the Blood & Cheese episode, he also expressly talks AROUND how Blood & Cheese and Helaena actually interacted and comments on the Maelor-lessness (therefore the lack of Sophie's Choice) that many people--inclu myself--have been saying was a huge problem.

Now we have two different sources that seem to support the ideas of:

GRRM both not being as "involved" with the actual writing of this show for a bit AND not approving of a lot of critical changes

HotD's writers cannot create anything truly "canon" or "real/true" for this universe, it only can make any sort of "sense" if it also retrieves information from the original tale, which is not really just F&B but THE ENTIRE SET OF AVAILABLE BOOKS!

[autistook]

ON THIS DAY | October 23rd

Bilbo decends into Smaug's lair

"I did not come for presents. I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them."

"Do you now?" said the dragon somewhat flattered, even though he did not believe a word of it.

[teawithmadalice]

THE DRAGONS DAUGHTER

Thranduil X OC! Daughter • CHAPTER 3

SUMMARY: Thranduil lost his beloved daughter 500 years ago, on his search for the white gems of Lasgalen- his wife's final gift to him, he finds a young elf who reminds him of his lost daughter.

Or An intruder breaks into Erebor and meets a peculiar She-elf.

WC: 1.3K

CHAP 2 • CHAP 3 (YOU ARE HERE) • CHAP 4

Many people find silence unnerving, but the young elfling had spent so long in it, the cold embrace of quiet was her only friend.

One thing any mortal must know about dragons, the ferocious, fire breathing, mountain dwelling beasts is that they sleep. They sleep for years upon years, waking up once their hunger had become so ravenous they wake and breathe fire and eat all whom cross their path, stealing any wealth or earthly possessions the victims leave behind, bringing them to their lair and sleeping amongst the fallens possessions.

For about 150 years after the fated day when Aewneth was placed at the mouth of Erebor, Smaug stayed awake, he taught the girl how to speak, read and raised her as his own flesh and blood, she was odd, even for the dragon, who has seen every type of mortal and immortal that has ever inhabited the lands of middle earth.

It had been 60 years since her father last awoke, Aewneth spent her time painting, weaving delicate embroidery, reading, writing, shifting through the hoard. It was repetitive, yes, but it was her routine. A quiet, methodic, systematic routine.

It was dusk when she heard the soft pitter patter of little, light footsteps that echoes through the maze of mines and rocky tunnels.

Interesting.

•••••••••

Bilbo Baggins wasn't a burglar. Maybe he could steal a sword off an orc or some food from a fellow traveler, but breaking into a fallen kingdom, stealing an ancient jewel from under a sleeping dragons nose and getting out unnoticed? Definitely above his pay grade.

But a Baggins will always stay true to his word, he promised the dwarves a burglar, and a burglar he will be. 

His breath was steady as he moved through the dark passageways leading into Erebor, the rest of the company would wait on the cliff side for Bilbo's return- or the sound of a fire breathing dragon waking up incredibly agitated from his 60 year long slumber.

His heartbeat hammered harder in every step he took closer to the horde- he fidgeted with the ring in his hands, just one foot in front of the other, one foot in fr-

"You are not supposed to be here." 

A soft voice spoke from behind the Hobbit, he jumped, dropping the ring with a clatter onto the stone floor, the noise echoing throughout the tunnels.

An elf stood behind him, her head was ducked slightly, the Dwarven halls of Erebor were seemingly not built for someone of her height. She wore a silver gown, with hand embroidered flowers at the scooped neckline, her hair flowed in golden waves down her back, silver rings and jewelry were intricately braided into her hair. He stammered to find his words, why would a she-elf be here, in the unlit halls of Erebor?

"Who are you?" She continued, not waiting for a response, voice still soft. Bilbo could not detect any malice or threat in her voice, she spoke softly, kindly, it was odd- why on earth is she here? she could hardly be on a mission, she wasn't dressed in armour, had no weapons on her person either.

"I'm Bilbo Baggins, from Bag-end." He smiled awkwardly, shuffling from one foot to the other, her stare was unsettling, the ice blue of her eyes pierced into his soul, she looked like one of the wood elves he had the misfortune of getting on the wrong side of. The mere thought of beer barrels made his skin crawl even now.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Bilbo Baggins from Bag-end. May I inquire why you are here? it is every dangerous, you know. A dragon lives amongst these walls" The elf tilted her head.

"I could ask you the same thing my Lady" he smiled, a charismatic laugh falling from his lips as he tried to ease the tension and the ever present thumping of his heart.

"I suppose you are right." And with a soft sigh she continued.

"I live here." She smiled, looking down at the Hobbit, "I've lived in these halls all my life, almost... 500 years now I believe."

She hummed absent-mindedly, eyes beginning to wonder towards the unlit torches on the wall, seeming to contemplate her next actions as she made no attempt to conceal her facial expressions. 

"How about I make us supper and we talk about why you have chosen to come here, you are no dwarf and have no blood ties to this fallen kingdom. You intrigue me. And if we are being completely transparent, ive never had company before."

"Of course my lady", his heartbeat thumps in his ears. Great. This has just become 10 times more difficult. Not only did he have to stealth a dragon, now he has to sneak past a young elfling with incredible hearing and fast reflexes.

Amazing.

She turned around, after gesturing the halfling to follow her, navigating effortlessly through the maze of tunnels, the soft fabric of her dress flowing behind her as she strides with purpose.

The ring in Bilbo's hands became heavier as he followed suit, as much as a home cooked meal seemed appealing after months away in the wilderness far from the shire, it would not get the arkenstone any closer to being in his possession. With a shaky breath and nimble hands, Bilbo slipped the golden band onto his forefinger, the familiar blur of invisibility invaded his vision, every motion swirled in patterns.

He continued to follow the oblivious she elf, though he created a bit more distance and stayed light on his feet, praying to every spirit in middle earth that the fall of his footsteps would not be loud enough to be noticed.

But Bilbo Baggins was playing the role of a burglar, he had been ever since he signed that contract back in Bag-end, and he mustn't let his company down, he will get the arkenstone, deliver it to Thorin Oakenshield and free his dwarf friends home from the tightened grasp of Smaug.

He must.

A soft white glow emitted from his peripheral vision, the maze of tunnels finally came to a close, here he could make a run for it, find the treasure and flee without any one knowing what happened.

Of course Bilbo knew that would be wishful thinking, but even he was bewildered once the labyrinth of corridors came to an end and he stared down at the heaps and piles of gold, finding a single white gem in the sea of treasure was almost impossible, and certainly would take longer than one night, the door into the mountain would close and he would be trapped. The fact that there was a sleeping dragons beneath said gold, a young elf with hearing as sharp as nails, and the fact that the only description of the gem he seeked was that it was "white" and that he would "know it when he saw it", only added to the inevitable failure of this mission.

A burglar Bilbo could be, a miracle worker? Not so much.

Bilbo spared a look behind him at the young she elf, she looked around bemused and bewildered,

"A disappearing halfling... How strange." She pondered quietly, eyes flickering around the great hall.

Time to get to work.

"Perhaps I imagined him" she hummed, turning on her heel and leaving back into the tunnels, going to God knows where. Bilbo thanked the elves eccentric nature in his head, before turning his gaze back onto the hoard.

••••••

TAGLIST:

@sunroxic @trishfullertonwriting75 @ringwraith1261 @sanwhs2 @aduialel @kittysspam @prettyself@dipping-dots @carnivore-spikachu @monchaeri3 @kaorisakamotofan @chibiduck @whimsicalfungiforager

JOIN HERE

[froggie-the-frogman]

The Hobbit=The Odyssey

Hear me out:

-Posiden is Azog the Defiler

-Thorin is Odysseus

-Erebor is Ithica obvi

-Elrond is Aoleus the wind god, both provide help to Odie/Thorin and live in a place that is hard to find/get to

-Thranduil is Calypso, both fulfilling a similar role of kidnapper/keeper

-Smaug is the 108 suiters that squat in Odie's palace whom he kills in the end

-Fili and Kili are Telemacaus

-the Goblin tunnels can narratively be the underworld and the sirens respectively

-Mirkwood is the lair of Scylla obvi

-Gandalf could either be Athena or Hermes, both maybe?

-however unless you read the fanfiction, there is no Penelope (Bilbo)

Feel free to add to my list

[marcus-x-shaw]

Bilbo Baggins: The Reluctant Hero of Middle-earth

Bilbo Baggins, the protagonist of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and a pivotal character in The Lord of the Rings, is one of the most beloved figures in modern literature. A hobbit of the Shire, Bilbo embarks on an unexpected journey that transforms him from a quiet, comfort-loving homebody into a cunning adventurer and reluctant hero. His story of bravery, wit, and personal growth remains a cornerstone of Tolkien’s richly imagined world.

A Hobbit of the Shire

Bilbo was born in Bag End, a cozy hobbit-hole in Hobbiton, in the Shire, on September 22, 2890 of the Third Age. He is the son of Bungo Baggins, a respectable and wealthy hobbit, and Belladonna Took, whose adventurous lineage explains Bilbo’s latent wanderlust.

Hobbits, including Bilbo, are typically small in stature, unassuming, and fond of a quiet life filled with good food, ale, and gardening. Bilbo epitomized this way of life—until the wizard Gandalf and a company of thirteen dwarves arrived on his doorstep with an adventure that would change his life forever.

The Quest for Erebor

The story of The Hobbit begins when Gandalf enlists Bilbo to join Thorin Oakenshield and his company of dwarves on a quest to reclaim their homeland and treasure from the dragon Smaug. At first, Bilbo is hesitant; adventure is far removed from his idea of a proper hobbit life. However, his Tookish side—his latent adventurous spirit—wins out, and he reluctantly joins the expedition.

Highlights of Bilbo’s Journey:

1. Trolls: Bilbo attempts to pickpocket a group of trolls, leading to a comedic yet dangerous encounter.

2. Gollum and the Ring: In the dark caves beneath the Misty Mountains, Bilbo encounters Gollum and discovers the One Ring, a magical artifact that grants invisibility. This encounter proves crucial to the events of The Lord of the Rings.

3. Spiders of Mirkwood: Using his newfound courage and wit, Bilbo rescues the dwarves from giant spiders, cementing his role as a vital member of the group.

4. The Lonely Mountain: Bilbo sneaks into Smaug’s lair, gathering intelligence on the dragon and demonstrating bravery and resourcefulness.

5. The Battle of the Five Armies: Though not a warrior, Bilbo plays a key role in preventing further bloodshed by offering the Arkenstone, a prized treasure, as a bargaining chip.

Through these challenges, Bilbo grows from a timid hobbit into a clever, resilient adventurer.

Themes of Bilbo’s Story

1. Personal Growth: Bilbo’s journey is one of self-discovery. He begins as an ordinary hobbit but uncovers courage, wit, and resilience he didn’t know he possessed.

2. Heroism in the Ordinary: Unlike traditional fantasy heroes, Bilbo is not a warrior or a king. His heroism lies in his intellect, kindness, and moral integrity.

3. Greed vs. Generosity: Bilbo’s humility and selflessness contrast with the destructive greed seen in Thorin Oakenshield and Smaug.

Bilbo in The Lord of the Rings

Decades after the events of The Hobbit, Bilbo reappears in The Lord of the Rings as a retired adventurer living a quiet life in the Shire. However, the One Ring, which he unwittingly brought back from his journey, begins to exert its dark influence. Recognizing its danger, Gandalf convinces Bilbo to leave the ring to his younger cousin and heir, Frodo Baggins.

Bilbo spends his final years in Rivendell, writing his memoir, There and Back Again, and reflecting on his adventures. At the end of The Return of the King, he joins Frodo, Gandalf, and the Elves on a journey to the Undying Lands, seeking peace and rest.

Legacy

Bilbo Baggins embodies the idea that even the smallest and most unlikely individuals can rise to greatness. His transformation from a reluctant participant to a resourceful hero underscores the potential for growth and courage in everyone. Bilbo’s wit, humility, and moral compass have made him a timeless character who continues to inspire readers and viewers alike.

Famous Quotes

• “I’m going on an adventure!” (The Hobbit)

• “There’s more to you than meets the eye.” (The Hobbit)

• “I think I’m quite ready for another adventure.” (The Return of the King)

Bilbo Baggins’s journey from Bag End to the Lonely Mountain and beyond remains one of the most compelling stories in fantasy literature. What do you admire most about Bilbo’s character? Share your thoughts on this unlikely hero!

[drzime]

You can view the big picture here!

I've been wanting to do this project for years, and I finally did it!

Here it is! One month's worth of drawing and coloring dragons of all sorts! How many do you recognize?

Included are:

Cassie (Dragon Tales)

Charizard (Pokemon)

Day Fury (How to Train your Dragon)

Devon and Cornwall (Quest for Camelot)

Dojo (Xiaolin Showdown)

Draco (Dragonheart)

Dragon (Shrek)

Drogon (season 1)(Game of Thrones)

Droofus (How Droofus the Dragon Lost his Head)

Elliot (Pete's Dragon)

Faffy (Dave the Barbarian)

Falcor (The Neverending Story)

Figment (Disney World)

Gorbash (The Flight of Dragons)

Haku (Spirited Away)

Jake Long (American Dragon: Jake Long)

Mushu (Mulan)

Reluctant Dragon (The Reluctant Dragon)

Ruth (The Dragonriders of Pern)

Saphira (Eragon)

Seventh Voyage Dragon (The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad)

Shenron (Dragonball)

Singe (Dragon's Lair)

Sisu (Ray and the Last Dragon)

Smaug (The Hobbit)

Spike (My Little Pony)

Spyro (Spyro)

Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon)

Vermithrax (Dragonslayer)

Volvagia (The Ocarina of Time)

Zym (The Dragon Prince)

This was a lot of fun! I might so something similar in the future with mice or something.

[truths33k3r4]

DAY 4- “Betrayed By Someone They Trust”

(PS Just a quick heads up for some warnings~ This fic- is not a happy one. TW- Capture, blood, strangling, implied character death, and stabbing)

Smoke burned into Lotus’ eyes as she peered through the flames frantically. Her throat was dry and itchy from the lack of moisture in the air. Vibrant hues of red and yellow flickered in the reflection of her irises, her pupils shrinking with her hope. She kept her limbs as close to her body as possible as the flames continued to grow.

Where are they??

The smaug filling the room echoed the mist in her mind as she tried to remember what happened. She recalled a bright neon light encircling her and her brothers as they fled from incoming foes in an intergalactic battleship. As a tingling sensation overtook her, sparking electricity through every nerve in her body, her whole world went to black.

And then- she woke up in the belly of the beast.

She winced as a twinge of tightness pulled at the muscles in her arms, biting back a yelp as she tried to rub away the remaining rope burns from her wrists.

The flames continued to grow, alighting the room as if a sunset had unleashed all of its power. As the fire grew in mass, the amount of oxygen shrank. Lotus coughed and tried to hide her face with her arms, but the smoke paid no mind as it weaved itself into her sinuses. Between more hacks and now tears, she grabbed her mask tails and spat in them, covering her mouth so she would somewhat be able to breathe through the moisture in the fabric.

She knew it wouldn’t last- but she had to try something.

The flames continued to claw at the walls as more boards fell to the ground in crackling shards. She scoured the room for an exit, but the fury of the flames hindered her from seeing one. Lotus could feel her barely damp mask tails continue to dry out with each passing second. 

Time was running out.

She knew her brothers were around here somewhere. They had to be. Not just anyone would do something so risky as using a wrecking ball on a crane to obliterate the wall of your deadliest enemies’ fortress. No, that would be illogical, foolish, and life-threatening.

That would be her brothers.

Something any newcomer to their home would quickly learn, was the fact that all bets were off once someone in the family was put in danger; All or nothing. But unfortunately, such reckless actions would always come back to snap at their shells. Her brothers did an excellent job of infiltrating the lair in which she was being kept, but they didn’t take into consideration just how many flamed stakes would be strewn throughout the walls. Or how flammable the carpet would be…

..Their arch nemesis needed a new indoor decorator.

Lotus coughed and staggered as the remaining moisture in her mask dried up. Her lungs were quickly filled with smoke as her eyes squinted, trying to see through her stinging tears. She searched with choked breaths and gasps for anything that would resemble her brother’s colors: The cool blue of Leo, the vibrant orange of Mikey, the bold purple of Don, and the zealous red of Raph. 

The flames grew ever closer, making her back away into the middle of the room. The heat was beginning to sting her arms and legs now, as sharp, burning claws flickered at her body. Her throat felt drier than the inside of an hourglass, but that didn’t stop her as she tried yelling for her brothers. She raised her hands and coned them around her mouth as she screamed,

“LEO!!! RAPH!! DON!!! MIKE-”

Her cries to her family were cut off as a hand shot out from the darkness, gripping around her throat with precision. Painful pressure burst into her neck as she was lifted off her feet and dragged towards her captor.

The clasped hand restricted her heart from leaping out of her throat as she gazed into his eyes.

Her brother’s eyes.

Lotus could feel her body tense further as her brother tightened his fingers like a noose around her throat. The biting pressure made it nearly impossible to speak. 

Nearly.

“GhHhhh- R--Ra-APH??” She managed to squeak out in shattered gasps.

Raphael’s eyes tightened with his grip.

“Who’s askin’?” A soulless voice crept out from her brother’s mouth, colder than a grave and just as empty.. “You’re nothin’ but a prisoner- how do you know my name?” He spoke with a tongue dipped in venom.

Words had escaped Lotus as quickly as her breath. She tried to gasp and speak but now it was truly becoming impossible to. Dark spots began invading her vision as she felt the flames around her slowly grow cold. The pain radiating from her arms and legs dulled to faint pulses. Her brain shushed all her rampaging thoughts, humming a lullaby and making them all turn to sleepy static.

Th-that’ssssss not gooddddd…

“I SAID WHO ARE YOU?” Raphael shouted, letting go of his grasp just enough so Lotus could breathe. His hazel eyes searched her for answers, the reflections of flames in them a constant reminder of his growing impatience.

Raphael’s slight release on her throat allowed Lotus’ tongue to finally unravel from its binds.

“I’m… yo-our f-f-family.” She wheezed as she tried to fight the losing battle of staying conscious.

Raphael’s eyes grew dark as he sneered mirthlessly.

“That’s cute. You think I’ll let you go cause we’re both freaks.” He hissed as his right hand pulled a thin blade to Lotus’ chin. “There’s no code of honor when being a monster is in your blood.”

He raised his sai until it barely pierced Lotus’ left cheek. She winced and tried to fight against it, but her strength was quickly leaving her. Her cold body shuddered at the sudden warmth of blood trickling down her neck. 

“P-p-please-” Lotus choked through her tears. She had to hold back from gagging when something warm and metallic found its way into her mouth. Darkness continued to creep further at the edges of her vision. 

“P-ple-ase Raph- I..I l-love you brot-ther.”

Raphael’s face became unreadable. His eyes, for a shard of a second, lit with a faint warmth. The hand holding his sai twitched and loosened its grip, slightly pulling the blade away from the flowing crimson on Lotus’ face. His expression subtly twisted as he fought against something inside him.

For just one second, Lotus saw Raph again. She saw her brother who taught her how to do lineart on his sketches. She heard a teasing voice with a smug grin. She felt the fading light of hope grow into a spark.

But before the light could overtake her brother’s irises, the darkness within him swallowed it.

He raised the sai again, aimed directly at Lotus’ head. 

“N-n-no!! NO! PLEASE!” Lotus cried out with the last shreds of her voice.

 Raphael’s shuddering grip on his weapon’s handle clenched into an unforgiving vice.

Lotus braced herself as her fight to stay conscious came to an end.

“P-please Raph..” She whimpered as her eyes rolled back and her body went limp, finally succumbing to the cold in the room filled with flame.

Tada~ Now we ALL BROKEN. XD

This was a FUN challenge- not only for my writing, but for my art. I NEVER draw fire- I'm still learning how to replicate the thriving, flickering movements- But then I looked up "fire in TMNT 2003" and BOOM. IT WAS GO TIME.

Thanks for reading! :)

~ Melissa

~ TMNTember 2024 Prompts List ~

[captain-hawks]

Also heres a frivolous q for your ama! Can I get your top candle breakdown by season? I'm like smaug but with candles.

candles????? did somebody say CANDLES??????? step in my lair (the overflowing shelves of them in my linen closet). okay, so sticking with all bath & body works scents since that's 99% of my trove:

spring - bergamot waters, pink lavender & espresso

summer - cactus blossom, white tea & sage, mahogany teakwood

fall - pumpkin bonfire, pumpkin cupcake, white pumpkin

winter - spiced apple toddy, sweater weather, red velvet cupcake

there's also a candle called luna - meteor shower by dw home that's one of my favourite candles to ever exist, and that's a year-round cozy in bed scent for me. but they don't make it anymore. i have one jar left and i fear i may never be able to burn it!!

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"WELL, WELL, WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? A TINY CREATURE DARING TO ADDRESS THE MIGHTY SMAUG. THE MIGHTIEST IN MIDDLE-EARTH."

PIC INFO: Spotlight on a piece titled "A Conversation with Smaug," Bilbo Baggins in Smaug's treasure hoard under the Lonely Mountain, from the fantasy/adventure/children's book "The Hobbit" (or "There and Back Again”), artwork by Ted Nasmith. Color sketch/gouache on illustration board.

PIC #2: Finished painting of "A Conversation with Smaug."

"Bilbo Baggins cautiously entered the dark and treacherous lair of the fearsome dragon, Smaug. The air was thick with tension as he hesitantly made his way towards the immense creature, whose body was adorned with glittering gold and jewels. "Smaug," Bilbo called out, his voice trembling slightly. "I have come to speak with you." The dragon's eyes flickered with curiosity as it turned towards the hobbit. Its deep, rumbling voice filled the chamber, resonating with power. "Well, well, what do we have here? A tiny creature daring to address the mighty Smaug. The mightiest in Middle-Earth. What brings you to my domain, little hobbit?""

-- A CONVERSATION WITH SMAUG, from "The Hobbit" (1937), written by J.R.R. Tolkien

Sources: www.picuki.com/media/3191630386592751836 & www.tednasmith.com/tolkien/a-conversation-with-smaug.

[drawnecromancy]

top 5 dragons c: (any dragons..whether just breeds/designs or specific characters including your own dragons haha)

Hmm ! Tough one !

There's a lot of dragons I like, both in my stuff and other people's stuff LOL. I'm including pictures, so I'll put the entire thing under a cut !!

The dumbass, the myth, the legend : Denyze !

Genuinely one of my favorite characters and dragons of all time. She's silly and I really need to do something with her in terms of storytelling, whether on or off FR (probably off , considering how little I've been active lately.) She's the smartest dragon of the lair, she's completely stupid, she'll steal your food while complimenting you on your shoes, she met a random dragon and decided they'd be besties and would have kids and she was right. Truly the dragon of all time.

2. Sahrotaar, my Beloved

This boy is just the goodest Skyrim dragon ever. I love him. He looks SO SO SO goofy in game. I am so sad that he dies ! He shouldn't die !

3. DARIS

The Capslock Dragon from my own worldbuilding, with a drawing that I don't think I've shared here before ! It was meant to be part of a series on all of the 6, but they're the only one I've actually finished. I've started their twin AETERIS... last year. Still haven't finished the painting, lol. One of the accidental founders of the universe, personification of the element of Darkness - or is it the other way around ? Darkness deriving from the sheer presence of this dragon ?

4. Smaug

The Tolkien Guy. Look. Look At How Tolkien Draws Him. Do You Understand Me.

5. Her Majesty Elvul Aden Etynda

Empress of Etynda, Leader of the Eyes of the Empire, I've never quite managed to finish a drawing of her or figure out her color palette. She's a lot of fun to write though, she gets excited at the prospect of her roommate possibly getting himself in trouble and genuinely asks "Hey, whose blood is that on the floor ?" as if it wasn't obvious it was said roommate's. Very funny lady.

[queenofdragons12]

Dragon's Treasure

You are a brave adventurer, seeking to defeat the great dragon Smaug and claim his treasure hoard as your own. But as you draw near to the dragon's lair, something unexpected happens.

As you face off against Smaug, you realize that he is not the fearsome monster you expected. There's a certain charm to his gruff personality, and his deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

As the two of you engage in conversation, you find yourself drawn to Smaug's wit and intelligence. And to your surprise, he seems equally interested in you.

Days turn into weeks, and soon you find yourself spending most of your time in Smaug's lair. You share stories and meals together, and as time passes, your feelings for each other grow stronger.

One day, as you sit in the warmth of the dragon's hoard, Smaug turns to you, his eyes glittering in the light of the treasure.

"Y/n, there's something I must tell you," he says, his voice soft and sincere.

You look up at him, feeling a flutter in your chest. "What is it?"

"I never thought I would find someone who understands me like you do. I care for you deeply, and I know that my treasure hoard pales in comparison to the treasure of your company."

You feel your cheeks flush with warmth, and you take Smaug's massive claw in your hand. "Smaug, I care for you too. Your company means more to me than any treasure."

As you both sit there, hand in claw, you realize that love can come from the most unexpected places. You're excited for the future and eager to see where your love for Smaug will take you. In his lair, surrounded by treasure and warmth, you know that you've found your own dragon's treasure.

[inkedmoth]

Dragon Rider King

A request for @shuckstruck she requested a King Aragorn dragon rider one-shot, and I was MORE than happy to oblige! Hope you enjoy! Want to request a one-shot? Here's the post with details!

“How on Arda did the kings of old manage such a large kingdom?”

Aragorn once again found himself uttering the phrase that had all but become a curse during his first year upon the throne. It was a very real problem he’d all too quickly encountered, as while his seat within Gondor at Minas Tirith was secure, the outer reaches of the Reunited Kingdoms was proving… difficult to govern.

Not for lack of trying, already he’d appointed a northern governor from within the ranks of the Dúnedain, and while Avalômi was doing an admirable job at keeping the kingdom running in his absence, it was proving hard to keep the northern reaches from crumbling at the edges.

He needed a solution, and travelling the roads for almost two months straight every time there was a major disagreement, wasn’t it.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any alternate ideas.

Fortunately, he might know someone who did.

Abandoning the half-written edict on his desk, Aragorn went in search of Gandalf. True he was intending to leave Middle Earth shortly, but perhaps he would have one last insight to share. It didn’t take long to find the wizard, comfortably ensconced within the extensive archives of the Citadel.

“Mithrandir,” he greeted, and chose not to beat around the bush, “do you have any insight as to how the kings of old managed the kingdoms? It will take months for me to travel to its furthest reaches, and while I trust Faramir’s Stewardship, I cannot be gone for such extended periods of time.”

The White Wizard didn’t reply instantly, instead he settled back within his chair, puffing the long-stemmed pipe in deep thought. Brows creased and clear grey eyes staring into the distance as though he was combing his memory for any answers to the posed question.

“I was not there to witness it,” he answered ponderously after much thought, “I do, however, recall tales of fearsome winged beasts that the Kings of Gondor had once tamed and brought under their command. You’ve seen a few of them yourself, ridden by the servants of the Dark Lord…”

“The Nazgul fell-beasts? The hell-hawks?” Aragorn exclaimed. “That… is not ideal.”

“Hell-hawks? A crude name but not inaccurate, I suppose. They were once known by another name; the angulócë.”

The Quenya word hung in the air between them, and Aragorn found himself staring at the wizard in outright confusion. Not from lack of knowledge, but from understanding. He knew that word, had heard it in the old lays and ancient tales of bygone days.

“Dragons?”

“Dragons.” Gandalf seemed most amused by his stunned reaction but hastened on to explain further. “In a manner of speaking, these are smaller in build, more nimble and agile in flight, but also considerably less intelligent or sly compared to their distant cousin the Great Worm Smaug. They’re selective in choosing their riders, as history speaks of them only accepting riders of nobility.”

“Such as kings of old.”

“Indeed.”

“And…” Aragorn was reluctant to ask, reluctant to broach this line of conversation at all, but if he was to maintain and uphold the realm he found himself king of, then this was something he needed to know. “Where, exactly, can these beasts be found?”

The smile that spread across Gandalf’s features was anything but reassuring.

******

Fortunately –or perhaps unfortunately– Gandalf knew exactly where the angulócë could be found, and much to Aragorn’s concern, it was scarcely a day’s ride out.

“Minas Morgul doesn’t seem likely to be their home,” he commented dryly, frowning up at the fortress and its sickly green walls and jagged black iron fortifications. “How could they be kept here? The Nazgul would have set them upon us at once?”

“They do not reside within the fortress, but the entrance to their lair is accessed within.”

That made more sense, but it did little to settle Aragorn’s concern over having great winged beasts a stone’s throw from Minas Tirith.

“From what I recall of my readings, the lair consists of a cavern system through the southern section of the Shadow Mountains,” Gandalf was continuing, guesting to the dark stone mountains looming over the fortress. And them. “No other entrance has been recorded, but there have been rumours of winged beasts harassing Harondor and hunting within the desert plains of the south.”

Which meant the cave system would have other entrances and exits, which meant the beasts could potentially escape and ravage Gondor and beyond with ease. How much he trusted Gandalf’s belief of them only accepting noble riders, Aragorn was yet to decided. He did trust the Wizard, but these creatures were untested and all but forgotten, until Sauron had harnessed them for his strongest servants.

“Shall we begin our search?”

With a longsuffering sigh, Aragorn slid down from Brego’s back, passing the reins to the poor squire that had bravely volunteered to join their travels. Gandalf was quick to join him, crossing the bridge and passing beneath the maw-like gate of Minas Morgul.

It had taken weeks to breach the fortress and eradicate the orcs and worse within, but even now several months later, their stench and fell influence lingered.

Searching for a cavern entrance was harder than expected, the sheer number of rooms, corridors, nooks, crannies, and shadowed corners seemed to multiply by the dozens. But after hours of careful hunting, they found it.

The archway carved into living stone of the mountains was blackened, rough to the touch and porous. The sort of stone that had been present within Mordor, that spoke of fire mountains and burning lava long since cooled. No doubt it had wrought a myriad of tunnels and catacombs and caverns within the Shadow Mountains…

Which meant plenty of hiding spots for the angulócë he sought.

“Look here,” Gandalf murmured, a quiet spell brightening the crystal within his staff, and revealing carved words across the arched doorway. “I torech angulócë. Bad limbë mis ldë penta tya men, lasta harivë mis ldë penta tya tunto, yë quet milyar mis ldë penta tya elwen.”

“The Dragons Lair,” Aragorn repeated voice low, “tread lightly less you lose your way, listen closely less you lose your wits, and speak softly less you lose your heart.”

“All of which you are quite adept at, no?”

The amused smile he gave the wizard was returned in full, a reassuring sight despite the dark and shadowed fortress they’d passed through.

“But its here our paths must diverge,” Gandalf said, and Aragorn’s smile evaporated, “you are of noble blood, while I sadly, am not.”

“Thanks.”

A hand clapped onto his shoulder, a familiar weight and encouragement. “You are Elessar Telcontar High King of the Reunited Kingdoms, all you’re trying to do, is find an oversized flying lizard.”

Gandalf made it sound so simple, but despite any reluctance in his heart, Aragorn took a torch from the wall, and entered the Dragons Lair.

*****

Flickering firelight did little to illuminate the ragged and harsh walls that Aragorn found himself passing. The steep staircase beneath his feet wound endlessly into the depths of the earth, dust and grit crunching beneath each footfall. It was narrow, it was cramped, it was unpleasant, but somehow it still felt far better than Moria had.

Perhaps it was the air, it seemed… fresh.

Or at least compared to the orc stench he’d left behind. Oh there was the smell of rot and decay, the smell of fire and brimstone, but it was faint, easy to ignore as he watched his feet.

So focused on navigating the steps, it took Aragorn a moment to notice the change.

The walls of the staircase had ceased to exist, one moment he was navigating a narrow stairwell leading into the bowels of the mountains, the next… he was balancing a precarious route within a great cavern.

Was this of dwarven make? It felt like it, what with their precarious walkways, steep stairs, and distinct lack of rails between you and a fathomless fall. The flickering light of his torch struggled to reach much further than his immediate space but pausing on a ‘landing’ Aragorn was able to tilt his head back and eye the cave.

There were shafts cut into the stone high above, so distant and small that they could have been stars in the velvet of night. Even as he watched, trying to find his bearings, one of the lights went out.

And then returned.

There was a distant sound, the slither of something dragging over rock and stone. Dust and grit pattered down from above, stinging his eyes and threatening a cough. Breath held, Aragorn remained still, letting his eyes adjust to the near darkness, listening intently.

A low sound, on the edge of his hearing, a flicker of movement, a scent of musty air.

There was movement, and from more than one location.

His fingers twitched with the urge to take Andúril from its sheath, but he resisted. So far the creatures hadn’t approached, hadn’t snarled or hissed, hadn’t made any indication of attack, and with how narrow the staircase was, it would be difficult for them to approach without his knowing.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, there was the scrape of claws on stone, and an almighty burst of air, threatening to knock him from the walkway. Sinking into a crouch, he pressed his free hand to the stone in a bid to stabilise against the buffering of—

Wingbeats.

Head snapping up, Aragorn watched as the edge of a wing, the long serpentine line of a tail, passed on the edge of his torchlight.

A crunch of stone, and the beast settled upon a new wall.

It could have eaten him, could have lashed out and struck him from his precarious perch, but instead it had simply… passed him by. Like a curious onlooker eyeing a stranger to their home. The creature was curious, not aggressive.

Exhaling silently, Aragorn went to rise, but paused, eyes on the stone beneath his feet. Before him was smooth unblemished steps, but beneath his fingers and feet was grit and dust, clear marks where he’d stepped and disturbed months or maybe years of residue.

Leaning forwards, his fingers brushed the next step, leaving a great streak through the built-up black dust. Not unblemished then, just untouched. Rising to his feet, he looked back, light of the flames showing a clear path where he had walked.

‘Tread lightly less you lose your way.’

No doubt these caves were a warren, but if he minded his step, he’d be able to retrace his route when it was time to leave.

With that in mind, he resumed the descent.

Eventually the stairs ran out, and Aragorn found himself stood at the bottom of the cavern. It was unsurprising to find bones there, animal and orc mainly, the flesh scraped clean from them, rough lines across the bones indicating teeth. But there weren’t enough to blanket the floor, which at least meant the going was easier.

Torch raised, he moved forwards, aiming to find the cavern wall and work his way about the massive space. So far, the angulócë in this space had been watchful, but hadn’t approached. Or did he need to approach them? Was there a word or phrase he could command them with? Why for all the Valar had he not researched this more before descending into the Dragons Lair?

But what else was there to do other than press onwards?

The soft crunch of grit underfoot, the quiet sounds of his breath, the gentle scrape of scales across stone, the subtle scratch of claws on rock, the whisper of wings passing overhead. It was… unnerving to say the least, knowing the creatures were in the cavern, knowing they were watching his progress, but keeping just beyond the light of his torch. On more than one occasion there was the flicker of light, of eyes reflecting at him.

The massive chamber was riddled with pockets carved into the walls, openings that hinted at further tunnels, corners and shadows that forced him to search and hunt and seek.

Until finally, he found an occupied recess. Judging by the deep calm breaths, the angulócë was sleeping.

It was, however the first time Aragorn had seen more than a shadowed flicker.

A curled form. Black scales, muted and dull in the light of his torch. Leathery wings folded and tucked against its flanks. A long, serpentine tail, encircling its form, draped across its nose and concealing its face. It was big, bigger than a horse, larger than a hay cart, but not so impossibly big that it would dwarf a house.

But certainly big enough to eat him…

Treading lightly, Aragorn approached, torch held low, hand hovering over the hilt of Andúril. There was no reaction, the deep breaths continued, steady and calm.

Should he speak? Reach out to it? Touch the creature?

So consumed by choosing his next step, Aragorn’s attention strayed from his physical steps, as a slender bone snapped beneath his soft soled boot.

In the light of his torch, emerald green eyes snapped open.

There was no chance to react, no chance to back up, no chance to try speaking or getting away or moving or anything as between one breath and the next, the angulócë lunged.

*****

Taloned feet struck his shoulders, and Aragorn was slammed into the floor. Bones and stones jabbed his back and legs, the torch was flung free of his grasp –thankfully remaining lit– and thick black claws dug into the leather and wool of his old Rangers clothes. Ivory teeth bared, snarling in his face, inches long and inches away, the breath of old meat and rotting things.

His own hands were raised before him, as though the feeble flesh of men could withstand such an attack, small and pale before the maw of the angulócë, the ring on his finger gleaming dully in the flickering light.

There creature’s nostrils flared.

One moment, Aragorn was pinned to the floor and expecting death.

The next… nothing.

The angulócë lurched back, there was a scrabble of claws and scuff of scales across the rough floor, as the creature hastened away. Its long black tail flickered as it retreated into a tunnel.

It… it didn’t attack?

A scrabble of feet and snatching of torch, and Aragorn was quick to pursue.

The tracks were laughably easy to follow, great long streaks through the dust and grit, the mark of a tail being dragged, the scrapes of talons on the rough, porous rock, leading deeper into the mountains, further into the warren of caves, further away from the great cavern.

It knew where to go, but did he?

Steps slowed, eyes darting to the floor and hesitating as he discovered that his own prints were no longer visible. Following the tracks of the beast would be easy, retracing his own would be far harder.

At that realisation the cave about him seemed to shift, becoming darker and more constricting. The shifts of scales and wings echoing throughout, the rumbles and gusts of wind, the sounds of a dozen creatures and a dozen potential dangers. The noises echoed and multiplied until there could have been hundreds. There were low grumbles from the direction the angulócë had headed. If he kept his wits abou—

‘Listen closely less you lose your wits.’

Forcing out a harsh breath, Aragorn did his best to blot them out, eyes on the trail before him, ears on the sounds ahead of him. One foot in front of the other, eyes on the tunnel ahead, torch in hand and faith in heart, he followed.

Occasionally, he caught glimpses of dark scales, of a tail whipping out of sight, heard the huff of breath, or the shift of leathery wings. Was the angulócë tiring? Did it seek chance to escape? Was it drawn to the open skies? Would it lead him to another exit from the caverns?

Aragorn followed.

The glimpses became more frequent, the low rumbles and grows became more common, the rocky floor of the tunnel took on an upwards shift. At the first glimpse of sunlight, Aragorn realised his prediction had come true. The creature was seeking to escape.

Even now, silhouetted against the light of day, he could see the lithe serpentine creature bounding forwards. It was going to escape.

Throwing caution to the winds, Aragorn ran.

But he was too late.

Bursting into the open air of a mountain side, the sun pierced his eyes, and a hasty hand thrown up to shield them revealed the angulócë leaping from the cliffside.

Massive wings spread out, catching an updraft and hurtling skywards.

For a moment the burn of the rising sun became unimportant, too entranced by the sight of the dragon soaring above him. The leather of its wings was backlit, revealing the veins within colouring the black to a deep burgundy. Dark scales glinted and shimmered in the sun, turning to a myriad of colours as they reflected the light, blues, greens, and purples all highlighting its form.

And then it soared out across the… across the desert?

Just how far south had he followed the creature? Just how many miles was he from Minas Morgul? Had he spent hours or days following it? It didn’t matter, the creature had escaped, and now he’d have to return back to Minas Tirith and construct a new plan to hasten his travels across the Reunited Kingdoms.

Dropping heavily onto a rock with a frustrated exhale, Aragorn watched as the angulócë started circling, like a bird of prey it glided in tightening rings, its narrow head locked on something far below.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when its wings snapped shut, and it plummeted.

There was a burst of sand and dust, a snarl, and it rapidly took flight once more. Claws empty and tail lashing in frustration.

A glance to the lands before Aragorn revealed a heard of antelope bounding away, unscathed but startled. Was it trying to hunt? Did it hunger? How many attempts would it make before it gave up and returned to the tunnel he was sat before?

Or… was this something he could us?

It was a better plan than ‘try to get his hands on the beast’ so Aragorn listened to his instincts, and began the decent down the mountain side.

It was easy going, and before long he reached the sandy ground. From there, it was a case of finding the supplies he needed, and a suitable location to lay the snare. As he worked, a shadow passed overhead infrequently, the angulócë was quartering, hunting the lands even as Aragorn hunted his own quarry. Was it watching him? Did it understand?

Maybe.

With a twang of rope and startled bleat, the antelope was snared. A quick cut, and Aragorn was able to haul its body back up the mountain, dropping the fresh kill to a flatter area not far from the tunnel.

And then he backed up, and waited.

The angulócë had been watching. Within minutes it was circling overhead, eventually landing further up, eyes on the prize and long forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. It was still cautious to approach, eyes darting towards Aragorn frequently, perched on a rock out in the open.

But it approached.

Black scales shimmered with a myriad of colours in the sun, sharp emerald green eyes watching him cautiously, a set of horns framed its head like a crown, gleaming gold in the light of dawn.

It was beautiful, for an ‘oversized flying lizard’.

With a crunch of bones, it snapped up the antelope and leapt back up the mountain. To Aragorn’s surprise, it didn’t go far, settling upon an outcropping, and starting to eat. The antelope didn’t last long, little more than three mouthfuls for the large serpent.

Very well.

Aragorn, descended the mountain once again.

*****

It was with the third antelope, that the angulócë settled down to eat alongside the tunnel, rather than retreating from his presence. Its lithe body sprawled out across the rocks, still tense and ready to run, but less afraid of Aragorn’s presence.

But how was he to win it over now?

‘Tread lightly less you lose your way, listen closely less you lose your wits, and speak softly less you lose your heart.’

Speak softly?

It was worth a shot, no matter how little he expected the creature to understand.

“Îdh,” Aragorn murmured softly.

The dragon tensed.

“Îdh, îdh mellon,” he repeated. ‘Peace, peace friend.’

Ebony scaled lips pulled back, exposing ivory teeth stained with blood and gore.

Not ideal.

“Sérë,” he tried Quenya instead, still keeping his voice quiet and soft, “sérë nildë.”

There was a beat, a pause, a consideration.

Its scaled lips relaxed, long forked tongue flicking out to lap the blood from its muzzle, green eyes fixed on him in consideration. For several long minutes the pair faced on another, one an ancient serpent, the other a newly crowned king.

And then it resumed eating.

Aragorn let loose a breath he’d not realised he was holding.

“Sérë nildë,” he repeated, not entirely sure if he was soothing the creature or himself, “ni tele ldë ui harnalë.”

‘Peace friend, I mean you no harm.’

There was a huffed growl, still preoccupied with stripping the flesh from the antelope’s bones with rasps of its barbed tongue.

“Nanyë Tar-Aragorn anon Arathorn,” he formally introduced himself.

Once again it paused, head lifting slightly to eye him curiously.

Did it truly understand Quenya? Or was it just the quiet speaking which had calmed the creature? It had certainly seemed agitated by the Sindarin he’d tried, but then those had been the first words he’d spoken aloud…

“Carfa Sindarin?”

Silence, emerald eyes watching him.

“Pakta Quenya?”

Its head cocked.

Quenya it was then.

As the angulócë resumed its meal, Aragorn continued speaking in Quenya. It made little sense, a stream of conscious thought, explanations as to his linage, descriptions of the city, even softly singing the Lay of Luthíen.

The antelope was eaten, and the angulócë remained, its elegant head resting on its front feet, long talons gently scraping across the basalt stones, emerald eyes locked on him.

If it had ears, Aragorn imagined they’d have been turned towards him.

But eventually the sun began to set, and his voice began to grow hoarse, and the serpent grew restless. Rising to its feet, it stretched in a catlike manner, forelimbs extended, neck coiled and maw spreading wide as it yawned loudly. A stretch of its wings buffeted Aragorn with their flaps, while its tail lashed and flicked behind it.

At which point its head swung towards him, and it took every ounce of Aragorn’s discipline and training not to flinch away. Ebony scales, golden horns, emerald eyes, all filled his vision as the angulócë sniffed at him. Its head alone was larger than his body, crown of gold horns framing its head as the nostrils opened and closed with gusts of hot air.

And then its snout nudged his hand.

Once, twice, on the third nudge, Aragorn lifted his hand. Only to blink in surprise as the angulócë pressed against it, the silver ring of Barahir gleaming in the setting sun, standing out against its dark scales.

“Suilië,” he greeted quietly.

A low rumble responded to his words, sounding oddly akin to the purrs of an oversized cat.

Moving carefully he ran his hand across its neck, feeling how the scales shifted and flexed, how the muscles bunched and moved. There was a heat radiating from it, a constant warmth like he was sat alongside a hearth and not an angulócë, a dragon of legend.

When his hand brushed across its shoulders and base of its neck, the creature moved. Dropping to the ground, the wing closest to him lowering.

Unless Aragorn was a fool, that was an invitation.

It didn’t react when he rose to his feet, nor did it shy away when he rested his palms upon its back. Some distant part of Aragorn’s brain was yelling at him, telling him he was a fool, that what he was about to do was unnecessarily reckless. And for once in his long life, he ignored the voice of reason.

Swinging one leg across the angulócë’s back, Aragorn settled between its wings, like riding an oversized scaly horse.

There was a slight huff, but no complaints otherwise.

Before him, the neck stretched, and then shook, scales rattling, spines and webbing catching the warm glow of the setting sun. Carefully reaching out, he grasped the spines before him, earning little more than a glance of emerald eyes.

“Tulo.”

It was a simple order, and one that was followed swiftly, as the angulócë rose to its feet. The gesture was surprisingly smooth, motions more like a cat than some foul lizard, but now it was standing, wings shifting and resettling against its flanks, pressing to Aragorn’s legs.

An impulsive urge took over him.

“Tsette.”

There was no hesitation, in fact, it seemed the serpent was eager.

Leathery wings snapped open, the muscles beneath his seat tensed, and Aragorn sorely regretted his life choices, as the dragon leapt.

*****

A startled yell was snatched from his lungs as the wind whipped by, the mountain side vanished from beneath the pair, as they plummeted.

Despite having seen the angulócë soaring, despite having seen the ease with which it flew, despite knowing its wings were strong enough to carry its lithe scaled form, panic still lanced through Aragorn’s chest as they streaked towards the ground far below. And then its wings flared, the force of their fall all but crushing him into the creature’s shoulders and neck.

With a hard beat of wings, their downward fall became an upwards flight.

His grip with his knees must have been noticeable, the fierceness of his clinging to its neck spines must have hurt, but it barely seemed to register his weight or presence. Wingbeat after wingbeat, they climbed higher in the sky, mountain side and tunnel entrance rapidly retreating, the Shadow Mountains, the desert, the distant rivers and sea, dwindled rapidly.

It was beautiful, it was breath taking, the sunset turned the clouds overhead into burnished bronze and the sea was set aflame in reds and gold—

Wait, the sea? They were flying in the wrong direction.

“Quer tormen!”

That earnt a glance, but no reaction. Admittedly Aragorn shouldn’t have been surprised, as while the creature seemed to understand some speech, asking it to turn north, was possibly a little too advanced.

A glance about revealed the White Mountains on the northern horizon. Checking his grip, Aragorn adjusted his weight, leaning to the right.

Instantly the angulócë started to turn, angling right, following his lead as he used his bodyweight to direct the serpent northwards. It was only once the eastern most tip of the White Mountains was dead ahead, that Aragorn shifted back to centre.

There was no complaint, no protest, no disagreement or agitation, it simply accepted this new direction.

Steady wingbeats, sedate gliding, they travelled north with ease, covering miles and leagues of distance in seconds and minutes. Already Aragorn could make out the distant glimmer of Minas Tirith, could make out the dark wall of the Rammas Echor.

Minas Tirith, sprawled across the mountains, its circular walls gleaming in the light of the setting sun, the towers stretching into the heavens, pennants and flags fluttering in the breeze. A city of silver and pearl and starlight made real.

Even from his distance, Aragorn could make out buildings he knew. The Twisted Latch in the lowest levels, the Rangers Headquarters, the Messengers Centre, the barracks, the stables, the Houses of Healing. The courtyard in the Citadel, the white tree standing proud. And if he really squinted, the forms of Fountain Guards, still doing their duties.

How long had it taken to cover the distance from sea to city? Fifteen? Twenty minutes? Certainly no more than half an hour, if he was to judge by the sun.

“Andúya!”

To either side of his seat, the angulócë’s wings shifted, flexing to a new angle, and their descent began. Minas Tirith rapidly approached, the concentric circles of the city loomed large, growing bigger and bigger second by second. The out cropping, it was the largest open space, but the guards there were sure to be alarmed, unless Gandalf had warned them?

That was unlikely.

Which meant this might not go well.

“Nór ornë!”

Hopefully the dragon knew what trees were, although judging by the angle of its flight, the answer to that concern was a resounding yes. Heavy wingbeats almost drowned out the startled cries of alarm from guards and lords alike, as the angulócë descended. Still in midair, it seemed to rear upright as its hind legs swung forwards, and with a bone rattling thud, it landed.

Aragorn all but threw himself from its back in his haste to put himself between the citadel guard’s spears and the ancient serpent.

“Sérë!” he barked, “peace! It means no harm!”

“You-your majesty?” came a strangled exclamation.

“Find Gandalf, now,” he instructed hastily.

The guard was apparently glad of the excuse to turn about and run. The others, however, looked less convinced.

Turning back to the angulócë Aragorn did his best to sooth it, despite the spears and armour at his back.

“Sérë, rainë,” he soothed, “toi nildë.”

There was a clack of ivory teeth, but the bristling scales along its back began to smooth, the half-flared wings began to settle, and the lashing tail began to still. It wasn’t resting, it wasn’t at peace, but it had calmed, and that was enough.

“Arago-ah! I see your hunt was successful,” Gandalf’s familiar voice greeted.

Turning about to greet the wizard, alarm flickered through Aragorn’s chest as he found not only his trusted friend approaching, but also his wife.

Arwen’s fair features were alight with curiosity, the skirts of her sage green gown clutched in one hand as she hastened towards him. Or more accurately, towards the angulócë as her clear grey eyes were very much not on her husband.

“Oh he’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed, all but brushing past a bewildered Aragorn. “Suilië angulócë, nalyë alatulya hí.”

Already she was reaching up to cradle the creatures face in her elegant hands, and unless Aragorn was very much mistaken, there was a flicker of alarm in its emerald eyes. But the dragon held still under this affectionate assault, even if its nostrils flared and its body tensed.

“What is their name?” she asked, looking to Aragorn, even as her hands smoothed across its ebony scales adoringly.

For several heartbeats, Aragorn was frozen, attention shifting between his wife, and the potentially dangerous serpent she was all but petting like an oversized scaly horse, but it was quickly relaxing into her ministrations.

It was dangerous, it was powerful, but it was also beautiful. Black scales that gleamed like jet, golden horns that crowned its head like petals, and gleaming emerald eyes.

Aragorn lifted his hand to touch its neck, the hand with the ring settled about his finger. The Ring of Barahir, the two serpents entwined, one consuming, one with a crown of petals, both with emerald eyes, a mirror to the angulócë before him now.

Yes… that name would suit the dragon well.

“Barahir.”

[jedibamf]

Happy Birthday, Benedict Cumberbatch!

Hey, Jedi BAMF fans! Today, we celebrate the legendary Benedict Cumberbatch, who’s taken us from the streets of London as #SherlockHolmes, to the depths of space as #Khan, and into the dragon’s lair as #Smaug. Join us in this #adventure and watch our video tribute to his incredible journey. Raise your #lightsabers and let’s honor his stellar roles!

May the force be with you, always.

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