Chapter 1
Tryglaw
Well-known member
What is this? A crossover, between works of Tolkien, mainly Silmarillion and a bit of Hobbit, and ASOIAF (book canon mostly).
What is this not? A fix-it-fic, a self-insert.
What is this about? Blowing up OTL with nuclear depth charge.
Why? Because I rather dislike x/o stories where a new, completely different faction is inserted, more often then not with completely different motivations and capabilities, only for plot events generally flow as per OTL with only minor changes here and there.
(Also, big thanks to @Harlock for taking a look at this pre-publication.)
That being said, I hereby present:
I, Dragon
Chapter 1, Arrival and Orientation.
Fire. And warmth. And an instinct integral to my very being, compelling me to force my way out. And so I hatch. Like, from an egg. (Wait, what??)
How... peculiar...seeing as it most certainly did not happen like that last time around. Speaking of which, I was pretty sure that falling to my death down below would be the end of it, and yet I find myself alive once more. Strange, isn't it? Something's very weird is going on.
So I look around and try to get my bearings. Hmmm... I see the back part of a rather naked humanoid person. As in, back the part of anatomy back, with buttocks below, shoulders and silver-haired head above. On a whim, I decide to climb on said naked persons shoulder for relatively elevated observation spot. Going by the scent, it is a female, rather young too, though she seems to have been pregnant recently. Human, if going by the shape of her ear. In this regard it could have been worse I guess, given other possible races and beings out there... My climbing adventure seems to evoke no reaction, maybe she's just numb or something. Or dumb. Or numb and dumb, can't really exclude that now can I?
Not knowing any better, I decide to name her Naked Girl for the time, and hearing some chirping noises I look down to find the source. There I see her holding another hatchling, and for some strange reason I just know we two are alike, to her breast (lucky bastard, he's being cuddled and I have to climb around...). Then I see a third hatchling, nested at the girl's feet, being just as flabbergasted as I am. I name them Number Two and Three respectively, and the three of us exchange looks, trying to get a measure of each other. I see confusion in their eyes, as they no doubt see the same in mine. Yet I can't help the strangest notion of one of these guys being... familiar... someway, somehow. Like I've known him from before. Weird and weirder still...
But really, just where am I? This really does not feel like home. I can smell it in the air. I feel it in the earth. This isn't home, that's for sure. At least, not as it used to be. So I look up, beholding the skies above. My gaze easily slips past the dawning light, looking deep and deeper still. Hmmm.... Nope, nothing known up there. Nothing I would recognize. Did truly so much time pass since my death that the very stars had changed? Is this why the place feels so different? Or am I somewhere else entirely?
I see the other two seem to have followed a similar line of reasoning, as they likewise gaze at the sky above, and then back and me and our surroundings. Speaking of said surroundings, I sense movement and see the girl holding the two of us standing up. I look around and... wait, is this some kind of funeral pyre? What is this shit?? Because I'm quite sure that these are human (or close enough) bones where she's standing. Two people, one rather big for a human (or at least I think it so, they were all tiny and squishy and good with ale last time around), other a bit smaller. Going by shapes of shoulders and hips, a man and a woman. Her parents maybe? But would anyone burn a daughter along with her parents?
It's been a while since I last saw folks being stake-burned alive, and nothing good ever came out from it. I mean, certainly nothing good came up for our side of the Big Divide, that's for sure. We sure all got our asses kicked in no uncertain terms.
So as I said, nothing good from the deed itself, nor from the whole assorted "broadly understood circumstances". I've seen and experienced some truly fucked up shit when I was, for the lack of a better word, re-made into what I became and died as, and thank you very much but I am sooo looking forward to a repeat performance. Not.
I briefly wonder if I got myself reincarnated straight into some political quagmire? Inheritance dispute by unconventional means or just an attempt to silence / remove someone inconvenient? Still, that's a shitty thing to do, even by my standards, and that's telling something...
If so, clearly whoever's in charge here wasn't creative enough to have the girl commit “suicide” by shooting herself in the back. With a bow. Repeatedly. “Totally honest accident, really.”
Or just die to a bad case of food poisoning. I can only guess the whole thing must be have some measure of significance, but just what is this all about? Or maybe it's religious? And boy, does that possibility bring memories back. Hardly good ones, either...
As I ponder the issue, the third hatchling climbs the girl's leg up, I guess he wants to look around or something.
Speaking of looking around, I see a human male with a straight sword (certainly not elven work, which is a relief) at his belt walk up to us. We seem to be surrounded by a bunch of what just might be generously described as barbarians, wearing oh so plain clothing. And I use the term “clothing” generously. Sheepskin furs and leather armour mostly, going by assorted smells. And how they all bloody reek of horses...
So, swords and horses. Unless they actually like to play primitives and savages, wherever and whenever I currently find myself located can't be too advanced in terms of civilization. Certainly nothing like, well, home.
I examine my wings and, like, what the fuck? What is this shit?? Where did my front limbs go?? For All-Creator's sake, did I hatch as some mis-formed mongrel or anything? How the fuck am I supposed to get anything done without prehensile digits with opposable thumbs? Oh, the sheer indignity of it... I roar, no, screech my outrage at my obvious deformation to the world, as I flex my wings trying to get a measure of how my... well... new and very much not-so improved body works like.
The guy with the sword that just walked up just stares at me in awe and wonder for a moment, then kneels before me as he should. Good, I nod in approval, at least he got that part right, and name him Sword Guy as reward.
I behold him curiously for a moment as he says something about “blood of my blood”.
Really? I can't help rolling my eyes. Ok idiot, I know this may be a wee bit difficult for you to comprehend, but, seriously, it should be utterly obvious, self-evident even, that we two are not related. I mean, this is really just plain common sense, see? I'm a dragon, maybe not quite as magnificent as I used to be, but still, and you're just a lowly human. Your lot used to tremble at my passing, shitting yourselves in the shadow of my wings, so how could we possibly be of the same blood?
I briefly ponder the point of bothering to explain to him these painfully self-evident facts of life, using small words, only to realize my smallest words will more likely then not still be too big for a dolt like that. Waste of effort, really. *Disdainful sniff*
However, what's really interesting is that I actually understood him, even though he spoke no language that I'm familiar with, and I'm utterly certain of that. How can that be? I know we innately knew each and every language in existence, yet that one wasn't included in the set and I still understood it. No way this could have happened on it's own. Hmmm...
Anyway, instead of wasting more time on him, I decide to get a good look at my possible future domain from high above, thus I stretch my wings, kick off with my rear limbs (these are at least where they should be...) aaaand promptly snout-plant into the dirt below. Like a throwing dart, snout forward and in the dirt, mouth full of ash and soil, I can feel my legs and tail helplessly flailing about. What a disgrace... I try pushing up with my arms, only to remember my arms are missing and where they should be I'm now sprouting wings, which is completely un-natural if you ask me, wings should be growing from the back and behind the shoulders, not from the shoulders.
Fuck you, Eärendil! No, really, let me say that again: fuck you Eärendil! Seriously. May the Balrog host bugger you for all eternity.
I manage to get myself up, much embarrassed by both the snickers I hear and my less-then-stellar performance alike. I shake to dust myself of and spit / cough the crap out of my mouth as I turn to the girl looking at me with waaay to much mirth written all over her face.
*Khy* *Khy* *Tphu* *Tphu* “Fffuck you, Eärendil!” I curse again "Girl, kindly do me a favour and do pretend you did not just see that, yes? And note to self, in future remember to beat with my “arms” instead of at my shoulders where my wings bloody fucking should be!" I shout the last part. “And then fuck you some more, Eärendil!”
For some strange reason the girl just gasps and gapes at me, open mouth and everything. Maybe she's into the strong & silent type or something?
“You can talk!” she proclaims the obvious, her eyes filled with wonder, as if there was anything to be in awe of. Other then myself, naturally, which is only proper after all.
“No shit, really?” I snark at her. "How incredibly observant of you. And here I was, secure in the knowledge I had just sang the very Existence into being. Oh, wait, back then I actually did..."
For whichever reason, the other two drake-lings do a passable impression of being surprised in case of Number Two, and shocked for Number Three, just staring at me with calculating glances.
Ignoring them for the moment, I push on. "Would you like to take this unique opportunity to announce any other ground-breaking revelations? Like water being wet for example? Or us dragons loving to hoard gold and shinies, when we're not chasing Elven tail? Because let me tell you, Lady Lúthien was, like, hooo boy, hotter then dragon flame. Come to think of it, Galadriel wasn't really all that far behind either..." I sagely agree with myself.
Third Hatchling one just stares at my snark, while the second, familiar one seems to nod vigorously in agreement (Strange, that... How could he possibly know?) aaand I just made the girl tear up. Yay for me for this mighty victory I guess.
And yet, something tugs at me at the very core of my being, and (strangely enough) I realise I really shouldn't have done that. Why would that ever matter?
I sigh heavily, while shaking my head: “Damn, how the mighty have fallen...”
"Sublime qualities of Elven females aside, why would you curse Eärendil like that, hmmm? What did he ever do to you?" asks Number Two condescendingly, all comfy and cozy between the girl's naked breasts, prompting me to take a good look at him. He seems genuinely curious, while subtly yet clearly radiating “my turf” with his body language in regard to the girl holding him.
Said girl gasps in surprise once more at Number Two talking so casually, and I can feel the undivided attention of Sword Guy and the barbarians around (hmmm, that gives me an idea... Sword Guy and the Barbarians, maybe they should make a troupe of bards named like that and tour the world or something, singing cheesy songs and bedding tavern wenches and all that rot) focused at us.
Never one to take lip from others I focus on what he said, and what I didn't say as I shot back: “And how could you possibly know Eärendil was a he and not a she, eh?” while examining the girl he's cuddled into. Well, she's no Lúthien that's for sure, nor even Galadriel, but if you squint hard enough and be very generous about it, I suppose she might, on a good day, aspire to be not-too-shabby next to Niënor. Provided she could be persuaded to bathe first, though given our surroundings the locals just might be a few thousand years away from mastering concepts as abstract and arcane as “running water” and “personal hygiene”. I can tell all too easily for comfort they certainly smell the part... But to each to his own I suppose, for all I know Number Two just might be into “half-roasted rustic village girls”, living in painfully bucolic ass-ends of nowhere, frolicking with sheep or something equally sappy along those lines, no scales off my tail in either case...
“Oh, that's a good question...” Number Three chose this exact moment to join the conversation by agreeing with me, which, by doing so, and to utter surprise of exact no one, results in the girl being startled and staring in astonishment once more "...but here's a better one: what exactly did you mean by “I had sang the very Existence into being”? Especially the part “back then I actually did”? You can't mean to tell me you were there during the Great Music?"
“And how would you even know about the Great Music?” I deflect, at which point Sword Guy finally manages to gather what little wits he has to demand: "What madness is this? Singing the existence into being? What music? And how are you even talking? Dragons don't talk. Your Grace, what is happening?" he shouts, switching his gaze between me and Naked Girl.
“Both of you make good points I think” Number Two purrs, ignoring Sword Guy completely "For I certainly did not expect to be here, wherever that might be, but maybe we should start with the basics instead. It is only polite to introduce one self after all, no?"
“Indeed...” I agree, seeing him fish for information, but since such exchanges go both ways I decide to play along for the moment “and while they say flattery will get you anywhere,” I say turning to Sword Guy, “you have done very well to acknowledge my innate superiority and natural grace,” I nod in approval “as it is only proper, and for you to declare your allegiance and servitude to me so quickly shows considerable promise on your part, keep this up I shall have use for you in future...” I add, playing the sage wisdom angle for all it's worth.
Sword Guy looks sour like he just blew a Balrog (the things I saw... But hey, what happens in Angband stays in Angband...) so I give him time to digest my statements as he would, errr... results of said labours, ignoring him for the moment as I return to matters previously in question.
“So anyway, given you were the one to hatch us, please tell me: who are you, where are we, what is going on, and last but not least why is the Sword Guy over there...” I point at said Sword Guy getting more and more irate with my causal dismissal of his person"...so fascinated with the sight of your exposed mammary glands so badly that he can't stop staring at them, if you would be so kind, Naked Girl?"
My earlier estimate of Naked Girl being a bit on the slow side turns out not to be all that far off, as only now she takes notice of her state of dress-less-ness, yelps and feebly attempts to cover herself up. Which, given she's already managed to flash all the bits and pieces humans are usually so fascinated with to her surroundings, seems rather on the “too little, too late” side if you ask me, but I guess if she has any strong points then logic isn't among them... And besides, what's wrong with being naked? We dragons go like that all the time, and we certainly didn't bother with clothing as we sang... It's the spirit that counts, not the package, yes? I mean really, how hard is that to grasp?
“You dare?!” I swear I saw Sword Guy's eyes bulging, spit flying from his mouth, his face making a passable impression of a lobster.
“Dare what exactly, say the truth?” I mock him “You keep staring at her as if you've either never seen a naked female of your species up close and personal before, or would love nothing more then to play sword and sheathe with her, or both” ah, busted, got you there I observe, noting his desire for future use, as on a whim I decide to mock him some more: “or was it simply that long, blue-balls?”
“Well I'd never!” He defends, only to challenge “How dare you!” as he feebly attempts to look intimidating.
Seeing as Sword Guy just gave me an opening, and since I was never one to pass up an opportunity like that, I fan the flames some more: "Wait, wait, you never did? Now that's just sad... Maybe you should try bathing more often? Females can be rather sensitive to such things, and I'm not talking just dragons... I mean flowers and flattery are good, but hygiene is better."
Now even Naked Girl can't hold her mirth, her nakedness seemingly forgotten for the moment as Numbers Two and Three cackle madly.
“Aaaargh!!!” why, Sword Guy actually advances on me. Ooooh, I'm soooo scared. A jet of flame just in front of his feet melts the dirt into glass and stops him dead as sunlight does an Ogre.
"Bitch, please. I've seen Morgoth at his worst, you don't even count as less then nothing in comparison. Heck, Gothmog would just step on you without noticing, assuming you just didn't ran away in abject terror, he did have that effect on people..." I sniff with as much disdain as I can muster.
Number Three manages to produce a choking noise in surprise and just stares at me wide-eyed, as I hear Naked Girl try to say “Excuse me, but could we...” only for Number Two to completely ignore her, condescension in his voice replaced by tension: "Well I must say, I certainly never expected to hear these names again, and yet I hear them, invoked by another of my kind no less. You, my all-too-talkative companion, have invoked names of power, and I simply must insist on answers. How do you know them, and you know of whom I speak, yes? No bullshit."
He acts all polite, but by his overall bearing I can tell that wasn't a request.
"Answer for answer. No bullshit." I offer, looking at Two and Three in sequence “On who are we and how did we get here, deal?”
“Deal” Two agrees, as does Three a heartbeat later.
I tilt my head to a side pondering the issue for a moment, and as if by minor miracle all our spectators appear to have sensed the sheer tension in the air and gotten the unvoiced hint to shut up and stay that way.
“As you said yourself, it is only polite to introduce one self, so why don't you lead by example?” I repeat Number Two's own words, entrapping him with them. “Indeed I will,” he says calmly, “but let our quiet friend take the lead, he has not spoken much and I am yet to take his measure.”
We both look at Number Three, and browbeaten he agrees to go first. "Very well, let it be so. We shall play a game then, a game of guessing. Guess my name then..." I see him stand tall (for what little it's worth), inhale deeply and cry theatrically “Black Arrow!”, as he stretches his wings as wide as he can. “Black Arrow!” he cries again, grasping his chest as if struck there, then collapses down on his belly mimicking a mortal blow. Then he rises again, and makes a sweeping motion with his right “wing / arm”.
“There I was,” he proclaims stealing glances at his audience, judging their reactions "vengeance made manifest on wings of fury as I burn the city of Dale! They dared! They dared steal from me! They took the Arkenstone! Thieves! Murderers! Assassins of honest dragons! Snuck in like thieves in dead of the night. Tried to kill me! Tried to drown me in molten gold! So I claimed my vengeance! I claimed justice! I was fire! I was death! I was..." he pauses for dramatic effect once more "struck down my Black Arrow... It hit my chest, pierced my heart, and I fell, I fell to my death..." he finishes his tale, eyes closed, wings and head hung low, posture radiating despair and defeat.
Naked Girl scoops him up giving him a fierce hug, and nested in her arm I see him open his eves and stick his tongue out at Number Two in a childish gesture. “Well, who am I?” he demands.
"Huh? No idea... And you?" I turn to Number Two. “I am not familiar with your story either.” He says.
Disappointed, Number Three pouts a little, then preens, basking in attention and anticipation alike. “I,” he pauses for dramatic effect “am Smaug the Magnificent!” he proclaims proudly, awaiting accolades and recognition no doubt.
I exchange clueless glances with Number Two then turn to Number Three, who is still standing at attention, as if expecting to be fawned over.
Number Two just shakes his head, so it falls to me to wrap this up: “Sorry kid, doesn't ring any bells.”
“But, but,” Number Three protests "how could you possibly not know of me?! I am Smaug the Magnificent, the Great Calamity of the North!"
For whichever reason, Sword Guy twitches at that.
“Were I a betting dragon,” Number Two responds “I would wager we simply come from a time before yours, thus we can not know of your, ah, achievements.”
“I too share your conclusion,” I nod in agreement as I see that Number Three totally missed the subtle snub “had we come afterwards, we would have heard of our companion, so it is only logical we predate him.”
Number Three seems mollified by that. Whatever... I look at Two in anticipation.
“Very well,” he nods, "I too will play this game. You shall have your answers and I shall have mine. I died," as he says the word, (the still) Naked Girl gives a pained cry and hugs him something fierce, as if afraid to loose him "at Cabed-en-Aras. Were I to follow your example from earlier," he looks me in the eyes and smirks "I would say "Fuck you, Túrin Turambar. And then fuck you some more." Brought low by terminal case of "the sword Gurthang to the gut" I was. So I think you should know my name by now, yes?"
I literally feel my eye pupils widen at the revelation, both in surprise and in, well, wariness. None the less I give a respectful bow, for I do not wish to make an enemy out of him without good reason and greet him politely: "Great Elder, I am honoured by your presence."
Number Three seems to have developed a sudden case of being struck by an epiphany, as the expression of his snout clearly indicates him having likewise connected the dots. He jumps on the ground below, bows deeply, then he bows some more in groveling submission as he cries atop of his lungs: "All hail, The Father of Dragons, the mighty Glaurung the Golden! All hail Glaurung the Golden!"
I can't help but roll my eyes at his antics, mentally renaming him from "Number Three" to "Drama Queen", while the humans around all stare at the scene unfolding in utter incomprehension, no doubt wondering if to take the paternity statement literally or not.
Glaurung turns to me, the "now it's your turn" unmistakably there. I nod in agreement, for I am a dragon of my word after all.
"Fuck you, Eärendil, and for good reasons. There I was, minding my own business as I fought the Host of Valinor for Morgoth, (Drama Queen yelps and stares at me in utter awe) personally leading the Host of the North after the Balrogs got whipped and Gothmog got his ass handed to him by Ecthelion (Drama Queen's awe intensifies). So it fell to me to recover the situation. I took to the skies and soon enough I turned the tide of battle. I drove them before me, enjoyed their lamentations and nearly destroyed their entire host (and then it intensifies even more)."
I pause for breath.
"And then came bloody Eärendil in his bloody Vingilótë, the Silmaril all shiny and glowy on his brow, and we fought in the skies for dominance. I battled him as I battled that bloody overgrown chickenhawk, Thorondor and his flock and we fought all day with neither pause nor respite. Thorondor distracted me and just as I was but a single breath away from burning him from the skies for his insolence, Eärendil snuck in and landed a mortal blow. Last thing I remember is crashing down on the triple peaks of Thangorodrim." I finished my tale, humans and dragons watching with rapt attention. "That should be enough I guess."
Drama Queen does not diappoint, as he bows down deeply to me, bows once more and cries:
"All hail, Ancalagon the Black, greatest dragon to have ever lived! All hail the mighty Ancalagon the Black!"
Yup, I roll my eyes, total Drama Queen.
What is this not? A fix-it-fic, a self-insert.
What is this about? Blowing up OTL with nuclear depth charge.
Why? Because I rather dislike x/o stories where a new, completely different faction is inserted, more often then not with completely different motivations and capabilities, only for plot events generally flow as per OTL with only minor changes here and there.
(Also, big thanks to @Harlock for taking a look at this pre-publication.)
That being said, I hereby present:
I, Dragon
Fire. And warmth. And an instinct integral to my very being, compelling me to force my way out. And so I hatch. Like, from an egg. (Wait, what??)
How... peculiar...seeing as it most certainly did not happen like that last time around. Speaking of which, I was pretty sure that falling to my death down below would be the end of it, and yet I find myself alive once more. Strange, isn't it? Something's very weird is going on.
So I look around and try to get my bearings. Hmmm... I see the back part of a rather naked humanoid person. As in, back the part of anatomy back, with buttocks below, shoulders and silver-haired head above. On a whim, I decide to climb on said naked persons shoulder for relatively elevated observation spot. Going by the scent, it is a female, rather young too, though she seems to have been pregnant recently. Human, if going by the shape of her ear. In this regard it could have been worse I guess, given other possible races and beings out there... My climbing adventure seems to evoke no reaction, maybe she's just numb or something. Or dumb. Or numb and dumb, can't really exclude that now can I?
Not knowing any better, I decide to name her Naked Girl for the time, and hearing some chirping noises I look down to find the source. There I see her holding another hatchling, and for some strange reason I just know we two are alike, to her breast (lucky bastard, he's being cuddled and I have to climb around...). Then I see a third hatchling, nested at the girl's feet, being just as flabbergasted as I am. I name them Number Two and Three respectively, and the three of us exchange looks, trying to get a measure of each other. I see confusion in their eyes, as they no doubt see the same in mine. Yet I can't help the strangest notion of one of these guys being... familiar... someway, somehow. Like I've known him from before. Weird and weirder still...
But really, just where am I? This really does not feel like home. I can smell it in the air. I feel it in the earth. This isn't home, that's for sure. At least, not as it used to be. So I look up, beholding the skies above. My gaze easily slips past the dawning light, looking deep and deeper still. Hmmm.... Nope, nothing known up there. Nothing I would recognize. Did truly so much time pass since my death that the very stars had changed? Is this why the place feels so different? Or am I somewhere else entirely?
I see the other two seem to have followed a similar line of reasoning, as they likewise gaze at the sky above, and then back and me and our surroundings. Speaking of said surroundings, I sense movement and see the girl holding the two of us standing up. I look around and... wait, is this some kind of funeral pyre? What is this shit?? Because I'm quite sure that these are human (or close enough) bones where she's standing. Two people, one rather big for a human (or at least I think it so, they were all tiny and squishy and good with ale last time around), other a bit smaller. Going by shapes of shoulders and hips, a man and a woman. Her parents maybe? But would anyone burn a daughter along with her parents?
It's been a while since I last saw folks being stake-burned alive, and nothing good ever came out from it. I mean, certainly nothing good came up for our side of the Big Divide, that's for sure. We sure all got our asses kicked in no uncertain terms.
So as I said, nothing good from the deed itself, nor from the whole assorted "broadly understood circumstances". I've seen and experienced some truly fucked up shit when I was, for the lack of a better word, re-made into what I became and died as, and thank you very much but I am sooo looking forward to a repeat performance. Not.
I briefly wonder if I got myself reincarnated straight into some political quagmire? Inheritance dispute by unconventional means or just an attempt to silence / remove someone inconvenient? Still, that's a shitty thing to do, even by my standards, and that's telling something...
If so, clearly whoever's in charge here wasn't creative enough to have the girl commit “suicide” by shooting herself in the back. With a bow. Repeatedly. “Totally honest accident, really.”
Or just die to a bad case of food poisoning. I can only guess the whole thing must be have some measure of significance, but just what is this all about? Or maybe it's religious? And boy, does that possibility bring memories back. Hardly good ones, either...
As I ponder the issue, the third hatchling climbs the girl's leg up, I guess he wants to look around or something.
Speaking of looking around, I see a human male with a straight sword (certainly not elven work, which is a relief) at his belt walk up to us. We seem to be surrounded by a bunch of what just might be generously described as barbarians, wearing oh so plain clothing. And I use the term “clothing” generously. Sheepskin furs and leather armour mostly, going by assorted smells. And how they all bloody reek of horses...
So, swords and horses. Unless they actually like to play primitives and savages, wherever and whenever I currently find myself located can't be too advanced in terms of civilization. Certainly nothing like, well, home.
I examine my wings and, like, what the fuck? What is this shit?? Where did my front limbs go?? For All-Creator's sake, did I hatch as some mis-formed mongrel or anything? How the fuck am I supposed to get anything done without prehensile digits with opposable thumbs? Oh, the sheer indignity of it... I roar, no, screech my outrage at my obvious deformation to the world, as I flex my wings trying to get a measure of how my... well... new and very much not-so improved body works like.
The guy with the sword that just walked up just stares at me in awe and wonder for a moment, then kneels before me as he should. Good, I nod in approval, at least he got that part right, and name him Sword Guy as reward.
I behold him curiously for a moment as he says something about “blood of my blood”.
Really? I can't help rolling my eyes. Ok idiot, I know this may be a wee bit difficult for you to comprehend, but, seriously, it should be utterly obvious, self-evident even, that we two are not related. I mean, this is really just plain common sense, see? I'm a dragon, maybe not quite as magnificent as I used to be, but still, and you're just a lowly human. Your lot used to tremble at my passing, shitting yourselves in the shadow of my wings, so how could we possibly be of the same blood?
I briefly ponder the point of bothering to explain to him these painfully self-evident facts of life, using small words, only to realize my smallest words will more likely then not still be too big for a dolt like that. Waste of effort, really. *Disdainful sniff*
However, what's really interesting is that I actually understood him, even though he spoke no language that I'm familiar with, and I'm utterly certain of that. How can that be? I know we innately knew each and every language in existence, yet that one wasn't included in the set and I still understood it. No way this could have happened on it's own. Hmmm...
Anyway, instead of wasting more time on him, I decide to get a good look at my possible future domain from high above, thus I stretch my wings, kick off with my rear limbs (these are at least where they should be...) aaaand promptly snout-plant into the dirt below. Like a throwing dart, snout forward and in the dirt, mouth full of ash and soil, I can feel my legs and tail helplessly flailing about. What a disgrace... I try pushing up with my arms, only to remember my arms are missing and where they should be I'm now sprouting wings, which is completely un-natural if you ask me, wings should be growing from the back and behind the shoulders, not from the shoulders.
Fuck you, Eärendil! No, really, let me say that again: fuck you Eärendil! Seriously. May the Balrog host bugger you for all eternity.
I manage to get myself up, much embarrassed by both the snickers I hear and my less-then-stellar performance alike. I shake to dust myself of and spit / cough the crap out of my mouth as I turn to the girl looking at me with waaay to much mirth written all over her face.
*Khy* *Khy* *Tphu* *Tphu* “Fffuck you, Eärendil!” I curse again "Girl, kindly do me a favour and do pretend you did not just see that, yes? And note to self, in future remember to beat with my “arms” instead of at my shoulders where my wings bloody fucking should be!" I shout the last part. “And then fuck you some more, Eärendil!”
For some strange reason the girl just gasps and gapes at me, open mouth and everything. Maybe she's into the strong & silent type or something?
“You can talk!” she proclaims the obvious, her eyes filled with wonder, as if there was anything to be in awe of. Other then myself, naturally, which is only proper after all.
“No shit, really?” I snark at her. "How incredibly observant of you. And here I was, secure in the knowledge I had just sang the very Existence into being. Oh, wait, back then I actually did..."
For whichever reason, the other two drake-lings do a passable impression of being surprised in case of Number Two, and shocked for Number Three, just staring at me with calculating glances.
Ignoring them for the moment, I push on. "Would you like to take this unique opportunity to announce any other ground-breaking revelations? Like water being wet for example? Or us dragons loving to hoard gold and shinies, when we're not chasing Elven tail? Because let me tell you, Lady Lúthien was, like, hooo boy, hotter then dragon flame. Come to think of it, Galadriel wasn't really all that far behind either..." I sagely agree with myself.
Third Hatchling one just stares at my snark, while the second, familiar one seems to nod vigorously in agreement (Strange, that... How could he possibly know?) aaand I just made the girl tear up. Yay for me for this mighty victory I guess.
And yet, something tugs at me at the very core of my being, and (strangely enough) I realise I really shouldn't have done that. Why would that ever matter?
I sigh heavily, while shaking my head: “Damn, how the mighty have fallen...”
"Sublime qualities of Elven females aside, why would you curse Eärendil like that, hmmm? What did he ever do to you?" asks Number Two condescendingly, all comfy and cozy between the girl's naked breasts, prompting me to take a good look at him. He seems genuinely curious, while subtly yet clearly radiating “my turf” with his body language in regard to the girl holding him.
Said girl gasps in surprise once more at Number Two talking so casually, and I can feel the undivided attention of Sword Guy and the barbarians around (hmmm, that gives me an idea... Sword Guy and the Barbarians, maybe they should make a troupe of bards named like that and tour the world or something, singing cheesy songs and bedding tavern wenches and all that rot) focused at us.
Never one to take lip from others I focus on what he said, and what I didn't say as I shot back: “And how could you possibly know Eärendil was a he and not a she, eh?” while examining the girl he's cuddled into. Well, she's no Lúthien that's for sure, nor even Galadriel, but if you squint hard enough and be very generous about it, I suppose she might, on a good day, aspire to be not-too-shabby next to Niënor. Provided she could be persuaded to bathe first, though given our surroundings the locals just might be a few thousand years away from mastering concepts as abstract and arcane as “running water” and “personal hygiene”. I can tell all too easily for comfort they certainly smell the part... But to each to his own I suppose, for all I know Number Two just might be into “half-roasted rustic village girls”, living in painfully bucolic ass-ends of nowhere, frolicking with sheep or something equally sappy along those lines, no scales off my tail in either case...
“Oh, that's a good question...” Number Three chose this exact moment to join the conversation by agreeing with me, which, by doing so, and to utter surprise of exact no one, results in the girl being startled and staring in astonishment once more "...but here's a better one: what exactly did you mean by “I had sang the very Existence into being”? Especially the part “back then I actually did”? You can't mean to tell me you were there during the Great Music?"
“And how would you even know about the Great Music?” I deflect, at which point Sword Guy finally manages to gather what little wits he has to demand: "What madness is this? Singing the existence into being? What music? And how are you even talking? Dragons don't talk. Your Grace, what is happening?" he shouts, switching his gaze between me and Naked Girl.
“Both of you make good points I think” Number Two purrs, ignoring Sword Guy completely "For I certainly did not expect to be here, wherever that might be, but maybe we should start with the basics instead. It is only polite to introduce one self after all, no?"
“Indeed...” I agree, seeing him fish for information, but since such exchanges go both ways I decide to play along for the moment “and while they say flattery will get you anywhere,” I say turning to Sword Guy, “you have done very well to acknowledge my innate superiority and natural grace,” I nod in approval “as it is only proper, and for you to declare your allegiance and servitude to me so quickly shows considerable promise on your part, keep this up I shall have use for you in future...” I add, playing the sage wisdom angle for all it's worth.
Sword Guy looks sour like he just blew a Balrog (the things I saw... But hey, what happens in Angband stays in Angband...) so I give him time to digest my statements as he would, errr... results of said labours, ignoring him for the moment as I return to matters previously in question.
“So anyway, given you were the one to hatch us, please tell me: who are you, where are we, what is going on, and last but not least why is the Sword Guy over there...” I point at said Sword Guy getting more and more irate with my causal dismissal of his person"...so fascinated with the sight of your exposed mammary glands so badly that he can't stop staring at them, if you would be so kind, Naked Girl?"
My earlier estimate of Naked Girl being a bit on the slow side turns out not to be all that far off, as only now she takes notice of her state of dress-less-ness, yelps and feebly attempts to cover herself up. Which, given she's already managed to flash all the bits and pieces humans are usually so fascinated with to her surroundings, seems rather on the “too little, too late” side if you ask me, but I guess if she has any strong points then logic isn't among them... And besides, what's wrong with being naked? We dragons go like that all the time, and we certainly didn't bother with clothing as we sang... It's the spirit that counts, not the package, yes? I mean really, how hard is that to grasp?
“You dare?!” I swear I saw Sword Guy's eyes bulging, spit flying from his mouth, his face making a passable impression of a lobster.
“Dare what exactly, say the truth?” I mock him “You keep staring at her as if you've either never seen a naked female of your species up close and personal before, or would love nothing more then to play sword and sheathe with her, or both” ah, busted, got you there I observe, noting his desire for future use, as on a whim I decide to mock him some more: “or was it simply that long, blue-balls?”
“Well I'd never!” He defends, only to challenge “How dare you!” as he feebly attempts to look intimidating.
Seeing as Sword Guy just gave me an opening, and since I was never one to pass up an opportunity like that, I fan the flames some more: "Wait, wait, you never did? Now that's just sad... Maybe you should try bathing more often? Females can be rather sensitive to such things, and I'm not talking just dragons... I mean flowers and flattery are good, but hygiene is better."
Now even Naked Girl can't hold her mirth, her nakedness seemingly forgotten for the moment as Numbers Two and Three cackle madly.
“Aaaargh!!!” why, Sword Guy actually advances on me. Ooooh, I'm soooo scared. A jet of flame just in front of his feet melts the dirt into glass and stops him dead as sunlight does an Ogre.
"Bitch, please. I've seen Morgoth at his worst, you don't even count as less then nothing in comparison. Heck, Gothmog would just step on you without noticing, assuming you just didn't ran away in abject terror, he did have that effect on people..." I sniff with as much disdain as I can muster.
Number Three manages to produce a choking noise in surprise and just stares at me wide-eyed, as I hear Naked Girl try to say “Excuse me, but could we...” only for Number Two to completely ignore her, condescension in his voice replaced by tension: "Well I must say, I certainly never expected to hear these names again, and yet I hear them, invoked by another of my kind no less. You, my all-too-talkative companion, have invoked names of power, and I simply must insist on answers. How do you know them, and you know of whom I speak, yes? No bullshit."
He acts all polite, but by his overall bearing I can tell that wasn't a request.
"Answer for answer. No bullshit." I offer, looking at Two and Three in sequence “On who are we and how did we get here, deal?”
“Deal” Two agrees, as does Three a heartbeat later.
I tilt my head to a side pondering the issue for a moment, and as if by minor miracle all our spectators appear to have sensed the sheer tension in the air and gotten the unvoiced hint to shut up and stay that way.
“As you said yourself, it is only polite to introduce one self, so why don't you lead by example?” I repeat Number Two's own words, entrapping him with them. “Indeed I will,” he says calmly, “but let our quiet friend take the lead, he has not spoken much and I am yet to take his measure.”
We both look at Number Three, and browbeaten he agrees to go first. "Very well, let it be so. We shall play a game then, a game of guessing. Guess my name then..." I see him stand tall (for what little it's worth), inhale deeply and cry theatrically “Black Arrow!”, as he stretches his wings as wide as he can. “Black Arrow!” he cries again, grasping his chest as if struck there, then collapses down on his belly mimicking a mortal blow. Then he rises again, and makes a sweeping motion with his right “wing / arm”.
“There I was,” he proclaims stealing glances at his audience, judging their reactions "vengeance made manifest on wings of fury as I burn the city of Dale! They dared! They dared steal from me! They took the Arkenstone! Thieves! Murderers! Assassins of honest dragons! Snuck in like thieves in dead of the night. Tried to kill me! Tried to drown me in molten gold! So I claimed my vengeance! I claimed justice! I was fire! I was death! I was..." he pauses for dramatic effect once more "struck down my Black Arrow... It hit my chest, pierced my heart, and I fell, I fell to my death..." he finishes his tale, eyes closed, wings and head hung low, posture radiating despair and defeat.
Naked Girl scoops him up giving him a fierce hug, and nested in her arm I see him open his eves and stick his tongue out at Number Two in a childish gesture. “Well, who am I?” he demands.
"Huh? No idea... And you?" I turn to Number Two. “I am not familiar with your story either.” He says.
Disappointed, Number Three pouts a little, then preens, basking in attention and anticipation alike. “I,” he pauses for dramatic effect “am Smaug the Magnificent!” he proclaims proudly, awaiting accolades and recognition no doubt.
I exchange clueless glances with Number Two then turn to Number Three, who is still standing at attention, as if expecting to be fawned over.
Number Two just shakes his head, so it falls to me to wrap this up: “Sorry kid, doesn't ring any bells.”
“But, but,” Number Three protests "how could you possibly not know of me?! I am Smaug the Magnificent, the Great Calamity of the North!"
For whichever reason, Sword Guy twitches at that.
“Were I a betting dragon,” Number Two responds “I would wager we simply come from a time before yours, thus we can not know of your, ah, achievements.”
“I too share your conclusion,” I nod in agreement as I see that Number Three totally missed the subtle snub “had we come afterwards, we would have heard of our companion, so it is only logical we predate him.”
Number Three seems mollified by that. Whatever... I look at Two in anticipation.
“Very well,” he nods, "I too will play this game. You shall have your answers and I shall have mine. I died," as he says the word, (the still) Naked Girl gives a pained cry and hugs him something fierce, as if afraid to loose him "at Cabed-en-Aras. Were I to follow your example from earlier," he looks me in the eyes and smirks "I would say "Fuck you, Túrin Turambar. And then fuck you some more." Brought low by terminal case of "the sword Gurthang to the gut" I was. So I think you should know my name by now, yes?"
I literally feel my eye pupils widen at the revelation, both in surprise and in, well, wariness. None the less I give a respectful bow, for I do not wish to make an enemy out of him without good reason and greet him politely: "Great Elder, I am honoured by your presence."
Number Three seems to have developed a sudden case of being struck by an epiphany, as the expression of his snout clearly indicates him having likewise connected the dots. He jumps on the ground below, bows deeply, then he bows some more in groveling submission as he cries atop of his lungs: "All hail, The Father of Dragons, the mighty Glaurung the Golden! All hail Glaurung the Golden!"
I can't help but roll my eyes at his antics, mentally renaming him from "Number Three" to "Drama Queen", while the humans around all stare at the scene unfolding in utter incomprehension, no doubt wondering if to take the paternity statement literally or not.
Glaurung turns to me, the "now it's your turn" unmistakably there. I nod in agreement, for I am a dragon of my word after all.
"Fuck you, Eärendil, and for good reasons. There I was, minding my own business as I fought the Host of Valinor for Morgoth, (Drama Queen yelps and stares at me in utter awe) personally leading the Host of the North after the Balrogs got whipped and Gothmog got his ass handed to him by Ecthelion (Drama Queen's awe intensifies). So it fell to me to recover the situation. I took to the skies and soon enough I turned the tide of battle. I drove them before me, enjoyed their lamentations and nearly destroyed their entire host (and then it intensifies even more)."
I pause for breath.
"And then came bloody Eärendil in his bloody Vingilótë, the Silmaril all shiny and glowy on his brow, and we fought in the skies for dominance. I battled him as I battled that bloody overgrown chickenhawk, Thorondor and his flock and we fought all day with neither pause nor respite. Thorondor distracted me and just as I was but a single breath away from burning him from the skies for his insolence, Eärendil snuck in and landed a mortal blow. Last thing I remember is crashing down on the triple peaks of Thangorodrim." I finished my tale, humans and dragons watching with rapt attention. "That should be enough I guess."
Drama Queen does not diappoint, as he bows down deeply to me, bows once more and cries:
"All hail, Ancalagon the Black, greatest dragon to have ever lived! All hail the mighty Ancalagon the Black!"
Yup, I roll my eyes, total Drama Queen.
