New Notice 2: I've just edited and revised much of this chapter. It was a painful but alleviating time. Nonetheless, you'll see things here and there that I've tweaked as the story progresses. My passion was fueled again when I rewatched LOTR all over again. I was really weepy over it.

Thank you for your anticipation and patience!

-With Utmost Sincerity, Mana (Formerly E.L Wright)

A/N: NEW NOTICE 1:

THIS STORY IS CURRENTLY UNDER REVISION AND MILD HIATUS. You are more than free to read the old version, but I would like to notify my readers that it is going through a slight change to improve its quality, seeing that many people are following, I feel as though I can improve my writing to make it more adequate in quality.

I have come to this verdict after reading my writing and frowning upon the errors. I will also be working on a prequel to this, now that Peter Jackson is finished with the Hobbit.

I sincerely thank all of you and apologize for my lack of response. Your reviews, follows, comments of interest in this story are very encouraging and they are a constant reminder of why I love writing. I may not be brilliant at it, but I'm certainly not going to stop trying to be.

With Utmost Sincerity and Well wishes for the Holidays, E.L Wright(formerly)

Quick introduction, it shan't take long. Greetings to you, dear reader. I would just like to express my thanks for you taking the time to read this story. Before you continue, I would just like to give you a slight prelude with some background information on the creation of this fanfiction. I grew up reading Tolkien's books and watching the films. Needless to say I fell in love with it. BUT I also grew up with Christopher Paolini's Inheritance cycle, and it fueled my love for dragons. I was a little sad at Tolkien's portrayal of dragons but by no means snide in that sadness. So I decided to take things into my own hands and combine my love of dragons with my love of Tolkien's fantasy realm. I would like it to be noted that a great deal of inspiration with the dragons and their culture in this story is inspired by Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Cycle. So without a doubt, you will see many similarities. I categorized it in the LOTR fanfic category because it does not take place in the Inheritance universe. It doestake aspects of the Eragon series such as the Ancient Language, metallurgy, dragons, and names. I also have been inspired, in lesser ways, by How to Train Your Dragon when I began to formulate the characteristics of different dragons.

So please... No flames or criticism about what is bolded and/or underlined. I tried the best I could to balance out making the story fit into to the books and the films, but pardon if it doesn't quite fit the written history of Tolkien's realm, for I am a little rusty on my book-knowledge.

With that being said, please read and review!

With Utmost Sincerely, E.L Wright(formerly)

Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of the characters of LOTR universe. (Is this how a disclaimer supposed to be? I feel like I'm failing miserably:/)

Chapter 1: At the End of One Thing

A strange woman was living amongst them. The Shire was alive with whispers and gossip of the latest news of their odd neighbor that lived opulently on Bag End.

He, and by he - Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, returned with a woman from that disapproving adventure of his. Of all the things, from riches to the most tumultuous of stories he came back with, he brought a woman!

How scandalous! But of course he emphasized his relations with the female were merely platonic, but still…. To have a woman, a non-Hobbit woman nonetheless, to stay with the bachelor in Bag End was odd and unheard of. Then again… Bilbo Baggins had become an odd singularity amongst them ever since he returned from that blasphemous adventure!

The woman in mention didn't seem to be irked or disturbed in the slightest at the whispers and side glances. She entered the Shire with nothing more than a silent stride beside Bilbo. There was little she did to disturb their peace, there was just something about how she was that was the primary issue.

Upon first sight, Hobbits felt a sudden terror strike their soul, raising alarms amongst them. By no way were they terrified because she was hideous in any manner of her appearance. No, her appearance seemed quite the contrary. The woman in question and hot topic was not hideous at all. She was a comely lass with lustrous raven hair. It hung in large, loose curls down her slender back when left untamed from its usual lengthy braid. Her olive skin was fair, smooth and unflawed by any pockmarks or freckles. Nor were those storm shaded eyes of hers, complimented by a frame of lashes, by any means unpleasant. Perhaps what could remain to be the only exception were the two lines of scarred skin running along her right face; one on her cheekbone and the other running just after the ear and to the hollow of her cheek as though she had the misfortune and slim luck of encountering and barely evading the anger of a beast with savage talons. It was not an outrageously ugly scar but a scar that told of ugly things.

No… It was her demeanor that terrified them.

As comely as the maiden was, every move she made, the way she gazed, and even the air around her permeated something ferocious. She was clothed like an odd man, in black trousers, worn boots, and an old robe of plain grey with black trim draping her lithe frame down to the midsection of her thighs, held in place by a plain leather waist belt. A piece of navy garment resembling a large, tattered shawl cloaked her figure bequeathing her the appearance of a long lived vagabond. Two different swords were strapped to her back, and the star sapphire pommel of one in particular gleamed with a foreboding, powerful air.

With the sharp points at the tips of her ridged ears, they thought her to be an odd rugged sort of elf or perhaps had elvish blood in her. But she moved with an edge that was unlike the grace of the fair folk; it was less fluid and more fearsome. With a mere narrowing of her eyes or even a simple stoic stare she struck fear into hearts of those with the misfortune of meeting her frosty edge. Perhaps it was the way she stood that made her unapproachable. That scar certainly did not help to lessen the strike of fear in the hobbit folk.

As petite she appeared, hardly anything about her exuded any form of delicacy or even mercy and kindness. In the first week of her stay, many were too nervous to introduce and inquire directly upon the identity of Bilbo's latest guest.

What they found to be more alienating about Bilbo was his genuine ease with the intimidating female. When Bilbo went to his rich hobbit hole of Bag End with her in tow, he was merry. He smiled at her amicably as he opened the round door of his estate and together the two oddities went into the home under the hill. He would be seen with that same fond smile always directed towards her, as though she were a cherished friend when they sat together quietly; him with his pipe and her quietly assessing her surroundings upon a patch of grass beside his humble bench with a book in hand, sketching to her hearts content or giving him one of her rare smiles when they spoke of some cheery topic amongst themselves.

When the nosier neighbors of his finally managed to intercept him without his intimidating companion, they inquired,

"Who is that lass? Isn't that Gandalf's apprentice? What's she doing here?"

Those that knew of Mithrandir also knew of the rumor that spread near and far across the land. It was said that the Istari had picked up an apprentice centuries ago, something unheard of. The apprentice shadowed him for quite some time in the second age, coming and going like an elusive patch of fog roaming about the wet season.

Very few new the origins of the apprentice but myths said that she was a female enchantress, a lady Maia whose presence in Middle Earth was either hidden in plain sight… or the foreteller of an oncoming storm.

Bilbo finally glanced at them with a pleasant smirk. "I'm surprised you didn't come knocking the moment I returned home."

He was no fool of a Took, although he did have some Took blood. He noticed those blatant stares and cautious glances. One would have to be a blind bumbling fool not too.

"Are you mad? With that woman around, I hardly have the courage to pass your front gates!" His neighbor exclaimed.

Bilbo was hardly offended, for his first impression of her was also very much like his folks. But it was unfair to determine the spirit of someone's character purely by their countenance without striking a good conversation or two.

"Shall I introduce you?" He offered politely.

It wasn't the first time the she was in the Shire, but this was the first time she was staying and with such blatant intentions of doing so without concealment.

The neighbors vigorously shook their heads, and he chuckled. "At some point you will have to meet her in person. Don't worry, she is quite kind."

"Another time, Bilbo." They passed upon the opportunity with great enthusiasm. "But tell us the name of your guest, at least!"

He decided to amuse them. "Her name is Elysia. Please come and visit if you're so curious! She's not unapproachable." Bilbo assured.

They were not assured by his assurance. "That old grey pilgrim has addled your brain, Bilbo! She's the epitome of unapproachable."

At this declaration, Bilbo's civility and pleasantness waned. A small displeased frown came to his features as he spoke in a sterner voice.

"Now listen here," Finger raised in the air and shaking. "Elysia will be staying with me for quite some time, and she is a dear friend to me… Family even. I won't tolerate any ill will from any hobbit towards her. In fact, I expect her to be treated like a Baggins-" They gaped at this proclamation. "-of Bag End!" He stated with finality, stomping a resolute foot on the soil of his property.

The neighbors were affronted by Bilbo's newfound austerity. He spoke so firmly they were unable to find the words to argue.

Despite the ice and rough start, time passed and eventually Elysia was accepted into the Hobbit community even more so than Gandalf was. In time, the Shire folk discovered Elysia had not made a single viable threat to them in her stay. She had little ill will, and many would even go as far as to say they enjoyed her presence. Although still a befuddling enigma, she guarded the much treasured peace of the Shire community.

Indeed, she was a being of much curiosity and amusements, but eventually her intimidating demeanor's edge began to fade like a blade being sheathed. The people began to warm to her and her to them. The younglings of the Shire were particularly fond of her when they discovered she gave the most wonderful little shows of magic much like Gandalf did. When they spotted Elysia, many would swarm around her, pleading for another enchanting display of magic; from conjuring a twister of petals in her hand to snapping her fingers and bringing forth a bright crack of light before showering them with tickling sparks that brought peals of laughter.

The older Hobbits warmed up to her presence as she offered to help them in the fields here and there with strength and stamina that belied her body's feminine form or forecasted the weather with her uncanny "hunches", allowing them to cultivate their crops in a timely manner to follow the climate or cancel a party to be held outside due to potential rain.

Months began to pass into seasons, and seasons into years. Eventually, seeing Elysia out and about in the Shire was as natural as seeing the markets open every weekend.

Yet…the Shire folk still could not put their finger on what Elysia was, for she was as elusive and secretive as the troublesome wizard that came and went. Many theorized or assumed her to be a witch or elf of some sort. She certainly was no hobbit or dwarf or of the race of Men.

They would never have guessed just what exactly resided within the Shire, under the pleasant hill of Bag End. They had been correct in that she was not hobbit, dwarf, nor any race of man. But she was also not a witch or elf of a sort.

Little did those Shire halflings know that Bilbo's friend and housemate belonged to an archaic race notorious for breeding chaos and fire.

After all, it was a barmy to even think that the imposing maiden was actually an ancient, terrifying beast.

They were not to blame for their ignorance, although Hobbits did tend to be disinterested with the outside world. Elysia's kind was either elusive or viciously ostentatious. Those that were not as conservative as their kinsmen were rather notorious for their flaming destruction and terrifying conquests of great places filled with unrivaled treasures.

Indeed… Only a moonstruck mad fool would ever think that a dragon dwelled within the Shire…. Dragons were seen as cruel, creatures of great malice, spawned by none other than Morgoth. They answered to no one, they bore no love, only greed, hate, fire, and death.

But quite contrary to belief, Dragons had never been beings solely existing in darkness and malcontent. Their origins went back to the time of the Maia.

They were not creatures born of evil. Evil came to them in the form of a great and terrible shadow… Their true history was twisted into legends and myths, truths that were lost under the rivers of blood, bone, and anguish. Glaurung had been the first dragon to be witnessed in Middle Earth. But he had only been one of many that existed long before his time as an egg; an egg that had the misfortune of falling into the worst hands.

It was one of the greatest crimes of Morgoth and his successor, Sauron, to reduce the legacy of a powerful race into cinders of nightmares.

So fierce was the damage done by the Dark Lords to the world, especially to the dragon kind, that when the dark reign ended under the hands of the Free People, the dragons remained in hiding, determined to keep what precious few of their race remained untainted by the darkness pure and free from the scrutiny of greedy eyes and volatile hearts.

Yet Elysia existed as an exception created by an old grey wizard's meddling; free and amongst the people of Middle Earth as proof that there was hope for a feared, hated, and diminished race that they could exist in the light.

Being amongst these peace loving people had changed much of Elysia's fearsome spirit. Once upon a time, her heart had been hard, relentless against the fragility of the Free Folk, bitter and without much kindness for creatures of lesser strength and longevity than she. Yet no matter how long or how much of Middle Earth she has seen, there was something about Hobbits that changed even a dragon's nature.

Some of her dragon kin would jestingly say that they tamed her.

She had grown to love the good food, warmth of the hobbit hole, and the innocence of the people, even the grumpiest old hobbit that was discontent at her unique presence. It soon became her treasure, and like any dragon with their hoard, she was fiercely protective of it.

There was a reason why, despite the darker days with greater packs of orcs, goblins, and trolls venturing further and further from their wretched domains, a reason that the Shire still remained untouched by evil's hands. However, in the oblivious eyes of the Hobbits, they merely saw it as a mildly strange habit that Elysia went to and fro from the Shire at random moments for indefinite amounts of time.

She was much more frequent than Gandalf, who they soon became wary of and proclaimed a "disturber of the peace" ever since the Erebor fiasco he involved Bilbo in, who used to be a very respectable hobbit. Whether she was secretly deemed as one as well was of little knowledge or concern to Elysia; the Hobbits were not in need of knowing that her wandering was actually hunting.

Bree soon began to be filled with rumors of a mysterious stranger roaming the lands in the shadows and fog. Perhaps it was one of those elusive rangers. They did not know for certain, but what they did know was that unpleasant wanderers tended to avoid the Shire after what happened to the group of bandits, all still missing, without a trace, without a sound, without a clue as to where they vanished ever since they made a threat to raid the outskirt's hobbit holes.

Shire folk even began to give her a surname. Walkins, they called her, Elysia Walkins, the lady that literally walked into the Shire… and Elysia Walkins cherished her time in the Shire. It was her place of peace where the weariness caused by the evil in the world did not enter, where she could finally hope for some tranquility after a lifetime of wandering with the haunt of losing everything beloved to her eons ago.

While peace entered her heart and things didn't seem to get any better than how it already waas, she was proven wrong when Frodo Baggins entered Bilbo's life.

Only a wee child, he had lost his parents and was taken in by Bilbo. Perhaps Bilbo was in need of a blood related company or he took the boy in out of pity. Nevertheless, Elysia adored the small creature.

Love blossomed in her heart when her gaze first fell upon Frodo.

Elysia sat on a small stool, elbows resting on knees, and head bent low while her stormy eyes locked onto a pair of large soulful blue orbs. They were so bright and blue they put polished blue gems to shame.

"So… this will be your successor?" She mused curiously, directing her words to Bilbo who was pouring them tea in the dining room.

"Yes. When my time comes, I will leave everything in Bag End to Frodo." Bilbo gave her mirthful smile. "I should warn you, my dear Elly, Frodo can be a bit of a rascal. He's hung out with the mischievous pair far too often."

Elysia chuckled at this. "Merry and Pippin?.. Looks like Bag End won't be so quiet after all." She tilted her head and smiled softly if not uncertainly.

"You're so… tiny, little one."

Indeed, Frodo was a tiny thing. She could pluck him up by the scruff of his collar as though he were a kitten. Small and delicate, hobbits were in comparison to her kind… their infants even more so.

"Well of course he is, Elly. He's a Hobbit, and a not even in his tweens." Bilbo said as he stepped into the warmly lit common room.

Upon seeing Elysia's face, he softened.

As stoic as Elysia was, there were certain things as a friend Bilbo could tell. The hesitation in those intuitive eyes as she peered at his nephew told him enough. Despite her draconian nature, the lady had a gentle heart.

Frodo's wide eyed and for some reason, admirable gaze confused her. He stared at her with silence thus far, not uttering a single word. Elysia wondered if he was mute after losing his parents so suddenly.

"Frodo always asked me about you. Don't be shy, Frodo, my lad." Bilbo encouraged and gestured to Elysia with a nod of his head before sipping on his cup of tea.

Little Frodo Baggins stared at the non-hobbit maiden in fascination. He had been with the children that swarmed Elysia for a small magic show, but now he had the opportunity to have time with the delightful lady all to himself. Her curious scrutiny made him a little shy. Was there something wrong with him? Then he heard her speak. He quite liked her voice. It wasn't silvery and girlish like many maidens, but it held a low, husky, and oddly melodious timbre.

It was a voice that told of great cowing strength. Yet, it soothed him, making him feel safe and protected like the warm embrace of a mother or a very soft blanket of wool.

Building up his courage, Frodo made the first move and walked up to her knees.

"Can I feel your hair?" His request caught Elysia off guard, but she appeared more amused than startled.

Frodo wanted to feel at least one of those glossy onyx curls of hers. They looked much lovelier and very different than the curly hairs of the hobbit maidens he had seen all his life.

Strong but gentle hands plucked him from the floor and propped him on a lap. Delighted, the small hobbit grabbed a lock of hair and began to tug and caress it, marveling its silky texture and slight springiness.

Bilbo smiled at the kindness in those greyed orbs. It was a rare, picturesque sight to see Elysia Walkins appear so demure. Who knew dragons were capable of being such affectionate creatures? He had a feeling those two would be destined for a strong bond of friendship and love. It was an odd thing to hope and predict; dragon and a hobbit... And as odd as his little family here in Bag End was, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Indeed, Elysia grew very fond and fiercely protective of Frodo, and Frodo grew equally fond and loving of her. She was his surrogate mother, sister, and undeniable friend. He was usually the first that came rushing to greet her after she returned from one of her elusive trips. They confided secrets with each other, but Frodo never knew the magnitude of the secret Elysia shared with him when he a tween. It was his unwavering loyalty in her and the importance of their friendship that kept all secrets under tight lock and key. Besides, it was fun to have secrets only the bachelors of Bag End knew. It felt more important.

It was a fine day for some tea when Frodo was finally given the greatest secret of them all.

"Elly…? Are you an elf? Is that why you're always going away?" Frodo inquired as Elysia drank her tea. Bilbo was off to purchase some of the fresh fish from the local market. He stretched on the tips of his toes and looked up at her. Her ears were pointed but funny for an elf. They had these odd, frilled ridges.

"Are you visiting Rivendell? Will you sail west?" His voice grew more nervous. The thought of Elysia leaving them for good made him apprehensive.

The said woman placed her tea cup back on the table and peered curiously at her young hobbit friend.

"No… I am not an elf, and I haven't visited Rivendell since your Uncle Bilbo ventured there." She explained.

Frodo's gaze was still expectant for a more thorough elaboration.

The dragon then sighed and patted the chair next to her in the dining room. Frodo sat obediently, and Elysia found herself musing how fast he had grown into his tweens. Mortal folk grew up quickly, almost too quickly for her immortal liking.

"It's about time I've told you, little one. I don't like to deceive you." She smiled flatly. Frodo didn't like the sorrow that flickered in her bottomless gaze.

"Can you keep a secret?" She whispered in a hushed tone. Frodo smiled and leaned forward.

"Come on, Elly! You know I always do!" He wasn't loose lipped like Pippin, who rambled on about everything like a foolish Took.

"Oh?" Her eyes twinkled merrily. "But this is a secret you must keep. It is the secret of secrets. If you don't…" Her voice became hushed and jestingly horrified. "I might have to leave you forever."

Now Frodo would definitely keep the secret to his dying day. He vigorously nodded and Elysia leaned forward, and behind the twinkle in those silvered eyes, there was a melancholy of archaic origins. It made him sad and half tempted have her stop from telling him.

"I'm nor Elf, Hobbit, or any race of the Free People, little one. Remember those stories Bilbo has told you? How he survived his adventure and witnessed the desolation of Smaug? What did he tell you… About dragons?"

Frodo knew the adventures of Bilbo almost by heart.

"He said that he saw two of them… One that helped him and then there was Smaug who was terrible and stupendous… But he never told me the name of the blue drake. He said he promised the blue drake he wouldn't give away its existence. He said no one would really believe him anyways."

Elysia smiled wider at this. "Bilbo is a hobbit of honor… The blue drake knew she could trust him… He was always my favorite out of the company."

It took a few heartbeats, but the revelation came to Frodo. His eyes widened and his mouth rounded to an O. He stared at her with a new fascination, and Elysia waited for any signs of fear.

"You're jesting!"

His exclamation made Elysia chuckle in relief, but she did not deny any deception. Frodo's eyes grew even more impossibly wider, bulging from his tiny face. Elysia wasn't a very good liar.

"B-but… B-but… Where are your scales? Where is your tail? Your wings? You don't even have the tongue!" Frodo began to peer around Elysia for any signs of scales or wings.

Elysia laughed and simply rested her chin on her hand.

"Magic, little one. The shire would be in an uproar if they saw a dragon roaming around. We dragons have always been capable of shifting into this form, but it is a forgotten technique to some that find it of little use. We had once used this form to wander amongst the two legged races unperturbed by unwanted eyes, but now… Dragons prefer not to associate with the more delicate people of Middle Earth."

Still, the disbelief remained in Frodo's eyes and Elysia shook her head with a sigh. "You do not take my word for it?"

She then plucked him by the collar and lifted him eye level.

Her pupils began to sharpen into slits, and Frodo could have sworn he saw a scaly blue pattern flicker across the surface of her skin. Perhaps it was the trick of the light.

But then the oddest thing happened that brought a gasp from the young Baggins. A pair of silvery white horns began to protrude from her head, pronged halfway like a young branch. They resembled the antlers of an adolescent stag.

"Not all of us drakes have wings… The ones that reside deep in the forests and the mountains can be flightless. But I do have wings. However, this room is rather small for them to come forth comfortably."

Elysia flicked out her tongue, revealing a slight split in the center. So she did have a forked tongue…

Elysia settled the Baggins down on his feet and her features began to return to normalcy. Frodo was still gaping.

"Are you frightened Frodo?" She inquired lightly, yet in her heart she began to dread Frodo's reaction. Would he run away and scream in fear?

"… Can you fly?"

"Yes… My clan, in particular, has the best fliers amongst us dragons."

"What's it like?" Frodo wondered in awe. To have the ability to fly, she must have ventured anywhere and everywhere.

She cracked a fond, crooked grin. Frodo could have sword her teeth looked a bit sharper than usual.

"It… It's the most invigorating and wonderfully free experience… You're not scared?" She assessed him kindly.

"Scared?.. whatever for?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Well, little one. I am a dragon."

"You'd never hurt me." Frodo stoutly said. "Bilbo says you protected him and saved his life on many occasions. But, Elly… Bilbo says Bag End is like a second home for you… Where is your first home? Aren't there more of you? Don't you have a family of dragons?"

The sorrow became more prominent in those eyes, and Frodo immediately regretted asking as her smile became sad and hollow. It sent an unpleasant pang in his heart.

"My family died a long time ago during the dark times." She stated softly. "There is no one left of my clan but I."

The greatest damage done to the dragons was not merely the enslavement of their kind, but the massacre of an entire clan. She was all that remained of a proud tribe of dragons that once tamed the storms.

A small hand patted her cheek, breaking her out of her mournful reverie. Frodo gazed at her with his large blue eyes.

"We're your family… Bilbo and I…"

A smile of fondness returned to Elysia. She plucked Frodo from the floor and embraced him in her warm arms. If she were in her dragon form, she would have enveloped her wings around the hobbit.

"Indeed you are."

And so Frodo and Bilbo Baggins were the only two hobbits to know what exactly Elysia Walkins was. Elysia indulged Frodo with tales of her kind, and her many adventures and stories, and there were even times when she came back from one of her mysterious trips with a token for them. It brought joy that she could share something of her lost home to someone other than Gandalf.

"What's this?" Frodo marveled at the foreign flower potted on the table. It was a dark rich blue deep throated lily that bloomed with a surreal glow.

"That is a Loivissa, little one. It is a flower native to the mountains near my home." Elysia yawned, weary from her long travel.

"It's beautiful." He was afraid to touch the lovely flower, not wanting to damage it.

Elysia smiled. "It is most beautiful under the moonlight. It gives off a white radiance. You should see when there is a whole field of them, little one. You do not need a lantern to light your way when these flowers illuminate your path."

"Can I show Sam? Please, Elly?" All Hobbits of the Shire knew of Elysia's frequent mysterious trips. Frodo wouldn't have to divulge details, but still it would be nice for someone else that truly loved making things grow to see something like this.

"See if that gardener can cultivate the flower for you." Elysia ushered. The said hobbit immediately ran out the door, leaving Elysia to muse to herself.

"I hope Bilbo purchased some of that fish."

She then released a troubled sigh and rotated her shoulders, grunting at the soreness. Flying for copious amounts of time with little sleep took its toll on her body, and all of the energy wasted on her scouting expedition was for naught.

She growled in frustration. "I wonder if Gandalf had any success in finding that wretched little gremlin."

Elysia couldn't deny she was impressed by Gollum's stealthy ability. Even with her keen senses, he was well hidden. It was a bit demeaning, like a hawk unable to catch that stupid rat despite its predatory prowess.

Time was waning; they needed answers of the creature's whereabouts. There was an evil that lurked like a poisonous shadow in Middle Earth, and the shadow was expanding from the black peaks of Mordor. At the pace it was going, there was little doubt that the darkness would spread to the outermost regions of Middle Earth.

It was beginning to stir turmoil amongst the dragons to the extent in which a council in the Cave of Ancients had been called, something that hasn't happened for centuries since the end of the dark times.

Dragons had no ruler. They had no king or lords, but one sovereign dragon who only used his authority when a dire matter was at hand.

The Eldest, the longest lived and the wisest of the drakes was revered as the only source of absolute authority amongst the drakes. But the even Eldest's rule was not absolutely arbitrary. He served to create a platform for political affairs amongst the clans. Matters that involved the entire race were settled at such councils when a consensus was made.

Each clan of dragons had figureheads, clan leaders elected by their kinsmen to represent them in the Council of Sovereignty.

It was on a chilled winter's eve when the Eldest finally utilized the power of his position. Birds were the messengers of the scaled ancients, and throughout the land, the feathered servants sent the order far and wide.

The Eldest had summoned them so suddenly. Clan leaders, rogue travelers, all the dragons that were not in their great hidden slumber had come to the colossal archaic cave of hardened molten rock and jewels. Hexagonal pillars were used as perches for many dragons. Some even rested on the large crystals jutting out from the walls. To encompass the mass, many of the younger dragons had shifted into their smaller forms.

Elysia herself was perched near an opening, never having been fond of caves and the underground to begin with. At least in a hobbit hole, there are windows.

They all faced the Eldest who sat between an archway of smoothed rock and crystal.

This ancient being could hold Smaug in a clawed hand. With a single swipe of his massive tail, he could sweep an entire village of houses from their foundations as if they were made of hay, but like all the great old dragons he spent his time predominantly sleeping and dreaming. With a long serpentine neck ridged with large weathered spikes and a frill of sharp horns crowning his head, he shook his massive form and unfurled his large wings, shaking the dust from the edges of the veined, leathery extensions. His white scales rippled like pearls as he preened the slightly frayed edges of his wings before opening his great maw and revealing worn but still formidable serrated teeth. His name was Valzinjr the Ancient.

"Naina garzjla!" (Brighten light!) His deep powerful voice echoed in the darkness with the ancient language of truth.

No one dared disobey a command from the Great White Dragon. A few massive drakes with stockier heads and under biting jaws opened their mouths. From their maws a flame was lit and the cave was illuminated as the crystals began to spread the light.

"Atra du evarínya ono varda." (May the stars watch over you.) He rumbled in the ancient tongue.

They all murmured in unison. "Atra esterní ono thelduin. Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr. Un du evarínya ono varda." (May good fortune rule over you, peace live within your heart, and the stars watch over you.)

As the ritualistic words of greeting came to an end, the White Dragon continued in the ancient tongue. His voice did not resonate through the cave, but through their minds in a collective conscious by magic.

"I have summoned you all under the watchful eyes of the stars to give you grave news… Nine hatchlings of Vervada have been taken."

An echo of growls and hisses of exclamation echoed through the cave. Elysia's eyes widened and a hiss escaped her own throat. They could not disbelieve this news or deny it for one cannot lie in the ancient language. A deep and powerful magic older than the White Dragon prevented that.

Still, to say it was shocking was an understatement. Amongst the dragons, there was a code of conduct. To kidnap or kill a single hatchling from their nest was the greatest of taboos. To kidnap nine was a deed of pure evil they have not been exposed to since the dark ages.

"Death… Kill… Destroy! Burn the vermin that committed this atrocity!" Many dragons snarled in a rage so great it caused tremors in the mountain.

"Silence!" Valzinjr ordered.

They obeyed, but mutters of dark threats hung thick in the air. The thirst for blood was great.

"The vermin that committed this cannot be destroyed by fire, for he is an evil that thrives within flame, shadow, and ash."

Unease rippled through the air.

"All of you know whom I speak of… The Forsworn has awakened… The darkness is rising. His black peaks are alight with hellfire. Our kind is being threatened once more."

"Then we must face this threat and fight!" A cold drake roared.

"You're a fool of a wyrm, Jormun! Do you want history to repeat itself? We rebelled against the Shadows and look what happened! The War of Dominance crippled our kind. The great Storm Clan was destroyed." A fire drake hissed.

At the mention of her people's massacre, Elysia flinched. Even after eons to cope with the scars of her clan's bloody end, the loss still burned like an icy knife into her heart.

"Hold your forked tongue, blood scales!" An old dragon with brown scales covered in vegetation growled. "Do not mention that forsaken night to one who has lived it."

At this, many sharp eyes flickered to Elysia. The Eldest lashed his tail out and smacked it to the ground to reclaim order. The cave fell silent once more.

"Fyrenze is right. We have not recovered from the War of Dominance. We cannot have our kind lose ourselves to the shadows once again or it shall drive our race to the verge of extinction."

A green dragon let out a low moan, expressing his disdain. "So what? We're supposed to hide? Like some cowering sparrows?"

"Yes… And no… We must aid the Free Alliance in secrecy as much as we can."

The crimson dragon, Fyrenze, let out a smoky snort. "The Free Alliance? A bunch dysfunctional races that fight amongst each other, starting blood feuds over petty matters. We have little means of connecting and aiding lesser species, Edlest… Unless…" Fyrenze narrowed his amber eyes. "You speak of relying on the bastard offspring of Saphira while we hide…?"

The White Dragon was about to chide the young red drake but a roar interrupted him. The said "bastard offspring" bared her teeth and spat a ball of her notorious heated blast at Firenze's perch.

"Is that a challenge I hear, Fyrenze?"

"What of it, kin killer?" Fyrenze snarled.

He still hadn't forgiven the storm dragon for her part in Smaug's desolation. The drake shared his blood.

Elysia gave a snort of scorn.

"Your precious Smaug the Stupendous had it coming to him. His mind was rotted by the shadow, and he fell into mindless greed and vanity. Be wary not to follow the trail of his stench, fire lizard. I had little regrets ending his tantrum, I'll have none ending yours." She threatened.

"You grew soft in your time with that old meddlesome istari!" He countered heatedly.

Many dragons had shared disapproval when Elysia's apprenticeship to Mithrandir was known. Elysia had already been considered a bit of an idiosyncrasy. Many were shocked when Elysia's formidable dam was impregnated by an unknown source. When dragons mated, it wasn't always for life for it depended on the dragon. To mate for life with a single partner was a rare occurrence.

Still, every dragon always knew who their sire and dam was. Elysia was the exception to this and to many other things. Regardless, a dragon should have been raised by a dragon, taught by a fellow drake regardless if they hailed from different clans. They considered Mithrandir to be staining her dragon nature.

An earsplitting shriek stabbed at their sensitive ears as the "kin killer's" claws raked the flat surface of stone. Elysia's tail twitched like a hunting cat as she released a low hiss.

"Do you want to test that, blood wyrm?... I will skin you alive…"

"Stormwalker! Fire drake! ENOUGH!" Valzinjr rumbled and quelled the rising venom between Elysia and Fyrenze. He lashed his serpentine head to the tall pillars where Fyrenze was perched and glared at the young drake with powerful gold eyes.

"Take great care what you imply, Fyrenze. Are you saying you doubt my judgement?"

Fyrenze seemed to shrink at this. "Forgive me, Eldest…. I did not mean to insult your judgement." He all but spat, unrepentant.

The Eldest snorted and released a hiss before he directed his mind's voice to all.

"We have little choice but to remain hidden from the wretched Eye of the Forsworn. As powerful as we are, the undiluted magic in our blood makes us weak against the Taint from his serpent's tongue… But Elysia has shown more resilience to the shadows than any of us. She is the only one that can act as our representative when the time comes and the Free People summon a council… The Forsworn has committed the most disgusting of crimes. We cannot linger and do nothing." A long heated breathe escaped the old being. "But we cannot lose more of our people to the darkness… If more of our people fall, then it will be our bane and the bane of this world."

"We need not another Place of Sorrow." A gold and crippled dragon by the name of Glaedhron mournfully added.

Dragons weren't the most peace-loving creatures. In battles and challenges, Elysia's kind held a savagery that could cripple a hardened warrior with fear, but they were not war mongers.

To many veterans, like Glaedhron Goldenscales, the haunting misery of the war ran deep. Glaedhron's hatchlings were motherless and Glaedhron's back leg was lost in a battle between two of their corrupted kin, Agravel and Jura. They were his clansmen and cousins. Many dragons had been forced to fight against loved ones that went mad from the Taint.

"Many that are not here have already sought to hide in slumber…"A serpentine drake of the sea hissed and swirled around her crystalline pool. Her scales glimmered several hues of sea green and silver while her lanky limbs grabbed the edge of the pool with clawed webbed fingers.

"And the elves are sailing west, are they not?" The Eldest asked.

The sea dragon hissed and nodded.

"My sister, Mirimel grows restless. She has informed me the darkness dwelling in putrid waters is starting to stretch its tendrils. Many of my kin are beginning to stray further away from Middle earth and reside within waters closer to the eastern shores of the Undying Lands."

"Fernyn Seasonscales residing in Mirkwood has become silent." A brown wingless dragon informed.

Vanzinjr the Eldest narrowed his eyes and heaved a great sigh. "And so despair thickens and hope wanes… We must remain on guard. Those of you that yet sleep and will remain so must keep constant vigilance. May the stars watch over you, and may your claws and fangs remain sharp."

With that being said, the great communion came to a wary end. Elysia remained while the dragons began to disperse, returning to their dwellings in the sea, mountain, plains, or forests.

When they were alone, Valzinjr and Elysia finally spoke in private.

"I have given already given you Silvindr amongst many other things. I cannot think of anything else I can give to you to aid you on this perilous task."

Elysia was in her human form, perched on the massive forefinger of the ancient dragon. She smiled and bowed respectfully.

"You have given me enough, Valzinjr-elda and have honored me with your faith. I will do what I can to help our people."

The Eldest let out a small but tired sigh as he curled into a more comfortable position.

"Perhaps it was fate that you became so different amongst us. You storm dragons were a curious clan in general, but you… You and your mother bring a whole new breed of peculiar into the mix…. May the stars watch over you, Elysia Bluescales."

"To you as well, Valzinjr Whitescales…"

In a whirlwind of blue streams and fiery magic, Elysia was off into the night for the very long journey back to the Shire.

Elysia sat on a patch of grass on the hillside of Bag End, munching on a slab of salted pork as she watched Frodo and Sam marvel at the Loivissa in the distance. She smirked softly at Sam tending to the Loivissa with great care, scooping it out of its small clay pot and into a much larger and fancier pot glazed a lovely green that emphasized the beauty of the plant.

Fyrenze was right about one thing. She did have a soft spot for the Free People, hobbits in particular, and she will see the end of the Forsworn's shadows not only for her people but for this place and its people she grew to love.