"The Dawn Will Come" by Folklore Guild

"Shadows fall and hope has fled
Steel your heart, the dawn will come
The night is long and the path is dark
Look to the sky for one day soon
The dawn will come

The Shepherd's lost and his home is far
Keep to the stars, the dawn will come
The night is long and the path is dark
Look to the sky for one day soon
The dawn will come

Bare your blade and raise it high
Stand your ground, the dawn will come
The night is long and the path is dark
Look to the sky for one day soon
The dawn will come"

3019TA

With the invasion of Fort Arngor, the breaking of an egg, and the injury to the leader of the Order, the Riders were shaken. Some even whispered, in those quiet moments between friends in the darkness of night, about leaving for Alagaesia across the sea. Saphira did her best to motivate her people, to rally them against their enemy. But even she was made disquiet.

Dragon-eggs were supposed to be almost invulnerable, the shell so hard that no fall or blunt weapon might break it. It disturbed her to have seen one broken. It allowed the claws of fear to inch over her scales, to wonder at what powerful magic could do such a thing. What's more, if the Dark Lord possessed the power to shatter dragon-eggs, what other means of destruction might he throw against them?

These doubts ate at all of them, and so in an act of desperation and fear, the riders voluntarily pulled back in their war-effort, returning to For Arngor. They needed to secure their borders. Every precaution had to be taken to ensure a breach like this could not happen again. The Eldunari and Cuaroc were moved down into the vault so as to be better protection for the eggs. As well as the most powerful enchantments and dragon-magic were employed to be certain that no intruders could reach the vault. Sentries were posted in the mountain peeks to watch for approaching danger, patrols regularly monitoring every pass and valley. By the time Eragon was out of his sick-bed and returning to his duties, the Rider Order was surviving, but needed direction.

Their isolationism couldn't have come at a worse time. The free peoples of Middle Earth had sent requests for aid. One had been for Lothlorien, who had been attacked repeatedly by Sauron's forces. The power of the Lady Galadriel had managed to keep his armies at bay, but they wanted help to drive these orcs out once and for all. And then there had been the pleas from the Rohan people; once proud and righteous, they had never asked the Riders for help. Saphira could remember when she had first met the Rohan people, the lot of them horse-lovers. They trusted their beasts so implicitly they initially wanted nothing to do with the dragons, for their horses were spooked by the giant carnivores. It had taken long negotiations for the King of the Rohan to finally see them as allies and not as threats.

By the time the Riders were ready to leave for the battlefield once more, it was almost too late. The Rohan had retreated to Helms-Deep, where they had won a victory against the forces of darkness. But at a cost. Saphira had been displeased as she had soared through the countryside, finding dozens of burnt out villages, the corpses piled to rot in the sun. Most of the rebellion against Sauron was scattered. It was difficult to know where to go now.

Eragon and Saphira had cast a scrying spell in order to communicate with Gandalf. There was one battle they were desperately needed for, the final defence – where if they were successful, meant they could finally push back the enemy.

It would later become known as the Battle of Pelinor Fields.

Minas Tirith was under siege by the forces of Sauron. The riders of Rohan had come to their aid, yet the Nazgul, led by the Witch King of Angmar, were relentless. Saphira and her dragons had descended in force to oppose them, taking the wretched, hated Fell Beasts from the battle on the walls and into the air. It was later immortalised in song; dragons descending from the sky, their wings driving away the clouds to let the sun in, the scales gleaming and their magical armour shining! With fire and tooth and claw they had ripped at the Nazgul and their simple beasts, unrelenting until their corpses were naught but ash.

When the last of the Easterling forces arrived to join the battle, Saphira had promised her fellow dragons a feast on Mumakil flesh! Then the eagles had come as well, to help them all drive out the last of the of the dark armies. Even the Witch King himself had been slain!

In the smoke riddled fields when the battle was over, Eragon and Saphira had helped to lead in the mourning for those who had lost their lives. The King of the Rohan, Théoden, was one such casualty. His daughter had been the one to deliver the killing blow to Witch King to protect her father. To comfort her in her time of grief, and to show that they were grateful to her for what she'd done, the rider order had presented her with a master sword. And they pledged that she would always have friends in Fort Arngor.

With Minas Tirith finally secured, Eragon and Saphira, Thorn and Murtagh, and even Arya and Fírnen had come to speak with the council on how to end this war. The hobbit Frodo still possessed the One Ring and was continuing his journey into Mordor. Though a scrying spell, Eragon confirmed their journey. But now the mission was at its most perilous point. It was agreed that Sauron must not find Frodo! They had to keep his attention to give the little hobbit time to complete his quest.

All the combined armies of this last alliance marched onto Mordor and met the forces of Sauron at the Black Gate. Dragon flew beside Eagle. Dwarf fought beside Elf. And a King rose to lead them all. It was gruelling, awful fighting that day. Sauron threw everything he had at them… Including the three Dragon Riders who had turned traitor.

Eragon and Saphira had engaged them first, flanked by Arya and Fírnen on one side and Murtagh and Thorn on the other. They met the three betrayers head on. Their dragons were little better than the Fell Beasts, animal like in nature and responding only to instinct, not comprehending strategy. This meant they would have been easy to kill, had they not been augmented by Sauron's foul magic. The same could be said of their riders. The fight had taken everything inside Saphira, for she abruptly found herself filled with doubt. She had raised these dragons, had been a mother to them, had taught their riders and knew them as well as her own children. And now she was expected to kill them? The thought had never crossed her mind before, but seeing their tortured souls, feeling their shattered minds, she was struck with grief.

That hesitation had almost cost her. The traitors had managed to swerve around her defences and almost slit Thorn's throat. That had been what motivated Saphira back into the fight. She came at them with the fury of a mother avenging her children. And when she had them in her claws, she whispered into the voice that was their minds, where she knew Sauron lurked, watching.

"Find peace, my kin. Sauron will burn for his transgressions!"

And burn he had.

As the battle had tipped in their favour, Mount Doom had suddenly erupted and the tower of Barad-Dur had fallen. Saphira had felt it, a shockwave ripple across the fabric of magic that lay across all things. The darkness had been pushed away. The One Ring was destroyed. Sauron was defeated. The War was over.