16 • The monster under the mountain

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It pained Thranduil with how much determination and strength he had wrung his hands firmly around the sword. The previously cool iron seemed almost to burn into the skin of his fingers, which longed to carry his wife to safety.

His feet moved as fast as they could muster. His breath grazed his raw throat. Again and again he banished out the terrible thought of returning to the palace with her lifeless body and focused his gaze on the surroundings, searching for tracks that would lead him to his wife.

He would not stop until he got back what belonged to him.

The young broken trees that clung to their trunks were his only trail so far. He had followed the path between squashed bushes towards the collapsed rock formation. It was almost as if the Frostdrake had purposely erased his tracks, for his paw prints seemed to have been wiped out across the gray ground. Thranduil, fortunately, needed no tracks to know where his wife had fled to.

The rock formation seemed fresh. This was not something that had happened in recent years or months, but collapsed by the vibrations of hundreds of frostwyrms. Small boulders occasionally rolled down, af if the rocks were still moving.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes when something reflected in the sun. He bent down and with trembling fingers lifted the object off the ground. It had only taken him a second to recognize it. The engagement ring, encrusted with pearly white gems, she had never taken off, not even when she slept.

For a moment he stared motionlessly at the jewel in his hand and clenched it in his fist. Slowly he rose to his feet and looked up at the rock formation and at the barely visible passageway that could still be seen between the fallen stones. That was his only entrance.

He slipped the ring into the pouch hanging from his belt and began the climb over the fallen stones. The entrance between the crumbling rocks was just large enough for him to climb through. Inside it was pitch black. He took a few seconds to catch his breath and let his eyes get used to the dark. Deep in the cave, the sound of water rushing and oddly enough... the wind.

The echo of his footsteps echoed against the walls, giving him the idea that something was chasing him. The deep grooves and scratches in the walls and stones confirmed that there would be no living soul here. Or they'd be long dead.

For a moment, he doubted his hawkish eyesight when the walls suddenly sharpened, and the corridor spilled out into a cavern that rose into the air meters high in the middle. Light shone through cracks in the walls.

Thranduil reached for the hilt of his sword when he heard something slide across the ground. The king turned on his axis at breakneck speed, searching for the source of the sound. That cursed echo made it impossible to find the source.

A shock went through him when the shuffling was accompanied by a deep growl and he drew his sword. The deep sound resonated in his chest, made the cave tremble to its foundations. Thranduil raised his sword, clamped his jaws together and tightened his grip on the hilt. 'Hide no longer, you coward. Give me back my wife!

For a few heartbeats it was dead silence. Then his command was obeyed. From the shadows appeared a half-open mouth with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Penetrating yellow eyes looked straight at him, before the beast lifted its bulky head. The sunlight reflected off its bright blue scales. Thranduil had seen a Frost Drake before, but never had a male so evolved ever invaded his valley. He was at least five heads taller than the mutts that were destroying his valley. Thranduil knew very well what he was going into battle with. Males had the ability to spit fire, blue fire that could scorch everything in its path to the bone.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, braced himself and growled, 'The blood of your offspring will stain the ground to the terrible place you came from. This ends here.'

'

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