Unbounded | Lord Of The Rings Fanfic

CHAPTER VI : The Golden Dragon

Time had passed like a new page turning, months gone by and Dáin was growing anxious. He could sense the growing tension between the wood-elves of Mirkwood and the upcoming arrival of Thorin II Oakenshield with his crew of dwarves. Dáin watched on the balcony of his quarters which had the wonderful view of Erebor and Dale. His brown eyes matched the earthy soil, but were clouded by grey thoughts that the Lord of the Ironhills could not bear alone.

Gilda's loud snoring bothered him a great deal, he could not think properly and so he went out of his quarters and headed towards the towers where all his accounts and scrolls were stored.

Dáin's boots echoed on the deserted halls which were still lit by the hearth that gave an orange glow. His thoughts were mainly about his cousin and the growing guilt towards his daughter, Mithril. After giving her the sword of Eöl, he researched more about the elven ancestry of the Noldor, but he could not find any additional information that would confirm his speculations.

"Perhaps the elves would know, or would they?" Dáin pondered as he stroked his beard.

Dáin tried to focus on what was more important, and so he walked and thought of many things, for the lord of the Ironhills was never known to be rash unless his family's safety was at stake.

Dáin remembered his cousin all of a sudden, his heart quenched as he thought of the hardships Thorin had to go through, hardships he didn't bother to ease unless Erebor was claimed at last. Dáin frowned, "Perhaps I was wrong to not have accompanied him on his quest..., Ah!" he exclaimed, his voice ringing in the halls.

"Now if Thorin successfully reclaims Erebor, those tree-huggers will surely hear about it! Thranduil will not sit idly...," Dáin frowned yet again. "War may come and I would need to send aid."

Dáin looked upon the darkened sky, he felt weary as if there was something devious at hand, an evil spirit returning once more.

"Darkness reigns," he whispered, "There is something cold in the air, an evil more terrifying than the fire drake Smaug, an evil more terrifying than the horrors of war."

Alas the Dwarven Lord reached his tower, the tower of knowledge  as he would call it.

...

The night was clear like the freshest springs, the stars lit up the sky like tiny silvery dusts spread out on a canvass of dark blue. The wind was chilly but a certain elleth felt no cold.

Red hair swayed in the air, like a wave of fire in the darkness. Steel grey eyes looked at the stars with adoration, her eyes gleaming.

Mithril adored the stars, it was a view she would never grow tired of. She loved everything about the sky at night, she loved the moon that glowed with a dim pure radiance, she loved how the dark sky brought the beauty of the stars to light.

In her right was the sword named Anguirel, the sword she felt a puzzling connection with. Mithril felt the need to know more about the sword, it felt like it wasn't just a sword a typical elf would possess. It felt like a link to the past, the only link to her lost family.

Speaking of family, Mitril always wondered if her remaining  relatives even looked for her, or if there were any to begin with.

Mithril brushed the thoughts away with a simple head shake. She found the need to appreciate the unique beauty of nature, and not be preoccupied with thoughts that would only bring confusion and endless wonder.

A soft tune escaped her mouth, a love song she remembered from a distant memory. She tried to supply the tune with poetic words, but she failed for she could not sing of an emotion unknown to her; the romantic type of love.

Mithril often wondered if she would ever fall in love, perhaps she was too young, and perhaps it was not meant for her, she thought to herself.

"I wo-"

Mithtil trembled at the loud and monstrous roar that echoed in the night, goosebumps rose on her forearms and she felt chills run through her spine. Mithril could make up the figure that loomed high on the sky eastwards with her sharp eyes.

"Smaug..." Mithril felt the fear surge in her body, the fear she felt when she was a mere child, the fear of dragonfire.

Mithril watched as the dragon strangely coated in gold, flew towards Laketown with raging speed, with his wings casting a dark shadow to those below him.

Mithril stood up, "By my blood...," Golden-red fire came from Smaug's mouth, burning the wooden houses of Laketown to the ground, screams of anguish filled the air even in such a distance. Mithril found herself gazing at a sea of flames from afar.

"He has awoken, it has begun..."

To Be Continued...

A/N

Alright so here's the beginning of Mithril's adventure, a lot of things will happen and well I'll leave that to your imagination ;) Don't forget to comment and like! I really appreciate feedback (be it negative or positive) Ciao~