The chaos unfolded as Gerithor assisted Sarina in scrambling into the dense cover of the trees. The dragon, however, roared and swerved, its massive form adjusting its course to pursue them relentlessly. Its belly glowed with an ominous, flaming orange, signaling an imminent attack. The once serene forest now echoed with the cacophony of fleeing creatures, disturbed by the impending menace.
As they darted through the woods, the dragon unleashed a torrent of fire, bathing the sky in a fiery inferno. The air grew thick with heat and tension, and the once lush foliage ignited, transforming the serene woods into a blazing nightmare. Gerithor and Sarina found themselves ensnared by encroaching flames, their escape route rapidly closing.
In a desperate attempt to shield Sarina, Gerithor pushed her out of harm's way just as a massive branch crashed down. The impact sent him sprawling to the ground, pinned beneath the fallen timber. Flames licked at the surroundings, creating an infernal circle around them.
"Sarina, run!" Gerithor's urgent plea rang out as he strained against the weight of the colossal branch. Sarina, refusing to abandon him, rushed to his side, joining the struggle to free him from the entanglement. Fear etched Gerithor's face as he glimpsed the approaching peril.
"No! Get out of here! Now!" His voice conveyed a mix of desperation and concern as he reached for Sarina's arm, attempting to steer her away from the impending danger.
"I'm not leaving you here to die!" Sarina's resolute cry echoed through the fiery chaos as she persisted in her attempts to alleviate Gerithor's predicament.
The ground quivered beneath the colossal creature's descent as the dragon landed, fixating its hungry gaze on the trapped pair. Sarina pivoted to confront the monstrous adversary, her eyes widening at the sheer magnitude of the behemoth. A row of spikes adorned its spine, and fearsome horns framed its head, casting an aura of terror that surpassed anything Gerithor and Sarina had ever witnessed. The dragon stood as a formidable embodiment of destruction, poised to unleash its wrath upon the beleaguered duo.
Gerithor, struggling under the oppressive weight of the fallen branch, met the dragon's gaze with defiance despite the dire situation. The dragon's deep, mellow voice reverberated through the air, filled with disappointment as it addressed them.
"What have we here? Spies?" The dragon's massive grey-scaled head tilted to the side as it studied the trapped duo.
"We are no spies!" Gerithor retorted, his voice strained as he grappled with the diminishing air supply caused by the branch's weight.
"Oh? Then why were you watching my friends from the shadows?" The dragon raised a scaly brow, casting doubt on Gerithor's protestations.
"Well, a huge army raises a certain amount of attention, you know," Gerithor replied with a touch of sarcasm, wincing as the branch pressed harder against him.
"You make a good point for a liar," the dragon mused. "Tell me your names... I wish to know who you are before I devour you." Its long, sharp claw raised, inspecting it intently.
"I am Gerithor, son of Gerimond, and this is Sarina." Gerithor blurted out the information, immediately regretting revealing their identities to the dragon. A sudden realization struck him: he was under the influence of the dragon's spell. Dragon spell, a magical compulsion dragons used when conversing with mortals, induced an unusual desire to answer truthfully. Now aware of the enchantment, Gerithor struggled to break free, glaring defiantly at the dragon.
"Ah! Son of Gerimond, you said? That name I know." The dragon's long serpentine tongue licked its lips, and its eyes glowed like fire. "I've heard stories about him. To defeat him would be quite an achievement... And what better way to draw him out than to kill his son?" The dragon's ominous words hung in the air, its serpentine eyes glowing with an inner fire.
"You can try to kill me. But there's no honor in killing a foe who cannot fight back," Gerithor declared, raising an eyebrow at the dragon. He banked on the legends that spoke of dragons being strangely bound to honor, using the moment to slowly maneuver out from under the oppressive branch.
The dragon responded with a chuckle that resonated like a growl. "What makes you think I care about honor, child? I could crush you like an ant under my claws."
"You would have killed me already if you didn't care about honor," Gerithor challenged, fixing the massive beast with a defiant gaze.
"You have guts, I'll give you that," the dragon acknowledged, pulling its lips back into a wicked smile, revealing razor-sharp teeth. "So let's play a game, little man. I will let you go. Run away if you can; you'll make good sport if you do. If not... Well then, grilled man would make an excellent afternoon snack. Now go!" With a swift motion, the dragon reached forward with one of its front legs and effortlessly lifted the branch off Gerithor. Shocked but not wasting a moment, Gerithor seized Sarina's hand and sprinted into the forest as fast as he could, the dragon's laughter echoing behind them. "Run, little man. You are now prey, and I am the hunter!" The ominous words fueled their desperate escape through the dense woods.
===============================
Caledorn and his twelve Mirkwood companions moved with silent precision through the dense forest, their footsteps so light that even the most alert creatures failed to detect their presence. They traversed the woodlands like wraiths, inching closer to the forest's edge.
As they neared the boundary, their gaze fell upon the city below, and a surge of blind hatred filled Caledorn at the sight of the enemy army. His instincts screamed for bloodshed, urging him to cut down every foe in his path and leave the streets littered with lifeless bodies. The desire to fight and kill pulsed through him, and his hand instinctively reached for a dagger.
Yet, in a moment of self-restraint, he halted his own aggression. Memories of past transgressions fueled by hatred flashed before him – innocent lives lost in the grip of unbridled fury. Pushing the dark thoughts away, he turned to his companions.
"We will go around to the northwest of the city. The dragon was last spotted there. You will all fan out and take positions, and I will-" His words were abruptly cut off by a thunderous roar, a harbinger of a familiar force. A flash of light in the distance confirmed what Caledorn had hoped for; Aldernari had come to them.
"Ego!" he whispered to his companions as they gracefully leapt off into the concealment of the trees. They moved with stealth and precision, closing in on the source of the distant light. As they approached, Caledorn spotted two figures running wildly in their direction.
"Cover them!" Caledorn's command echoed through the forest as recognition dawned upon him at the sight of Gerithor and Sarina. In a seamless display of elven agility, the Mirkwood archers emerged from the lush bushes, drawing their bows with precision. A volley of arrows sailed through the air toward the massive dragon, only to bounce harmlessly off its colossal scales. The creature, stalking on all fours, advanced menacingly toward the small group.
Turning to Gerithor, Caledorn's voice cut through the tension, "Get out of here! I'll handle the dragon!"
"You can't kill it on your own!" Gerithor retorted, his sword drawn as he turned to face the approaching behemoth. Caledorn fixed his intense gaze on the young ranger, his green eyes ablaze like embers.
"Yes, I certainly can kill him on my own. Now go!" Caledorn forcefully shoved Gerithor away. "Get back to your father, stick with the main plan!"
With a final glance at the determined elf, Gerithor pivoted and sprinted into the trees, Sarina following close behind. The dragon continued its relentless pursuit, its head swaying back and forth as it sought its prey.
A pause ensued when the dragon caught sight of the black-armored elf. Caledorn's eyes seethed with disgust and hatred, his entire frame trembling with anger. The dragon, seemingly amused, raised its eyebrows and flashed a crooked smile.
"Ah... Caledorn. I didn't expect to see you here..." Aldernari spoke condescendingly, as though addressing a mere child. "What are you doing in the forest, elfling, lost your parents?" His smile twisted into a more sinister expression.
Something within Caledorn snapped. With a furious yell, he surged toward the dragon, seemingly impervious to the impending peril. Aldernari's condescending smile vanished, replaced by a subtle glint of uncertainty. As the elf closed in, the dragon's stomach began to glow orange, foretelling an imminent breath of fire that would consume everything in its path.
===============================
Gerithor couldn't shake the weight of guilt for leaving Caledorn behind, but deep down, he knew the elf was right. Their mission to reach Arnakhor and thwart the imminent danger took precedence. Assisting Sarina, who was injured but resilient, Gerithor knelt beside her with a mix of concern and fear etched on his face.
"Are you holding up okay?" he asked, his voice reflecting genuine worry.
Sarina turned to him, a pained expression on her face. "I got a pretty nasty cut on my leg, but I'll manage." Struggling to rise, she found support in Gerithor's arm. "Thanks for your help," she added, offering a grateful smile.
Gerithor responded with a nod and a smile, choosing to remain silent and focus on propelling them forward as swiftly as possible given the circumstances. Sarina leaned on him slightly, displaying a commendable resilience despite her injury.
Their progress, though slowed by Sarina's condition, brought them back to Gerimond and Eldahir's position. As Gerithor helped Sarina settle down, Gerimond rushed over, his features marked by concern.
"What happened? We saw fire!" Gerimond inquired, his gaze shifting between Gerithor and Sarina.
"There was a dragon," Gerithor revealed with a note of finality, prompting a shocked reaction from Gerimond, who paced back and forth as he absorbed the gravity of the situation.
"Caledorn was holding his ground against it when we left," Sarina added, and Gerithor couldn't help but flinch, grappling with the guilt of leaving the elf to face the dragon alone. He masked his emotions, focusing instead on examining Sarina's wound.
"That should provide the distraction we need to reach Arnakhor," Gerimond asserted. "Patch her up quickly, and we'll be on the move again."
Gerithor inspected Sarina's leg, noting a substantial gash that, while not deep, bled profusely. Attempting to reassure her, he smiled and applied a salve to the wound, carefully wrapping it in cloth. Sarina, despite the pain, smiled back appreciatively.
Standing up, Gerithor offered his hand to help her rise. Sarina, testing her leg, spoke optimistically, "It feels a bit numb, but I think I'll be okay. Thanks again." She reached out, taking Gerithor's hand.
Eldahir observed the interaction, and Gerithor, mindful of unspoken dynamics, gently withdrew his hand after a moment. "That's what friends are for," he said, smiling, then turned to his father.
"We're ready to go."
"Good, we don't have much time. If the dragon spots us before we reach Arnakhor, our mission is a failure," Gerimond asserted, looking at each of them with a serious gaze. "Are you all prepared for this?"
Gerithor nodded, Eldahir and Sarina both affirmed with a "yes." Gerimond took the lead into the trees, and his three companions followed, determination set in their eyes.