Udûn paced back and forth across the spacious quarters of his private chambers, trying to concentrate on what his uruk-hai captain was saying.  His harsh features were set in angled lines and sharp edges and his eyes glowed with an orange fire.  He could hear the dragon hatchlings screeching and squawking in their iron cage where they squabbled with one another near the warmth of the fire.  The din they were making only added to the dark lord’s wrath.  Naurnyar’s eggs had hatched several days ago and had not ceased their continuous cacophony since breaking free of their shells.  If the dragon did not return soon to attend to the hungry monsters, their infernal racket would drive them all mad.

          The demon suddenly stopped his pacing and whirled angrily around upon the dark warrior who was standing only a few paces within the entryway to his quarters.  Erashnâk’s goblins had recently returned from a scouting foray into the Ered Mithrin and his forthcoming report so far had not been favorable.

          “Where is it?” Udûn growled.

          Erashnâk flinched.  “It has not been seen since leaving the grey mountains, my lord.”  He halted, reluctant to continue with the news his underlings had just given him but knew the demon would not be put off.  “It was seen flying back toward the Mirkwood forests.”

          Udûn sensed the information he was about to hear from this creature would not please him and his expression hardened.  “Tell me!” he roared.

          “The beast no longer wears the iron collar you placed upon her neck.  The scouts say when she arose from the fissures within the cliffs several days ago, she was being ridden by an Elf,” he answered.

          “By an Elf!” Udûn raged as he stomped back and forth across the stone floor, unconsciously pacing once again.  “An Elf!”

          The black soldier dared not move and fervently hoped the demon’s rage would spend itself in the heated pacing; he had no wish to bear the full brunt of his lord’s anger.

          Udûn finally halted in front of his captain and snarled.  “Bring me this pretentious Elf who dares to steal my dragon!”  His eyes narrowed and he drew closer to the uruk-hai.  “I want him alive, Erashnâk.”

          The uruk nodded vigorously.  “Yes, my lord!  I will see it done.”        

/////////////////////////////

           The sun had not yet risen and the Elven camp was quiet as Legolas silently made his way through the dawn mists coming off the river and walked toward the ancient rock outcroppings close to the plains.   He effortlessly climbed the small hill until he reached the flattened top of the mound and then gracefully sank down onto the rocks, settling himself cross-legged upon the stones and turned his tranquil face to the rising of the sun.

          He breathed in the cool, fresh air, moisture-tinted from the first of the spring rains that came during the night and had mercifully extinguished the lingering fires.  His gaze traveled over the blackened desolation that had once been thriving forestlands and knew that it would be hundreds of years before the earth healed itself and was whole again.

          As the first rays of the sun began to appear over the horizon his thoughts returned to the planning of the previous night.  There had been much hustle and bustle as Mithrandir had sent missive after missive throughout the night by way of runners or carrier birds, to Rivendell, to Lorien, to Lake Town and the Ranger camps of the north, asking all to muster as many warriors as could be spared to converge upon Gundabad and prepare for battle.  Now it was up to him to enlist the aid of the dragon.

          As the Elf patiently awaited the arrival of Naurnyar, the sun rose higher and brighter and the ground fog began to dissipate and in the distance his keen eyesight could distinguish the dark shape of the dragon approaching.  He remained seated upon the stones and watched as the beast drew nearer, its massive wings slicing through the air with incredible speed until it was circling overhead.  The dragon surveyed the surrounding plains and riverbanks, ever mindful of danger, and then slowly glided down to the earth, landing a short distance away from the waiting Elf.

          So graceful in flight, the beast was a lumbering giant upon the ground and she awkwardly moved across the burned grasses to stand near the rocky hillock.  She lowered her neck and head to face Legolas eye to eye and spoke.  “You are ready?”

          The Elf nodded slightly.  “Yes, I am ready.   But first I would speak with you.”

          The dragon glanced about suspiciously, scanning the Elven camp for any signs of a trap, but all was quiet and there were no other beings visible save the Elf upon the stones.  She turned her gaze back upon the prince.  “Speak.”

          Legolas stared into the ancient yellow-gold eyes of the beast and began.  “I am the Calar?”

          “You are he,” the dragon replied.  “Speak and I attend your word.”

          The ritualistic reply was not lost on the Wood Elf and he dearly hoped that the beast would indeed heed his words.  “As the Flametalker of the dragon kindred, Naurnyar, what is your most fundamental obligation to your race?  What duty must you never shun?”

          The dragon blinked and drew back slightly from the Elf and her head tilted in a questioning attitude.  After a long, thoughtful silence the beast finally replied.

          “I must recite the lineage of my ancestors to each new generation so that all might know the saga of our creation.  I must keep in memory all that are born and continue the narration of life.”

          “And in order to do this, what must you do?” asked Legolas.

          “I must return to the fire pits of my awakening.  I must seek out those as yet unborn and protect those newly arisen.  I must go back to the flaming lakes of Gundabad, for I despair of this cold outer world and I long for the fires of my ancestral abode.”

          Legolas nodded slightly as he studied this extraordinary firebreather towering above him.  If there was ever a time he needed to make use of his golden tongue, it was now.  He had one chance to convince the beast to help them defeat the demon residing within Gundabad.  If he failed, he would still honor his pledge to the dragon, but even if he was successful and could somehow save her children, there was no certainty that the dragon would not return to its previous rampages of destruction.

          With grave reservation, he began.  “As long as the demon Udûn resides within Gundabad, this yearning to return to your home will never come to pass.  Once he discovers that you are no longer under his control, he will destroy your hatchlings and attempt to enslave you once more.  By bending you to his will and inflicting his evil upon you, he will thoroughly corrupt you and you will no longer hear the songs of your ancestors.  He will use you to carry out his evil bidding and when he has finished with you, he will use the Orb of Utumno to destroy you.  There will be no Flametalker to recite the histories for the next generation for there will no longer be any left to hear.”

          The dragon hissed at the Elf’s abhorrent words and drew back her weighty head, great nostrils flaring wide with anger.  Legolas forced himself to remain still and he continued to calmly hold the dragon’s yellow-eyed glare, showing no outward signs of the inner terror he felt.  Tendrils of smoke issued forth from the beast’s nose and mouth and a thunderous, rumbling roar sounded deep within her throat.

          “You must help us rid Gundabad of this demon, Naurnyar,” Legolas continued.  “If you wish to return to your flame pits to live in peace, you must do as I ask.”

          The dragon rose up upon her haunches and raised her head up into the sky, bellowing out another booming roar.  A curtain of fire spewed forth from her mouth, shooting upward into the air and then raining down upon the already blistered earth.  Legolas slowly rose from his seated position upon the stone mound and called up to the beast.  “I will help to save your children.  Help me defeat this demon.”

          Naurnyar lowered her regal head and placed her snout in front of the Elf’s nose.  The residual heat from the recently expelled flames was still emanating from her nostrils and the hot air blew over Legolas’ face, but he ignored the warmth and the smell of brimstone.  With a careful and unhurried motion, he brought his hand to his chest and reached inside his suede tunic.  He slowly withdrew a silvery metal circlet.  A sparkling, clear crystalline stone was embedded within the center of the band and caught the sun’s rays in a brilliant explosion of light.

          “The Istari Mithrandir has crafted this stone of power from the Flame of Anor.  It is infused with the magic of the Maiar and will protect you from the Orb of Utumno.”

           He presented it to the dragon for her inspection.  “If you wear this upon your forehead, Udûn’s Black Speech cannot dominate your will any longer.  He cannot force you to submit to his vile mandates.”  Legolas stared deeply into the dragon’s golden eyes.  “Without his morgul spells he cannot control you.   By the power of this stone, you can effortlessly defeat him and return unhindered to the flaming lakes of your birth.”

          The dragon warily sniffed at the metal band and then stared at the Elf standing fearlessly before her.  Gradually she lowered her massive countenance and leaned forward toward Legolas.  “You may set it upon my brow,” she rumbled.

          The Elven being moved forward and placed the circlet upon the dragon’s head.  The clear crystal stone rested snuggly between the two large horns protruding from the beast’s forehead and settled comfortably above her bony brow ridges.  Legolas quickly fastened the chain clasps around her spiked horns, locking the diadem in place so that the amulet would not come loose while the creature was airborne.  When he was finished, he stepped back and bowed slightly toward the dragon.

          “You will help us?” he asked the beast.

          Naurnyar nodded.  “I will help you.”  

////////////////////////////

          Aragorn leaned across the makeshift table and stretched out the large parchment maps of the Northern Waste and the Forodwaith.  The assembled Elven and human warriors leaned forward over the maps and listened as Strider traced his finger along the Anduin River northward past the Hithaeglir and through the pass to the west of the Ered Mithrin.

          “We can travel through this valley and come in behind Gundabad if we stay to the eastern mountain ridges.  There is sure to be orc activity throughout this area, but hopefully with the dragon’s help, we can learn where they are hiding and be prepared for any attack.”  He glanced meaningfully at Legolas.  “You are certain it will help us?”

          The prince nodded.  “Yes, she will aid us, but only because her young ones are in danger.  Once they are secured, I cannot say.”

          “I just don’t like it,” stated Tharel, the leader of the Lake Town soldiers.  “You can’t trust a dragon.  They’re foul, evil tempered monsters.”

          There were more than a few voices raised in agreement with the old veteran and Aragorn looked significantly from face to face around the table.  “We must all be of a mind, gentlemen,” he paused, his gaze finally resting upon his Elven friend.  “Do you trust this dragon, Legolas?”

          The Elf looked at each man and Elf in turn as he spoke.  “Naurnyar has given me her word.  I see no reason not to believe her.”  He looked back to Aragorn.  “If she will allow me to ride upon her back, I can easily survey the peaks and strongholds from the sky looking for signs of yrch. I can then bring that information back to you before you travel through the gorge.”

          Strider nodded, a final decision made.  “That is good enough for me.”  He turned to the gathered men and Elven warriors.  “We will leave at dawn tomorrow.”

          The small group of fighting men and Elves surrounding the table nodded their assent, some more reluctantly than others, but all appeared to accept Aragorn’s final judgment and were confident in his leadership.  He would guide them through the mountain passes successfully and boldly lead them in the fight against the threat in Gundabad.

          Once everyone had departed and only the Elven prince and Gandalf remained, Strider glanced at his friend with some trepidation.  “Are you sure it is wise to trust this beast?”

          The Elf was equally reticent about the dragon’s ultimate intentions, but he knew they would have to maintain this uneasy alliance with the beast until the demon of Gundabad was defeated.  “We have little choice in this matter, Aragorn,” he answered.  “I would rather trust the dragon, than fight it.”

          The ancient wizard stirred from his chair and slowly rose to his feet.  “Legolas speaks the truth, Strider.  Let us hope that it will serve us well.”

          “Very well,” the ranger conceded.  “Let us get some rest.  I fear we will not get much after tomorrow.”