The sun had not yet risen and the air was cold and biting atop the barren mountain ridge.  Small patches of snow still covered many of the peaks and tors but the weather and temperature were of no particular importance to Legolas.  He had been quietly waiting for the dragon to appear and now watched with heightened interest as the beast skillfully maneuvered its way through the towering rocks toward him. As the first of the sun’s rays began to clear the mountain crests, Naurnyar drew closer to the shelf where the Elf was patiently seated upon the stones.   She extended her huge wings and slowly began to decrease her speed as she approached the cliff side and she adeptly searched the rocks along the rim for a suitable perch on which to land.

          Legolas sat comfortably upon the small ledge overlooking the narrow gorge and watched as the dragon gracefully landed upon the mountain’s craggy side.  Her massive hind claws swung out from beneath her body and then dug deeply into the rock and dirt of the cliff’s face, as she firmly entrenched her talons into the rock and stone of the angling slope.  She easily balanced her massive body upon the jutting ridge of the mountain, although her wings periodically flexed outward as they were buffeted by the shifting wind currents flowing through the mountain passes.

          The prince nodded his head in a greeting to the beast and said.  “We must fly to the western slopes of the Hithaeglir to search for troop movements.”

          Naurnyar’s yellow eyes narrowed.  “No.”

          Legolas’ eyebrow rose at the blunt, although not completely unexpected, refusal.  “No?” he questioned.  “And why not?”

          “You will fly with me to Gundabad.  You will free my hatchlings as you have promised.”  A rumbling, threatening growl emanated from her throat.  “I tire of this delay.”

          Legolas sighed.  “Naurnyar, we cannot just go storming into this orc stronghold alone.  There are too many orc and goblin hordes residing within Gundabad.  We must wait for the combined armies to arrive.”

          “I will rid the mountain of the foul black ones.  One breath from my lungs will consume them all.  I have but to enter the cavern and spew the flames of my destruction throughout.  All will die,” she thundered.

          “You cannot do that.  There are hundreds of innocent humans enslaved within that mountain.  They will be killed along with orcs and goblins alike if you heedlessly raze everything within your path,” Legolas countered.

          “Humans mean nothing to me, only my young.”

          The dragon’s head rose higher and her nostrils began to open and shut as her breathing increased.  By now Legolas could recognize the overt physical changes that occurred within Naurnyar’s body that signaled a forthcoming release of smoke and fire from the dragon’s lungs and he knew she was readying to expel a gout of flame.  In a single, swift movement the Elf rose defiantly to his feet and boldly glared at the beast.

          “Then I will not help you.”

          Naurnyar bellowed her rage and a stream of fire scorched the rocks just to the left of the Elf’s position.  Legolas did not flinch or waver from his stance and the dragon hissed with displeasure at her failure to unnerve the fair being.  Her great wings flapped with unbridled agitation and her long, snakelike tail whipped from side to side, striking the rocks and stones along the ridge and sending boulders tumbling down into the valley below; and still Legolas did not move.  Elf and dragon glared at one another in silent, stubborn determination.

          Finally the Mirkwood prince relented.  “Very well, we shall fly to Gundabad first.”  He paused, his expression stern and commanding.  “but only to reconnoiter.  Then we move on to search for the summoned armies.  If we cannot verify any troop advances, then we will return to Gundabad to monitor the orc movements within and without the mountain.”

          The dragon shook her black head back and forth, snorting and snuffling loudly as clouds of smoke billowed out from her nose.  “As you wish,” the dragon spat out.   She eyed the Elf with an ill-concealed and angry acquiescence.  “This time.”

          Legolas prudently refrained from commenting any further, knowing he was treading upon dangerous ground and understanding all too well that at the slightest provocation, the dragon could easily turn upon him.  Instead, he stepped lightly to the edge of the stone shelf and jumped down upon the dragon’s back.   He sank down onto her shoulders and settled into his usual position just forward of her wings.

          Naurnyar glanced back at the seated Elf, the anger still clearly visible upon her formidable visage, and then she dropped from the cliff and spread wide her wings, gliding upon the air currents that wafted through the canyons below.  She rose up elegantly and soared along the peaks, wings beating in long, slow sweeps.  As they cleared the topmost ridges and flew northward, Legolas could see the imposing façade of Gundabad looming in the distance.  

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          Since the lowering of the sun beyond the mountain range, Erashnâk had watched the raging conflagration caused by the dragon and the futile attempts of his orc armies to combat the raging inferno.  The black horde was on the defensive now and hundreds of the goblin foot soldiers had already been burned to ashes.  Fires were rampant along the entire length of the canyon and the roasted and charred remains of his warriors were left in smoldering piles.   He was losing a great many yrch to the dragon’s fiery breath and as the carnage unfolded below him, he observed the huge losses with a detached concern.  He could readily acquire more orc soldiers, but he could ill afford to lose the Elf and the dragon.

          The unlikely pair had spared him the long, arduous trek through the mountains to search for them.  Instead, they had arrived with the morning sun to circle the towering peaks of Gundabad before eventually veering off and flying to the south along the western edge of the Misty Mountains.  He immediately sent out patrols to follow them and the reports from the returning surveillance teams indicated the dragon was traveling toward the Ettenmoors and moving steadily southward.

          Erashnâk could not be sure what they were doing in those regions, but he surmised they were searching for reinforcements.  His goblin scouts had already reported a small army approaching from the Ered Mithrin.  There would be time enough to deal with them later.  Right now, however, his attention was focused upon the dragon and the Elf seated upon its back.

          Both had returned to the mountain peaks near Gundabad as the sun was sinking in the west and his over eager minions thought to shoot the dragon down.  Their precipitous attack had only served to enrage the dragon and this battle had ensued.  He would have to do something soon.  The flames were rapidly racing along the mountain sides toward his position and he was running out of warriors.  He raised his own bow and sighted upon the Elf.  The blond warrior was expertly dispatching arrow after arrow and effectively diminishing the troops lining the upper peaks.  Those who were not burned alive by the dragon’s breath were being efficiently slain by the Elf’s bow.

          The uruk-hai glanced at the orc beside him.  “Get the cage,” he ordered.

          The orc bowed and hurriedly scuttled into the passageway behind the captain.  The entrance had been carved into the mountain’s side by Dwarves and was of sturdy construction.  The tunnel led back into the bowels of Gundabad and was used as a means of egress to the valley below.  A short while later the orc foot soldier returned with an enormous iron cage covered by a black drape.  Inside, the three dragon hatchlings screeched in angry protest at the rough, rocking motion of being carried and bounced about.

          “Place it where the dragon can plainly see it,” instructed Erashnâk.  As the orc dragged the cage over to a large overhang and set it atop a jutting rock formation, the uruk again sighted along his arrow, fixing the Elf in his sights.  When the cage was in place, he nodded toward the orc who quickly removed the covering cloth and the hatchlings were exposed to the fading daylight.

          As he had hoped, once the concealing sheet had been removed, the young ones set up a raucous shrieking and the dragon immediately turned her head toward the trapped hatchlings flapping within the cage.  She balked in mid-flight and careened toward her squawking dragon children, the burning of the yrch forgotten.  The unforeseen lurching movement of the dragon nearly unseated the Elf and the blond warrior was forced to lower his bow in order to grasp the bony ridges along the dragon’s neck and back to keep from falling.

          Erashnâk saw his shot and let fly his arrow.  

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          The bolt struck Legolas high in the shoulder just below the collarbone and knocked him backward along the dragon’s flank.  His bow fell from his hand as he bounced and slid down the dragon’s side and he frantically snatched for the beast’s flapping wing.  At the last moment his right hand snagged on the pliant under skin of Naurnyar’s left wing and his body swung out into the nothingness of the air and then came back toward the dragon, slamming into her belly.

          Legolas cried out in pain as his shoulder smacked into her ribcage, pushing the arrow deeper into his flesh.  The pain was incredible and he could feel himself growing dizzy and lightheaded as he was battered and bashed along the dragon’s side by the wind and the continuous flapping of her beating wings.  He could feel the fingers of his right hand losing their grip on the leathery skin of her wing and they began to slide downward along the edge.  Frantically he tried to raise his injured left arm to grasp the wing flap as well, but his wounded arm no longer had any strength and the jerky movement sent another wave of pain through his shoulder and chest and made his pulse race.

          He was going to fall and he knew it as he looked down at the jagged spikes and peaks of the rocks below.  He felt Naurnyar suddenly rise and was momentarily lifted upward, only to slide farther down the wing as the dragon’s yawing motion once again tossed him outward from her body.  Then he saw the cliff side rushing toward him as he crashed into the rock wall.  The hard blow knocked his shoulder and head into the stone abutment and his hand lost its tenuous grip upon the dragon’s wing.  He dropped through the air in a semi-conscious daze and landed heavily upon a rock outcropping just above Erashnâk’s head.

          “Get the Elf!” the captain shouted, pointing up at the shelf above his lookout.

          A score of orc foot soldiers scurried up the side of the mountain toward the spot where the Elf had come down.  The uruk-hai quickly turned to the caged young ones and gestured to the remaining goblins.

          “Get them inside!  Hurry, before the dragon attacks!”

          The creatures snatched the iron cage from off the ledge and jostled it toward the cavern entrance.  Erashnâk fired off a volley of arrows at the screaming dragon and then ran for the safety of the hidden fissures of the mountain.  A flaming jet of fire chased him into the cave and roiled down the corridors behind him.  The uruk flattened his body against the stone walls and let the fires rush past until they eventually dissipated and were gone.

          He could hear the dragon’s enraged bellowing as he ran down the narrow tunnel toward the mountain interior.  His armor was smoking and wisps of burned and crisped hair fluttered down and off his head as he ran down the passage toward Udûn’s quarters.  

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          Legolas groaned as he attempted to rise and found he could not move.  His head was pounding, his vision blurred and the pain in his shoulder was excruciating.  He could feel the point of the arrow ruthlessly scraping his collarbone with each ragged breath he took. He tried unsuccessfully to shift his weight and ease his shoulder, but he could not gain any leverage and he fell back exhausted by the effort.

          When he heard the snorts and growls of the orc warriors, he tried once again to move, but all too soon he looked up to see a circle of hideous faces leering down upon him and he knew he could not escape.  Rough hands pulled at his arms and yanked him upright and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out as the arrow in his shoulder shifted position.  The black soldiers stripped him of his weapons and then pulled his arms around behind his back and tied his hands with course leather thongs.  The leather bit into his skin and he could feel his fingers starting to numb.

          He could hear the dragon roaring somewhere below him and could see the flames from her lungs leaping skyward, but the orcs were half dragging, half carrying him along the mountain path toward a cave entrance and he momentarily lost sight of the dragon.  As they pulled him inside he glanced back over his shoulder and saw Naurnyar’s enraged features rising above the ledge where he had landed.  He looked into the dragon’s yellow eyes and hoped that he could convey the terrible sorrow he felt at not being able to fulfill his promise to her.  The last thing he saw as he was dragged into the tunnel was the shining crystal upon the dragon’s forehead—it was glowing with a bright, white light.