Legolas rose before dawn and gathered together his weapons.  Silently, he slipped from his tent and made his way through the sleeping encampment toward the foothills of the Misty Mountains.  Once there, he gazed up at the steep ridges and crests above him and caught the barest glimpse of dark, ebony wings flexing in the gray light of the morning.  With surefooted agility, he leapt from stone to stone and purposefully made his way up the side of the cliff toward the summit where the dragon awaited.

          The climb took the nimble Elf more than an hour, but finally Legolas grappled his way up the last few feet of the vertical trail and stood upon the rugged mountain shelf overlooking the valley below and Gundabad a short distance to the north.  The breathtaking vista spread out before him, silent and beautiful.  Snow crystals sparkled in the first rays of the sun and there was the promise of a clear blue sky to come.  Legolas sighed with sadness, knowing that this idyllic scene would soon become a frenzied battlefield, marred by the foul creatures of Shadow and the deaths of many.

          A soft, rustling sound made him turn and he looked upon the giant dragon, leisurely stretching the sleep from her limbs.  Her great wings were opened outward and were slowly moving up and down in the cool, thin air of dawn.  Her head, tucked down within her coiled neck, moved up and outward as her long neck unwound.  Naurnyar gazed at the Elf with sleepy eyes and then opened her jaws in a wide yawn.  Her head shook noisily from side to side as she rid her mind of its muzzy dream remnants and looked at Legolas with expectation.

          The prince stepped closer and bowed his head to the dragon.  “I am the Calar,” he stated.

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

          “I owe my life to the great Naurnyar,” Legolas began.  “For you released me from great torment and doom.”

          The beast lowered her head and placed her dark snout in front of Legolas, puffing out soft, hot breaths upon his cheeks.  Her yellow eyes held his blue in momentary silence and then she spoke.

          “By my reckless action were you delivered to the demon.”  Her large eyes blinked and lowered.  “I am at your mercy.”

          Legolas reached out his hands and placed them upon the sides of Naurnyar’s face.  His aura heightened and glowed and soon enveloped and then fully covered the dragon’s head.  Slowly he leaned forward and touched his forehead to the beast’s rounded nose and with a sad and heavy heart began to softly sing to the dragon.

          Naurnyar’s huge eyes closed and she lost herself in the beautiful melody of the mournful lay, sung in the old tongue of the Woodland Elves.  She did not understand the words the Calar sang, but she understood within her the sadness of his soul.  When the song was finished, Legolas raised his golden head and looked intently into the dragon’s eyes.

          “The young ones are dead, Naurnyar.  Now you must live to sing of their memory for there is no other.  You must return to the fire pits of your ancestors and lie beneath the lakes of flame to await the hope of eternity.  You are the last of a great race and you must not be forgotten.”

          Elf and dragon stood frozen in time atop the majestic mountain, surrounded by a glowing white halo of light and energy.  And as the first pale rays of the sun broke over the tops of the ridges, the dragon slowly raised her head up and back and let forth a terrible keening wail of desolate grief and sorrow for the loss of her young.  Legolas, kneeling before her, lowered his head and silver, anguished tears fell down his pale cheeks as he shared her wretched loneliness and heartache.  

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          Aragorn walked briskly through the waking encampment in search of the grey wizard and upon finding him at the cook fires, hastened to his side.

          “Legolas is missing,” he began.  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him this morning?”

          Gandalf looked up from his hot mug of tea and was about to reply when a terrible, unearthly wail echoed throughout the valley sending chills up Strider’s spine.  His hand went instinctively to his sword hilt and he glanced at the wizard for explanation.

          “By the Valar,” he whispered.  “What was that?”

          Gandalf turned toward the mountain peaks.  “He has told her,” he said quietly.  Seeing Strider’s puzzled expression, he continued.  “Naurnyar has learned her hatchlings are dead.  Legolas is with her.”

          “Ah,” Strider sighed, lowering his head sadly.  “So that is where he’s gone.”

          The old sage turned to Strider and gazed solemnly into his eyes.  “Naurnyar is in great need of our woodland friend.  He will help to turn her from blinding revenge to merciless justice, but it will take time.”

          Aragorn looked back up at the hazy, gray peaks.  “I have known that stubborn Elf for many, many years, Gandalf.”  He glanced back around at the wizard.  “But until now, I don’t think I ever fully understood what an ancient and magical being he really is.”  He paused as if searching for words to convey his thoughts.  “I am awed and humbled that he considers me his friend.”

          Gandalf smiled and placed a comforting arm about the ranger’s shoulders.  “Do not sell yourself short, my boy.  You are worthy of any man’s—or Elf’s loyalty.  Your destinies are entwined, you and Legolas.  Together you will do many great things.”

          Strider’s reply to the wizard’s prophetic statement was cut short, when Elven horns abruptly sounded and the pounding of many horses’ hooves could be heard approaching the camp.  Aragorn’s lips spread into a wide grin as he glimpsed his brothers leading the western troops into the valley toward their camp.

          “They are here,” he grinned at Gandalf.  “Come.  Help me welcome them,” he called over his shoulder as he ran forward to meet the Elven twins.

          Elladan and Elrohir leapt from their horses and ran to greet their little brother, crushing him with dual hugs, pounding fists, back slapping, and a great deal of laughing.  By the time Lomyr and several of his lieutenants ambled up to the trio, Strider was ready for the excuse to escape his brothers’ exuberance.

          “Lomyr,” he smiled, extending his hand to clasp the ranger’s forearm.  “I am glad to see you once more, my friend.”

          The older soldier nodded.  “I only wish it were under better circumstances, Strider.”

          The veteran’s sobering remarks served to remind all of the reason they were now standing beneath the slopes of Gundabad and the cheery grins turned to grim expressions of determination.  “Aye,” Strider acknowledged.  “Gentlemen, shall we talk?”

          At the nodded heads of Elves and men, Aragorn gestured toward his tent and they followed the young ranger to his quarters to discuss plans for the siege of Gundabad.  While the leaders met, the newly arrived soldiers began setting up camp alongside their Mirkwood and Lake Town allies and within hours the valley was filled with the sounds and smells of an army entrenched.

          The men were tense and on edge, knowing that the battle was near, while their Elven companions were serene and calm, yet ever alert.  All were seeing to their weaponry and horses, checking and rechecking to be sure that all was in readiness for the confrontation to come.  Gandalf moved steadily throughout the complement, giving his encouragement and lending support to those in need.  His progress eventually brought him to the tent where the leaders of the armies were in great debate and he eagerly joined their ranks as the planning continued on into the evening.  

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          Sweating and straining under the weight of the heavy iron plating, Dol slid the metal sheet against the stone corridor entry and added his strength to those around him as the spikes were placed into the shielding joints and the plating was set in place.  Wiping his brow, he nudged his companion and they silently moved away from the other toiling men.

          “Are the men ready?” Dol whispered.

          Dûrel nodded, glancing quickly from right to left to be sure that they were not being observed.  “The vats are on rollers.  We need only slip out the blocks and they will tip.”  He turned back to his fellow slave.  “The spikes have been tampered with as well.  While the metal sheeting is as strong as ever, the spikes holding the plates will snap like a twig if any considerable weight is placed upon them.”

          “Good,” Dol answered.  He looked back at the narrow passageway.  “What about the women and children?”

          “Maredeth has told them to watch for my signal.  They will make for the main caverns once we have created enough of a diversion within the foundry,” Dûrel answered.  He looked hard at his friend.  “Are you certain we can expect an attack upon the stronghold?”

          Dol nodded.  “Yes.  The orcs are in a near frenzy.  Something is going to happen, and soon.”

          Just then a whip cracked against Dol’s back and a huge orc appeared, blocking their path. 

          “Get back to work, you worthless vermin!” the orc sneered, raising his whip again.  “No talking.”  The whip cut into Dûrel’s legs and he winced as he hastened back to his place in the work line, but not before his gaze locked with that of Dol and he silently nodded his head.  Soon—freedom was at hand.  

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          “And what exactly will the dragon be doing?” asked Elladan.

          “Clearing a path into the mountain so that you might enter freely,” commented Legolas.

          All heads within the tent turned to face the entrance.  Legolas stood beneath the tent flap, yet none within had heard him approach.  Aragorn grinned.  “Ah, Legolas, at last.  Come, come.  We need to know your thoughts, my friend.  Much of what we do will depend upon you and Naurnyar.”

          Legolas moved into the tent and came to Strider’s side.  He nodded at the twins, noting Elrohir’s smirk, and then nodded to the others within the tent before seating himself next to the ranger.

          “By now I am sure you are all aware that the dragon has agreed to aid us,” Aragorn stated, glancing at those assembled around his table.  “She has developed an affinity for Legolas that we can utilize to our greatest advantage.”

          “She?  I should like to hear more of this relationship, Legolas,” Elrohir grinned and several others around the table snickered in nervous agreement.

          “Perhaps when this engagement is over I can regale you with entertaining stories,” came Legolas’ sarcastic retort.  “But for the present, know that the dragon will be the juggernaut of our attack, clearing the way for your troops to enter the mountain and free the humans enslaved within.  She will also deal with the demon Udûn.”

          Aragorn looked to Lomyr.  “You and I will lead the rangers into the stronghold once the dragon has breeched the shielding they have erected.  We will see to getting the settlers out.”  He turned to his brothers.  “The Rivendell archers will give us covering support and deal with the orcs that will surely try to stop us.  The Mirkwood forces and the men of Lake Town will be our rear guard, cutting off any means of escape they might try from the numerous tunnels and egresses.  If we are swift, we should be able to rescue the prisoners with minimal loss.”

          He looked up at each man and Elf in turn.  “Any questions?”

          Those present were silent and Aragorn slowly rose from his seat.  “Very well, gentlemen.  Let’s try to get some rest.  We will attack at dawn.”

          The Elves and men also arose and with murmured comments and quiet leave takings, slowly left the tent.  Elladan lingered a moment and turned to his younger brother.  “You have done well, Estel,” he smiled.  “I am proud to ride beside you.”

          Strider clasped his brother’s forearms and smiled back his appreciation.  “You have no idea what that means to me, Elladan,” he choked.  “I thank you.”

          The elder Elf touched his human brother’s cheek lightly and smiled.  “Father would be proud as well.”

          Strider nodded, unable to speak and watched as Elladan moved off into the night.  Legolas came up beside him and stood silently waiting until the ranger composed his thoughts.

          “Well, my friend,” Aragorn said, glancing at Legolas.  “This shall be a defining day for us all.”