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Chapter Text

There was a time when dwarves and dragons lived in peace; even more than that, there were alliances.
Often, a dragon's hoard consisted of more than just treasure in a lifeless mountain or castle.
There were entire kingdoms and the dragon and his family were their protectors and loyal companions.
In many cases, friendships between the kingdoms of the dwarves and the dragons existed for generations.

But on that horrible, fateful day, everything changed.
A great dispute broke out between a dragon and a dwarf king in the Blue Mountains, which escalated into a fight.
The details were never revealed, but at the end the dragon was dead and a war had begun.
Soon, not only the dwarves but also elves and humans fought against the dragons, and every man who slew one of them was a hero.

Those times were long forgotten, the records had fallen victim to the dragon fire, most of the witnesses long dead, all that remained was hatred and battle.

Now there were hardly any dragons left in Middle-earth; we were either hunters or hunted, treasure keepers or prisoners.
I was the latter.
Very small for a dragon, about the size of a bear, a wind dragon with white feathers and golden-red eyes.
Imprisoned in the dungeon of Moria, by orcs.
I didn't know how long I'd been there; there was no daylight; they fed me the remains of their other prisoners.

But that day they brought a living prisoner down to me, unconscious, a dwarf, if I wasn't mistaken; it was hard to tell under all the blood and dirt.
One of the orcs said:
"Oh yes! This is the best torture for a dwarf from Erebor, after what Smaug did there."
He let out a spiteful laugh.
They chained him up, just so I couldn't quite reach him.
Then they walked away laughing.

Chapter Text

The dwarf was alive, but not very well; the orcs had badly mauled him.
I had heard them talk of a battle with the dwarves some time ago.
Since then, they didn't seem to be very numerous anymore; there were only a few left guarding me.
My cellmate was apparently one of the unfortunate losers in this fight.
His clothes were torn, he was pale and little more than skin and bones, his dark hair matted and his beard trimmed, probably the worst thing that could happen to a dwarf.
I realized the moment he looked at me with fear-filled eyes and a scream caught in his throat that I had been wrong about that last statement; at least as far as this dwarf was concerned, the sight of me was much worse than a trimmed beard.

I retreated as far back as I could, trying to appear as small and harmless as possible.
We stayed like that for a while; he gradually calmed down, more from exhaustion than from fading fear.
Then he spoke with a shaky voice.
"Y-you're a dragon!?"
I nodded; in this darkness, he could probably barely see more than my glowing eyes moving up and down.
"Why do you let me live?"
I let out a croaky cough that made him flinch.
It had been ages since I last spoke, my voice was rough when I did but nowhere near as dark as he had expected.
"Even if I could, why would I kill you? I'm just as much a prisoner of these creepy creatures as you are."
He stared at me with wide-open eyes, it was almost hypnotic, I felt like I could drown in there deep blue.
He was shaking, from fear, yes, but also from the cold. Then he coughed violently and spat out blood, losing consciousness again.
A mixture of emotions swept over me like a tidal wave: fear, anger, sadness, helplessness, loneliness and above all unwillingness.
I didn't want to see him die, more than that, I didn't want him to die, I wanted, had to save him.
A stabbing pain filled my body, then I heard a metallic clatter.
My body felt strange, colder, strangely small.
This feeling seemed vaguely familiar to me, I looked down at myself, the chains that had held me captive lay on the ground, I looked at my hands in perplexity.
The last time I was in my humanoid form had been centuries ago, during my childhood. Among dragons, assuming this form was forbidden after the war began; I didn't even know how to do it anymore.
However, that wasn't important at this moment; I had to find a way out of this damn mountain as quickly as possible and get the dwarf out.

Chapter Text

I jumped up and almost fell down again.
I was unsteady on my feet, no wonder after centuries.
I balanced myself briefly and crept toward the exit.

The cells were old and the bars were either broken or missing.
The guard was asleep.
I crept into a room where the belongings of previous prisoners lay and packed a saddlebag with everything that seemed important and useful to me: simple warm clothing, a heavy fur coat, a small dagger, an axe, ropes, a compass, and a map.
In the guard room I stole a loaf of bread and some meat.
I would have to use all my energy to escape; getting food would be out of question.
Then I grabbed the key to untie the dwarf and quickly crept back to our cell.

Once there, I freed the dwarf from his chains and lifted him onto my back.
He was light, much too light for a full-grown dwarf; he must have been starving for a long time.

I crept through the mountain's dark, branching passages, climbing as high as I could.
From the distance I heard echoing voices, footsteps and the deep growl I was used to.
The orcs said it was the Balrog, a creature of legend, older and more dangerous than any dragon.

I wandered around the mountain for a few hours; I could hear the birds singing, a sound I only knew from distant memories.
As I turned the next corner, I saw daylight, a sight that stirred a mixture of joy, longing, and sadness within me.
My steps grew longer and soon I found myself standing on a rocky outcrop in the sunlight, which dazzled me even though it was cloudy.
Ahead of me, there was a long drop.
I took a few steps back and prepared for takeoff.
I took the rope and tied the dwarf and the luggage to my back using a knotting technique that allowed enough space to transform without losing anything or anyone.

So I stood at the edge, concentrating on transforming back, hoping my wings would carry us, when I heard a loud roar from behind.
"The dragon is gone?! How could this happen?!"
A dark voice roared angrily.
I panicked; we had to get out of here immediately.
And then my foot slipped and we fell.

The panic had multiplied and fear and helplessness were added.
Then everything happened very quickly: a pain and then a gust of wind.
I flew instinctively, higher and higher, as if in a frenzy.
When I came to my senses again, the world beneath me was very small; it was an incredible feeling of freedom that I had long since forgotten.
I checked my back, the dwarf was still there, still unconscious, shivering under the fur coat, well, that meant he was still alive.

After a while it started to rain and I had to quickly find shelter.

My strength was waning, and dusk was setting in when I spotted a cave and flew towards it.
Once there, I made sure it was uninhabited and transformed back.
I placed the dwarf in the cave with dry clothes and lit a fire in front of the entrance; there was a spring nearby.
I gave him water and warm stones and lay down for a few hours, half asleep and always on guard.

Chapter Text

When the sun rose, I got up again.
The dwarf now seemed to be sleeping rather peacefully, so I put the now dry coat over him.
I had seen a ruin as I flew, not far from the cave, and after eating the meat and drank a little water, I set off.

The ruin was nothing more than the remains of the foundations of a house, not suitable as shelter, but I looked around anyway.
After a while, I found exactly what I was looking for: a small knife for carving and a cauldron to cook in.
Potatoes were also growing in the old beds; after a few minutes of digging, I found a few edible tubers.

I continued walking through the forest, searching for herbs, mushrooms, and berries.
Before my imprisonment, I had survived on my own for a long time and knew my way around very well.

Once back at the river, I put down my things and walked to the bank.
There was a spot without current in which I saw my reflection, the first time I saw this body grown up.
I had long, snow-white, wavy hair, and my skin was a little darker—not what you would even remotely describe as tanned—it was speckled with freckles.
I most resembled an elf, but with body hair and less petite, a little shorter, longer ears with a tuft of fur at the end, and a long tail that was bushy at the tip.

After staring into the water for a few minutes, I remembered my original mission: I transformed into dragon form and jumped into the river to catch fish like a bear.

After about half an hour, I brought a large fish back to the shore, shook out my feathers, transformed back, put my clothes back on, and made my way back to the cave with my loot.

Once there, I emptied the cauldron and went to the spring to fill it with water.
I built a stand over the fireplace from sturdy sticks and lit the fire, setting the cauldron aside.
I gutted the fish, chopped the potatoes, mushrooms, and herbs, then placed the cauldron on the fire and added all the ingredients.
Now it was time to wait.
I sat down in the cave, on the opposite wall from where the dwarf was lying, and began to carve a bowl.

I was too focused on my work and only realized he was awake when he spoke; he had sat up and was sitting opposite me.
"We escaped? Why did you take me with you?"
"Would you have preferred if I had left you behind?"
"No! But you're a dragon, right? Why should you help me? Even if you don't look like a dragon right now."
"Oh, of course I look like a dragon, you dwarves just forgot this shape."
I said, a little offended, and continued.
"Dragons weren't always your enemies, you know? I had no reason to leave you there."
He looked at me again with those deep blue eyes.
"S-so you're telling me you saved me out of pure charity?"
"Hmm, I don't know, I'd rather call it a bond of similar fate."
"Well, you freed me, so you can go now."
"Oh, yeah? And then? You won't survive a day out here alone. The dwarves' stubbornness hasn't changed a bit in centuries."
He tried to stand up to prove me wrong, but couldn't.
"Let me help you. I won't harm you, and look at it this way: what could be worse than what the orcs have already done to you?"
"Hmm, yes, you're probably right, but my experience with dragons has been very bad in the past."
"Yes, the orcs mentioned something like that, you come from Erebor, the mountain was attacked by a dragon?"
"Yes! Smaug slaughtered a large part of my people and stole the treasures."
He spat out this name like bile, bitter with anger.
I knew that name too, and didn't associate a single good detail with it either; he was one of the dragons who had always been full of hatred and greed.
"I'm sorry. Smaug is a cruel tyrant, hated and feared even among us dragons."
"So what are you planning? With me, I mean?"
"First, we need to fatten you up a bit, and then we need to find a healer."
"You really want me to be your burden, that could take months."
"So what? You have to stop seeing us as whatever that is and start thinking of me as your ally, trust me!"
"Trust a dragon?!"
"Do you have a better plan?"
"No! I guess I don't have much of a choice."
"Well, that's a deal then! Will you tell me your name? I'm getting tired of always calling you 'The Dwarf.'"
"Frerin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, at your service."
He inclined his head slightly in a sort of bow.
"Get well first before offering your services! My name is Nuin."

We didn't speak much more, shared a bowl at dinner for the simple reason that there was only one, and let the rest of the day pass in peace.

Chapter Text

Frerin became fitter and more cheerful every day.
When he woke up that day, I was sitting there again, carving, in this case a stick. It was supposed to be a walking stick for my companion.
It was raining heavily outside, but it wasn't particularly cold; autumn was still young.
Frerin slowly sat up and looked at me sleepily.
"Hmm, morning."
"Good morning."
I put my work aside and went to our supplies, not much, the kettle filled with drinking water, a little smoked meat and some stick bread made from potatoes.
I took a bowl of water and went to Frerin.
"Here, drink, would you like some of the supplies? When it stops raining, I'll leave again."
“Thanks, no, I can wait a little longer. Will you lend me your knife when you leave later?”
"Oh, sure. But I'd be happy to carve whatever you need."
I said enthusiastically.
His expression reflected indignation and uncertainty.
He blushed a little and laughed nervously.
"Y-you really shouldn't carve me a comb, Nuin."
"Oh, of course not! I'm sorry."
I said, a little embarrassed.
I knew most of the dwarves' customs and etiquette:
Everything to do with hair and beards was very intimate for them, and combing or even braiding a dwarf's hair or beard was reserved for the family or partner. A comb was one of the typical courtship gifts.

It stopped raining soon after, and I got up to leave.
"Here's the knife. I hope this piece is passable."
I said, handing him a piece of wood and the carving knife.
"Yes, thank you, that'll be fine. See you later."

I spent almost the rest of the day out looking for food, firewood, and scouting the area to see where the best place to go was as soon as Frerin could.

When I was almost back at camp, I heard a splash from the river and a loud:
"Damn it!"
It was Frerin's voice, and I quickly ran in that direction.

He was sitting fully clothed in the shallow riverbed, his hair untangled and soaking wet, his walking stick lying on the bank.
"Everything OK?"
I asked, a little amused.
"Oh yes! Everything's fine!"
Frerin replied, annoyed.
I went over to him and offered him a hand.
"Come, I'll help you."
"Thank you."

When we arrived at the camp, I helped him out of his wet clothes and sat him by the fire, wrapped in the thick coat.
After I had hung his clothes up to dry and the evening's soup was simmering on the fire, I sat down next to him.
"So, do you feel better now?"
"Oh yes! I would have preferred not to have wet clothes, though."
"Believe me, that wasn't too bad."
I teased.
"Oh yeah? You don't exactly smell like a meadow of flowers either!"
He shot back and we laughed briefly.
“You definitely look more like a dwarf now.”
"Thanks? You don't seem to have met many dwarves yet. With so little beard, I probably look more like an elf."
He said, grimacing, almost disgusted.
"If you only knew, I know a lot more about dwarves than you think, and one thing I know for sure: the worth of everyone, even every dwarf, is not measured by the length or fullness of their beard, but lies right there."
I tapped the coat-covered part of his chest, where his heart lay, with a feather-light touch.
He looked at me briefly, perplexed, then he laughed and spoke.
"So philosophical? But you're right, that probably applies to dragons too."

That evening, we didn't sit together in silence; we talked about many things, nothing too personal, more about the simple things in life.

Chapter Text

A few more days passed, and I was hunting again.
Then I heard footsteps and voices in the distance and a bloodcurdling howl: a warg.
I ran back to the cave as quietly as I could.

"Frerin! We have to leave immediately, they're on our trail!"
I whispered loudly, a little panicked, and hastily gathered our things.
Frerin jumped up, swayed briefly, but kept himself on his feet with his stick.
"What?! How did they find us?"
He whispered back.
"Wargs! They're coming from the south, we're going north, we have to find a way to shake them off!"
"Yes, but how?"
"We'll figure it out on the way! Come, I'll carry you!"
"Absolutely not! I'm a dwarf with at least a little honor and dignity left!"
"Well, fine! Come on then, you stubborn dwarf!"
I grabbed our belongings and we ran out of the cave as quickly and quietly as Frerin could, heading north.
We were lucky to have spotted our hunters so early.

After a while I stopped, Frerin bumped into me and asked a little reproachfully.
"Why did you stop so abruptly? Warn me! What's going on?"
"Well... I have good news and bad news, which do you want first?"
"the good one first."
"I've found a way to possibly shake off our pursuers."
"Oh, good! And the bad news?"
I took a step aside and pointed to a muddy, boggy pit that gave off a truly foul odor.
"Oh no! You can't be serious!"
"I'm afraid so. It's the best chance we have."
We both waded through the brown-green mush with our faces twisted in disgust.
"It's not the first time I've had to do something like this, but in this form, it's somehow even more unpleasant."
I said.
"You say that as if it weren't the second time either."
Frerin replied, shocked.
"Unfortunately, no. But being torn apart by wargs definitely seems worse to me."

We continued on our way, walking into the night, resting for a few hours, I let Frerin sleep and stayed awake for that long.
The next day, we walked for another five hours before we reached a pond in a clearing.
"By Mahal! Please tell me we can finally get rid of this stinking mud!"
Frerin cursed angrily.
"Yes, I think if we don't stay in one place for more than a day or two, we should be able to reach our destination safely without them catching us."
Frerin hadn't listened to me beyond "yes" and was running toward the water, already taking off his clothes.
I leisurely followed him, gathered the carelessly abandoned clothes, and headed for the shore. Frerin did a cannonball in front of me.
I reached the shore grinning as he reappeared in front of me.
"Hey, come in! The water is wonderful!"
"I'll wash our clothes first! Or do you want to touch those smelly clothes again after your bath?"
"No, you're right."

I washed our clothes while Frerin splashed around in the water, splashing in my direction several times.
As I laid the last piece out to dry on the grass by the bank, I felt a calloused hand grab my ankle.
I looked between my legs, still bent over, and saw the dwarf grinning at me maliciously.
"Oh no! Don't you dare!"
But he didn't listen and pulled me abruptly into the water.
I let out a high-pitched scream and was completely submerged in the cold water.
"Frerin, are you crazy?!"
I said when I resurfaced, trying to sound accusatory but I couldn't help but grin and splash him with water. He laughed heartily.
"I just couldn't resist!"

After we'd played around in the water a bit and washed ourselves, we lay down on the grass by the bank, naked, and looked up at the sky.
"Hey, Nuin?"
"Yes, Frerin?"
"Do you know how long you were down there in Khazad-dûm?"
"No. I've lost all sense of time in this endless darkness. And you?"
"I don't know either."
Frerin said and asked further.
"Do you want to know?"
"Hmm, I don't think so. In my case, it could have been years, decades, or even centuries. And you?"
"I don't know. I think my people will tell me, so if it means I'll see them again, then yes, I want to hear it from them."
I looked over at him and saw hope growing in his eyes.
"Your people?"
"Yes, my people, my friends and family. I don't know if they're all still alive, but I have hope of seeing my sister Dis again, perhaps also Thorin, our brother and our father."
His gaze was longing, and he continued.
“I have you to thank for the fact that I can hope, thank you!”
He looked into my eyes with complete sincerity.
"You're welcome. Without you, I wouldn't have made it out of this dark hole either, you know?"
"No. What do you mean?"
"Only the will to save you gave me the strength to free myself."
"Hmm..."
Frerin hummed thoughtfully and skeptically, then changed the subject again.
"What about you? Is there someone out there you want to return to?"
I thought of my family. The war between dragons and dwarves had claimed great sacrifices on both sides, and those who had not fallen had either died at some point afterward or despised a dragon like me, who had manifested himself in this form and allied himself with dwarves.
"A lot has happened since I last met another dragon; I don't think I could go back to anyone."
"I understand."
And he understood that it was best to change the subject, and I was grateful for that.
We returned to lighter topics and talked for a while longer.

Chapter Text

We hiked for a few hours every day; autumn was slowly drawing to a close.
As we walked this day, Frerin began to sing quietly but in a deep, powerful voice.*
I listened to him; he sang in the language of his people: Khuzdul.
I had grown up among dwarves and mastered that language well, but for the dwarves of these days, it must be unimaginable that an outsider could speak their language.
Like most dwarven things, it was kept strictly secret.
We dragons were among the few who were allowed to know about these things back then.
But with the outbreak of war, the dwarves hid their culture even more.
Frerin sang of Erebor, of the dwarves' pride, of smiths, gold, and gems, of Durin's Folk and the dark day when Smaug came upon them.
I remembered times long ago when the mountain where I grew up was filled with the singing and joyful shouts of the dwarves in celebration.
I loved it there; it was never truly quiet.
You could hear the smiths groaning day and night, the echoes of the dwarves' busy activity, and the warm light of candles and oil lamps filled every corner of the mountain.
Frerin's singing sounded lonely, yearning, but hopeful.
It was beautiful, and I listened attentively.

After a while, he stopped singing and stood still.
I turned back to him and looked at him questioningly.
"Nuin, where are you taking us?"
"Rivendell, that's our best option!"
“Oh no no no, I won’t let myself be hosted by the snooty elves!”
He said firmly, taking a step back to emphasize his point.
"Frerin!"
I growled with bared teeth, but my sharp canines didn't seem to impress the dwarf in the slightest.
"No way! I'm not going there! We should get to Ered Luin as quickly as possible!"
"Oh, yeah? And how do you plan to do that?! The Blue Mountains are way too far away in your condition?"
"What are you a dragon for? Can't you fly us there?"
"No! I don't have enough strength left! And even if I could, your people would shoot us out of the sky!"
"I would forbid it! They would listen to me!"
A centuries-old mixture of anger, sadness, and fear boiled up inside me when I heard this stubborn dwarf talk.
"Frerin! You really don't understand, do you?! If I even managed to get you to Ered Luin alive, the chances of you being conscious are vanishingly small; they would kill me before you knew it.
Even more likely would be that we'd both die on the way there.
I know the Lord of Rivendell; he helped me once long ago, and he will help us now if we let him."
I had looked deep into Frerin's eyes as I spoke.
Tears welled up in my eyes as if trying to extinguish the fire that burned before my inner eye, like a dark distant memory.
Frerin nodded and than said,
"I'm sorry. You're right, but that doesn't mean I will trust the elves, but I do trust you!"
Then we continued on our way, in silence for a while.

Chapter Text

Winter came unexpectedly early upon us and our path.
I brought some warm stones into our cave for the night.
Frerin was carving his walking stick in the dim light from the fire in the cave entrance.
The stick was now finely decorated with motifs such as Erebor, Ered Luin, Moria, trees, and dwarven runes.
We had taken turns carving it.
I placed the stones under the thick cloak that lay at Frerin's bedside.
“Thanks, I’ll be done in a minute, have a good night.”
"You're welcome, thank you, you too."
Then I went to my sleeping place, took off my clothes, and changed into my dragon form.
I had been sleeping like this for a while; it was warmer.

As we both lay down and tried to sleep, I heard Frerin shivering from the cold.
This night was colder than the previous ones and the wind whistled, biting, into the cave.
I got up from my place and trotted sleepily over to him.
"Hmm, what are you doing?"
"The winter is going to be harsh, we should move closer together."
I lay down next to him and covered him with one of my wings.
He seemed a little overwhelmed by the situation and didn't move.
But it didn't take long before we both fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up early; it wasn't quite as cold anymore.
I got up, covered Frerin properly with his coat again, and set off to hunt for our breakfast.
It had snowed during the night, quite a bit.

When I came back, Frerin was already up and lit the fire again.
I went into the cave with my prey, assumed humanoid form again, get dressed, and prepared everything for cooking.

A little later, I heard Frerin calling from outside.
"Nuin, come quickly, you have to see this!"
I rushed outside and looked around in confusion.
'Whoosh'
With a loud splash, a snowball hit me right in the face.
As I shook myself, I could hear the dwarf laughing loudly and heartily, rolling around in the snow.
"By Mahal, you should see your face, it's priceless!"
He called out to me.
“I'll get you yet!”
I said, running towards him to get revenge.
We romped around in the snow for a while before we had breakfast and continued our journey.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, winter had us firmly in its icy grip, but we were almost at our destination; Rivendell was only a day or two's march away.
There was little left of the initial reluctance; the cold had ensured that.
That morning, Frerin had lain snuggled up to me, clutching my tail like a stuffed animal.
When I awoke, I looked down at him with a strange mixture of peace and confusion.
It only took a moment for him to wake up, too, and look up at me with wide blue eyes.
I snorted with amusement as he realized, releasing my tail as if he'd been burned and saying in an embarrassed voice,
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to offend!"
"It's okay, you weren't, it's just very cold."
I replied, stood up, and went to shapeshift.
I would remain in my humanoid form for now; being so close to Rivendell was too risky in dragon form.

After a quick breakfast, we continued on our way.
We were now on the Misty Mountains pass to reach the East Gate of Rivendell.
A snowstorm made our journey difficult, but we did not give up.
I let Frerin go first and he sang again, this time more hopefully, about how he would see his family again, how they would overthrow Smaug and Erebor would once again become a great dwarven metropolis.
I hummed along softly to the melody.

His singing had become quieter and weaker over the hours.
Then Frerin fell silent and coughed.
"FRERIN?!"
I cried out in shock and ran to him as he collapsed.
His stick fell into the snow and he slid towards the abyss.
He fell.
At the last moment I was able to grab his hands, they were ice cold, and I grabbed a branch above us with my tail.
I just managed to pull ourselves up and took a few deep breaths.
“Frerin? Is everything okay?”
No answer.
I examined him briefly.
He was unconscious, had a fever, and was breathing shallowly.
I hoisted him onto my back and continued walking; we barely had time.

I stopped for a short rest at a small cave, leaving everything on except for the coat, the stick, the rope and the small bag in which Frerin had kept his comb.
I tied Frerin to my back with the rope; he was wrapped in the coat.
Then I left straight away.
I couldn't allow myself to really rest.
I could feel the fever rising inside me.
If I fell asleep, it would probably be too late.

I kept walking, even at night.
I struggled with the tiredness, the cold, the hunger, and the weakness that threatened to overwhelm my body.
My mind was filled with thoughts of giving up, but I definitely didn't want to give up now, not so close to the finish line.
I recalled Frerin's song in my mind and the hope in his voice; I simply had to make it!

When my body gave out at sunrise, I heard the clatter of hooves.
I collapsed in front of an elf's horse and begged him in a weak, desperate voice.
"Please... Please help us. Ple..."

The world around me blurred, I lost consciousness, the cold darkness swallowed me.

Chapter Text

"Darling, wake up! Today is an important day."
I blinked and opened my eyes.
A beautiful woman with wavy blonde hair and green eyes sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in a festive gown.
Small, shimmering blue scales adorned her pointed ears and were scattered across her face like freckles.
A face I last saw ages ago, one I could never forget, even though the memory was painful.
My mother sat there before me with a gentle smile, her face far less etched with worry than when I last saw her, and so much more alive.
'It must be a dream,' I realized with a sad certainty.

And nevertheless, or perhaps precisely because of this, I allowed myself to lose myself in the warm, comforting memories.
To spend time with old friends and family once more, to wander once more through the ancient halls of the mountain that was my beloved home.

But the peaceful memory was abruptly shattered when I heard the agitated voices from the throne room, as I hid in the corner by the door, I realized what day it was.
On this day we were to celebrate a very special birthday, the 2nd son of the dwarf king reached adulthood.
But a raven had brought terrible news: the dwarves in the far west had declared war against the dragons.
And so, a heated argument broke out between the dwarf king and his sons.
After a while, I heard an angry, dark, and intimidating voice speak up—my father.
He was a hot-tempered, stern, and often tyrannical man.

But before I could hear what he said, I was pulled to my feet.
My mother looked at me with a mixture of worry and deep fear.
"Come on! We have to leave the mountain! Now!"
She said, as clearly and calmly as she could.
I could hear she was straining to keep her voice from breaking. She pulled me through the corridors.
"Mom, what's wrong?!"
I asked, terrified.
I'd never seen her like this before.
Then I heard screams from the direction we'd come from, a loud crash, and plumes of smoke approaching us in the distance.
"Run!"
my mother shouted, and we ran.

We had escaped, but the terrified screams of the dwarves and the sight of the blazing, burning mountain were seared into my memory and left deep scars.

From then on, we were on the run.
Mother didn't want to join the dragons after what we had seen that night.
We wandered for a few months, disguised, from town to town.
We found a human village in the west, where we were warmly welcomed.
And so we lived there in peace for a few years, far away from that terrible war.

But then came the day when I lost everything I had left.

The dragons had decided that walking in humanoid form and associating with other races was an invasion of the dragon race, and they had made both punishable offenses.
They sent enforcers to punish those who disregarded this new order.

When I returned from Rivendell one late summer day, the village was in flames.
I tried to save them, but it was too late for my mother and the people of the village.
I didn't know what to do, but I had to get away from there; I knew dragonfire was the hotspot.
I ran back to Rivendell, where I fell to my knees on the shore of a small lake and wept bitterly.

“Nuin? What happened?”
A few hours had passed, the sun was already low, and the question was asked by Elrond, Lord of Rivendell.
"Y-they're all gone, n-no one is left."
I sobbed.
"They found us and I wasn't there to save them."
I said, my voice a little more composed.
“Nuin, you are still a child, it is not your responsibility.”
"That doesn't matter! She's dead and I didn't do anything, I wasn't even there!"
I almost cried out, standing upright before Elrond.
"Now I'm all alone and I don't know where to go..."
I said, and slumped down a little again.
"You can stay here; we'll surely have a place for such a capable and kind young man."
He said in a calm and friendly voice.
I was too exhausted to disagree that evening.

But at night, the blazing flames haunted me in my dreams, along with the suffering.
I awoke and decided I couldn't stay there; I couldn't let more people suffer because of me.
I left the few possessions I had left in that room and flew out into the night.

I couldn't remember much of the time I spent alone out there; it was decades, perhaps centuries. I kept myself far from any civilization.

Until I fell into the hands of the orcs.

A freezing cold overcome me, and then only darkness…

Chapter Text

I jolted awake from my long sleep and sat bolt upright in bed, staring into the void, tears rolling down my cheeks.
After a while I looked around; I was sitting on a large bed in a bright room.
The windows were open, and with the light came a gentle breeze and the quiet song of birds.
There were many plants in the room, some of them in beautiful bloom.
I carefully moved to the edge of the bed and let my legs dangle; I still felt weak.
Then I spotted Frerin's walking stick.
It was unmistakably the same one, but now it had a hand-forged handle, so that the stick was now the perfect size for me.
I stood up carefully, still unsteady on my feet, but with the help of the stick, I went to the door.

When I opened the door, a beautiful and familiar place stretched out before me: Rivendell.
We had made it!
"Damn it, missed again!"
“Elrohir, language!”
The voices came from a spot a little way off, which I could see down to.
There stood two elves, tall with brown hair.
I recognized them: Elrond's sons.
"Haha, I told you so. An axe flies quite differently than an arrow, young prince."
I heard Frerin say, a little mockingly.
He stepped out from behind a tree into my view.
He was hardly the same dwarf I had met back then in the dungeons of Moria.
His dark hair was healthier and partly braided, his beard still not long, but fuller, and his build strong, as befits a dwarf.

I watched and listened for a while, completely captivated.
"Young prince?! I'm much older than you!"
Elrohir said indignantly.
"But for an elf, you're still young."
"So what?"

While the other two were arguing, Elladan stood quietly beside them and giggled; Elrohir had always been the more temperamental of the twins.
I couldn't help but smile myself.

But then Elladan looked over at me and froze for a moment before a wide grin spread across his face.
He looked at Frerin and cleared his throat, then gestured towards me.
Frerin looked at me with big, wet blue eyes, the most radiant smile I had ever seen from him spreading across his face.
"Nuin!"
he shouted and ran towards me as fast as he could.
When he reached me, he jumped into my arms and knocked me off my feet. With a thud, we fell back into the room.
"Frerin, let him live!"
I heard Elrohir call out, amused.
“By Mahal, I’m so glad to see you awake!”
He said as we lay on the floor in a tight embrace.
“Me too, my friend, me too!”