A short story collection featuring Thranduil, Legolas, Halbrand, Galadriel, Túrin, Finduilas, Galion, Elrohir and Elladan. There will be a dragon duel, an arranged marriage, a Dark Queen and a Dark Lord and much more. New stories and snippets are ad...
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Túrin and the Dragon – Part 4 of 5: Victorious
Forest of Brethil, First Age 498
Kill the dragon. Kill the dragon. Kill the dragon. Crouching under the sleeping monster's belly, Túrin nearly gagged at the hideous reptile stench, but repeating the words to himself made him stay focused on the task at hand.
Finally the opportunity had come. Tonight he would get his revenge; it was time to end the foe who had entered his mind, filled him with lies and almost ruined his chance at happiness.
Glaurung had left his lair and crawled towards Brethil, burning the lands as he went, and clearly intending to find and kill Túrin. Instead it would be the other way around, for the stupid beast had fallen asleep out here in the open, on the bank of the Teiglin.
Foolish pride! Glaurung probably thought he was safe; that people wouldn't dare come close. Well, unlike the men who had followed him, Túrin wasn't so easily daunted. When they ran back home in fear, he alone had crawled under the dragon's belly.
Finduilas' parting words still echoed in his mind: Kill the dragon. She knew Glaurung had to die if there would ever be peace in the world – and in Túrin's head.
Now the moment was here. It was time to kill the dragon.
Taking his anger, his fear and hatred, Túrin used it as a force to drive his black sword home, all the way to the hilt.
The dragon roared in pain, writhing this way and that, and jumping away in a vain attempt to evade the piercing sword. He landed at the other side of the river with flames erupting all around him. A few more times he thrashed and spewed fire, but his movements got gradually slower, until he stopped altogether and fell down. With a deep shudder the great Glaurung became still.
Túrin stared at the huge form. Well. That had been easier than he thought!
Swimming across with quick strokes, he went to take a look at the body of his defeated foe and retrieve his weapon.
He climbed on top of the beast's upturned belly, revelling in the sight of the monster splayed out on his back under him. Glaurung, father of dragons, lay defenceless and dead – or soon dead.
Túrin couldn't resist a final, gloating challenge: "Hail, worm of Morgoth, well met again," he yelled, gripping the handle of the sword. "Die now and the darkness have you! Thus is Túrin son of Húrin avenged." With that, he started pulling.
The sword was stuck hard into the scaly surface, and he had to use both feet as leverage. In a gush of black liquid the blade came loose at last, and Túrin fell down, clutching his stinging hand where the foul blood had burned him.
