Iron Stars

Prologue: Dragonslayer

FA 590
Erud Luin

     Elrond gritted his teeth as the wind raged around him. The ground under his feet was rough, craggy stone tripping him on occasion. Snow fell in torrents, a vicious blizzard upon the high mountain. A towering peak looked in front of him, its rough face marred by dragon fire. Still he trudged on. He alongside the High King and Galadriel were hiking the Erud Luin because of a raven.

     Weeks ago, a bloodied raven had alighted in Lindon and all those who saw it knew. The Dragonslayers had fallen. Or rather most of them had. The fact that one raven made it back suggested that one Dragonslayer was still alive, albeit bloodied. Immediately the trio had set into the mountains hoping to recover the last one.

For the Dragonslayers had saved countless lives in the War of Wrath. When Morgoth had set forth his force into Beleriand the remnants of the elves had gone off to fight. They had a small hope that Elrond's father, Earendil had made it to Valinor, but it mattered not as thousands of people died every day. They needed time for a force to come help them, especially against the winged dragons of Morgoth.

The High King had then called for soldiers willing to lay down their lives. Soldiers of elves, men and dwarves who had little left to lose. Those soldiers would be sent into the mountains to bring down dragons and buy time for the others. Few had stepped up but in the end 15 soldiers had marched from Lindon into the Erud Luin, prepared to die. Their Commander was Velcanyxa Feanoriel, the daughter of Feanor.

Ravens had been used as communication between the King and the soldiers. Each Dragonslayer had a ravens assigned to them who would travel to Lindon every few days. When the ravens came, it signaled they were still alive. If the raven did not, the Dragonslayer had fallen. As weeks went by and as the war eventually ended, fewer and fewer ravens came back each time. Until only one came back.

     The hike to the current point had been long and bitterly cold. Along the way, they had discovered the bodies of the 14 other Dragonslayers and numerous torched villages. Bodies littered the ground, frozen in the cold winds. Their eyes stared blankly upwards, burns littering their skin. Still they marched on.

     Elrond glanced to the side but still could see nothing in the whiteout. He hoped they'd find Nyx, who they believed was the last, soon and that they could return home. The question remained whether Nyx was still alive or not. She must have been a few weeks ago but her house had been cursed by the Valar themselves. She could very well be buried somewhere in the blizzard.

     He jolted out of his thoughts when a huge shape loomed in front of them. In shock he realized it was the skull of a dragon, picked clean by the birds. Its pale bones stood stark and white against the darkening sky, huge eye sockets that showed him how massive these creature were. In the distance, he could make out where its tail lay, bones linked together across the snow.

     "They brought some of them down after all" murmured the king, as they gazed at the bones of the dragon.

     Galadriel stepped up. "It's impossible to know how long ago this beast was brought down, there's nothing on the bones."

     Elrond shivered, both because of the cold and the wind blasted skeleton in front of him. "Regardless, we still have no idea where Nyx is. And I hope to find her, she deserves to know at the very least." He turned his head from the beast, remembering they would have to tell Nyx her brothers had vanished. That they were likely dead.

     The king nodded and they trudged on until another strange thing happened. As the wind roared past it seemed to carry the cries of the people. Whispers of pain and unimaginable grief. Agonized screams tearing through the wind. Raw terror and pain in the very air around them. It was terrifying. The wails seemed to grow louder until they stopped.