The IRE of Winter

Chapter 34: EMBRACING THE COLD Part 1

Wind thundered above the pointing pines, dawn is breaking and the dragon glided up tracing the slope of the Northern mountains. Safirah secured her grip, clutching tight at the dragon's spike, pressing herself against its back. Up the tip of the icy mountain, the dragon thrust up in a vertical whirl then made a sharp back flip on steady wings. Its massive body brought tremble to the boulder below them, pulling itself just before touching the snow.

Leaning side-ward left they flew straight ahead tracing the jagged misty mountains heading North.

Safirah endured the cold, as she always had been, fixing her eyes to the distant her heart bled for Legolas. She could have chosen him, she could have changed her fate and started a new life with the elf she love. But every time her heart whispers his name, little voices murmured in her head, cries, grunts, clanging of swords. Guilt is a terrible thing.

Safirah knew conscience will never let her live in peace.

Few strands of her tousled hair caught specks of ice like starlight sparkling in her dark hair. Connecting with the dragon, they rolled right in a quick turn. Trees grew scarcely in this part, Safirah thought, she could  count the pines in her hands as they flew farther North until there were none. The land rolled in solitude, empty and cold.

The sun finally woke and they flew above the ragged mountains covered with snow and mist. Some parts had thicker clouds and flying was treacherous as flying blind. At times the dragon shifted left and right to avoid the boulders, at times Miraak had to climb up or dive steeply.

Tracing the misty mountains was the easiest way not to get lost, and though Safirah had hoped of other ways, she cannot afford delays. The vaurg had never been this far North before, she couldn't have guessed which way to the orc stronghold.

Their journey was far from good, at noon, the half-elf had to camp and perched her dragon on a boulder. She did not had sleep nor food since she left the Elven halls but she was far from hungry or tired.

The sun hid well behind the thick clouds and Safirah had to continue her journey North following the misty mountain ranges. The dragon was cautious on its climb and turns, preserving energy for the worst to come. Just before dusk, the two reached the gray mountain Gandalf had marked. Miraak carried her down the slope in a whirling speed, thick clouds burst as the dragon dove away from the mountains.

Safirah pictured it a little less hostile, her heart pounded upon seeing a vast empty wilderness blackened and lifeless; a barren land where Easternmost end of the Withered Heath meets with the Misty Mountains. The land was bare and cracked, sickness blanketed the valleys and hills. The half-elf squinted to the unforgiving sight below her.  Until they reached the desolate valleys East, high enough, she could see the dark fortress.

Gandalf must be somewhere in this part, she thought, scanning any sign of life below she sniffed. She wondered how could an old man out-fly her dragon to this place (unless he had ridden a horse with wings) Safirah mused with the thought. Miraak scouted a little lower to the ground perceiving the world through the vaurg's eyes, or should it be the reverse? Little did Safirah knew, she had less control of the dragon than she thought. Her thoughts became the dragon's instinct, her impulse would make the dragon twirl with the wind.

For she was a vaurg whom Vala Irmo favored the most.

Alas, she spotted a movement in the rubble. A Maia in flesh clothed in white robes, his jeweled staff glittered amidst the dimmed surroundings. Safirah urged her dragon down and the beast thudded loudly on a rock. She unmounted Miraak and trotted towards the wizard while her dragon patiently watched.

'I doubted you for a second, how did you find this place sooner than a dragon-rider?' Safirah said with a hint of disbelief.

'I must say an eagle is faster than a winged serpent, apparently, I can see what dragged you,' the old man threw a faint smirk jerking his head to her dragon. 'It is one fearsome beast, indeed, and yet it is bound to your will.'

The half-elf did not appreciate his flattery, finding it rather mocking she curved her lips down. 'He has a name. Miraak it is. By Vala's grace I do not held him as my slave.'

Gandalf smiled. The wizard admired the girl's courage the first time they met in Bree, and she has the heart for justice and honor. Gandalf smiles for he saw an old friend in her, Auvir, the first mortal son of Lurin. 'As you say,' he said before turning his back to look for higher ground.

Safirah followed him until they found a spot high enough to avoid unwanted eyes. The sun was down and the stars graced them with light. Standing side by side, they studied the distant gates.

Orcs depleted in numbers after the war of the ring, Gandalf thought. He could only conclude that Sauron regained his power too soon, or worse.

'Those orc-filths must be gone for war, I don't see a horde of them,' Safirah murmured.

Red flames flickered from the tower surrounded by tall sharp angled cliffs. The mountain had three peaks, the middle one being the tallest; The Great Spire (the middle peak), the cloven spire and the lowest on the right twisted like horn. Below was a massive gate standing roughly one and a half hundred feet tall and half of that measure was its wide.

'And they must have built a tunnel deep underground,' Gandalf said. 'Whoever leads this army has the power to control the great worms. The enemy cannot be fooled twice, I suppose!'

'Fooled?'

Gandalf realized he could have been more careful with his comments. For thousands of years he struggled to keep the balance in the lands and yet again darkness always finds a way to resurface. It was a task given to five but it turned out he got it all to himself. The first was corrupted by the Dark Lord, the second poses a threat, the third was held captive while the other cared less for the conflicts of men. 'I believe the orc army came for the elves. If they wanted to kill the Northmen, they could have ambushed you all from behind, but instead, they dug a tunnel South to corner the elves.'

Safirah frowned showing she didn't understand what the wizard meant. Gandalf was quick to explain.

'I believe...they came to help you slaughter the elves but you changed your mind and burned them instead!'

'That doesn't make sense.'

'I should say it does,' he cleared his throat. '...but that is just a theory. Queer things happen in the North ere you notice it. We should keep an open eye,' Gandalf added darting his eyes to the mountain fortress. 'There is it, Safirah. Mount Gundabad! The night is getting deep, do you still have the courage to dare its pits?'

'I can hardly wait!' the half-elf said without shifting her eyes.

'Then prowl the dark and eye for a landing spot. We cannot obviously knock on their gates, we would have to enter by the roof.' Gandalf tried his best to lift the vaurg's spirit but she obviously didn't need it.

Safirah doubted he would make it alive, who could get past those tall walls unnoticed? But the half-elf did not bother or wished him good luck the least. The dragon came and she mounted fast. Gandalf watched her fly to the tower and waited until she was nearly off his sight.

Then the Maia began his descent and hurried to follow her.

...

Comments? I hope you liked this chapter. -Haz

Trivia: Remember the river where Frodo and Arwen raced with the Riders? It is called the Ford of Bruinen. In the books, it's was just Glorfindel's white horse and not Arwen.