So because it's been three straight days of me being unable to think of anything else I'm posting this little opening exert. An original draconic character insert to Tolkien's 'The Hobbit'. Perhaps it will peak someone's interest. Opening exert beneath the cut.
To Fight Fire with Fire.
As the sun's fiery edge dipped towards evening over the jagged stone of the Carrock, the company lit a fire to roast sheep and hare, courtesy of the eagles' bounty. Weariness was giving way to a hard-won relaxation when a distant sound broke the quiet. The group fell silent, their ears straining as a deep, primeval bellow echoed on the wind, sending vibrations through the air. The noise sent the company stumbling to their feet, faces set with alarm. Thorin's heart sank, and a creeping sense of dread stole over his frame.
“By the fires of Mahal,” he muttered to himself, “what new terror is this?” The bellow sounded once more, a deafening roar like the very foundations of the earth were being rent asunder, and sent shivers coursing down Thorin's spine in icy rivulets. His stomach plummeted like a stone cast into a bottomless chasm. It was coming towards them.
“What is that sound?” he calls to the wizard, who stands, mumbling to himself in far too pleased a fashion, and indeed a smile lingers on his face when he turns to answer.
“That, Master Oakenshield, is an old friend.” He replies, eyes glinting with a knowing light.
Thorin's scowl deepens in suspicion, though Gandalf disregards the expression, as he is wont to do.
“And a great ally in our quest if we can persuade him to lend us his aid, so leave the talking to me; perhaps this time diplomacy might prevail."
His statement contained a level of scolding that would have likely evoked many disagreeable grumblings and a tart rejoinder from Thorin, had everyone not been focused entirely on the distant shape flying towards them.
For one heart-stopping moment, panic fills Thorin as he sees what appears to be another dragon bearing down upon them. Yet as the creature draws nearer, he can see that its wingspan, while formidable, falls far short of the one that still haunts his days. Thorin will never forget the massive shadow that had swallowed the mountain like a shroud over the sun beneath Smaug's monstrous wings, and these do not compare. He can also make out a body that is strangely humanoid in form, as well as what may be a tail.
The wizard steps forward to meet this ‘old friend,’ blocking Thorin's view with the ridiculous swath of grey drapery he wears and cutting off any further clarity Thorin might have gained. The king takes the moment to survey his companions, whose faces are set with a mix of fatigue and wariness, before edging around Tharkun to position himself between the newcomer and his men. The company remains frozen, hands resting on weapon hilts with caution, their eyes fixed on the approaching figure as they whisper among themselves in hushed tones.
What alights upon the stone ledge appears to be some nightmarish cross between an elf and a dragon, standing tall over the wizard on clawed feet. Thorin half thinks to search for aspects of the pale orc in its visage, as if expecting to find that all his past foes had coalesced into this single, unsettling entity. Yet, apart from a complexion that appeared naturally pale, the stranger bore little resemblance to any orc. Though its face is Elven in its fairness, it is a superficial likeness at best. For no elf ever looked so sharp, so untamed, with long, dagger-like ears flicking beneath a wild mane of dark hair that tumbled over its shoulders and ethereal, glowing eyes. The cobalt scales scattered across the high planes of its face catch the firelight like tiny jewels. Thorin can glimpse long, taloned fingers, more scaling, and yes, the curve of a tail, before Tharkun interposes himself once more. He immediately shuffles the strange new being off to the side where a huddled conference ensues.
