Capítulo 94: Chapter 94: Vision
[General POV]
-Erebor, hours after Smaug's departure-
An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Thorin's sudden change had impacted the group's morale; they were no longer the expedition team, as their goal had been achieved. Now, they were simply dwarves claiming the glory of being in Erebor without the fearsome Smaug, but at what cost? Their friend and a vital member of their team had fought the dragon for hours, his fate unknown.
"That fire falling down was Smaug," said Fili to the surrounding dwarves. "Aldril is probably..." he couldn't finish the sentence; it hurt him just to imagine they couldn't help their dear friend.
The most affected of them all was dear Bilbo. After all, aside from Gandalf, Aldril had been the one he got along with best. Over these months, he had come to consider him a good friend. It was heartbreaking to see him face the fearsome Smaug alone, without fear and with steadfast courage, a scene that had undoubtedly inspired him. Like Fili, he feared for Aldril's condition.
The silent atmosphere was broken by a deep, disinterested voice. "What does it matter if that half-elf is alive or dead? He got Smaug out of Erebor; that's enough," said Thorin, addressing all the dwarves and the hobbit who had followed him on this tumultuous journey.
"Thorin..." said Balin softly, approaching Thorin carefully. "What will we do if the dragon returns?"
With an indifferent expression, Thorin looked into the distance, lost in thought. "Then that half-elf will have failed, showing he wasn't worth much," he said with extreme indifference. "We'll deal with it if it happens," he continued, causing the dwarves' spirits to plummet in response to Thorin's words. "Come, the dragon left through the entrance. If that half-elf manages to kill it, we'll have to close the entrance."
"Why? Wouldn't it be useless to do so?" asked a confused Fili. What was the point of closing the entrance the dragon left through? He felt disconnected, but that doubt didn't last long after Thorin's sharp comment.
"Do you think a battle with a dragon wouldn't have casualties?" he said harshly. "Those survivors will come to take refuge in Erebor and try to steal my gold. I won't allow it! Go quickly and close the entrance!" With that, he turned, disappearing into the darkness of Erebor's tunnels.
Shaking his head in disappointment, Balin looked at the stunned dwarves. "Come," he said in a low voice, his already somber mood worsening. This Thorin was not the one who had been with them on their journey. This Thorin was different, too different.
---
Hours had passed. Now, everyone was piling stones at Erebor's entrance. Smaug's exit had shattered and cracked many walls, including the complete destruction of the entrance. It was during this uncomfortable silence that Bilbo's shout caught the hobbit's attention.
"It's Aldril's sword!" he shouted excitedly, as the sword was softly glowing. Resolutely, Bilbo grabbed it, expecting a reaction of repulsion that did not happen. Instead, the glow grew brighter, confusing the hobbit until the sword suddenly vibrated. The light it emitted illuminated the entire entrance, momentarily blinding everyone present.
Slash
The sword slipped from Bilbo's hand, but there was no violent reaction as expected. It was a fluid process; they watched as the sword flew swiftly out of Erebor. That's when Bilbo remembered.
"The swords are bound to me; they'll return to me even if I lose them," Aldril had once said in a morning chat. That memory gave him affirmation, one that made him extremely happy, to the point that he shouted excitedly, "Aldril is alive!"
-Lake-Town-
Smaug had fallen, but his fall was far from silent. Many lives had been lost to his fire and colossal strength; Lake-Town had disappeared. "How unfortunate," the survivors said. "At least we're alive," added others. The dark night was beginning to fall, welcoming the warm light of morning, a sign that Aldril had fought the dragon for more than 12 hours. A feat not comparable to the past deeds of his ancestors, but also a testament to what he was capable of.
"Aldril! Aldril!" Bard shouted, having witnessed firsthand how the warrior fell into the lake alongside the dragon. He feared Aldril had fallen under the dragon's enormous weight. Your fears are unnecessary! Aldril would reply, but right now, he was once again sinking to the lake's bottom, though this time for a very different reason.
Blood, magical dragon blood, had completely soaked him. Upon his fall, the blood spilled out, radiating an intense heat so fierce that its contact with water created steam, which quickly turned into mist, obscuring Bard's view.
This blood, flowing like a spring, splashed onto Aldril, causing a series of burns. The pain wasn't enough to make him scream, but it was certainly very uncomfortable. An unprecedented reaction took shape at the bottom of the lake, the blood that transformed the water into steam began to cool and, like a whirlpool, gathered around Aldril's body. He felt a terrifying yet calming sensation.
Inside him, a battle was brewing. Smaug's blood contained magic, a corrupt magic that drove mortals insane. Many who had dared to slay and bathe in dragon blood succumbed to madness. And what was this corruption? Of course, it originated from Morgoth, the darkest being, master of the Balrogs and Sauron's master.
Long ago, Morgoth managed to find the hiding place of creatures comparable to the Maiar. These creatures were destined to guide mortals and elves once they appeared in Middle-earth. However, these benevolent and wise beings were corrupted by an extremely powerful Valar. Yes, Morgoth had been one of the strongest Valar in his time.
His power waned because he left a part of his strength in every being he corrupted, ensuring their absolute loyalty. Despite reducing his own strength, he could still face the other Valar.
Now, a battle was raging within Aldril. The magical and corrupt blood of Smaug swirled unconsciously toward him, draining the dead dragon in seconds. At that moment, Varda's blessing, the Valar most feared by Morgoth, took action. The purification process triggered a magical battle like no other.
Gradually, Varda's power gained ground, purifying that corrupt magic within Aldril's body. Through this process, his strength increased exponentially, and now the strength of a dragon grew within him. With that purification, something strange happened.
Aldril, who lay falling in a grayish-red dome, kept his eyes closed. Initially, the process caused him extreme pain, but it gradually softened. The desire to do evil vanished; he felt it, a connection beyond explanation. A vision passed through his mind.
There, on an island where the waves struck like warriors besieging a castle, lay a hill. The undisturbed graves of three people stood as if time itself had spared them. The words carved in stone were still visible:
Morwen, Húrin, and Niniel were inscribed in the ancient Elvish text. Yet he could read it with clarity, as if seeing through the eyes of an eagle. The vision shifted to the peak of a hill, where a small cabin stood. An elf, with downcast eyes and visibly burned hands, sat watching the sea.
At that moment, a voice he recognized whispered to him, "The stars will guide you to Tol Himling, your first destination. There lies an object of invaluable worth, which will lead you to the resting place of the first guardians." That delicate voice faded, and then the magic fully entered Aldril's body, prompting him to open his eyes.
Those majestic amber eyes had changed. The enchanting pupils had disappeared, replaced by the full splendor of reptilian pupils that exuded power and grandeur.
For the first time in Middle-earth, a new being had been born under the grace of Eru, a being with the will and hope of an elf, the tenacity and love of a human, and the greatness and strength of a dragon.
****
Filthy orcs!
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