Part 16

Exhausted, Eowyn sheathed her sword.

“Why you’ve stobbed?” gurgled the dragon.

“I am tired,” said Eowyn. Then, thinking that a beast might not understand the meaning of ‘tired’, she added, “I am out of breath, and my arms and legs ache.”

The dragon leaned towards her and, tilting its head to one side, peered at her exposed limbs. Then, after a moment or two, it said, “Siddown,” and nodded at the ground.

Eowyn sat down beside her rock (which was no longer warm, but she was too hot from the exercise to notice).

“Do you wan’ more wader?” asked the dragon.

“No,” said Eowyn, holding up her waterskin, “I have some here, thank you.” She drew out the stopper and took a drink, pondering her situation. She had one very pressing problem, and no idea how she was going to solve it—Legolas was coming for her.

Legolas would climb the cliff, fight the dragon, and one of them would die.

If it were Legolas—and the pain of trying to imagine Legolas’ death was just too much to bear—then Eowyn knew that she would die as well.

But if it were the dragon…

Well, she could not bear to think of the dragon’s dying, either.

Especially not at Legolas’ hand.

So she had to think of way to save both of them.

“Where do you normally live?” she asked. “This rock is obviously not your home.”

The dragon tried to shrug its shoulders. “Evvrythin’s change’,” it said.

“What has changed?”

“Nevver though’ b’fore. Nevver talk’ b’fore.”

“Before what?”

“B’fore you come.”

“Before I…” Eowyn frowned. The dragon had arrived upon a strange, foul-smelling wind, but from where, exactly? Could it have been…

From somewhere where dragons neither think nor talk, she thought.

Somewhere without elves—the elves taught the trees to talk, so why not dragons as well—though was it not Morgoth who created the dragons, to do his bidding?

She looked up at ‘her’ dragon.

He is not evil, she decided. He is just unfortunate in his choice of food.

She drew her knees up to her chest and, closing her eyes, reached out, searching for Legolas. To her surprise, she found him immediately, and a series of words—spoken in his voice—formed in her mind: “Show us where you are, melmenya.”

“Legolas,” she thought back with all her might, “he is not evil. Please do not kill him, my darling.”

“You aw’ight?” asked the dragon.

Eowyn opened her eyes and—praying to the gods that Legolas had heard her—said, “I am a little cold.”

“G’over there,” said the dragon. And, moments later, it warmed her rock with a great blast of fiery breath, which lit up the sky.