faderift | ( closed ) a royal dragon hunt.

WHO: Herian, Elros, Alistair & Maglor.
WHAT: A Royal dragon hunt.
WHEN: AT THE APPROPRIATE TIME, naturally.
WHERE: in the mountains near Hunter Fell
NOTES: Violence, mostly. If something necessitating a content warning comes up in a tag, please mark it in the subject line and I'll update this here list.

First they travel to Hunter Fell, and then the King’s hunting lodge, and once preparations are made they move deeper into the mountains.

The sky is almost alarmingly clear. It doesn’t seem mood appropriate, really, for a dragon hunt. Surely the sky should be grey with clouds, as patterned and solid as marble… but no. It is cheerily blue. Clear skies do little to better the temperature, the higher they ascend into the mountains, and Knight Enchanter Amsel’s mood is severe enough to make up for the lack of cloudy weather. It’s not that she’s generally a smiley social butterfly, but now she seems even more the human incarnation of a mountain than usual - stoney and looming, even if technically all of her travelling companions are taller than she. The mountains themselves might prove better conversation partners, though she is at least trying for the sake of the Inquisition’s reputation.

“Remember,” she tells her fellows, “today we represent the Inquisition. We fight not for our own glory, but in the name of the Inquisition. We must all of us keep resolute our focus; the kill is not ours to claim, but the King’s. We bring the dragon to submission, let the King honour his ancestors and their traditions, and we bring honour to the Inquisition and better our chances of protecting Thedas from those that would cast it into ruin and doom all peoples - natives and rifters alike.”

To Elros and Maglor she adds, “I thank you both for offering your services this day. The Inquisition is grateful to you, and your willingness to lend aid to our cause.”

(She and Thranduil might have about as much enthusiasm for each other as cats for water, but he is more than capable, and one who honours his convictions and his word. She would be a simpleton to consider him unworthy of respect and acknowledgement. She does not know, or pretend to know, the ties between all these from other realms, delivered to them by the rifts, but she does not dismiss them.)

So, time to go fight a dragon.
Or, as the laws of ”of course this is happening” would have it, two dragons, and possibly any dragonlings they call from the caves and rocks to assist them.
Oh, good.

Things happen rather quickly. The second emerges from the same cave as the first, both moving fast. Mature dragons are not to be trifled with. Four is a fine number for one, but for two at once?

"Warden, to me." He's close to her than either of the others - it seems logical. "We all protect the King at any cost, but remember: the kill belongs to the King!"

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"And forever a child even when you turn silver and wrinkle!" Which he can say for certain, considering he's lived through seeing Elros grow old, if only from afar- until the end. Because he hadn't been able to not say farewell to this beloved child.

But Maglor still dances in counter to Elros' strong attacks, drawing their dragon away from it's nestlings, as Elros has named them, and making it impossible for the beast to focus on only one or two things.

"I am sure they will enjoy the hot meal!" He grins, feral light mocking.

"Surely being wrinkly should negate my child status!"

The armor isn't anywhere near up to Feanarian standards, and Elros discards the helm as it heats up too fast, prefering to rely on speed to dodge the teeth and claws and flame.

"Slowing down, old lizard! Can't keep up?"

And then he stumbles, mortal feet not as steady on uneven ground.

"You will always be my fosterling, and a child at that!" He calls back gaily, daring to place a parents ownership over Elros here. Perhaps it's okay?

Only to snarl when he sees Elros stumble. So he starts to sing, aiming to ruin the dragon to keep the precious boy safe. To Mandos with the consequences! But even as he sings, to bring fire and damage and molten metal over the scaled head, he's moving around to stand between sharp claws and teeth and Elros.

...Stop him from destroying the thing they're supposed to only wound, someone? Anyone?

Elros curses as he goes down onto his knees, automatically scrambling to get up before flame and claws can descend, and then his bones shake to the power of the lost bard of the Noldor.

He reels back, feeling the press of Maglor's Song almost as a physical wall, and then braces himself and pushes forwards into it, reaching to grab his arm.

"Maglor, Maglor! I'm fine. Maglor, enough! Atto!"

Power which is lessened here, but not enough when Maglor's standing right in front of his target. Not nearly lessened enough.

So it's a voice which stops the Song of destruction and death. A voice, a hand on his arm, that title which cuts the strength and power from his voice.

Maglor doesn't quite drop his sword as he breathes, not quite ragged with emotion torn between terror and fury still. But, it's clear to him as he blinks back to coherence, that the dragon is dealt with.

Still breathing, but in obvious pain. So he turns and reaches out to pull Elros to him to check him over himself.

"I got too far away," he mutters unhappily.

Elros is panting, ears ringing, and he knows already he will be dizzy for a few days, which is better than the dragon fares - just a beast here, none of the terrible intelligence and power of their own world to counter a bard in full fury. It is collapsed, bleeding from it's ears, and Elros knows the king will not even need to try to slay it now.

"It's alright." He soothes.

"The claws only nicked me, see? Scratches. Nothing more, atto."

The injuries are minor - the ends of his hair crisped as he rolled, a slash across his shoulder that he wasn't quite far enough away to dodge, but shallow, and already the bleeding is slowing.

"And you had to be on the other side, you know that. There weren't enough of us to distract it otherwise."

Maglor will keep him from falling again! And running into things. He gently touches each little scratch Elros has received, and brushes a hand through crisped hair before huffing out another irritated and worried breath.

"I want the lady Galadriel to tend your wounds, if she agrees." Because she's family and he trusts her.

A helpless little shrug and he gently embraces the other. "We will have to work on your agility, yonya."

"It will heal on it's own." Elros points out mildly, shifting armor aside so that Maglor can get at it to wash and bandage properly.

"But I don't mind asking her either."

He laughs.

"My agility is fine - I'm only mortal now, remember."

"I do not care," he grumbles, even as he diligently tends to each wound, however small and insignificant it might appear. This is one of his children!

But slowly the fear will settle as Elros keeps talking to him, moving, and showing he's alright. So Maglor manages a wane smile.

"Thank you. I am far from a healer, Elros. I have done what little I can though.

"Ah! You may be mortal now, but you can improve!"

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad he's not a baby!

Elros pats his arm, trying not to move too much and upset the bandages.

"You know enough battlefield medicine to be able to tell how minor this is! Even for one of your human soldiers, long ago! I'll be fine. And I'll speak to aunt Galadriel, if it makes you feel better. Alright?"

He snorts.

"You just like sending me to Maedhros to do drills."

Forever his baby!

And he loves Elros all the more for calming him down. Maglor leans in to brush a gentle kiss to his temple.

"It will make me feel much better if you do. I know you are fine, but Elros...I do not like you getting hurt, however minor." But he also knows he can't stop his head-strong son from going out and fighting.

...Ok that remark earns a sudden grin.

"...I cannot deny that."

Ugh, he's NINETY not a baby!

Elros smiles at the affection.

"Worry wart. Shall I be annoying at him for you then?"

Forever! And ever!

He ruffles Elros' hair gently but playfully.

"Is that not one of your many talents, yonya?"

SIGH

"Is there anything in particular I should be annoying about?" He grins.

He glances once more at the dragon behind him before tugging Elros away, and looking towards the others to see their progress.

But his primary focus is always Elros.

"Hmm...I think you can figure that out yourself." He's trusting you baby, annoy his big brother to the best of your skill!

The grin turns wicked.

"As annoying as I want?"

Such a good boy!

Maglor's own smile turns juuust about as wicked. Elros is also a very bad influence.

"I'll tell you an extra story tonight if you do," he promises.

He does his level best!

"I will hold you to that!" He promises in return

( closed ) a royal dragon hunt.

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