Life as a Dragon (LOTR)

See Creator's Thoughts at the bottom of the page.

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I flew through the clear sky in my Dragon form. My injuries had already healed, though there was a slight gap in my armor on the left side where the gash was. I was not Smaug and always made sure to be cognizant of it. Although, it was easier just to kill me in my Elf form.

Anyway, I was flying back to the North to see my Mom after informing Elrond I would be gone for a few weeks. When he asked where I was going, I just said, "Home."

The biting cold of the Northern Wastes was the first thing to greet me, and then the barren green fields turned into barren snow fields. I took a deep breath to take in the biting air.

Slowing my pace, I leisurely approached her cave and even caught some wild deer to gift her. As I approached, the smell of blood invaded my nose, and I froze.

That is Mom's blood!

Dropping the deer carcasses, I tucked my wings in and burst forward to increase my speed. Hurtling towards the cave entrance, I saw tiny people, like ants, moving around the front of her cave.

Roaring in agitation, I crash into the middle of them. Quickly peering into the cave, I see my Mother.

She was breathing heavily and had cuts across her legs. The soft tissue of her wings had been cut to ribbons, and some scales were missing from parts of her. Arrayed around were different ballistae with a giant net weighed down with stones on top of her.

Seeing me, she let out a whimper with her eyes pleading. Something inside me snapped.

Mommy Dragon's POV

My son had always been different. From the moment he hatched, I could see the intelligence and care in his eyes. We dragons, born from Morgoth's darkness, did not know love or kindness. It had taken me hundreds of years of raiding and learning from my prey to understand what it meant to "love" something. Once I had grasped that, the hatred always stewing in my heart seemed to fade, and so I mated with another in exchange for my hoard to have a child.

My baby boy was so beautiful. The only egg in the batch of six to have even a sign of life, I thought he would not make it, but luck was on our side. Born with golden scales, I could tell he inherited his father's fire breath instead of my frost, but that was okay. He was my baby boy.

Watching him grow up was a wealth of experiences, from the first time he flew to the first prey he caught and offered to me. That silly boy was supposed to eat his first prey himself. He was always like that. Gentle, Kind. Maybe because he was born while I desired to love.

My baby would never know the cruelty of our race. He would never experience being thrown from the nest when he could barely fly, abandoned to forage himself without ever being taught to hunt like I was. No, we were a unique family and loved each other more than anything else.

That is why I could only stare in astonishment as my baby boy exerted cruelty like no other on these humans who had come to kill me. My baby boy was angry for the first time.