Life as a Dragon (LOTR)

Please see the Creator's Thoughts section at the end of the chapter. 

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"Do you know how dragons were created?"

I did. Not from knowledge of my previous life, since Tolkien never talked about it, but due to the stories my mother told me growing up. The genuine curiosity in her eyes let me know it was an innocent question, even though it felt sensitive.

"Well… I do, but it's not exciting or pleasant, " I sighed.

"Please tell me, PLEASE," she practically begged me.

I think my teacher had become so good at Magic due to one trait that set her apart from all other elves in its intensity; curiosity. I guess if any elf has an intense emotion, they would become greater than all the others due to sheer drive.

Smiling to myself I decide to indulge my cute teacher.

"When Morgoth realized that the Orcs would not be enough to defeat the forces of Valinor and Middle Earth, he sought to create more powerful weapons through the corruption or crossbreeding of beasts." I paused here as I watched Alvaerelle staring at me with rapt attention.

The five years we studied together were the best part of my new life. Sure, it was tense at first, but as time went on and we got used to each other's nuances, that same attraction I first felt when I saw her started surfacing more and more.

I need to learn shapeshifting.

This thought had been popping up in my mind more and more lately.

"Many of his works failed as either the corruption consumed the creature's essence, destroying it, or it went mad and could not be controlled. Weapons have to be at least able to follow orders."

When she told this story, my mom had looked off into the Northern Wastes. The far-off look in her eyes had told me, at the time, that she had been reliving memories. Those memories were probably best left forgotten.

"After many tries, he finally succeeded when he mixed serpent essence with a balrog's. From there, the first dragons were born. The only one to survive the first batch of hatchlings was Glaurung, called the 'Father of Dragons.' He was wingless, fire-breathing, and, most importantly, sentient. Glaurung could talk, and he could think. After the first success, Morgoth figured out the keys and started mass-creating his weapons of war. His greatest creation was Ancalagon the Black. A massive, winged Dragon."

I was not exaggerating the 'massive' part. If you were to show a comparison, Ancalagon was ten times longer than Smaug and thirty times taller.

"And you know the rest," I finished. Looking down, I could see her lying against my leg while I looked out at the mountains around us.

She is processing.

Eventually, she seemed to return to her senses as she looked up at me with a smile.

"The War of the Wrath ended with Morgoth's banishment from Arda. Túrin Turambar, the tragic hero, slew Glaurung, and Eärendil, Lord Elrond's father, slew Ancalagon," she boasted with pride.

Her smile was so beautiful and blinding that I had to look away before my dragon's greed burst forth.

Tragic Hero, indeed. What was even more tragic was that he married his sister unknowingly, who killed herself when she thought he had died, which led to him killing himself. It's kind of like Romeo and Juliet.

Shaking my head to banish such unpleasant thoughts, I look back down at her. Alvaerelle seemed to be humming under her breath while relaxing against me. The melody reminded me of the Hymn from the movies that accompanied the council meeting. Cheerful and serious at the same time.

Elrond loves this song.

That thought sent a pang of uncomfortable jealousy through me. I knew who Elrond would marry, and it was not Alvaerelle, so I had nothing to worry about, but being a dragon sucked sometimes.