Stars, hide your fires by Lyra, Independence1776, , Fernstrike, , Raiyana

Chapter 6: Deep desires

rebor.

A new home, a mountain left lonely on a plain, as far from her kin as those who now sheltered within her welcoming bosom.

A home, crafted swiftly, safety sought and found; it would not heal what had been lost, return the joy buried beneath the Three Fathers.

But it would allow them to begin anew, turn idle hands to the pleasure of Craft once more, drawing beauty from stone as they revealed one wonder after another, left by the Maker's hands for them to marvel at in ages to come.

Erebor.

A home to be protected, if it could be, Fjelarún thought, looking at the sleeping face of her great-grand-pebble, protected with all the means at their disposal.

Even the work of a long-dead Elf.

Nodding to herself, she gathered the pieces that had laid spread out in the starlight for the night - my last gift to you, old friend - and put them back in their case.

"You are certain you want me to melt this down, Lady Augur?" the smith she had chosen after years of deliberation asked, scratching at the back of his head as he looked at the bits of metal and wood she was showing him.

Fjelarún smiled.

"It wants to be reforged, Master Smith," she said, "it wants to be wielded in defense against the Flame and the Darkness. That was its purpose, long years before you or me - and that shall be its purpose once more."

She did not have to convince the smith further, shaking his hand as she left, looking back at the pieces of metal gleaming in their case, renewed in a way polish could never have managed by the light of the stars whence it had once come.

May you never be needed, old friend.

May your aim be true if ever you are.

---

hank you.

Thank you, the kindest.

Fjelarún. You remind us of our Song.

We wonder - as we heard the stars and preserved their Songs, do you too now hear our Song and preserve it in you? Do you pour it back into us?

It feels like it - yes, we can feel it. Becoming new even as we arise out of the deeps of Time. We become tight once more, stitched back together, disparate edges beyond reconciliation suddenly finding that they can - yes, they can reunite - they can be strong again - what is broken can be remade, it can, it can! We promise this to you. You will know what we know. We write new lines in our Song now - lines for you to sing. Lines for you to repeat when your hope runs thin.

Thank you, the strongest.

We know our purpose. We know our purpose. We are Dragonsbane. We will fell the calamitous creatures of shadow and flame, of tooth and claw, of rending and breaking, or the dark and the deep. We shall do it when no-other shall.

We await the task.