Gay Dragon Joins the Fellowship of the Ring

Forever or Never by Groffiction

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A young dragonling finds himself sent on a quest to help be a tenth walker in the Fellowship. While they travel, he falls for a certain elf prince. Through their love and trials can the War of the Ring be successful? M/M slash, Legolas/OC

So, it's just like all of those other canon-crushing 10-walker fics, except the 10th walk is a gay dragon. What a twist!

Points to anyone who can find/draw a picture of a gay dragon.

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Author's Notes/Warnings: Just as fair warning, this is my very first LOTR fanfiction, so the characters MIGHT be a little OOC, but I will do my best to keep them in character. Also, this is a SLASH fic, meaning eventual boy on boy love. Full list of warnings: M/M Slash, eventual sex, mentions of previous abuse and torture, angst, violence, mpreg waaaayyy down the road, gore, and mayhem.

I'd launch into a rant right now, but you've heard them all.

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Chapter One: The Short End of the Stick

Whose stick is short now?

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"You want me to what?" I said, a dumb –struck expression plastered all over my face, I imagine.

"That's right, you heard me," the young woman said. "Get. Out. Of. My. Fandom."

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My father nodded slowly with a stern glower, one that could easily petrify a hundred Orcs or more. Either way it went, my father was not happy with me questioning his words. But I couldn't help it.

I mean, seriously, who wouldn't question a parent if they suddenly… out of the blue stated that their youngest son had to go on some insane quest, joining a Fellowship of some sort of ring. What was up with that? Clearly my father was barking mad, wanting me to go all the way to Rivendell… which is farther from us than the north pole, mind you, and go incognito… meaning I won't be able to be in my dragon form unless one of the Fellowship is on death's door.

How ridiculous is that?

Extremely. You see, no one knew about the Fellowship of the Ring except the members of it, and a handful of people in Rivendell. That was the point. The enemy might have an inkling that Elrond was hiding the One Ring, but he never thought Elrond would decide that it should be destroyed. The whole point of the 9 walkers was stealth. Then there was this sacred symmetry idea: 9 evil riders vs. 9 good walkers. The premise of your story is moot. A non-starter. You've failed at LotR fanfiction at the first plot point.

No wait, you failed twice. Remember Smaug? He was the last dragon left in Middle-earth. He is dead. Dragons were made by Morgoth by twisting the form of snakes and lizards into monster, then putting lesser evil Maiar inside them. Thus they have no families, no ability to make their own families. These Maiar are so weak and dependent on the bodies given them, they could never shape-shift. Remember how weak Saruman was when his body was destroyed? The Valar blew him away, all the way from Valinor. That's what happens when a weak Maia is stripped of its body. It becomes nothing more than a shadow, and it needs the help of someone stronger to give it strength and a new body to come back (like Gandalf the White).

/rant

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Now, I don't mind going on adventures, or hunting, or being a warrior if I have to. But this… this was just ludicrous! I hesitantly smiled at my father, making things worse, of course. "You… you're joking, right?"

"I wish I was." The tall, seemingly invincible dragon leader that was my father, said.

I wish you were too.

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I really did not like what he said.

"Ok… look, father… I know I am sort of a loser, and do incredibly stupid things, but what have I done to cause you to order me on an insane quest?" I tried to take the 'pity me' route.

It didn't work. But I couldn't help but try. A dragon's desperate sometimes. And this was one of those times.

My father sighed, and for a moment I thought he looked his age for once. All birth dragons have an ageless quality that rivaled the elves. Of course, I have never seen an elf, but that is what everyone who has seen them, say. Now my great and wonderful father seemed very tired and aged. It was as if all of the light had gone out of his eyes.

Get that? We're all speshul 'n shit.

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And that, my friends, is what told me that my father was indeed, not happy about this one bit. Did that help lessen my horror? No.

Not at all.

Ok, maybe a little.

But still! I was about ready to panic when my father said, "It's not like I have a choice in the matter. The speaking stone said that if the son of the dragon king that has not reached maturity does not gain it in the quest for the destruction of the Ring of Power, then all the world would fall into shadow."

Wait, "speaking stone"? That's a Palantir, right? That means his father is probably under the control of Sauron, just like the other two Palantir users - Saruman and Denethor - are. This means that the quest is already doomed to fail, even before the Council of Elrond - which was planned the day before - could take place. So, his mission is to join the Fellowship and make certain that it will fail.

That'd totally get you into Legolas' pants.

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I gaped at him. "The speaking stone told you this?"

"Yes, lad, I am afraid it did. So, you will have to go on this quest. And in so doing, grow up essentially. I do not have to tell you what might happen if you fail." My father said softly.

"You'll be grounded. For a week."

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"Yes, yes… I gathered that by all of the doomsday speaking. Now that I am thoroughly scared out of my wits, I will just go pack." Then I arched an eyebrow. "Does mother know?"

"Yes, which is why I have a migraine about the size of the Lonely Mountain." My father groaned, rubbing his temples.

Lawl all women a screaming bitches lawl

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I would have felt sympathy for my father if I was not being put on some mundane asinine quest to Mordor of all places with a group of people who might indeed kill me if they ever found out about my true lineage. Dragons and the two legged folk of Middle Earth did NOT get along, let me tell you.

Maybe it was the time that a dragon smashed an entire mountain range off the maps. Jus' sayin'.

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Perhaps it was a good thing that us 'birth' dragons could keep human-elf-like forms for long periods of time. Still, I was used to shifting into my dragon form whenever I felt like it! Restraining my natural instincts would be very hard to do.

Yeah, I don't think that's it.

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But, as I looked at the tired and miserable form of my father, I sighed in resignation. What was done was done. And that is all there is to it. The speaking stone gave me the short end of the stick. I was the youngest son of the king of the dragons, and I am the only one out of my father's brood that has not yet taken the rights of adulthood. I am still a dragonling, even though I could be deemed an adult by human standards.

From what I have read about the two legged earth-horders, their young matured at as early as the age of fifteen or sixteen.

Guess the author's age!

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I was around that age… give or take a few thousand years. Despite all of that, I still had not sought out the rights of adulthood. There were many reasons why… but the easiest to explain was that I was lazy. Pure and simple. And adult dragons had way too much responsibility… and were so drab and dull.

What it really needs is so more glitter. My uncle Smaug was on the right track. If only he'd gone with that fabulous extra gem, he'd have been alright.

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All they did was sit around and gripe amongst themselves about how terrible their lives were, all the while protecting their young and the whole of Withered Heath. It was quite sad really, watching them gripe their lives away.

... he says, whining.

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Unfortunately, their snide temperament seems to have rubbed off on me as well.

Maybe it was a GOOD thing that I would be leaving my home, possibly never to return again. It would be nice to get away from the boringness of home for a while. But still… a quest like this one was a bit much on the adventure scale.

Finding myself a bit put out, I hurriedly packed what I would need for the long trip. Luckily for me, I suppose, I was trained at an early age how to live off the land and how to fight. Being the youngest son of the king of the dragons had it's perks along with it's annoying responsibilities. I was trained as a future prospect to the throne, even though I had forty five brothers and sisters that were older than me.

Where in Middle-earth do you find enough meat to keep 45 dragons alive?

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But, as the saying goes for all of us dragons, the throne is only earned, not given to an heir just because he is the oldest. I never really thought about assuming the throne of the dragons. Yes, I despised half of the rules that were put into place in our kingdom, but hell, every kingdom has those. I, for one, think that the rule about coloring rocks to look like eggs being forbidden is quite frankly, stupid. If mothers did not know what their eggs looked like, then where would us dragons be today?

Why are you talking about this? WHY?

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It's not like I will ever have to be an egg bearer.

*looks at the author note* I'd say you're most likely wrong about that.

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I am one of the royals, so I don't have the ability to lay eggs. Yes, males can lay eggs too.

Wait, what? Is this like one of those species of frogs that change gender based on the gender balance of the population? I smell plot convenience.

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They just don't do so unless there are no females around. Survival of the species and all that nonsense. Since I am a birth dragon, meaning I was born from a female and not an egg, I will have the ability to have children the mammal way.

I think I know what the author was doing while writing this. OH yeah, a world with nothing hunky men getting it on... YES!

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Sounds rather disturbing, if you ask me.

Agreed. People should have more respect for the world Tolkien spent his life creating.

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A bit later, I stood atop a cliff looking over the Grey Mountains to my right. It was nearly sundown, and I was to leave at the butt-crack of dawn the next morning. I wasn't feeling good about this prospective journey at all, but it wasn't like I had a choice.

If the speaking stone said that you had to do something, you did it without question. It was not a good thing to ignore the wise words of the ancient globe. My father had been able to rule the dragons peacefully for thousands of years once he took up that gift from the Maia… the ancient wizards.

You don't know what Maiar are, do you?

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The next morning, my eldest brother, Arel, met me before I left. He was a proud, strong fire dragon, who had the hair of the setting sun. I had envied those lustrous locks for near a thousand years before giving up on my hair color. It was black… and would be black until the end of time. I had to deal with it.

Yes, he envies his brother flaming hair. Subtle.

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My brother gifted me a fiery blade crafted by his own hands in the pits of one of our most active volcanoes. It was a black blade, but in battle would turn fiery red hot when encountering evil. I gripped the hilt and smiled. It truly was a magnificent sword, and would serve me well. My mother then came up and gave me a gift of her own making.

"Give this to someone you deem as special…. And he or she will not befall of any harm while wearing it." As she placed the silver choker around my neck, I felt more protected than ever before.

There's more to come. Like this gem:

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"So, Lord Elrond's mind was not cheated by some spell. You are a prince of dragons." The ellon said softly, his voice making me melt into an orgasmic puddle of goo.

Novaer!

I_Lam_Edhellen wrote:

Points to anyone who can find/draw a picture of a gay dragon.

Hows about a whole cartoon?



Okay, no proof that he's actually gay, but he is wonderfully camp!

The "tenth walker" fics are still alive and kicking, I see.

At least the OC is no daughter of Elrond, so that's got to count for something.

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What it really needs is so more glitter. My uncle Smaug was on the right track. If only he'd gone with that fabulous extra gem, he'd have been alright.

I just snorted hot tea up my nose. I hope you're happy.

About the age thing, wouldn't humans of around 14-16 be considered mature? It's been a long time since I read the books but knowing about history most people were considered adults back in the day once they'd hit puberty.

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wanting me to go all the way to Rivendell… which is farther from us than the north pole, mind you

Does Middle Earth have a north pole? Is Middle Earth set on Earth? Remind me.

I_Lam_Edhellen wrote:

Points to anyone who can find/draw a picture of a gay dragon.

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WD40 wrote:

I_Lam_Edhellen wrote:

Points to anyone who can find/draw a picture of a gay dragon.

Hows about a whole cartoon?



Okay, no proof that he's actually gay, but he is wonderfully camp!

You win a piece of the internet!

bleachedblackcat wrote:

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What it really needs is so more glitter. My uncle Smaug was on the right track. If only he'd gone with that fabulous extra gem, he'd have been alright.

I just snorted hot tea up my nose. I hope you're happy.

Exceedingly.

bleachedblackcat wrote:

About the age thing, wouldn't humans of around 14-16 be considered mature? It's been a long time since I read the books but knowing about history most people were considered adults back in the day once they'd hit puberty.

Elrond didn't consider Aragorn mature enough to handle his true name and family history until Aragorn was 20. Generally speaking of ðe olde daies, I think that boys are considered men much later in life than girls into women. The figures 14-16 make sense for women, but not men.

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At about mid-morning I decided that my stomach was going to gnaw its way out of my belly if I didn't feed it soon. Sometimes I hate having a healthy appetite. It makes me feel like a glutton, wanting food almost every thirty minutes. Still, I was proud of myself for getting this far into the morning before I chanced to stop and chomp on some fresh meat.

You were just saying something about packing jerky, what happened to it?

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I spotted the Great River forking out from the western most clusters of mountains. I circled around a bit, gauging whether or not if it would be a stupid idea to land near it. I wasn't an idiot by any means. Lazy, yes… possibly even ignorant, but not stupid. I didn't want to land somewhere and suddenly get attacked by elves or other two legged-folk. I would stay upon the mountain if it weren't for the fact that food was sparse on their craggy surfaces. The best I'd find this far north would be large snow white bears or mountain goats.

Yup. Just what the Fellowship needs: a lazy, hungry dragon.

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And I didn't like felling bears. They were so soft and furry, and that stuff gave me stomach problems. Mountain goats had very little meat on them, so were very unappetizing to most dragons. Unless you were my sister, Alatrasie, who had the strangest cravings when she was pregnant.

Lawl pregnancy is funny!

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Back home we had an outcropping of wild mountain lions and sheep. The sheep were easy hunting, but the lions were more of a challenge. I didn't like hunting lions or sheep, I figured the lions were majestic animals, and had long ago decided that sheep were too stupid to be a challenge. I'd rather hunt Orcs. But they tasted worse than mutton wasting away in the sun after five years of rot.

You just spent four paragraphs discussing with yourself what to have for dinner.

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No… what I wanted was a deer. A freshly felled full grown buck would satisfy me until luncheon. But did I want to risk landing near the river, with the civilizations of two legged-folk so close by?

Correction: five paragraphs, and the word "luncheon".

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Huffing a sigh, I circled some more, scanning the whole territory for any sign of elves or humans. Seeing none, I decided to land near the base of the southern-most spire. As I landed, I quickly transformed into my human-elf-like form, not wanting to be killed at the first spotting from two legged-folk. A dragon lived for thousands of years because they used their brains. Those who didn't were easily killed off.

I like how he can't decide whether is form is human or elven.

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So, when my brothers and I hunted, we usually did it by foot if we were on the borders of our lands. That way we did not draw attention to ourselves, and kept our lands safer. Of course, when hunting Orcs, it was totally different. Those foolish creatures we hunted through our great valleys. The only time they were on the border was near the south east, where it was alright to dwell in the forms of our dragon ancestry, for elves did not dwell there as much as the south west.

I'm trying to triangulate where the homeland of the dragons is, but I'm coming up with nothing. There aren't very many Elves left in Middle-earth. the wars killed a lot of them off, and most of them headed off to Valinor. All that's left are the few at Mithlond, the handful in Imladris, and those in Mirkwood and Lothlórien.

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My ears perked at the sound of the running falls, right off the face of the mountain. It was a dull roar to my sensitive ears, and yet I relished the calming sound. I quickly made my way to the riverbank, giving up on the prospect of any deer nearby. Of course, my landing would have spooked even the bravest of animals, save for the woodland elves or the possible crazed human.

I wasn't one for fish usually, for I was a picky eater. But a lad had to eat what was given to him, so I set down my pack and withdrew an extendable scythe. I slid it to full extension, hearing it click and snap in place thrice before I knew it was ready to go. This scythe I held dear, since it was the very first weapon I ever crafted by myself.

You're fishing... with a scythe?

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Dragons are known to be master craftsman, or at least they are known that way to our people, so it was expected of all of the king's children to make some sort of weapon. I made the scythe with my bare hands. The metal that I chose as the scythe blade was a dark metal only formed in the ores of our mountains. It was thick, and would never rust.

I suppose you wouldn't have to build a forge if you could breathe fire. Anywho... Speshul Magic Weapon of Awesome Non-rustingness, Check!

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I rubbed the long staff of the scythe lovingly before I stood,

Whoa, no need to go into that much detail!

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waded into the cool waters of the Great River,

I'm now recalling something about Smaug and his hatred of water. Seems like there was a good reason for it... oh yeah! He's a fire-breathing dragon.

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Though I hunted, I kept an eye out for dangers. It would not due for a dragon to be off his guard, just because his stomach was growling louder than a fiery roar.

I struck quickly and with precision, coming up empty a few unlucky times. By the time I finally caught a few good sized fish, the sun was beating down more on my back. If I didn't find some shade soon, I'd be burned to a crisp.

You're a dragon for pity's sake! Man up!

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While in dragon form, I was not vulnerable to the sun's rays. But in my human-elf-like form, I was utterly defenseless to the elements and burned easily. It was bloody annoying, let me tell you.

You're bloody annoying, let me tell you.

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And of all the things to forget on my journey, I had forgotten to snatch up the sun cream.

I want to strangle this character. Grab him by his woobie blue neck, tie it in a bow, and display the carcass on my wall with a fierce expression pasted on his face to impress my friends.

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Salve was good for aches and pains, but did not soothe burns of any kind. I grimaced at the catch, but ignored my revulsion. Survival was a must, and my mission would not be served if I starved myself.

Oh god just SHUT UP ALREADY.

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I figured the best way to eat the nasty things was to barbecue them. Literally. However, I had to avoid shifting into my dragon form unless I was going to leave the area permanently.

So, with resignation I set up a small camp in the shade of some large rocks. I have to admit, cooked fish smells way better than it tastes. As I waited for the fish to cook, I looked over the old map my father had given to me that very morning. It gave me a direct route in which to travel, and the best thing for me to do was follow it. As I ate, I suddenly caught sent of something foul.

Sorry, that was me and my tear-spray. I'm trying to run you out of my fandom.

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I wrinkled my nose, suddenly very disinterested in my food.

What was that god-awful stench?

I heard something splash at the riverbank not far away from my seclusion. Scowling, I put out the small fire, threw the remains of the fish into the small brush for rodents to feast upon, and crawled over to peer over a great white boulder.

I saw a small group of goblins and Orcs catching fish and devouring them whole. Feeling like I was going to hurl into the nearest bush, I quickly drew my bow and arrows.

And all of that talk about a scythe? Isn't that where it would actually be helpful?

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I could not safely take off with several of those THINGS skulking about.

The Orcs went down easily enough, not knowing what hit them, but the goblins seemed to get the hint and raced off in the other direction, towards Mount Gundabad.

Mt. What?

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As I waited and rested, I mulled over my cover story to tell Lord Elrond. It wouldn't be beneficial to just walk to their boundaries and bellow out, "Yo! I need to see Elrond because I'm a dragon and needs to go on the quest of the Ring." Yea, that would go over well.

I want to see that, actually. I wonder how a dragon would like being drowned in a certain noisy river?

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I needed to keep my lineage secret, and my father had suggested that I go in the guise of a wandering wizard or mage from the north, who had heard about all the races meeting in Rivendell to help destroy the ring. It would be plausible enough, I guess. But what about the Maia, Gandalf? The dragons of Withered Heath knew all about him. He was a very cunning and wise wizard.

I think I figured it out. His dad was like "46 children is just too many. How can I get rid of a few?"

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Would he see through my disguise if I were to pawn off as a wizard or a mage?

Yes. And showing up right after the Ring-wraiths wouldn't help your situation either.

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I certainly couldn't pass off as an elf. I probably looked like one in my human-elf-like form, but from what I had heard, most elves knew how to recognize each and every one of their kin. So, it would do well not to pass off as one.

And my pointed ears were too much of a sign that I was NOT a human. As I pondered this, the night went on, and the storm to the south raged on.

So, do what your uncle Smaug did. Find a nice cave, fill it with treasure, and eat everyone who tries to take it from you.

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For hours upon LONG, painful, DRAGGING, hours, I struggled through the storm. Though the ice and snow did not harm my scales, or my body in any way, it was maddening trying to breathe and fly at the same time with all of that hitting me.

I briefly thought of what my father would have said to me in this sort of situation.

"You should have taken the time to go around the storm, instead of through it." He would have said.

But that requires logic and thinking. Those are for Human-elfs, not lazy dragons!

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I swerved as I nearly slammed right into a cliff face. Wonderful.

you missed! How could you miss? It was three feet in front of you!

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I had had no idea I had been traveling so low to the ground. I tried to lift myself up higher, and managed to stay stable until a huge gust of wind succeeded in flinging me into a rock ledge. I barely connected with it, but I did injure my arm, trying to swerve from it.

Wincing at the sting in my forearm, I roared in frustration. Much good it did me, besides getting a huge mouthful of ice and snow. Getting more upset by the minute, I wondered if I should use my flame. But that would be utterly useless in a snowstorm. It was cold fire… meaning it fried the victim on the inside, but froze them on the outside.

A handy gift if you wanted fried meat iced over for the winter.

And then I was through it! Taking a deep breath of clear air, I didn't watch where I was going. Slamming into another rock face, this time I lost balance and fell.

The last thing I remembered was transforming into my human-elf-form, and landing in the middle of a waterfall.

Darkness surrounded me.

Die! Die you wind-bag of whining! And take this fanfic with you!

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As I drifted through dreams and sleep, I heard soft music being sung nearby. It seemed so soothing, that I wanted to open my eyes and see who was making such lovely music. My homeland always had bards and bands playing, and even I played an instrument similar to a flute. I had brought it with me….

Where was I?

I looked up and saw a dark figure, sitting on a throne, playing a miniscule violin. "Damn," he muttered. "Yet another one of my minions banished to the Void."

The End

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As memories tumbled through my head like boulders on a landslide, I tried to open my eyes. Successfully pulling back the sleep from my mind, I managed to blink in the bright light of morning. I was in a strange, but light and airy room with arches. The bed that I lay on was the softest I had ever felt, and though I wanted to bask in it's warmth, I knew that I needed to find out what was going on.

I heard a soft ray of voices outside the open doorway. Blinking again, I spotted two tall, slender men talking to eachother in a soft and melodious language.

Elvish.

Oh, I know what they're saying!

Elf1: Rhaich! Pedo an Elrond, i amlug echuiant! (Curses! Tell Elrond the dragon awoke!)

Elf2: Glorfindel pôl de ndaged. De phedithon an Glorfindel? (Glorfindel could kill it. Shall I tell Glorfindel?)

Elf1: A Mithrandir! Boe i goth hen fîr! (And Gandalf! The enemy must die!)

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They were elves. The high arched delicate eyebrows… the fey tipped ears… long, silky hair, spoke of their nobleness. Curiously, I tried to sit up, finding that my arm was bound to my chest in a sling. I was bare from the waist up, though that did not really bother me. What bothered me was that my side was bandaged up.

Strange. I never remembered sustaining an injury like that. Then I remembered. It must have been when I smacked into the cliff wall before falling into that waterfall.

I hoped that I had not injured myself too badly, for I needed to be fit for travelling alongside the Fellowship.

Guess you can't go. The End!

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I guess my awakening had not been unheard by the elves, for both stopped speaking and entered the room.

With daggers at the ready.

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The one who reached me first was tall, brown haired, dark eyed, and older. He looked about the same age as my father, but who could tell with an elf? My father only had wrinkles on his brow and around his lips, that had been put there from the worries of kingship. And if my father was over ten thousand years old… how old was this elf?

I knew that elves, like dragons, were immortal.

My thoughts were taken away from me as the tall man said softly in Westron, "So, you have awakened, young dragon prince Locien. Welcome to the House of Elrond, in Rivendell. We have been expecting you."

My eyes widened in shock and I must confess that I promptly passed out.

But... but... this breaks logic... *faints*

*wakes up long enough to hit the "send" button, then faints again.*

Novaer!

I've figured it out! Dragon's daddy sent him off onto this trip in hopes that his loser of a son would kill himself. If it hadn't of been for those damned elves the plan would have worked!

Wait, so he needs to eat something big like a deer every thirty minutes, but he thought fish would satisfy him?

All the information about his food requirements is rambling and hard to understand.

Silly Notanoni, you can't expect logic from a badfic.

All those people inserting uber-powerful characters into the fellowship are completely missing the point. The more powerful you are, the more of a liability you become to the Fellowship, because the temptation of taking the ring for yourself will be greater.

Exodia's Right Leg wrote:

All those people inserting uber-powerful characters into the fellowship are completely missing the point. The more powerful you are, the more of a liability you become to the Fellowship, because the temptation of taking the ring for yourself will be greater.

I keep telling them that, and they keep ignoring me. They figure that their character is too pure of heart to ever want to take the ring for themselves. Samwise was too pure of heart to take the ring for himself. Someone who has worked all their life to gain greater power, through muscle, money, or magic, is going to suffer a fatal attraction to the One Ring. The One Ring's in is ambition. If you read the excerpts where it's tempting each of the characters, it always presents them with the opportunity to achieve greatness beyond their power. Samwise was near invulnerable to it because he didn't have ambitions beyond what he had already achieved (being an excellent gardener). You'd have to be like Samwise Gamgee to be pure of heart in a way that the One Ring couldn't manipulate you. Most fangirls find Samwise to be too much of a simpleton to want to form their characters after him.

In a way, this whiny, lazy, idiotic "dragon" would be quite safe near the One Ring, because his life-goal seems to be taking up space. Except, he suddenly wants something very much, as you will see in this travesty of a chapter. That's all the One Ring needs.

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Chapter 3: The Meeting of the Council

Movie plagiarism in 3... 2...

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Feeling more like myself than the past few days, I stood overlooking the vast valley that was Imladris, or more commonly known as Rivendell. I had healed last night completely of my injuries bestowed upon me by my treacherous collision with that very unforgiving cliff.

How was your collision treacherous? You're the one who ran into it!

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I had finally gotten over my shock of finding out that Lord Elrond had known all along about me coming to see him. He said he had foreseen that the great birth dragons of old would send a warrior prince to help turn the tide of the upcoming war with Sauron.

When they aren't searching for large game to eat.

Funny, these dragons of old aren't what they were described as in The Silmarillion.

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It sure as hell did NOT explain how he knew my name, or that he was so pleasant to me. From what I had been taught for thousands of years was that no two legged folk liked dragons. At all. He knew I was suspicious, especially since he knew my name already. I mean, that was friggin' scary! To ease my mind, the elf lord had stated that sometimes he knew the names of people before they came to his lands.

Bullshit.

Even the characters are aware of the plot holes they are walking through.

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I figured that my father had sent a message somehow and figured it'd do me good to keep all of this secrecy crap.

What secrecy? I see no discretion being used at all in this whole Quest idea. Everyone with a telepathic rock sure knows, and that means the enemy knows too. Again, how was there any secrecy in this at all?

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But even that sounded ludicrous. My father would not have been able to send something faster than a dragon as a messenger. Even carrier birds had trouble getting through the high mountains.

Ludicrous is right. Elrond doesn't have a Palantir.

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But, I guessed that I might as well trust the elf lord. He had seemed unbelievably kind and honest with me… hell, the ellon had even helped heal my wounds. From what I was told upon waking the SECOND time, was that I had been seen by ALL of Imladris, in my dragon glory, smacking head on into that cliff and falling to my doom into one of their lovely waterfalls.

One of? There's more than one?

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Beautiful.

I was incredibly honored, of course, that one very kind ellon had pulled me out of the riverbed. I felt really bad, because I must have scared so many elves, but Elrond assured me that they were expecting a fall in.

Because prophesy is that exact. It's not like it would ever be in the form of cryptic dreams or anything.

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Now, that was pretty embarrassing, if you ask me.

Agreed. Die in shame.

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To have someone predict my arrival down to the transforming in mid-air, yea, that was not so fun to think about. However, the elves were very polite and did not make my shame larger than it was already. I figured they could have made fun of me if they so chose, but then again, they might have thought that poking a dragon when he was down was just setting themselves up for crunchy-ness and barbecuing.

This! This is why they would have killed it on sight! Or, is the author expecting the elves to feel sorry for the dunce of the dragons, so they just let it live and pray it doesn't burn the ravine into nothing but ashes and rock?

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I had been told as a dragonling that the elves were very wise, if misguided creatures. Of course dragons think themselves better and superior to everything living on the planet, so they believe that ANYONE is misguided. However, elves believe that way essentially, so I think EVERYONE on the planet is misguided.

Shut up. This is getting really annoying. You are not wise. This is not deep. You are a teenager filling the internet with useless rambling. SHUT UP.

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I totally include myself in that statement.

Totally. Dude. This so sounds like someone in Middle-earth speaking. You kn tell by all the RAD vocab, dawg.

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I sighed softly as I felt the calming breeze flit through my long tresses.

He has "tresses".

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I had been delighted to know that the elves love cleanliness almost religiously, and had baths everywhere. I had finally been able to take a long bath in one of their spring pools. It had felt so good to scrub the last few days away from my pale skin.

"The last few days" means that he took a bath while traveling. Who loves cleanliness almost religiously?

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Despite being out in the sun for the last few days, my skin had retained its ivory color, and was not burned at all. About the only thing marring my skin was the fading discolored bruises on my arm and side. I was glad that the tattoos on my arm and lower back were still shimmering brilliantly a navy color.

Careful there authoress, don't rub yourself raw.

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If they had faded to black, then I would have been worried. A dragon's power was discerned by the magical tattoo markings on their body and in their eyes. If their tattoos and eye pigments lost their color, then that dragon would be completely defenseless and unable to transform.

Sounds like a great time to kill 'em, if you ask me.

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I was still healthy and my power was completely restored. Even my eyes showed a more vibrant blue than normal. I briefly wondered if it had something to do with the healing waters of the pools.

"Healing waters"? Someone doesn't know about Elrond's ring of power!

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Despite all of those thoughts, I turned my attention to the present. I was now dressed in my own clothing, though the elves had been gracious enough to lend me their own for a time. My clothes consisted of what I almost always wore in my human-elf-like form: a sleeveless black v-neck tunic, a matching black pair of soft leather pants, a belt made out of my own shedding scales, black comfortable boots, my amulet, which was resting on my chest, the silver collar, and a few dangling silver earrings.

The elves had been fascinated by my long ears along with the fact that I had them both pierced. Now that I look at some of the elven men, I noted that indeed, their ears were small compared to mine. Mine peaked out of my waist length black hair a few inches, and were then tipped as most fey creatures.

Down girl! You'll hurt yourself!

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My hair color was also an oddity to them. None of the elves had black hair. Each one had either various shades of blond, brown, or reddish hair.

No black hair? What about Elrond and Arwen? What about most of the Noldor? Even some Teleri are black haired!

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I sighed softly and turned to spy at some elleth who were giggling behind their hands and looking me over like a piece of meat.

Like the authoress is doing right now. She has fanart done of you in crayon, BTW. Be careful of that one.

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Blushing, I turned away and made my way to where the Council was supposed to be held.

Dragons, even lazy, stupid dragons, aren't invited.

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I never have fancied females of any kind, my eyes turning to males more often than not, but those elvish women made me feel way too awkward. Lady Arwen was an exception, for her heart was definitely spoken for.

Yeah, it's not a good idea to hit on Aragorn's girl.

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I did not have to ask in order to figure that one out. On my first day here, she had spent a while tending me, but her eyes tended to drift to the west dreamily. Then, two days ago, she had left us rather suddenly, riding out on a magnificent steed into the woods.

Elrond had then spoken to me of the Fellowship… or what it was right now. It consisted as of now, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Gandalf the Grey, and four hobbits. One hobbit carried in his possession the Ring of Power. I shivered at the thought that such a small, innocent lad would have to carry such a burden, even if it was for a short while.

Even in the movies, the Fellowship and its quest wasn't planned until the end of the Council. THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE YOU DOLT.

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Now, Frodo and the others were on the mend, though his wound from the Morgul blade would not ever fully heal. I had not met with the others of the Fellowship as of yet. I had left them alone to rest and let their troubles go away for a while.

Too soon we would have a new Fellowship… one with me in it.

Not if I can help it. I'm going to sic Glorfindel on you. He killed a Balrog, and died in the process. He came back from the dead, surely just to kill a dragon too.

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As I stepped into the circle of what was going to be the place of the Council meeting not long from now, I felt a slight chill go up and down my spine. It wasn't unpleasant… more like a tingling sensation that made my toes want to curl.

Curious, I turned to look upon the person who was watching me now.

That tingle in the teenage girl hormones rushing through your veins. Try not to faint.

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There before me was a handsome elf.

Ok… a drop dead GORGEOUS elf.

Great idea! Drop dead.

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He had long blond hair, almost golden in color, his eyes were a vivid blue, his skin was fair, but darker than mine, and he was dressed in fine robes. I almost felt like drooling like some starved wretch seeing the only meal he'd seen in over five years.

Attractive. I'm sure he'll find this description tasteful and enticing.

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His eyes took in my form, and he arched one of those delicate eyebrows. I wondered if he had any idea who I was, or if Elrond had told him anything at all.

"So, Lord Elrond's mind was not cheated by some spell. You are a prince of dragons." The ellon said softly, his voice making me melt into an orgasmic puddle of goo.

Ew! Don't step in it folks, it'll make you inexplicably lazy and prone to long monologues about mundane tasks!

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Oh God, my brain was totally going into melt down. His voice was like ecstasy breathing on my starving face. I mentally shook myself. I was NOT going to go all fuck-bunny on some unknown elf just because I was a little horned out.

NORO LIM LEGOLAS! NORO LIM!

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It would totally be worth it. My inner voice said teasingly.

Shut the fuck up. I snarled at it and pushed it into a chained room, bolting the door shut.

You should lock yourself in that room while you're at it.

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I found my voice and was very thankful that it was not unsteady, "It's not like I was wanting to be found out. But unfortunately I managed to screw myself over by shifting in the middle of Imladris." Good lord, act all cocky and stupid why don't you? I chastised myself before trying again, "Forgive my attitude. I just… am not used to elves being so friendly to one of my kind."

"Oh, I completely understand." The ellon smiled slightly, "We have not had pleasant dealings with the birth dragons in over two ages."

In over two ages... how about: Ever since Morgoth created the foul beasts, they have been tormenting and destroying the world that we hold so dear? Now they're tormenting us with their blandness and their intrusion into a beloved story.

By the way, this is what I was talking about earlier. This is what the Ring would grasp and use against the Fellowship. This fool is weak-minded and easily enslaved by the Ring by his vanity and his lust for another. This is why Elrond would NEVER put two people with a romantic interest together with the One Ring. It's begging the mission to fail.

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As I mulled over this, the hobbit next to me asked, "What sort of creature are you?"

The phrase could have been taken as rude, but the way he said it was not. He was truly curious, and I simply smiled, showing two sets of fangs. I gather he wasn't used to seeing that, and he gripped his pants legs a bit in agitation. I had to hand it to him, he was one brave soul.

"I am a dragon prince from Withered Heath. Locien, at your service." I saw no point of keeping my secret hidden any longer since the dragon was practically out of the bag, so to speak.

Frodo's eyes widened and he said, "Dragon? But, I had no idea that they could…."

"Keep a two legged form?" I supplanted, trying to be friendly.

"Yes." Frodo said, trying hard not to stare.

"Mister Locien, if you don't mind me asking, what is your relation to Smaug? He tried to eat my uncle."

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He was cute for a Halfling, but I liked my men tall and totally mature. I hated having to deal with whiney boys. I wanted to be the one whining, so it made sense to me that no one else should be whining.

You don't say? By the way, Frodo's an adult. His coming of age was the same time that Bilbo turned Eleventy-one.

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Rather ironic, but that's the way my world goes round. Deal with it.

No.

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"Most of us dragons can't keep a two legged form for long periods of time. It's only the royals that can stay human for however long it is needed." I explained, before reaching up to finger my amulet.

"Is that something important to you?" Frodo asked, and I knew all too well what he was thinking.

At least my amulet was not a power hungry evil object bent on destroying the world and anything in it. I nodded, "Yes. It's a farewell gift from my father. It is a protection stone. You can touch it if you want."

That sounds really... creepy.

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"No, that's alright. I just thought it was rather pretty." Frodo said softly, turning to look at Lord Elrond, who was getting ready to speak.

Pretty, huh? Why is it that the only peeps who seemed to be attracted to me were freaky old creepers, pubescent boys, peeps who were shorter than my bent over grandmother, or gaggling giggling girls? Why couldn't I get an attractive adult? Was that too much to ask?

Frodo's not a child, and I don't think he was interested in you.

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I spotted Borimir watching me with a strange look in his eye and my mood dampened.

RUN BOROMIR! HE'S AFTER YOU TOO!

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I should have kept my mental mouth shut.

Lord Elrond said in a clear, pleasant 'doomsday' voice,

"Plagiarism, plagiarism, plagiarism. That's what we're dealing with today. Unoriginal, lazy authors like to use the words of others to fill out their word count. This author, is no exception. Shame on you."

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Elrond smirked slightly and said, "Ten companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

I shivered slightly as Legolas shifted, some of his hair flitting in the breeze. His scent captured me and I nearly collapsed at its intoxication. Damn, the elf smelled good. Really good. Like the woods and something unique that was all him. His hair brushed up against one of my bare biceps and I gritted my teeth at the tingling sensation.

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I reached up and did a face palm. Well, at least the Fellowship would not be dull.

I can do that too.

I have fleeting hopes that this fanfic will not grow beyond this, but since she has the script to do all of the story telling for her, I'm not optomistic.

Novaer.

I_Lam_Edhellen wrote:

Exodia's Right Leg wrote:

All those people inserting uber-powerful characters into the fellowship are completely missing the point. The more powerful you are, the more of a liability you become to the Fellowship, because the temptation of taking the ring for yourself will be greater.

I keep telling them that, and they keep ignoring me. They figure that their character is too pure of heart to ever want to take the ring for themselves. Samwise was too pure of heart to take the ring for himself. Someone who has worked all their life to gain greater power, through muscle, money, or magic, is going to suffer a fatal attraction to the One Ring.

Boromir fits that description very well. So does Aragorn, but he's better at faking it. And we saw in rather spectacular fashion what could happen if someone like Galadriel got the ring.

Gandalf never hid that the Ring tempted him a lot; the scene with Bilbo in the beginning of FOTR gains a new meaning later, because THEN you understand how fucked would everything be if he took the Ring from Bilbo by force. Actually, the very fact it could grab even simple-minded hobbits like Sméagol and Bilbo Baggins by their smallest ambitions and turn them into addicts speaks volumes about the danger it represents.

Most Sues destroy themselves because, in an attempt to make themselves problem-solvers for the Fellowship, they become a greater problem themselves. Hook, line, and sinker. Sauron would be laughing all the way.

I'm wondering if this ninny didn't somehow or other get the idea that the flying creatures the Ringwrath rode in the final battle were dragons? I originally saw 'The Return of the King' with my nephew, who'd read the trilogy but not 'The Hobbit,' and he assumed they were dragons until I explained to him that the last dragon had been killed when Bilbo was a young man.

Oh who am I kidding. She wants some hot shapeshifter-dragon on elf action. Complete with interspecies MPREG.

The Scientist wrote:

The "tenth walker" fics are still alive and kicking, I see.

At least the OC is no daughter of Elrond, so that's got to count for something.

Unless Elrond got around more than we hear about.

rachel wrote:

The Scientist wrote:

The "tenth walker" fics are still alive and kicking, I see.

At least the OC is no daughter of Elrond, so that's got to count for something.

Unless Elrond got around more than we hear about.

jaefhluifhilahdf asfhyuawe Don't even joke about that. There are at least 500 stories with that exact premise.

I don't see an "at least" here. This fanfic is even worse because of the whole shape-shifting dragon/Elf m-preg. This is in no way better than Delugiriella the 3rd of the Faeriez-Halfunicorns coming to save the fellowship with her glittering wings of beeutyfulliness and her multi-colored eyes of LUUUUUUVEEEEEness that make Boromir rape her and Legolas dole out the healing sex.

Also, that little shit accused me of being a hater of all 10th walker fics and a flamer; then blocked me. Clueless little bint. I kinda want to show her what a real flame would be like. I've been out of the reviewing game too long. I've forgotten how thin-skinned and irritatingly block-headed these teenagers are when it comes to their jerk-off fantasies.

I_Lam_Edhellen wrote:

The Scientist wrote:

At least the OC is no daughter of Elrond, so that's got to count for something.

I don't see an "at least" here.

At least the gay, male dragon is no daughter of Elrond? I see an "at least", personally.

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This fanfic is even worse because of the whole shape-shifting dragon/Elf m-preg. This is in no way better than Delugiriella the 3rd of the Faeriez-Halfunicorns coming to save the fellowship with her glittering wings of beeutyfulliness and her multi-colored eyes of LUUUUUUVEEEEE

I agree, dragon mpreg legomance yaoi is pretty hard to top (pun originally not intended). I don't even know which word to italicize there.

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I kinda want to show her what a real flame would be like.

SOMEONE do it, please. Been ages since I saw a good flame.



EDIT: I felt this was vaguely relevant, or at least funny:

[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

Chapter Four is up. Anyone wanna take a swing at it?

Oh my, I totally forgot that I was trying to draw a gay fellowship dragon. My bad. Will get back on it!

Skimming it, I notice this bit.

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It was there that I remembered one very troubling thing. If I were not to shift, I would have to be on foot. Unless the elves….

Oh hell no.

I was NOT going to ride a fuckin' HORSE.

Haha, he's scared because he thinks he'll feel compelled to eat the horse, right? Right?

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I trembled. I couldn't help it. I didn't mind horses, usually, but if I didn't have to ride one, that was fine with me. I had a very hefty fear of those four legged animals, and with good reason. One had actually bitten me in passing near my father's stables when I was a child.

The dragon is scared of a horse because one bit him once. A motherfucking dragon is scared of a horse. Wow. Why is this guy coming on the journey again?

Fruitiest.

Dragon.

EVER.

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The night was gentle and calm, though I could not rest even if I had wanted to. The next morning we were to start on our journey as the Fellowship of the Ring. I had to admit that it had a nice sound to it, but I knew better. This would be one journey that would maim, kill, torture, or completely obliterate us, or we could win.

There's always that.

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My eyes were watchful as I stood upon a bridge overlooking the same waterfall I had crashed into just a few days before.

Too bad they weren't watchful-- nah. Too easy.

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"Your thoughts must be deep if you are awake this late."

"No, not really deep."

Oh, good. I'm glad he agrees.

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I needed to get in control of my thoughts and feelings! Otherwise the Fellowship would be doomed!

We know!

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Sometimes I hated being a dragon with my inner instinctive senses.

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Being a dragon sucked at times. Didn't I just say that?

Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Aren't you supposed to be an asset to this delicate journey? You're like the friend's bitchy girlfriend that only stops texting to ask if you're all there yet!

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For, Sauron never uses his aces unless he has no other cards to play. Yes, us dragons play cards. Deal.

No one cares.

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Sure, just hand my ass to myself, thank you very much.

I'm not even sure what that means.

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They were always rumored to be wholly evil, but I never thought so.

"I never liked those mountains anyway."

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One had actually bitten me in passing near my father's stables when I was a child.

So, you're like a woman that starts shrieking like a banshee when she sees a spider? Why are you the tenth again?

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"So, do you like, turn into a dragon sometimes?" Sam asked, curious.

Well, everyone needs interesting curios.