Hide And Prey
The triumphant horns continued to blow out beyond the wall. Hiccup barely noticed that glorious sound which announced Rohan's arrival. He could only think of one terrible thing now that the horror of the Witch-king was gone.
"There were others! Other Night Furies!" Hiccup shouted.
Oddly, Moonbeam spun and faced him. He had only seen such fear in her eyes once before: after the incident with the Palantir when she was first exposed to Sauron's will. Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"They were... of the pack before, but they flew away... long ago with the living-shadow thing."
He stared at her, unable to say anything in response to this terrible news. These other Night Furies had left the pack and flown with the Nazgul. Somehow, the existence of these Night Furies had never been brought up before.
"Why?" Toothless barked.
"They most wanted... revenge on humans. We named them Packless for leaving us."
Hiccup held his head in his hands as he tried to steady himself and his breaths.
So they flew with the Nazgul to Mordor and got... enslaved? Oh gods... this is bad!
Viking tribes completely denied the existence of anyone named Outcast, which is part of what made that so terrible a punishment. That those Furies had been basically outcast was probably why they had never been mentioned. This was information he and Toothless absolutely should have been told about before.
Gandalf ran up the stairs onto the wall, surely to get a better look at the beyond.
"We should... see what's happening out there!" Hiccup shouted.
Toothless growled in agreement and leaped with a beat of his wings as Moonbeam also jumped. Together, they touched down next to Gandalf, and they beheld the Pelennor.
Despite everything that had just happened, they gasped and stared in awe at the northeastern hills.
What had to be thousands of Rohirrim were galloping forward down the slight slope, pikes lowered to skewer the countless Orcs. Night Furies raced above and ahead of them, raining explosive blasts into the Orcs and scattering their formations before the cavalry charge met them. The ground trembled as a distant roll like thunder and a roar filled the morning air. Thousands of voices united in one word that rolled over the fields and the city.
"DEATH!"
A flash of fire and an explosion tore their gazes away from the charge beyond the wall. One of the remaining towers just inside the wall had been struck by the Mordor Furies' blasts. The tower crumbled and collapsed, certainly crushing all the archers that were within or on the wall there. More flashes of fire followed as a dozen soldiers were struck by an explosion and hurled from both sides of the wall.
The Mordor Furies were killing freely as they flew, raining devastation on all below.
Hiccup almost retched. The horror of a true attack on a city by Night Furies that were trying to cause damage and kill was something he had never seen before.
"Gandalf, what should we do?" Toothless growled, also watching the attacking Furies' flights.
Gandalf clutched his staff while watching the attack as the distant Furies rained fire down on the defenders.
"I feared this might happen. The fellbeasts were terrible enough, but they have no flame and cannot be used to as terrible effect as dragons. Grief will likely follow if I do not face the Witch-king, and grief will follow if I do..."
The roar of the cavalry charge continued as the pack Furies faced the fellbeasts that had flown from the city. The first fellbeast was struck by several blasts and then fell with torn wings. Several of the distant Furies were glowing bright blue. But it appeared that the fellbeasts were gathering to put up a fight and thus occupy the pack Furies.
They could not rely on their kin arriving to help the city, not until more of the fellbeasts were taken out.
The Wizard's momentary pause of indecision passed.
"We must stop these dragons here! I will aid you from below as I can! Fly!"
Gandalf then spun around and ran down the steps toward Shadowfax.
Toothless did not need to tell Moonbeam what to do. She already knew. She jumped into the air, fired a blast of flame before herself, spun into it, and vanished from sight, though he was sure that she was staying nearby.
She can probably ground one of them before they know to look for her...
"Are you ready?" he growled.
"Almost, give me a second."
Hiccup checked his wingsuit, just in case he needed to do any gliding of his own, and then tightened the last strap on the saddle. Now he could stay secure on Toothless even through the most violent spins.
He patted his dagger, for all the good it would do, grabbed his bow, and closed the quiver. There were only a few arrows left, though he did not want to have to use them. Something felt different about using his weapons against actual dragons, against Night Furies no less. The act of killing, while necessary for mindless Orcs, was too terrible and went against so much of who he was.
He was not a dragon-killer. It was his decision to not be a dragon-killer that gave him almost everything he had in life.
"What is wrong?" Toothless huffed.
"I... don't want to have to... kill them..."
Toothless growled and glanced over his shoulder at him.
"What! They would try to kill you or me! They are killing now!"
"Yeah, but I don't want to be like them..."
"How was killing Orcs different?"
"It just... was."
Toothless snarled and stretched his wings as he prepared to jump.
"Eyes on the prey! I trust you to bite when you must!"
Then they were aloft, flying low above the empty wall toward the attacking Night Furies.
Toothless glared ahead at the visible Furies; none of them were looking his direction. Their flights had separated as several of them flew elsewhere in the city.
Okay, they do not know about me or Moonbeam flying against them yet. They probably think their master took care of us.
That would actually give him and Moonbeam an advantage. She knew to follow his lead on this attack. The Mordor Furies were more in number, so he and she had to take this fight one at a time.
Even that little planning did not help him feel much more confident about the attack. He had never truly fought another Night Fury.
His flying was much improved from when he first got his new tailfin. However, he had to fly this flight while also keeping Hiccup safe. The extra weight he was carrying made him not as fast as the others probably were.
One of the Night Furies flew away from the others and turned for the outer wall while the others flew higher into the city. He followed the lone Fury while staying low above the buildings. This one looked like a male about his size.
Any chance he had of trying to argue with it or stop it from fighting went away when it aimed its flight straight at a group of archers down in a street. The archers saw its attack-flight and began to dive out of the way just when its shot struck in a large explosion that sent up a cloud into the air. The shot also caught several wooden structures, crates, and a wagon on fire.
Its explosion was far larger than any he remembered making, as if its fire was somehow hotter.
Okay, wings or tailfins... wings are a bigger target!
The hovering Night Fury did not see his attack from behind as it stared down at the ruin and death its shot left behind. His shot flew straight and struck its right wing with such force that the wing ripped, sending the screaming Fury falling to the ground. He felt no sympathy for it as the Fury fell heavily and crashed into a house. The house fell in on itself while the dragon tumbled onto its side in the street among the rubble.
But it was not dead.
The downed Fury rolled onto its paws and glared up at him. He dove and touched down on a roof near it.
"Stop!" he roared.
It gave him no answer. Instead, it glanced at its ripped wing and then turned to face the approaching pawful of Gondor soldiers. They had shields, bows, and long pikes, all aimed at the Fury.
It cannot fight that many! Can it?
Another glowing shot flew forth, struck the soldiers in a massive explosion, knocked many of the soldiers to the ground, and filled the street with smoke.
The screaming started after the Fury, heedless of its torn wing, leaped into the smoke.
He remembered humans screaming in wrath and anger in the raids long ago. He remembered their screaming of pain after being wounded in Helm's Deep or even in this battle.
Never had he heard true screaming of fear like this as flashes of flame and purple light briefly broke through the cloud.
"It's... killing... them..." Hiccup stuttered.
His shot flew forth, straight at where he was certain the other Fury would be. The smoke cleared slightly after his shot struck.
The downed Fury, one of its wings completely shredded and the other missing, and with a dagger and a sword sticking out of its chest, stood amid a pile of shredded or smoking bodies in torn, melted armor. The street was filled with red and body-parts.
Then the Fury turned to face him, though it was greatly pained by doing so. Pure hate burned in its eyes while blood dripped from its teeth.
It fired another shot straight at where he perched, destroying the roof he had sat on and had just jumped from. A quick change of his flight dodged its second strike. How many shots did it have? Did it have no limit?
A fireball struck it from the open and empty air above. The Fury was stunned and fell on its belly as its head bounced off the stone ground.
He heard unseen wings dash up at his side and saw narrowed, purple eyes pass next to him as the air itself shivered.
There was no time to say anything to her before several soldiers arrived in a charge and acted without hesitation. They hurled their spears, several of which struck the Mordor Fury's chest and neck.
The Fury gave a strangled howl, collapsed in place, and did not move even after the soldiers ran up to it and kept striking with spears and swords.
Now it was very dead.
He had directly helped to kill one of his kin, or at least one of the same type of dragon as himself. This thing was not his kin!
Hiccup was softly whining while holding onto his neck.
Brother...
Hiccup had never seen anything that bad before either. Seeing that death had to hurt Hiccup's soul-fire, so he winged away from the terrible sight and perched on another rooftop by the wall.
"Look out there!" he pointed with a paw.
They looked out beyond the wall and took a moment to relax and see what was happening outside the city.
Rohan was still charging further into the packs of Orcs, which had completely fallen into chaos. The fellbeasts were being flamed and falling from the sky, or else they were fleeing while being chased by his packmates. Several fellbeasts were missing. There was even another very big pack of humans, probably Aragorn's pack, approaching from the western river. There were also strange and very large walking four-legs in the distance.
The fight was going very well out there.
But there was no time to wonder about that before a shot flew at him from behind. That shot missed and flew past him as he quickly jumped and beat his flight faster to put distance between himself and the new pursuing Fury.
The hunt was back on.
Between towering spires, twisting on his side to dip down into narrow streets, and ascending over large buildings. Through clouds of smoke and over freely-burning fires rolling through parts of the city. He was fast.
But not fast enough.
A shot struck his side with such great force that the saddle was torn and Hiccup was torn with the saddle from his back.
Hiccup!
He spun upward in a loop to go back for Hiccup, but he changed his plan entirely when he saw that Hiccup was gliding, his wings already thrown wide. Hiccup had already learned how to fly, and he knew how to come down safely. Better, the pursuing Fury was not following Hiccup, probably because it did not care about Hiccup or think him dangerous.
His brother would be out of the fighting, which was very good. Humans do not belong in a fight among dragons.
It also helped much that the entire saddle-rig had fallen from him, which let him fly a little faster with less weight on him.
Now for a real fight!
Another shot flew at him and struck the tower in front of him. The blast made a cloud of fire that he had to fly through.
He pulled up into a steep dive as the tower began to collapse behind him. The Fury in pursuit wove around the falling rock and continued after him in a chase. There was only the one pursuing Fury, which made this almost fun.
What was that game he mentioned we should make? Dragon racing...
The ringing finally faded from Hiccup's ears as he glided through the smoky skies. The blast had struck Toothless's side with such force that the entire saddle had been torn from his back. Fortunately, his own wings were unharmed, he had quickly unhooked himself from the saddle, his weapons were still with him, and he knew the best technique to land safely.
Not that it wouldn't hurt at all.
Toothless was still being chased by one of the Mordor Furies and certainly would have no chance to come pick him up right now.
The wind buffeted him to the side, so he dipped a touch to glide toward the nearest wall on the second level of the city.
Alright, a nice easy glide in and a rough landing if I can...
A black blur was shooting for him from the side. Toothless had not flown off in that direction.
An instant of terror passed as he tucked his wings in to drop in place in the sky.
The snarling Fury's extended claws passed only inches above his head. Then the Fury spun up in a loop to come back around at him.
He threw out his wings again and angled himself for one of the nearby flat roofs. There would be only seconds to do this, or he would probably die. No, he would be fine since he had learned how to fly already. Coming down was just another part of flying.
He angled his wings up to slow his momentum, pulled a cord to release his small parachute, slowed slightly more, and then touched down as lightly as he could on all fours. It was probably his best solo-landing yet, but it still sent a jarring pain through everything as his hands and feet stung with the impact.
But he had a snarling, murderous Fury hot on his tail. He unstrapped the parachute, scrambled toward the edge of the roof, and dropped down to hang from it as the screaming intensified. The drop was about three body-lengths to the pavement, but there was again no choice.
He dropped just as the Fury flew overhead with a roar, a blast, and a rush of fire that rolled over him. His landing was very rough on the paved stones as small chunks of roof and plaster clattered around him. His palms were rather scratched and bloodied, but he was alive.
Ugh... might have gotten a scar from that...
Then he rolled to his feet, wiped his stinging palms clean, checked that Inferno was undamaged, and dusted himself off as he looked around, trying to figure out exactly where he was. The second level of the city had taken a lot of catapult damage, and most of the buildings had collapsed in whole or in part. The house that had stood next to the one he landed on had completely fallen into rubble, furniture and fabrics strewn randomly.
The narrow street was devastated with fires burning freely from several collapsed homes. Small alleyways were interspersed with the remaining homes and barracks. Smoke billowed freely, choking the air and flowing over the roof where he had landed. Visibility was limited.
He took one step forward and then froze in place at the flash of lightning and thunder which quickly faded.
Everything was then still and calm out there.
Nothing was moving except the flames and the smoke which drifted on the breeze.
It looked safe.
But he had played so many fun games of hide and seek with Toothless, Breath-Of-Sky, and the pack's cubs. Hiding behind trees or bushes to try to get as close as possible to the Fury without him noticing was a very fun game. Toothless was a natural hunter and almost always knew when someone was creeping up on him.
Something, some instinct or feeling deep inside, warned him against showing himself or moving at all.
The distant thundering continued out on the Pelennor, but he barely noticed any of that. None of it was important.
The hunt was not over.
And he was the prey.
How many nights during raids had he and the rest of the tribe looked up in fear while awaiting that diving scream and flash of light that everyone would always recognize?
Playing with Fury cubs and talking as equals with everyone in the pack had led to him forgetting or not appreciating what they truly were.
They were hunters and extremely dangerous.
He backed away from the open light, preferring instead to keep to the shadows where he could hide and pray that nothing could find him. Hide there and stay safe until Toothless could come back and save him. Pray to the gods or the Valar that help would come and fix his problem.
As he always did.
Useless and unable to fight his own battles.
There was shouting as a trio of soldiers appeared through the smoke and ran along the street. They quickly checked inside the standing structures.
"Look for survivors! Find anyone!" "Yes, Captain!" "Yes, Captain!"
He could shout to get their attention, but he didn't... couldn't. He was frozen in place by fear for himself and fear of what would happen. There was nothing he could do. There was no time to...
"Captain, do you see..."
He closed his eyes when he saw the shadow strike from hiding atop one of the buildings.
Screams, the clang of steel, shouts, roaring, and the rush of flames followed.
Useless.
A weak coward.
Unable to act.
Useless.
'Eyes on the prey!'
He remembered how he had fearlessly run out into a raid, on a mission to shoot down a Night Fury no less. He had been so eager back then.
'I trust you to bite when you must!'
As terrible as it was, this was his chance to prove himself and to show that he could fight on his own and do what had to be done. He couldn't let these men die without trying to help them.
He silently drew his bow from his back and fitted an Elven arrow to the bow. Then he crept forth from his place of hiding, stepped around the rubble into the street, and aimed at the Fury that was mauling the soldiers.
It was a perfect, unobstructed shot, straight at the Fury's exposed neck.
He was sure that he would not miss; he was an adoptive Night Fury after all.
But the arrow was still on the drawn string.
He could not let it go.
Frozen and unable to act, his hand and heart trembled at the thought of being the one who struck a killing blow on another person, on another dragon.
It seemed to go against everything he was trying to be as a peacemaker.
He was not a killer.
Not a dragon-killer.
The Fury hurled one of the unarmored men to the side to crash into a wall and fall stunned to the ground. A blast of fire flew at what was presumably one of the soldiers, and then the Fury stilled, heaving in place with its opponents dead or motionless.
Why couldn't he take the shot? Was he so weak and afraid that he couldn't even kill a true enemy? Was he guilty of their deaths also for not helping them?
Just how useless was he?
The Fury turned toward the body it had thrown aside and then stalked toward it.
He knew what it was going to do, and he could not look away as the Fury tore off the head and ate it whole before starting on the rest of the corpse after tearing away the armor.
Songs and glorious tales told in the mead halls never mentioned this side of war. They never told how battle made the stomach churn and want to empty itself.
Watching the bright red blood drip from the Fury's mouth as it ate mouthfuls of flesh and bone changed something.
It killed a tenderness in his heart.
This dragon, this monster, would kill freely without remorse or reason. Beings that kill without remorse or reason could not be reasoned with. It was not possible to peacefully talk to everyone and be understood.
Not everyone wanted peace.
Was his own reluctance to kill only a type of hidden pride and blind trust that he could change everyone? Who would this monster kill next: a woman, a child? Could he stay idle and let evil happen without even trying to defend the innocent?
The arrow flew true and pierced deep into the Fury's neck.
He knew he could not miss. How could he, given what he was?
The Fury jumped with a howl of pain as it bucked, flailed, and spun toward him. It lifted a paw and tore off the outer part of the arrow, the shot not being deep enough to pierce all the way through. The dragon still whimpered in pain and trembled as its neck dripped blood.
It slowly steadied itself, and its red eyes narrowed on him as it bared its red teeth.
But there was no fear in his soul-fire. Not even when the Fury started stalking toward him. This was all part of the plan.
He turned, dropped his bow and quiver, and ran as the Fury hopped to pursue him, howling and roaring. The dragon was clearly pained and in a senseless rage, which was an advantage. It would not plan or be careful as a Fury should be.
He ducked to the side into a small alleyway, ran a short distance inside, and then turned around with a snarl as he drew his dagger. The Mordor Fury would bound inside in only seconds.
'Eyes on the prey...'
A calm breath followed, and thought fell away as he broke into a sprint. The heavy footfalls of the pursuing Fury drew nearer. He knew so well, far better than any soldier of Gondor or any human, exactly how Night Furies could move and twist. Months of knowing them and playing with them taught him more than enough.
He jumped from the alleyway at the same instant the Fury turned the corner in a reckless sprint.
It happened too fast for him to see, though he felt it.
His dagger struck something as the Fury twisted in surprise and swung at him. A strike on his back spun him around in the air.
He crashed down, rolled and tumbled head over feet, and came to rest on his back, breathing heavily and staring up at the dark clouds and smoke swirling over the city.
Dazed, pained, weak, and struggling to rise.
Then he coughed and groaned as he shuffled in place, feeling for whatever he could feel. His dagger was gone, and he was completely defenseless. But he was not dead yet.
Even as he slowly got up and stood on his shaky feet, he stared at the Fury lying in the street. The dragon was not moving, and there was a growing pool of blood by its head. However, there was no way to tell for certain from his angle what had happened.
He took a single step toward it, but he then felt that something was wrong with his armor. While keeping his attention on the motionless Fury, he stuck a hand over his shoulder.
The Fury's claws had somehow torn at his back as he jumped through the air in his desperate strike. Maybe the dragon's swipe was what had struck him. While there was no pain and it did not feel like his back was injured, his wings were definitely shredded, torn, and basically useless.
Well, finally broke something...
It was a terrible shock to be so suddenly grounded like that. So wrong to be downed and for his wings to be hanging there, useless. Being downed was basically the same as being dead in so many ways.
Then he swallowed, took a sharp breath, and limped closer to the motionless Fury in the pool of dark blood. Creeping around its head to get a better look at the...
At the dagger buried in the Fury's skull.
At the blood dripping from the other hole in the dragon's neck.
At the motionless chest and back.
It was dead.
He killed it.
He killed a Night Fury.
He was a dragon-killer.
There was no churning in his stomach and no grief. No pity, no sorrow, and no regret.
Only cold need.
A game of hunter and prey where the roles had changed because of blind, unthinking fury... ironically. And maybe a little good fortune on his part.
He spun away without retrieving his dagger and left the body behind, trembling slightly as he walked and stumbled. The street was desolate and filled with red spots and shredded bodies further ahead. He turned aside from them, not wanting to see any of that up close, and found where he dropped his bow and quiver.
Finally with a moment of peace, he unfurled his wings properly... or as much as they could. The wingsuit was torn and useless for flight, as he suspected.
The street around him was silent as the smoke flowed overhead.
Then the nervous, frantic laughter started.
"Finally did it! Did anyone else see that? Bet you're proud of me now!"
He fell to his bruised knees as the tears started flowing. He had done something that no Berk Viking had probably ever done before: this truly grisly deed of killing a Night Fury by hand. The very deed he had refused to do in the past had been necessary to save himself and to stop a monster, but that didn't mean it hurt less.
Maybe the Fury hadn't started out bad. Maybe it had truly been wronged and suffered because of humans in the past.
But that did not change the fact that it chose revenge against people who had never harmed it. It and the others who had attacked the city had killed many people already.
In only a few minutes, the Mordor dragons had probably destroyed all the progress made in getting the people of Gondor to trust the Night Furies. After everything that he, Toothless, and Moonbeam had...
He flew to his feet in fear and worry for them.
There was no time to waste sitting here and mourning what was done out of necessity. There were three more Mordor Night Furies somewhere, and they had to be stopped however was necessary. It was unlikely that he could do anything against them, but action was better than not acting. He had to get out there and make a difference to protect those he loved.
He grabbed his bow and quiver and started running. There was no exhaustion or pain from his small bruises. He ran without looking back.
Toothless barked in alarm as the heat of another blast warmed his scales while he dodged around a tower. The Fury behind him definitely wanted to flame his tail. Fortunately, he was fast and could dodge the strikes much better now that he was not carrying Hiccup.
Unfortunately, the towers could not dodge, and more of them had been struck and collapsed or were set on fire inside. Every one which collapsed spilled large piles of rocks down off the level to fall into the lower levels. That would not be good for any humans down on the lower levels.
He twisted onto his side to pass through the narrow space between two towers.
And the pursuing Fury kept flaming at him long after he thought it should be able to. Making fire, something almost all dragons knew how to do, was simple. Bring up the can-be-fire-air from inside, want it to be fire, shape the can-be-fire-air in his mouth to make the type of fire, and then flame. There should be a limit to how much can-be-fire-air a dragon had inside.
Unless there was another possibility. Maybe flame was different in Middle-earth, more magical and not as limited. If that was so, how could he...
He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at how rock-headed and blind he had been. He had almost touched on precisely this possibility earlier when talking with Hiccup. The other Night Furies had a much higher shot limit.
And so did he.
Enough fleeing!
He angled to land on all fours on the side of a tower. He heavily crashed into the rock wall, kicked off, and jumped into flight straight back at the pursuing Fury. It twisted to the side to hide behind a tower. But he guessed where it would fly out.
His explosive shot, normally used to stun fish, exploded in the air straight before the attacking Fury, and the shot fouled its flight. It howled in alarm while shaking its head of the ringing in its ears. Then it winged away from the towers and flew out over the more open air.
Okay, Wizard, are you going to help at all? I wonder how...
Regardless of whether Gandalf could do anything, there were only two options for this attacking Fury. It would flee or die.
Lightning jumped from the clouds and struck the Fury, making it vanish completely.
Great, forgot about that. Too bad for it.
He knew what to do. Hiding from eyes could not help it hide from sound-seeing, so he shrieked.
And there it was. Spinning toward him in a wide loop while something else dove from above it. He intimately knew that shape which was subtly different from that of a Night Fury.
I knew you were there!
However, she probably did not know where the hidden Night Fury was. His sound-seeing would not help her on her attack.
He gave another scream of sound-seeing and he saw them both circling above a spire on which the Gondor flags were flying. Both hidden Furies again faded from his sound-sight.
That was the problem with fighting against things that were hidden from eyes. He could see them only when his sound-seeing was bouncing in the air. There was not enough passive sound flying and bouncing for him to always sound-see where they were. After his loud shrieks faded, he had to guess at where they would be until his next sound-seeing shriek.
Guessing meant that he might miss, which was a terrible possibility that could not happen!
Come on, Burning-Star! You do not miss! Trust your soul-fire!
Another shriek and he saw them. His fire flew forth again exactly where he wanted it.
The shot struck the hidden Fury in a bright flash as the Fury howled in pain. The hidden Fury was made visible as an empty space in the small cloud of fire.
Then lightning jumped from the ground and struck the fire only to flow around the hidden Fury and dance on its scales.
He glanced down toward where the lightning had flown from, and then he stared in shock and surprise. Gandalf stood down there, his sword lifted high and pointed their direction.
Oh, he can do that. I am impressed!
The Mordor Fury, whining in great pain, turned tail on him and flew away from the city. He confirmed that by following its hidden flight for several wingbeats. There was little chance that the Fury would come back for more fighting, given how weak and shaky its flight already was. It was fleeing and whining in pained retreat, so he winged back toward the city.
The soft rush of unseen wings flew up next to him as purple eyes appeared. Then an invisible wing brushed his.
"Where is Hiccup!" she shouted in alarm.
"Safe on the ground! Where are the others?"
He had no sooner asked that than several flashes of light erupted from high above, all the way up on the highest level.
Found them!
They both flew up there without hesitation, rapidly ascending higher and higher up the steep spur of rock. Then they flew out onto the flat of the highest level and landed on the grass. One Mordor Fury blasted open the Citadel-den's front door and then dashed inside.
They had missed the fighting.
The dead, white tree by the fountain in the middle of the grassy field was now more dead because it was on fire.
The guards, who so did not like him or Moonbeam, were not around the burning tree. He was not sure if that was because they were down in the fighting or if they were now dead to the attacking Furies.
One of them went inside that den. Why? Maybe they wanted to kill Denethor as the Alpha here...
A massive explosion flashed as a shot struck the tallest tower on his right paw side. The Fury that had fired at the tower shot one more blast at its base, knocking out large chunks of rock. Then the Fury spun around the other side of the tower, folded its wings, landed outside the main door of the Citadel-den, and whipped inside, its tail vanishing into the Citadel-den.
What was that for?
The tall tower that stood so high up over the city, had flags blowing in the wind, and gleamed bright white... began to crumble on its far side. The entire tower slowly leaned out into the open air as the structure began to fall.
His chilled soul-fire turned to ice as he understood.
The Furies that had flown up here had wanted to destroy as much as possible and kill as many humans as they could.
They burned the dead, white tree because the tree was something that gave hope to the humans' soul-fires, and they struck the tallest tower so that it would collapse and fall into the city below.
He stared, numb inside, as the white tower collapsed and fell from view.
The humans had hid their non-fighters, their females and their young, deep in the city to be away from as much of the fighting as possible. How many of them were...
Killing fighters was normal and understandable, but killing non-fighters...
The crashing from far below made the ground shake underpaw. The trembling, grating sound was worse than the strongest lightning and thunder-growling he had ever heard. Then the crashing ended as a softer quiet fell and the tremors stopped underpaw.
He turned for the Citadel-den and raced for it, hop-flying to get there as fast as possible. These Furies would die. He had to kill them to protect the rest of the city and to avenge everyone that was already dead!
He touched down before the Citadel-den and waited for Moonbeam to touch down, which she shortly did. There was nothing but a faint shimmering in the air except for her eyes.
"I will go first..." she whispered.
He softly grunted in agreement. She could enter unseen and get ready to bite and flame. This fight was two against two, but it could easily be two against one. He heard her enter, and then he started waiting, tail swaying as he thought about how many ways he could kill these false-kin. Bite off their wings and tailfins first...
There was a shriek of sound-sight from within.
Why would they look for...
He dashed inside, fire readied and claws extended. They would not have been searching unless they knew there was something to search for.
A dark blur crashed into his side as he leapt within. Teeth snapped, claws dragged against scale, and fire flashed over the snarling and yelping.
The other Night Fury was fierce, wild, dangerous, and smelled of human blood.
But he was stronger and bigger.
A fast swat with a paw struck the other Fury in the head, which made it whine and shake its head in confusion. It tried to claw his neck, but he dodged and rammed into it from the side, knocking its extended forepaw into a rock-column. The Fury hopped back and then tried to snap at his nose, but he easily ducked under the strike and shoved the Fury back, his shoulder to its chest while he held its neck in his jaws. With a great heave, he threw the other Fury toward the wall and fired a blast at its chest.
The Fury crashed into the wall, hit its head, and fell to the floor. The enemy Fury was unconscious and defeated.
He wasted no time and spun around to look for the other Fury. Was it the one which had felled the tall tower? Probably so, since the one he fought had looked smaller than the one whose fire had brought down the tower.
Wrath and fear poured into his soul-fire when he saw them fighting. Her fade had fallen away, and the male had pinned her on her back, holding her down and moving on her as if trying to force-mate her.
Red was all he saw.
He crossed the entire room in one leap as she flamed at its head. The male reared back to avoid the face-flaming.
His teeth closed around its head as he jumped, twisted its neck, and tore the male off her with a crack.
They crashed to the ground and struck a statue and a rock-column. The other male went still and did not move after he dropped it on the ground and hopped back to roar his wrath.
Its neck was very snapped and twisted into a wrong-shape.
Heaving, snarling, furious... his wrath faded as he spun around and bounded over to her. She lay on her side while whining softly. It was all he could do to nuzzle her head and purr peace and presence to her as his wrath dimmed into fear and concern.
Neither of them said anything for many wingbeats.
"Burning-Star..."
"Moonbeam... are you... well..."
"Yes... is it dead..."
"Very dead. Did it... hurt you..."
"No... it wanted to..."
She closed her eyes as he nuzzled her nose. He kept nuzzling her in complete relief that it had not harmed her in that so terrible way.
"I... did know it... from before," she whispered.
"What?"
"He wanted me when he was still in the pack... but I did not want him... and he flew away. He never tried to be so... wrong-twisted... before..."
He licked her cheek and whispered.
"It is dead now, and you are safe."
She whined and stumbled to her paws. A single glance went over to the dead Fury, and then she snorted before turning away from it.
As much as he dearly wanted to stay here with her to comfort her after what almost happened and though he very much wanted to go relieve himself on the dead Fury, there was still one more enemy Night Fury somewhere. He also needed to find Hiccup as soon as possible.
"We should fly. There is one more rotted dark wing," he whispered.
She grunted once without saying anything.
Together, they walked out of the Citadel-den; the living but grounded Fury was still asleep and would be so for a long time after how hard he hit it. What would the humans do to that dragon?
Cut off its hide or wings? I would not object...
Then they jumped for the sky and glided out above the city. Even though he knew doing so would hurt, he still looked over toward where the tower had fallen. It had crushed the dens down below across three levels. There was even now a cloud of dust that covered over that part of the city while smoke flowed from other parts of the city. Maybe it was good that the cloud blocked much of the destruction.
And still the fighting continued out on the Pelennor. The Orcs were falling back while very large four-leg things with tusks walked around in the fighting. He had no idea where those things had come from; all he knew was that they were enemies because they were stepping on horses and being flamed from the sky. It looked like the entire flight from the pack was busy fighting those things. He could not see any of the fellbeasts anymore.
Then he turned all his attention back to the city-levels below. Someone whom he needed to find was down there.
Alright, where are you?
Hiccup stumbled along through mostly empty streets, past the occasional wounded soldier, and all the while keeping his eyes to the sky.
While he was grounded now and had left behind his dagger, he still had Inferno ready to draw were there a need to defend himself.
It was plain good luck, maybe the gods or the Valar had been watching out for him, that he was not in the northernmost part of the city when it happened: when the Tower of Ecthelion somehow crumbled and fell from the highest level of the city.
Being honest with himself, he knew that the disaster had to be because of the Mordor Night Furies. Nothing else made sense or could explain what happened. The reason behind that part of the attack was completely uncertain. That tower was not a strategic target at all.
"Get a medic over here!" "Hold on!" "You'll be fine!"
Two men ran past, carrying someone on a stretcher.
His fear and worry grew slightly with every passing minute of not seeing any dragons in the sky.
Then, after an unknown but too long amount of time had passed, he saw two shapes, one dark and one white, flying together and obviously searching for someone: him.
Oh thank the Valar... they're both safe...
He ran to the edge of the wall.
"Here!" he shouted as loudly as he could while waving his arms.
Toothless and Moonbeam eventually saw him and turned their flights for him as he ran out to this level's outer wall where they could freely meet up. They landed on the wall and immediately hopped over to him. He held each of their heads in turn as they all purred to comfort each other.
"You are... what happened to you?" Toothless barked, his eyes narrowed on him.
"Uh, well... I might have been... chased by one of the other Furies..."
Toothless and Moonbeam gasped and growled as they looked around.
"Where is it?" Toothless snarled.
"Dead."
"Dead?" they barked in surprise.
He winced and looked away from them.
"Yeah, I... it killed some people and... ate one of them... tried to kill me... and... I killed it!"
"You killed a dragon?" Toothless gasped.
"Yep, bow and dagger. It tore my wings, but I... oh gods..."
He took a very deep breath to steady himself against Toothless's purring neck. Moonbeam also stepped up behind him and nuzzled his side until he calmed.
"I don't want to... talk about it. Not now."
"Later then," Toothless whispered.
"Later. So, what happened with you two after I went... flying?"
"We drove one away with Gandalf helping us. The last two flew up high and made the white tower fall..." Toothless answered.
It was a terrible confirmation of what he already knew.
"Why?" he whispered.
Toothless warbled in heartfelt pain.
"They probably wanted to cause as much hurt and death as they could. They also burned the tree up there."
That made sense if their goal was to cause as much pain as possible. The white tree, despite being dead, was a symbol for the people of Gondor.
"They went into the Citadel-den. I hit one of them so that it fell asleep, and I killed the other one when it... tried to force-mate Moonbeam..." Toothless snarled.
Hiccup spun on her. She was staring down at her paws while softly humming, so he held her head in sympathy.
He hadn't appreciated that such a thing could happen in war. But now that he thought about it, he recalled how some of the Viking tribes did exactly that in the raids. The stronger clans and the victors would do... whatever they could get away with and wanted to do, even rape the women out of dominance and to show that the conquered were property.
It shouldn't have been surprising that the same could happen with dragons fighting each other.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes, we killed it before it could... hurt me..." she whispered.
"Good. Very good," he sighed.
They passed a long moment together in silence, merely comforting each other.
"The five bad Night Furies are dead, grounded, or fled. What should we do now?" Toothless asked.
"Find Gandalf, probably. We should let him know that the attacking dragons are... dealt with," Hiccup proposed.
A company of archers ran behind them in the smoke on the street while shouting indistinctly.
"Good idea. He can help with the fighting out there now," Toothless pointed with a paw toward the Pelennor.
Hiccup looked out and saw the fighting continuing beyond the walls. They could not see any fellbeasts anymore. One of the very large, four-footed creatures with huge tusks, he couldn't remember what they were called, was burning, or rather the equipment it was carrying was burning. Several of those creatures were dead or had fled.
"More of them! Fire at will!" someone shouted.
Fire at will?
He and Toothless spun around. The dozen archers that had arrived had drawn their bows and were aiming at them.
The archers were going to shoot, and there was no time to talk to them or do anything to stop them.
Toothless noticed what was going to happen, and he fired an explosive shot into the ground before the archers. The blast knocked them all back before they could shoot, but also without hitting them.
"Get on!" Toothless shouted.
He hopped on Toothless's bare back and held the base of his wings. There was no time to do anything else, think, or plan.
They jumped along with Moonbeam into the sky and soared out away from the city. Moonbeam, probably afraid because of what had almost happened to her with and almost having been shot at, raced ahead of them.
They were speechless and shocked at what happened, at the apparent betrayal. Then they leveled off and glided so they could speak.
"What was that? They were going to shoot us!" Toothless growled.
"They... probably just saw dragons and thought you were enemies... just a misunderstanding... oh gods, this is bad..."
It looked worse and worse the more Hiccup thought about it. Was that what was going to happen now? Had the city fallen into 'kill on sight' because of this attack? Was everything ruined?
It was too terrible to seriously consider. Being on the ground felt very dangerous now.
"We should look for Gandalf..." he whispered.
"Yes, we should. He can help," Toothless agreed.
They flew higher up above the city while looking for the bright white that would mark the Wizard down below. It was hard to see past the clouds of smoke on the lower levels. Being aloft also better let them see the extent of the terrible destruction below.
The white smoke was flowing out over the Pelennor, making it look from above as if the plain was covered in snow. Countless horses and men on foot were swarming as a constant drone and crashing sounded from beyond. Dark shapes fired glowing shots at the massive creatures and the remaining large groups of Orcs.
Hiccup didn't want to think about how many were dead down there or about what would happen next. There was so much horror even though the battle was almost over in victory. The whistling wind carried with it a shrill cry and a smothering fear that was so familiar to...
Something big crashed into them from above.
Sharp talons closed around him and lifted him into the air as the fellbeast kicked off from Toothless.
Caught in its tight grasp, he knew only fear and shock at how suddenly it had struck. Then came disgust at how hideously it smelled like rotten meat. He barely avoided retching as he was carried higher and higher up into the thick, swirling clouds that smelled of sulfur and stung his eyes.
Then came the smothering dread in his heart from the Nazgul's presence. Resisting was pointless.
There was no strength left to defy his doom.
All the sounds from the battle below faded away entirely as he stared down at the clouds below. Was that absence because of distance, the wind, inability to hear, shock, or all of those together? He was alone, abandoned, betrayed by his brother who left him to...
Toothless, burning blue with power, burst through the clouds. He was getting closer, flying as fast as he could.
Hope still glowed in his soul-fire. His brother had not abandoned him after all. No, that fear was only the Witch-king's magic and presence of despair. Toothless would never give up, and the fellbeast could not fly as fast as a Night Fury.
They broke through the last clouds and into the clear, blue sky. The clouds covering the city billowed like a tall stormcloud from the east. The stormcloud was lit from behind by the rising sun which he could not see and which filled the sky with an orange hue.
The fellbeast leveled off above the ocean of clouds. It was hovering in place as if it knew that escape was not possible.
If only he had a weapon of some kind, but his dagger and Inferno were gone now. If only he could fly on his own, but his wings were broken. If only he was not useless in these battles in which he really didn't belong, but everything was going to be fine. It had to be. He and Toothless would never fail each other.