A/N: Okay, I seriously had no idea whether to post this here or on Fanfiction.  The story and character are my own, but the poem in italics is not (it’s the song that Pippin sings to Denethor in LotR: Return of the King).  But I posted the story here at the advice of my friends, so whomever wrote that awesome song/poem, here is your credit for doing so.  

Fade

Home is behind, the world ahead…

I am leaving.  Leaving the only place I knew.  There was nothing for me there; just a cave that grew colder with each passing year as the fires inside the mountain seeped back into the earth.  I am old, and I have been alone for many years.  It was not so in the old days, when the sky was filled with iridescent wings and magic was reality.  Now there are the humans, and they do not care for the wild magic.  They have built stone walls around their minds, and the gates leading inside are barred.  They feel superior, but they are short-lived and ignorant to the world.  They have not heard the stars, they have not spoken with the wind, they care not for the forests.  And to them we are beasts, monsters to be slain without mercy.  And slay they did; the molten fire inside of us kill many, but in the end they win with their nets and arrows and steel weapons and the power of sheer numbers.  When one of us dies, we all feel it; our hearts are torn apart and we keen to the sky in sorrow.  In the early days of the slaughter, the nights were never silent.  But now there are so few of us left and so many have died; our hearts have numbed and in many places the night is quiet.  My silver wings beat against the sky; I am leaving.

And there are many paths to tread…

Where will I go?  I do not know.  There are few places left that the humans have not taken over.  I could go to the high mountains, but there is not enough heat.  I could go to the forest, but there are none big enough that are left after been ravaged by loggers or human war.  There are many paths, but few lead to survival.  Which one shall I travel?  Once I have chosen, there is no going back.  Once I have chosen, the other paths are closed.

Through shadow, to the edge of night…

Night is falling, and I have ceased to travel.  I have chosen my path; I will risk being close to humans.  It is far enough that they may not discover me.  This cave I have found has not ever been occupied; it was hidden behind the vegetation of ages, and I have cleared the entrance.  Not with fire, but with claws that are sharper than anything else in the world.  It is big enough, and it will do.  Darkness creeps into the cave where I lie, and shadows dance in the pale moonlight.  I will sleep, a deep sleep that carries no dreams and I will not awake on my own.  Night is here.

Until the stars are all alight…

I awake, but why?  I hear the raised voices of humans, and the clash of steel armor.  It is still night, but it has been a long time.  The moon has gone and I have been found.  I see the torches the humans carry; they are like stars that light the way to my death.  Let them come; I will die, but so will they.  My kin will not be the only ones sorrowing tonight.  These stars are alight with death and the new moon will be the color of blood.  Let them come.

Mist and shadow, cloud and shade…

They are almost to the entrance; they think me asleep.  I will show them otherwise.  I charge out; my wings flared and my roaring jaws dripping with barely contained fire.  The horses rear and the men are afraid.  But they do not run.  They had their chance, and now the path of escape is closed to them.  I let loose my fire, and scores of them die from the fierce heat.  They shoot arrows coated with what they call dragonsbane, but it’s effect on us is a myth; the metal tips that seek to bury themselves in my flesh are the reality.  My blood flows from around the protruding shafts; black on silver, shadows on mist.  I pay no heed to the pain, and am soon in among them.  As many as fell to my claws, there were always more.  A spear finds my wing joint, shattering the delicate bone and tearing the muscles.  Now it is a hindrance, hanging loose at my side and entangling my legs.  Still I fight on, and the silver clouds of my scales are covered in the black shadows of my blood.  But I still fight.

Men shall hate, all shall…

I have killed countless numbers of them, yet still they come.  What drives them to kill in such a determined way?  They call themselves knights, yet they are filled with hate.  I am weakening, and they know it.  I let forth my fire again, one last time.  A spearhead finds it’s mark deep in my heart, and I fall.  I am dying and cannot fight, but still they slash at me and shoot arrows.  Can they not see?  Are they so blinded by their hatred that they cannot see my death?  My golden eyes cloud over, and I feel no more pain.  I have died, and my soul has woven itself into the tapestry of the sky.  And beneath me, I hear the sorrowful keen of a grieving dragon pierce the night.

Fade.