For Challenge #35
A fantastic animal, dragon, unicorn or the like
A waterfall
A powerful talisman
Esmeralda Took

Count the Stars

Many years ago, as those not of the immortal races count the years, a wondrous happening occurred to a people little known nor understood. The tale has ne’er been told to those of the mortal races before. It is told now as the little known ones fade ever more distant and the tale is too fine a one to vanish in the mists.

There was a clan of faerie folk, wondrous fair, who lived deep in a timeless wood which was wrapped comfortingly over the feet of a small mountain on the western side of the Blue Mountains when they were not so near to The Sea. There they had dwelt happily in times when no mortal had set foot so far into the west and they dwelt there into the days of the roaming of the mortals.

But even in those fair days evil lurked in Arda. Orcs would come and prowl the wood and the faerie folk would hide in the trees, as did their distant kin the woodland Elves. And the orcs began to come more often, growing bolder each time, coming to the wood even when the Sun gave light to the world for they knew it was dimly lit beneath the trees.

Their master must have had words with them, for they began to search upwards, into the branches of the trees. Into the roof of the forest. Into the safety of the branches where the faerie folk were hid.

And the enchanting eyes of the faeries availed them not. And their beguiling laughter they could not bring forth from their terror. So it was that they began to be slain by the minions of Morgoth.

It happened upon a sun drenched day that a new terror approached the woods. There was a terrifying screech as a broad shadow passed to and fro. The dwindling clan of faeries shuddered in fear. A dragon could kill them all quicker than any band of orcs. All the fell worm need do was breathe it’s fire upon the forest crown to burn them and their homes.

Yet that did not come to pass.

The dragon landed in a clearing, barely big enough to allow it safe landing, and there it sat, making no move to burn the woods.

“I know you are there, little ones.”

Here was one whose voice held a power like their own. Smooth as the smoothest of honeys and more tempting by far.

“Yes, yes. You hesitate, little ones, and none would set you blame for that. I pledge you your lives if you will but grant me an audience.”

The faerie King and his Queen looked deeply into each other’s eyes. How often had they said the self same words to immortal and mortal alike? They smiled a bit at that, for so it was that even Elf kind were not entirely immune to their wiles. Why should they now trust?

“Come now! We have a common purpose, little ones. I long have dwelt on the far side of my mountain. Long I have dwelt there and troubled you not as you have not troubled me. Fouler beasts than my kind roam the world and such as these have had to pass by my domain to enter into yours. Think you that they have done so innocently?” The dragon snorted smoke from out his nostrils. “They have not. They have toyed with me. Lured me out only to shoot their miserable arrows at me. When I have refused to be baited thus, they send some into my cave to spy out my treasure.” He chuckled, sending smoke and a small flicker of fire from his jaws. “They all were nicely seared, though the taste of them leaves much to be desired. So now you know, little ones, there is a purpose other than my love of treasure or of obtaining better fare that prompts my promise. Come forth from your trees and parley.”

The royal couple descended to step out into the glade. They bowed low, as well they knew they should, as dragons are most proud hearted, regarding themselves as the rulers of their realms.

“Speak, oh fearsome and magnificent one, and we will attend to your words,” said the Faerie King.

“Well spoken, little King! My full greetings to you and your Queen,” said the Dragon, most properly as manners sit well upon a honeyed tongue. “The matter is this; I’ve a plan. But for it to work I needed someone to assist me.” Here it seemed the Dragon blushed the slightest of bits, if such a thing were possible. “I am not, you must understand, accomplished at stealth and stealth is what is needed. Your kind, little King and Queen, excel at this very thing. I come to beg your aid in ridding us both of the orcs of the evil one.”

The royal pair sought each other’s eyes for the passing of a breath. It was a truly spoken statement, stealth was in truth one of their greatest abilities.

“Continue,” said the Queen.

“The orcs will not expect you on my side of the mountain, but there you will be. I will signal you with a single spurt of flame from out my cave door. Do as you do best, little ones. Flit from tree to tree sending forth your mysterious laughter. But heed me, move always to the west. I will come forth, burning orcs as I can, taking care to not set the trees alight. They will surely be taken by surprise by such a combined attack.”

The King nodded. “Indeed, tis a sound plan. We are not unskilled at archery, though we prefer our silent flight to fighting. But this is a time for more assertive measures. Our arrows will force most of them to stay clear of the trees where you are best able to deal with them.” He looked the Dragon deeply in the eye, a dangerous thing for any other being to do. “Done and done!” he exclaimed. “We will do our part and trust that you will do yours.”

The clan moved to the far side of their mountain, their and the Dragon’s mountain. Watchers were set. Never was the cavern door unwatched.

A stream of fire roared out! The clan took their places. The Dragon came forth in his fury. Fire fell! Arrows flew! Light and swift arrows from tree to orc, heavy crude arrows from orc to tree . . . and to the Dragon. A few of the Faerie Clan fell from the boughs. Not an orc lived. The Dragon fell with a horrible crash upon the ground, an orc arrow had found the unguarded spot on his underside.

The faerie folk gathered and wept around the body of the dragon. A sadder sound none have heard, for as beguiling as is their laughter so heart rending is their mourning.

And the Valar heard. They sent one of their messengers to say thus:

“Great was the heart of the Dragon! Great was the trust and courage of the Faerie Clan! As he did with his life, he shall do forever more. He will watch over this clan. Look to the Northern Sky this night, to the star that does not move. See that you never forget to honor the one who saved you.”

The messenger was gone and the body of the dragon rose until it could not be seen, not even with a faerie’s eyes. But that night, in the northern sky, New Stars circled the Star That Does Not Move. The faerie folk saw the Dragon glimmering like the gems he had once hoarded, with the Star That Does Not Move set into his tail. And they knew it was as the messenger said it would be; he watched over their clan.

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A hobbit of the Shire walked in the gloaming toward a stream that flowed through her family’s farm. It was the first long walk she had been able to take since the birthing. She had stayed near to the house until it was certain her sister-in-law and the babe would be all right. She would stay a fortnight more until Eglantine was fully up and about.

Esmeralda Brandybuck sighed as she smiled. She loved this place, for as much as she loved her dear husband and sweet son, Buckland could never be to her what the farm in Whitwell was. There is no home like the home you grow up in, especially if that growing up was happy. Why, Saradoc had even proposed on the far side of this very stream. Down stream a bit though, not here by the waterfall.

She sat wearily down upon a flat rock, about a foot from the edge of the bank, letting the music of the small waterfall soothe her. What a battle it had been! Eglantine always had a tricky time of birthing, but this babe . . . Well, it could only be hoped they would have no more. It was well he was a lad. It had been so hard on Esmeralda, watching her own dear brother suffer as surely as his wife and new son were. Most of Esmeralda’s concerns had in truth been for Paladin and Lanti, for she knew things her brother did not, things very few others knew; she knew the wee tiny lad would pull through.

Oh, his breathing was still weak, as she knew her own had been when she was a babe. But he would hold on to life like the tough old roots of a tough old tree. And she knew, the lad’s eyes would be green, his features more like her own than either of his parents.

She looked through the gap in the thin tree line that bordered the stream. Night had just fallen, the half moon hugged the horizon behind the trees, and she could see the stars. She could see the North Star and the Wain. More dimly, she could see the Dragon whose body curled about the motionless star.

Esmeralda felt a stirring in her heart. The feeling of being free to do as she pleased, the way a child feels as it runs through the woods and fields. Her mind spoke to her, yet it wasn’t quite the voice of her own thoughts.

“Look to the Dragon. The child will be different, as you are, this you already know, but in him there is more. I know not why this shall be nor how, only that it will be so. Look to the Dragon.”

Esmeralda knew the Voice, though she’d hear it very rarely. She continued to look at the Dragon sparkling in the heavens.

A star in the Dragon flashed, flickered then fell, flaring into a dazzling brilliance. Esmeralda threw her arms up to shield herself, throwing herself to the ground beside the rock, as the falling star looked to be coming straight for her. She felt and heard it thud deeply into the ground.

Slowly, she lowered her arms. Cautiously she approached the hole in the field just beyond the tree line.

“Touch it not,” said the Voice. “On the morrow, rise early before the others of the house and before those who help tend the lands and herds. Come then and you will find the token, a talisman from the Dragon of the Faerie Clan. Tuck it under the pallet at the foot of the new lad’s cradle for while you are here, then, take it to your home and give it to your son. A gift from his new cousin. The Dragon will watch over them both, as will I.”

The Sun was just below her rising as Esmeralda ran through the dew soaked grass to the pasture. She half expected to find no hole, no “talisman from the Dragon.” Surely it had been a dream. But no, the hole was there. She knelt down in order to be able to reach the object at the bottom. It was black and oddly heavy for it’s size. It was flat and as broad as both her hands side by side with the fingers all spread as wide as they would spread. The stone was thick on one edge and quite thin on the opposite edge, its surface bore concentric ridges. It looked like a fish scale. But it was much too large. It looked more like it would be big enough to be . . .

Esmeralda gasped. It looked big enough to be a dragon’s scale.

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A/N: This story had a great many inspirations. First, Marigold’s elements. Then the insignia patch for my son’s new National Guard Unit - a dragon, with their motto: “Dragons in Support”, hence a helpful dragon. Next came a wrapper from a Dove dark chocolate that read: “Count the stars” and my knowing there is a constellation named Draco, or, the Dragon. Then checking out a web site and finding out 4,000 years ago the North Star was actually part of Draco, not Ursa Minor, and that would have been the case for several thousand years before that. (http://www.astro.wisc.edu/~dolan/constellations/constellations/Draco.html ). Finding out the definition of a talisman is that it is “typically an inscribed ring or stone that is thought to have magic powers or to bring good luck’, then watching a show on TV about meteors and seeing examples of meteors that are small enough to fit easily in a person’s hand, as well as one that is regarded as a talisman by the residents of Ensisheim, France. Then an email from Grey Wonderer wondering if Culassisul had been watching over Pippin all his life, or just as he got older. My thanks to Marigold, Grey Wonderer, my muse and the fates in general for bringing together so many diverse things to mix together to make this story.