The knock rang out through the home, halting her parents' morning banter. The firm and measured vibration rang in the air, different from the friendly ones of her friends from yesterday.
Her father rose and exited the kitchen. The opening of the door was heard as Aerlinn and her mother strained to hear what was being said as the murmur of conversation drifted in towards them.
Eventually, her father's voice echoed through the house calling for her. His 'official' voice, not the softer one he reserved just for them.
Aerlinn rose and joined him in the entryway, her eyes taking in the elf standing on their porch.
The man waiting wore the king's colors and carried himself with the air of solemnity that lent itself to his duties as steward for the royal house. He bowed his head slightly in greeting before speaking.
"My lord Gil-galad requests the presence of Aerlinn, daughter of Caladir, at once."
So the time had come.
Aerlinn had been dreading this moment. She was a scout, a military asset, to the kingdom and the time to report her findings had come, but how was she supposed to speak of Tiberius? The dragon had become her friend and yet the entire Quendi hated their species.
She had not decided yet.
While she was contemplating, her mother was already moving for her cloak. Elenwe paused only a fraction before handing it over, her mouth tightening as she did, worry clear in her brow.
Her father set one hand briefly on Aerlinn's shoulder before letting it fall. They were concerned like any parent that had to watch their child go before a figure of authority.
They didn't know the storm raging in her head. A decision that could change everything.
"Do not keep the king waiting," Caladir said and, though the words were ordinary, his voice held the authority of a father. 'I will support you' it said.
Aerlinn fastened her cloak and nodded. She knew her parents loved her and had probably noticed her clouded thoughts but still chose to put trust in her anyways.
Love. Unconditionally.
The walk to the king's hall felt shorter than it should have while she stewed on further. The messenger led, his back straight, and no attempt to look back as Aerlinn followed. The city had grown quieter with the approach of evening, though not completely still. Lights had begun to flow out windows as voices carried softly from the homes lining the street. The sound of waves from the harbor could not drown out the warmth of conversation and the laughter of kids in joy.
They were her people. The ones she had gone to that wasteland to protect, to fight for, and the ones that she was afraid to disappoint. To have their eyes squinted in scorn.
When she entered the hall, the warmth she had carried from home left her in a slow, almost reluctant fade as her brow settled into a firm line. She had made a decision.
Gil-galad stood before the long map table with two counselors near him, though both stepped back when Aerlinn approached, and he turned toward her.
She went to one knee and bowed her head. A soldier reporting after a long-fought battle.
Gil-galad smiled with warmth as he kindly made the gesture for her to rise. He was never a selfish King. Stoic and strict, maybe. But never overbearing.
"My lord," she breathed.
"Aerlinn," he smiled. "I was happy to hear you had returned. The Northern Wastes are a treacherous and soul-sapping place. I am glad to see you in good health."
He studied her with a small smile, his ancient eyes missing little. The hard years away, the wear of the road, the alert stillness of someone accustomed to constant danger. None of it escaped him. Not even her hesitation.
"Are you ready to report your findings," he asked.
"Yes, my Lord."
"Then let us begin."
Gil-galad and his counselors paid rapt attention as Aerlinn recounted her journey and findings. She spoke plainly, as she always had when duty required it, and laid out the route, the weather, the conditions of the wastes, the movement of beasts, the locations of danger, the surviving peoples she had encountered, and the orc warbands that roamed. Then she turned to the matter that put a crease in the King's brow.
She described a dragon.
Her words chosen carefully as to not let her affection show through, though she could not wholly strip that from herself either if one was observant enough. She spoke of his size, territory, movement, intelligence, hunting habits, and the care shown towards the tribe known as The Lossoth. She spoke of warmth shared in the basin and the strange peace that had grown in a place where she had expected only ice.
When she finished, the hall had fallen silent like a drawn string ready to release an arrow.
Gil-galad's face did remain stoic as his eyes lay upon the table. His hand tapped on the edges of the map, fingers drumming as he fell into thought.
"You are certain of what you saw," he asked.
It was not truly doubt. It was the kind of question rulers asked when the answer had already become a problem.
"I am, my Lord."
"And you are certain the creature is still growing."
"Yes, my lord." Aerlinn made no mention of the power he would catch him experimenting with sometimes, but she was aware he was still young for a dragon. Still growing.
One of the counselors shifted slightly but said nothing. His posture conveying the message the king seemed to receive with a barely perceptible nod.
Gil-galad's gaze shifted back to Aerlinn. "You have spoken with this Lócë?"
"I did, my Lord."
"And you stand here unharmed."
"Yes, my lord."
"Interesting." The pause followed as he sunk into deep contemplation.
"Then you know better than anyone in this hall what danger it presents."
Aerlinn kept her face still. "I do, my Lord."
Having decided, Gil-galad straightened from the table.
"Then it cannot be left to chance. Not after the ruin dragons brought upon the world. We cannot allow one to grow in secrecy beyond our borders."
His next words came without anger or grief, which made them heavier.
"It must be slain."
Aerlinn felt her blood pound like thunder beneath her skin. Her heart palpitating as nerves came into play.
Gil-galad continued as though the decision was final, and to him it was. "You will lead a unit of the best scouts and a handful of warriors. You know the land, its paths, and the creature's habits. Preparations will begin at once to trap and then fell the beast before it reaches maturity."
Aerlinn bit her lip, head bowed, as her breathing became strained.
Everyone has to make choices in their life. Sometimes it seems innocuous and small but ends up affecting them for their entire life, so they choose without much thought or understanding of its severity. And other times you know it will end your world.
"I refuse, my Lord."
The room froze as the King and his counselors turned toward her as one.
Interestingly enough, now that she had voiced her decision, the nerves and trepidation had settled into a calmness that brought terrifying clarity. She had no regrets.
"I will not hurt my friend."