The Last Heir of Isildur

Year 2940 Third Age, Middle Earth.

"My Lord Arathorn! My Lord, the orcs attack us from the north. There must be at least one hundred of them. We are surrounded. I don't know how much longer we can hold out!"

"Baeron, where are my children?!"

"They were in the gardens the last time I saw them, my Lord, but that side of town has already been taken!"

A terrible fear immediately took hold of the King: he couldn't lose them, his children, his heirs, the last of his line. He knew they wouldn't win that battle. He knew by reputation Gundabad Orcs, They were ruthless beasts, trained to fight, and they were superior in numbers: it would have been impossible to defeat them. But his children had to live, they had to escape at all costs.

"Father!"

The King heard a voice calling him amid the noise of the battle.

"I'm here, father!"

That voice again. Arathorn knew well who it belonged to. It was his son, Aragorn, who was calling him. He began to run towards the child, hacking and slashing as many beasts as possible, in a desperate attempt to keep him safe. A 9-year-old boy, not used to the horrors of battle, was looking for him from a high ground in the middle of the destroyed city.

He came close to him and brought him into a breach in the walls now fallen, so that he could talk to him.

"Aragorn, you must flee..."

"But Father!"

"No, but nothing! Listen to me, kid. Take your sister and head south, follow the Misty Mountains to Rivendell. King Elrond will take care of you."

"Father I will not leave you! Not now! I can fight, you taught me!"

"No Aragorn, there's no hope for you if you stay, you cannot fight, not today. There will come a day when you will show your strength and your courage, changing the fate of history, but it's not today."

The King told his son, gently putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Here, I want you to take this. It's the Ring of Barahir, all the great Kings of Gondor have worn it, and your turn will come sooner than you think, son. Go now, find Arya and go South!"

"Father, I..."

The boy tried to argue again, holding his father's hand tight, which was still resting on his shoulder. But it was useless, Arathorn would not listen to reasons, he had to send his children away and was running out of time.

"Go South! Take the eggs with you, burn them! They must not have them! Goodbye, Aragorn."

"Goodbye, father."

That being said, Aragorn ran as fast as he could, heading to the palace without ever stopping.

The battle raged all around the boy, but he kept going, swift as the wind, dodging orcs' blows and trying to pass unnoticed. Then he saw her, his twin sister, Arya, surrounded by four hideous creatures ready to tear her to pieces. He mustered up all his courage, took the sword in his hands and began to face them. He was not afraid, not at that moment. He was angry. Angry because he had to leave his father, his mother, his friends, his home. Angry because the flames were blazing in his city, which was now falling apart, destroyed. Angry because his childhood was being torn away from him and there was nothing he could do about it. All due to an Orc that neither he nor his sister could ever forget: Azog the Defiler. With these thoughts in mind, Aragorn slew his enemies, took Arya by the hand and together they ran towards the palace. As quickly as possible they collected some supplies, recovered some weapons and three dragon eggs, jealously kept in a casket in their father's quarters. Then they headed to the stables, where they mounted the two fastest horses in the North, Elendil and Andoras. They were young, yes, but they were already skilled knights.

Leaving the city wasn't so hard, not practically at least. Morally, they never left it.

After a long journey, mostly occupied by sadness, melancholy and fear for their fate, the two children arrived in the Valley of Imladris, the last welcoming house east of the sea. King Elrond was waiting for them, he knew of their arrival: he had foreseen it. Aragorn and Arya, exhausted by the journey, received a warm welcome in Rivendell: they finally had a bed to sleep on, a hearty meal and the assurance that nothing would have happened to them, as long as they remained there. Elrond was a good and wise king, he took care of the children, keeping the promise he had made to Gilraen long before.

Arya and Aragorn grew up quickly. Their childhood had been stolen by orcs, but in Rivendell, they were still able to find the lightheartedness and the happiness that every child should know. They soon learned how to fight and became excellent warriors, capable to handle both bow and sword. They were taught everything there was to know about Middle Earth: its history, its geography, its inhabitants, each people with its language and culture. They studied medicine and herbology, and some of the simplest magic spells. Moreover, soon came to them the awareness of their name and of what it meant to be Isildur's heirs, although King Elrond advised them to keep their identity hidden, for safety.

At the age of 20, Aragorn decided to leave for the North, with the intention of reaching the Dúnadain and finding information about their father. Having to part from her brother was really painful for Arya, but she knew he had to do it, it was his duty, his people needed him, they needed a guide.

The night before leaving, Aragorn gave Arya the Ring of Barahir, which had always belonged to the line of Isildur. Arya was hesitant to accept it: it wasn't up to her to have that heirloom, Aragorn had always kept it since his father had entrusted it to him before saying goodbye many years before, but at least she would have had something more than the only memories to hold on to on nights when she was lonely. So she eventually took it and put a silver chain through it, then she tied it behind her neck and never took it off again.

After Aragorn's departure, however, there was still an issue to be addressed, an issue that would have changed the girl's life forever. The dragon eggs.

· · ·

* Gilraen: mother of Aragorn and Arya

· · ·

It was a cool spring morning like any other, Arya was lying on the bed, lost in her thoughts when she heard knocking on the door.

"Come in."

She said in her usual gentle tone. She rarely raised her voice, she considered it unnecessary and pointless.

"Good morning, my Lady, I just wanted to let you know that King Elrond wishes to see you."

"Morning Lindir, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? I'll be right there."

The elf smiled and left her alone to prepare.

Arya washed her face and put on a more suitable dress, then she headed to the large terrace of the main palace of Rivendell, where the King was waiting for her.

"Mae govannen Hir nîn."*

The girl announced herself, reaching the sovereign, who was leaning against the elegant railing that surrounded the balcony with his back turned.

"Mae Govannen Arya, did you sleep well?"

He replied, greeting her.

"Yes, my Lord, thank you. You wished to see me, sir?"

"Actually, yes, there's something we need to talk about. What do you know about dragon eggs?"

Elrond had never been the kind of person who got lost in pleasantries, Arya knew it well, and perhaps that was also why she esteemed him.

"Not much really, I just know they're a family heirloom."

The young woman answered thoughtfully.

"You know your father requested that they be burnt?"

The King asked, bowing his head in her direction, with the air of one who knew it all.

"Yes, but..."

"But your brother decided not to. I understand, I understand you both. After all, those eggs are all you have left of your family, but there is a good reason why Arathorn's last request was to burn them."

Elrond told her in a serious tone.

"My father didn't want them to end up in the hands of the orcs, he claimed they could become dangerous weapons to be used against us. But I don't see how it's possible that in centuries-old eggs there can still be life."

Arya had understood where he wanted to go: Elrond planned to hatch the eggs, but how? Could they still be alive?

"A dragon can wait a thousand years to be born, my dear, those eggs should not be underestimated."

The King replied in a stern voice, looking the young lady straight in the eye. In those clear iris Arya recognised sincere concern, a feeling that never before she had seen painted on his face.

"What should I do?"

She then asked him in a serious tone, understanding the importance of the situation.

"Tonight you will take the eggs into the forest and set them on fire. Make sure not to be followed or observed, this must remain a secret, at least for now. Wait until the first light of dawn, then come and tell me what happened."

Elrond explained, starting to walk towards the inside of the palace.

"Is it wise to set a fire in the middle of the forest, my Lord?"

"Yes, if you know how to control it, and you should know the spells by now."

Arya nodded and returned to her chambers. She needed some time to think. Dragons had always fascinated her, but she never thought of raising one, let alone three. However, she wasn't certain that the eggs would hatch, she had no idea what would have happened that night.

After the sun had fallen behind the mountains, Arya hurried to take the casket with the eggs and headed for the forest. When she arrived where no one would have seen her, she prepared a pyre, placed the three eggs on top of it and set it on fire. She then pronounced some formulas in Quenya to prevent the fire from flaring and finally, exhausted, fell into the arms of Morpheus, letting herself be lulled by the crackling of flames.

Arya awoke from her sleep at the first light of dawn and immediately checked the pyre. She couldn't believe her eyes, the eggs had really hatched! The young woman looked more carefully and saw three small dragon cubs sleeping quietly at her feet. They didn't seem scary when they were little, they were almost cute. Arya decided to try to get closer, thus attracting the attention of the babies, which immediately showed curiosity towards her. Totally enchanted with their beauty, she bowed down to caress them and they took refuge in her arms. The girl, at first, was confused by that strange attitude, but chose to keep them with her: she would then turn to Elrond for clarification.

Being careful not to be seen, she took the children to her chambers and asked Lindir to call the King. The Lord of Imladris quickly realised the reason for that request and hurried to her quarters. Once he got there, his attention was instantly captured by the three little dragons: his suspicions were well-founded, the eggs had hatched sensing the presence of Arya, their destinies were now tied and they were to play a very important role in the future of Middle Earth, of that he was certain.

"What do we do now?"

Sitting on the soft mattress with the newborns in her lap, Arya quietly turned to him while she gently caressed the three scaly little heads.

"There's not much we can do. You're their mother, they need you."

"I am what?!"

The girl's serenity immediately vanished hearing those words. What could it possibly mean that she was their mother?!

"It is the dragon who chooses when to come out of the egg, Arya, you know that. They are born in your presence, which means that now you share a bond. You'll learn that this can give you significant advantages, such as greater strength and telepathy."

"Telepathy?"

She asked, partly curious and partly intimidated by that bond.

"Yes, my dear, telepathy. You should be able, with time and exercise, to communicate with them telepathically."

Elrond calmly explained to her, approaching the bed to better observe the cubs.

"And you're sure it's wise to let them stay here, in Rivendell? Maybe it's better for everyone if the babies and I go..."

"No, they can stay, for now. It's better this way. Here you will be safe and they will remain hidden from prying eyes."

He firmly asserted.

And so it happened, Drogon, Viseryon and Saphira grew up with Arya, staying hidden in her chambers until it was possible. Over time they learned to look after themselves and the bond with the girl became stronger and stronger. Once they had reached size too large to be able to live in the palace without causing damages, the dragons left Rivendell but remained in contact with Arya, who, instead, stayed in the house of Elrond until an old friend involved her in an unexpected journey.

· · ·

*Mae govannen Hir nîn = Well met my lord

· · ·

Year 2954 of the Third Era, Middle Earth

It was a warm summer afternoon, a breath of wind messed up Arya's long brown hair, who was wandering through the southernmost territories of Rhudaur on the back of her trusty steed Andoras. She had offered to patrol the northern borders of the valley to get away from the monotony of King Elrond's palace. Not that it was bad there, far from it, she was grateful to the Lord of Rivendell for having saved her and her brother from a terrible fate, she couldn't even imagine what would have happened if they hadn't made it to the Valley of Imladris. Sometimes, however, she liked to unleash her fantasy, inventing adventures, recreating in her mind places and people known only through books.

Feeling something or someone behind her back, Arya suddenly turned and found a person totally unexpected.

"Gandalf!"

The girl smiled heading towards the grey wizard. They had met many years earlier, shortly after she and her brother had arrived in Rivendell, when Gandalf had come to King Elrond searching for some information. The sorcerer was kind and very nice, soon a deep friendship was born between them, a friendship that would last a lifetime.

"My Lady, I didn't mean to frighten you."

The wizard politely told her.

"It's all right, Gandalf, I'm not dead."

She gently answered, showing him one of her charming smiles.

"If I may ask, what's a young woman doing alone in the wilderness?"

"I am never alone, Gandalf."

The girl answered seriously. The warlock was one of the few who knew about her three children, as she liked to call them.

"Ah, I see."

"What about you? What brings you here?"

"I came to ask for your help."

"Anything for a friend, tell me everything."

"You see, my dear, I have a very bad feeling. I stopped for the night not too far from here with a company of thirteen dwarfs and a halfling, and I'm afraid they may be in trouble. The sun's falling and the night often has some nasty surprises."

"Thirteen dwarves and a halfling, very strange fellows. What can I do?"

"I wish you'd anticipate me, I'm sure they could use a skilled warrior like you. Retrace my steps to the west, they should be near an abandoned hut. Be careful, Arya."

With a nod the girl left the wizard behind, riding fast in the direction indicated by him.

Late at night Arya arrived near the abandoned hut Gandalf had told her about, but there was no trace of the dwarves. She was about to turn around and come back when she heard screams coming from the forest. Thus the girl got off her horse and entered the thicket, trying to make as little noise as possible. She saw a light in front of her and moved towards it but, after a few steps, she had to hide behind the bushes to avoid being spotted by three huge trolls. But the beasts were not alone, they were in the company of thirteen dwarfs and a halfling! Gandalf was right, they had gotten into a lot of trouble, and now it was up to her to fix it. She decided to climb a tree to get a better view of the situation. She easily reached the top of an oak tree, from where she was able to see one of the trolls lifting a dwarf with long red hair.

"Nice and crunchy..."

The disgusting creature said, with the mouth watering. After hearing those words Arya didn't think twice, took an arrow from the quiver and shot it towards the troll's arm, who, bewildered, dropped the dwarf. Then the girl jumped off the oak and, after taking her two trusty swords, which she usually held behind her back with the quiver, started to keep the beasts occupied, waiting for the arrival of Gandalf.

The dwarves were amazed by the agility, the strength and, above all, by the courage of the young woman, who was facing alone three trolls to protect someone she didn't even know.

While slaughtering the legs of those filthy creatures with her swords, Arya noticed the sorcerer sneaking behind the hedges. Then she looked up and saw the first rays of light illuminate the sky. Sensing Gandalf's plan, she walked away a few feet from her enemies and put her swords back in their sheaths, thus attracting the questioning gaze of all.

"What do we do now? We take her?"

One of the trolls asked while he watched her curiously.

"Dawn will take you all!"

At those words, the three beasts turned, just in time to be petrified by the first sun's rays. Gandalf was on the top of a large broken rock and, seeing Arya, smiled at her grateful.

Together, the wizard and the girl helped the dwarves out of the sacks where the trolls had put them and freed those tied up on the fire. Everyone thanked her warmly for saving their lives, only one suspected of her: Thorin. The young Dwarf King, in fact, had always been reluctant to trust strangers, and Arya, despite having helped them with those monsters, did not convince him completely.

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?"

The dwarf asked, approaching Gandalf.

"Not since an era, not since a darker power ruled these lands."

The wizard answered.

"There's no way they have moved in the sunlight. There must be a cave nearby."

The girl, who was following the conversation while staying a bit at a distance, stepped in.

Arya was right, not too far from there was a cave with a vast Troll's booty. The dwarves explored it and, among the various riches and broken bones, found some swords not forged by any blacksmith. They were elf blades, made by the high elves of the first era. Gandalf and Thorin took one each and Arya did the same. Coming out of the cave, however, she noticed another sword, shorter and thinner. She picked it up and headed towards the hobbit. The girl had noticed that the halfling was the only member of the company to be unarmed, which didn't surprise her very much, after all, you would never expect to see a sword or an axe in the hand of a hobbit! Rather, Arya wondered what sorts of businesses someone from the shire could possibly have with the dwarves.

"Take it, you might need it. It's not very wise to go around the wilds unarmed."

She told him softly, handing him the weapon and deciding to put those thoughts aside. He bowed his head and looked at the sword. Bilbo had never taken up a weapon, not to fight at least, the idea terrified him, but, moved by the kindness and the conviction of Arya, he eventually took it.

Behind them, a dwarf was watching her movements closely. Fili was totally enraptured by the beauty and tenderness of Arya, and was also grateful to her for having saved his life and that of his companions. The dwarf immediately recovered from his thoughts by hearing a noise coming from beyond the bushes, so he joined the girl and the hobbit, ready to spring into action: something was coming from the forest.