Anyaelia let out a frightened yelp and stepped back, tripping over an unearthed root, and fell to the soft earth. Her hands scrambled behind her as she tried to crawl away from the serpent. There was a short intake of breath as the Dragon began to laugh at her inane attempts of escaping. Its eyes followed her every move, watching, toying with her. Its tail swiped her to the ground when she managed to get to her feet, slivers of sheet ice ran up her leg, but quickly melted.
“Kela hrive sgiathatch, lle e’ner lleaa’ mahta!” (Leave me be winter Dragon, you are in more than you can handle) Anyaelia cried angrily, wiping the blood away that trickled down her bitten lip.
“Tanyalle uuma, tenna’lle tela.” (That I cannot do, until I am finished) The Dragon replied, his harsh tongue mispronouncing the delicate elvish dialect.
Anyaelia did not reply, but stood quickly and unsheathed Abelenar, blocking the next blow of the Dragon. The sword rang in her hands as its blunt end hit against the hard, Dragon hide, though she managed to keep a tight grip on it. Slowly, the two circled, Anyaelia switched the blade from hand to hand, ready to use instantly. The Silmaril shard seemed to grow brighter, casting the eerie Dragons’ shadow around them.
“A Dragon duel?” It asked smugly, waiting for her next move.
“Nay, there are no Dragon duel’s, but Dragon dance’s.” Anyaelia replied.
The Dragon’s eyes flashed angrily, it pounded the ground with its clawed leg, and a sliver of ice ran up quickly towards her. She dodged sideways, avoiding her death.
“You will not go easily, Saruman had warned me of this.” The Dragon sneered, as it swung its scaly tail towards her once more. Anyaelia swung Abelenar to block the incoming blow, but, with such force from both, Abelenar sliced cleanly through the Dragon’s hide. Anyaelia held out her free hand to protect herself from the spray of Icy blood. The Dragon surged backwards, screaming in pain and cursing in its language.
“Saruman was right!” Anyaelia panted, but the Dragon ignored her, as it elevated its tail to avoid more blood loss.
Its snake-like head whipped towards her angrily, yet she could see the fire in his eyes fading, it stumbled towards her recklessly, and she slid the blade across his hide, spilling more blood. The ground around them cracked as its life was diminished and became ice. The Dragon roared in pain, but its cries were softer. Its thick legs gave out beneath it and tumbled to the ground, breathing heavily.
With what opportunity she had, Anyaelia leaped forward, and plunged the sword into the Dragon’s exposed underbelly. Anyaelia’s scream’s joined that with the Dragon’s as a spray of icy blood fell across her. Her legs seized up instantly, as the blood froze in its place, and she fell onto her back. Her body became quickly paralysed as she watched the Dragon struggle until, with one last will to live, it breathed its last. Anyaelia blinked slowly, feeling the coldness sweeping through her, chilling her blood. She felt it crawling to her heart, the icy grip of death. It surrounded her life source, and engulfed it.
Anyaelia let out a gasp of breath as her heart stopped, frozen in mid-beat.