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𝔖𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡

The white stone city of Dale was a prosperous and joyful town, full of the laughter of children playing with magical toys and of the bustle of dwarves and men. It's people enjoyed trade with the Dwarf kingdom of Erebor to the North, the lake-town of Esgaroth to the South, and the Woodland elves to the West. Many would come from all across Middle-earth to share in the wealth that Erebor brought forth. Wanderers looking for goods, adventurers looking for their next wild journey, and even the sons of nobles, seeking the teaching of the dwarf smiths and forgers.

Not often did a High Elf of Rivendell find themselves at the massive and strong archways of Dale, but that day, two elves had entered the city (not for the first time), one as an ambassador for Lord Elrond Half-elven, and the other to share the beautiful craftsmanship the Ñoldor were known for.

As it turned out, the elven pair were siblings. If one did not know Celebrenon and Alassaran, they would not see that they were brother and sister. But taking a closer look would reveal similar features and personality traits. Both had small, pointed noses, softer cheekbones, and full lips that smiled often; both had hands rough from creating beautiful jewelry and weapons; and both pairs of hardy brown eyes had seen terrible war.

But the War of the Last Alliance had been centuries ago, and they were in a time of relative peace. Now, they were meeting with a friend of Alassaran's, a dwarf smith by the name of Gonrir. Now, the friendship between Alassaran and Gonrir was something of an oddity in the land, as relations between elves and dwarves tended to be strained at best. But a love of gems and of gold and silver had created a sort of bond between them, and neither of them minded all that much.
Celebrenon bid his younger sister (by roughly a thousand years) farewell, as he had emissary duties to attend to with Thrór, King Under the Mountain, and vanished into the crowd of men and dwarves.

Alassaran pushed open the thick wooden door and it creaked with age. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light of the dozens of candles that hung from the stone walls and sat melting on wooden tables. Gonrir was at his usual table in the corner of the jeweler's, hunched over what appeared to be a torc made of gold. It was one of his simpler pieces, but it was something he would pour his entire being into.

"Hello, Gonrir," she greeted softly, wary of scaring the dwarf. At first, she thought he hadn't heard her, but a moment later he lifted his head and smiled warmly beneath his dark, grizzled beard.

"Ah, hello, lass!" He replied, setting down his tools and approaching her. He bowed low in greeting, and she smiled. "It's a blessing to lay eyes upon you once again. It's been quite some time since I last saw you."

"I have missed you, Gonrir," she told him. "It has been far too long, indeed."

Alassaran was about to open her mouth to continue speaking, but she was interrupted by the walls around them shaking violently. Shouts and alarmed screams were heard from outside, and the elf and the dwarf both ran through the door to see what was going on.

Nothing could have prepared either Alassaran or Gonrir for the sight that awaited them. Gone was the laughter of children as a dark shadow passed over the city of Dale. Screams echoed into the hot air and chaos had broken out in the streets.

"What the blazes is going on?" Gonrir demanded, stopping a terrified looking man.

"There is a dragon!" The man cried, then wrenched his arm free and fled into the mess of bodies trying to escape the monster that had arrived to lay the city to waste.

An earth-shattering roar sounded from above their heads; they looked up to see the dark form of a massive dragon fly over them. Fire rained down on the citizens of Dale, fire and the once-unbreakable stone that was meant to protect them.

Without speaking a word, Gonrir and Alassaran left the jeweler's and dashed into the chaos, knowing that a stall in their actions would lead to their deaths. As they neared the gates the elf skidded to a halt, her blood pounding in her ears so loudly that she thought her heart would burst.

"Wait! Gonrir, my brother!" She shouted above the chaos around them. The dwarf looked at her incredulously, but he understood the importance of family.

"I'll come with you," he told her, but she stopped him.

"No. I cannot ask that of you," she replied quickly, flinching when she heard the destruction of another building. "Fly while you can, I will find you afterwards."

Gonrir, as stubborn as he was (for all dwarves were known to be stubborn), nodded and turned away. Little did he know that he would never see the elf again. When he reached the main gate the dragon descended upon the people, crushing some with the thick stone archways and killing others with his fire.

Alassaran shoved her way through the men, woman, and children that were still trying to flee Dale. She shouted her brother's name, fear rising in her throat as time wore on and she had not found him.

"Alassaran!" There he was. She heard Celebrenon's voice, panicked and fearful, cutting though the sounds of chaos.

"Thel, na van evíneg? (sister, where did you go?)"

"Celebrenon!" Alassaran shouted, and they finally spotted each other through the fleeing bodies. She continued to make her way to her brother, but a rather large dwarf knocked her to the side, and she toppled down a small stairwell underneath a covered archway.

She made to get up, but the dragon had circled around once again. She knew what would happen only a moment before it did. Fire exploded in the street, consuming Celebrenon before his sister's eyes. She screamed in agony as horror and heat washed over her. Pain flooded all of her senses, and she knew no more.