traagu - Tumblr blog

[traagu]

I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them.

[traagu]

What are swearing outdoor grills powered with? Profane tanks.

( he knows little of jokes, too few do not dare humor a dragon, nor would such little creatures even breathe within his terrible face;  ) 

                         ’ Is this palaver that bides your tongue? ‘

a tail whips left and right, subtle clash of riches upon armored scale, the dragon’s face, contorted. seamless wrath grows and melds inside tepid lungs, the halls of mangled slain awoken; the mountain shivers as his temper toils.

[traagu]

the meaning of smaug

for cirithungols

[traagu]

a rumble that glorifies stone walls, that hoards the deeps of the night, the strife that beclouds the dragon's eye, churning with such sure ire. growls are not meek, they do not fancy the weak and swollen---- they tense with blood, they await the nurture of fire, the desolate wrath that grimes large bones, and does he ever indulge.

( nightmares do not see the end of this path, dark tales spun wildly, for he is dragonfire and she is a mere pound of flesh, a creature that he could so easily crush. ) 

his tail slithers behind him, ghastly and carved fair, rolling about halycon clime, tongue sneering behind the twitching maw; eyes of golden blood thin against the creature, the monstrosity leans back. shoulders roll, neck arched to the small skies:

                               ' Not very wise for such intelligence-- '

terrible voice gnashes at the peace of the mountain, dead bones quaking as they bleed in their fright once more, old ghosts risen---- their memories obscure and gone by. 

( riddles are his words, his favorite game, it begins, and she would have no chance further to disgrace him, so long as he spoke. )

a marauder knows his tales, yet she continues to muddle his knowledge of ancient lore, of the days when he was just a few feet tall; he is older than most, yet this thing stands before him with a scent like no other, it scorns his terrible mind, it implores his silver tongue to brim:

                          ' Tell me, why have you come here to die? '

he taunts, though she would be smart to charade off his words, to answer neither question nor riddle, nor brief him with any truths he has lived to know;

a terrible smile, laughter that echoes dark and deep, laying waste to the earthen craft below, his head bends for her, the intelligent-but-not-wise creature, a sneer as teeth dream of flesh. 

                   ' You are no martyr, to say what belongs to whom,                       to steal words from your breathless lungs, and                             scold me for what is mine, what is not. '

the dragon has been impeding upon her space as he does so, as his breath becomes hot-fire, as claws grind against coins and emeralds alike---

                 ' So long as it lays within my mountain, it is mine---- '

( his favorite word, spoken; voice has become a low roar. )

tremendous steps needle against the floors, the cracked tiles and crumbled shale, crevices burning bright within his chest, lungs churning as fury stirs so calm. 

                                       ' And that would include, '

( defunct is prediction, the toil and loss of innermost thoughts as his voice changes degrees, as he becomes a raw force of nature; )

a voice hisses, being soft decay against the ashes of his prior rage, the dragon's head rears, jaws wide and luring; teeth shine as he pronounces the next:

                                                         ' You. ' 

---that is when the dragon's head snakes through the air, jaws wide and open as they aim to kill, as the horror comes to life and he attempts to bite, as his muscles twitch for what war the creature wrought, what mockery she intended for her life; his wrath sown of finer seeds.

While true, she was not in her realm nor was she in good company that could keep her safe throughout these arduous travels, Zelda did not let these slights falter her as she attempted to gather as much courage as possible to face this foe that towered above her. She had heard tales of dragons reaching immeasurable heights, at times breached the skies to display their might and terror, ensuring that all those below them knew true fear and understood who was their ruler. A dragon did not need a crown to sit atop its head when it had power wrought deep into every scale and talon. The very earth trembled and the winds howled its promise to serve. Unfortunate, for it, that she would not see him as her ruler nor think she had trespassed into his abode.

Foolish? Oh yes, as what could a mortal do to fend herself against a dragon? And even if she possessed all the magick in the world, it would still not be enough. The very ground she stood upon threatened to spill with crowns and coins, collected en mass for gods knew how long. As he waded through the mountains of gold and jewels, Zelda followed his every movement, keeping her eyes glued to his elongated form; he appeared more like a worm with wings and talons that a dragon and she wondered if Lanayru could best him in size. Zelda knew that the serpent shifted his form and size at will, appearing as he would to those who summoned him and minding the spaces they were in. She recollected to the dawn on the blood-soaked fields of Hyrule where she saw all four spirits gather, the serpent the biggest one of them all.

Could Lanayru hear her from here? Could the serpent pick up the queen’s scent and track her down—even if that meant leaving his shrine? She was uncertain if the spirits were bound to the land, unable to leave for short periods of time or if at all. It seemed rightly just that they were forbidden to take leave of the realm, especially when they were needed to maintain the light that kept the darkness at bay. But was it not she who could only summon them? This dragon did not plague Hyrule…yet, but what of its queen?

"—And I have every right to believe that you will not let me leave, let alone alive," she retorted, following his every move while her hand became sweaty from gripping her sword for too long. The blade remained sheathed, a reminder that if need be, it could be used though uncertain of the good it would do. She knew not of any metal that could pierce a dragon’s flesh, let alone believed there was one as she had always thought that the Gorons were masters in their craft for they made swords that could not break rocks and if attempted, the wielder would only be supporting an arm with shattered bones.

"I also believe that this is not your abode. A dragon does not know how to create such fine works from stone, nor build grand halls of a noble house. A dragon only knows how to destroy." Oh so foolish, but the truth needed to be said. Hyrule would mourn the loss of their queen and they would know that she spent her last moments facing a beast conceived of flames and wrath. If the gods could hear her now, she needed their protection and the will to summon all the magick she could muster as a battle was right at the tip of her tongue.

[traagu]

-----there was this poster sale and they had a lot of lotr / hobbit stuff.

and so i just had to.

also, i tried to take a picture beside the middle earth map but it fell, and then i was like, this picture will do---

mind the huge hips i am shaped like a pear && i also have chicken legs.

also since i missed munday or w/e, here's a super late one. 

[traagu]

his jaw gnashes at the scent of invasion; among the silent, sunken pathways did something other than he trot. awake and antediluvian was the dragon, pressing upon the mounds of gold and jewels---- he simmers, beckons, and awaits such an uninvited guest to the leisure of their own peril.

( awaiting perhaps half the hour's time, delirious and frenzied, musty scent of dead things wandered; there is no better time to rise than when ears catch steps beyond the turn--- ) 

red-yellow eyes spot the claim of flesh, the delirious scent that engrossed such tepid air, where none dared climb, falter, nor look back so long as smaug would breathe.

scales of red appeal in moon's mist, shifting as fires burn deep below, where hence, there claimed no sound but the trinkling of riches and dragon-greed; 

                            ' And why do you wander so close? '

comes the wisp of dread,  the terror beyond ivy grown ramparts, deep and vivid in the swirl of smoky vapours: his breath muses in the shivering cavern, the tremendous dragon slithering nearer.

here, where red shone the sun and planets, as terror decides a tiny creature's fate, as life is left to the large dragon to decide--- he lets few escape his grasp, and so shall it be.

( claws pull and drag, tail weaving in and out of heavy gold, shoulders rolling as the tyrant's will passions him to tread closer: ) 

                         ' What utter despair leads you straight                                               into my maw? ' 

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his breath precedes, grimes the naked air like bare bones on a body; fumes rise, all-poison smog from bizarre snout. as golden eyes twitch to the strange ambiguity in her hand, steps continue to drag and scrape the shale of stone and gold, pulling himself near the woman till his air cupped her face----

( a stench too engrossed, the smell of metals and ore, strange energy that veils the quip in her hands; there's witchery at work, as there is something he has not smelled before. )

a supple inhale, his jaws stir, teeth peeking from beneath crude lips, cracked and torn, stained with the fresh smell of greed. there stinks no thing he's known, though human, she was mixed with something other. 

                    ' Most, would know the title of the homeowner                                   before scavenging their castle. '

there slumber the still lakes of gold, the clash of trinkets and coins unheard, as the dragon stands in the dead passion'd flame. a close remark, though question is responded:

                                             ' I am Smaug. '

evil wings that croon in dull beating, claws pull at bygone gladness, cracks in the pillars and ground he held growing stronger, triumphing against eternal stone, he speaks a treacherous name. no titles needed, the madly sighing enough to speak of earthen's grasp, steadily dying.

                                  ' May I ask the same of you? '

he weaves his tongue, for it is known that dragonspeak can crush the strongest of wills, a strange magic that influences the mind of others and bend them to his deceit---- manipulation of spirit eating, loathsome furies that irk the mind of the most benevolent or worse;

( and if not either, it still plants a doubt in another's subconscious good-thought. ) 

he wields no lies, no lowest treachery of a thief, but simple theories that can grow into horrible consequence, and that is what lays in the belly of the beast.

❛ [ ☢ ] ███ RADIOACTIVE DECAY ↯ —— Darkness filling the caverns carved from natural rock and stone made the exposed, grafted, crimson cybernetics illuminate with intensity. A strange and terrifying vision to anybody of any era; the scars that split her face open and red oculars seated upon glossy fields of black, sickly pallid flesh muted by the shadows cast (though the sharpness of regal angles were accentuated by a fine layer of perspiration and her weathered look amplified by the grime of hard battle; even without the evidence of fresh war, the Prophet’s image was death-like, hollow and gaunt like a skull). Rock were crunched like splintering bones beneath the slow walk carried by her armored boots towards the center of the cave with her angry sight aimed down the barrel of her assault rifle. A spare blade hung at the heavy belt around her waist, the other guns attached securely to her person contributedto the slightest resonances that came from shifting against the plates of her armor.

Eventually the tunnel lead the Commander into the inner sanctuary, revealing the sole inhabitant of earthly formation. The Great Lion’s gun (a horrific weapon capable of shooting hundreds of rounds per minute at high velocity, a firearm sure to instill fear and wonder upon those living in this technologically stunted era) never lowered and her internal systems remained on edge from the previous battle that raged just hours before. Rather, upon the revelation of the internal structure and it’s occupant, siting upon mounds of gold and jewels, a singular Semetic word was uttered:

     ”.דְרָקוֹן"

A big, red, dragon; a behemoth of a creature from legends old and told with great frequency in Western human mythology as creatures meant to be slain, heraldry sigils of dynasties and war banners; but to her people, the First Children of Abraham, the dragon was found in astronomical notes of Thuban in Draco, the dragon constellation. Whatever the beasts roots were, the woman took no chances and offered no kindness. It spoke, indicating that it could communicate and possessed intelligence, already it proved itself to be dangerous (not because of the myths surrounding it, but because it proved that it could think; she was already formulating a way to put it down or escape if things went awry).

"Who are you?" Ariel demanded as though in reply to the rumbling statement given by the wurm, harshness of her icy vocals bouncing off the crypt’s walls.

[traagu]

the shadows of a voiceless race creeps, tremors and coddles as the dead whisper about, hums benign of dull and dense, drawn vapor suck'd with dreary pestilence. 

he creeps around the pillar ( of shale that dared brew no moss, no living thing could grow so long in the air of dragontongue & greed ), shoulders rolling back as each step pulls him closer to the realm of riches he would hoard; low smoke rising from tender snout.

and he shall beat on dark shores, thunder rolling as terrible eye looks about, red-gold pasture that dons his sight, the smell of new-bound flesh inhaled as he continues to roam, to slither upon his own treasure, to count every drop of coin as it bounces against jewel and stone alike----

( crawl the vines, dead and rotten as his steps shakes the earth; he: the red sun that rises, the lightless moon that thrones the skies. ) 

jaw sneers, and his neck curves to meet the low level of the creature's height, for that is where her scent roams best. the fleshling's hide stinks his mountain, impedes his throne, abuses his power, so he decides.

                                                  ' Where ... '

a snarl of mouth, teeth like pinpoint swords, deep rumbles that resound a tyrant's broth, legends of ill only upon his breath. kindness does not welcome she, and neither does he.

the dragon follows the scent, quick through the golden chamber, around the pillars as claws break through stone, crush the dust of century old bones;

                                               ' ... are you? '

[traagu]

a descent into poisoned waters, arsenic-breath fumed from either nostril, tales of yore itching within the dragon's throat, blighted terror that yawns below. with wonted haunts of man as his own lungs, a spirit too far dead and d e s o l a t e; 

( those foul things that he crushed and fed, not even a mouse wandered these halls-- ) 

carnivorous shape, tyrannic dread, he who sought no solace, no noxious horde, no army of the dead, only him and what greed implored. 

a chiseled curl of jaw, a stare of lethal shade, low rumblings of a dragon that did not take too kind to company shared in his heaving woes. his large body glides, sifting through the gold and mercies of coin, the riches never shared, only there to vex the eye of the beholder, he resounds:

                                                  ' A guest. '

cynical, mocking, as that is what dragons do, a dark mourning that resounds in his voice, that shakes the dust off pillars that surrounds his mountain.

( if it were not for her scent, he would have thought her of some other kin, alas. )

he continues to pace over his riches, thunderous legs threatening timid balance should one not be wary. and if she was a speck to his vision now, each wing would scrape into shale to pull him forth, horrid tail dragging behind him.

[traagu]

Countdown to The Desolation of Smaug: 13 days

[traagu]

grishildr:

Long ago, there were dragons in her realm. She read about them in books and in scrolls; read about their terror and what they did and could do to all those who stood in their way. Mere mortals against the might of a beast who could breathe fire and whose wings could create storms. No known weapon forged by the hands of Hylian or men alike could destroy such a monstrosity, and it had been to the gods that mortals looked to for guidance. Some of those stories were about the chosen hero of legend and how he ventured through forests and mountains, battling beasts that only the imagination could bring to life. Some of those creatures were dragons, but not all dragons were the same. The Gorons spoke of a man whom they called their sworn brother; not only did the hero ensure their longevity but also liberated their people from the dark lord’s reign, killing not one dragon but two. The mountains were home to some of the fiercest of monsters, born from rock and fire and smoke, yet even their greatness could not be matched by the sword that was, as the gods foretold, the Blade of Evil’s Bane.

But this was not Hyrule and she did not possess such a sword nor was it anywhere near her. This mountain was foreign to her, having wandered through halls that were not built by Gorons but by something else. These were grand chambers that belonged to a noble house and Zelda knew she was far from her kingdom or any realm she may had encountered through various travels. The gods were rather fickle in their ways after the Twili invasion; a mirror was all it took for two worlds to bleed together, to nearly become one as they would have been united in a common element of darkness. So much blood had been spilled to realise such a dream, a dark one, but a dream nonetheless for who were the gods to decide whom was good and evil? They chose not to intervene as this had been but a test to challenge one’s mettle against temptation and courage to fight off the lingering remains of corrupted power.

She knew dragons possessed heightened senses, being the supreme beings they were written throughout legend and all feared them; all creeds of life knew the end was nigh when a dragon appeared. It just so happened that she found herself within its lair, surrounded by gold and jewels—possibly more than she had ever seen in her entire life and would see for many years to come.

With quick and measured steps, Zelda remained behind one of the large stone pillars, calculating each breath as she curled her fingers around the hilt of her sword yet knew it would do her no good. Fear coursed through her limbs, reminding her that even if she chose to hide behind stone, it would only be a matter of time before she was consumed, either by the dragon or by the mountain. Neither seemed to be an optimal choice, but she was helplessly outnumbered and her magick was nowhere near as proficient enough to battle a dragon….though perhaps if she could summon the Light Spirits—but she was too far from them to even consider that as an option.

But it not on the offense, she could certain hold him off for a while; use her magick to its defensive nature to buy her some time. "I am not hiding," she called out, her own voice booming throughout the large cavern and echoing off the stone pillars, as she stepped away from hers, skin ashen and hair tangled as if she had crawled through hell and back just to stand here. Her eyes, an ashen-blue of a peculiar kind that had seen more than one lifetime—perhaps even a hundred if not more, peered up at the beast, defiant in their own nature while her body trembled like a leaf but her voice remained strong as ever.

fire burns all life, they say---- the touch of vicious flames, malicious and wrathful, like ire'd poison in the bloodstream, a black snake in wading waters, a taint that feeds the land; some are born of hatred, some from fallen stars, and others divide from g r e e d.

red-gold scales wrap around his form entire, underbelly draped in the driest of jewels, the tyranny of sharp sense upon his sight, the twitch of reptilian eye as her form introduces the light, bathed in gold reflection.

( he thinks elf but this is not she, for there is something other than the woodland in her bones-- )

monstrosity, was the crafted word, the lithe tongue carried such weight as they spoke of dragons---- and it was no better untrue as he could taste fear: tremors that shattered fragile air, shaky breath that danced around unarmored pores;

flesh did not stop wonted fires, black lips baked and thick man's blood twain with burning face. this was the fear---- death, the lick and wound of dragonfire, the harp of speared teeth upon ribs through which the sun did peer.

his weight in blood, rough jaw in a half snarl, pride and pompous all the same as her heart beats loud in his ear, a difference in ere long silence, how fast he nears and nears to the source, the voice that impedes his kingdom of gold.

( wormlike tail flicks, wings scuffling as claws dig through coin and emerald alike; ) 

tremendous body wades towards the she-creature, and thus began his reign of horror, hind legs echoing in empty mountain, beauty lost as reminder sates itself in the belly of the beast.

a turn of face as death braggingly spares her this day, he swerves around her form, whether she trekk'd back as rough winds would shake, or she stood strong as earthen shale quakes, he cares little.

( eyes impede, they warn of what little warmth remains in his breathing thaw-- ) 

behind her, does the beast pause, he implores her to keep with his terrible game, where one bends for the terror, and where it was most unwise to have a dragon upon your back.

                                             ' Are you not? '

resolute, undenied was a lowly growl, the twinge of snout as smoke infuriates, misted fire as heathen lungs boil in fiery broth. smoke-flame burns the eyes, only to float around his most honored guest----

one shadow more, one ray the less, his patience wanes; he feels for silence once more, where centuries' sleep wrings his mind. a glutton unmoved, the king of the mountain stands:

( she could look around, then choose her ground, and take her soldier's rest. ) 

                            ' Yet, you trespass into my abode. '

[traagu]

lingering before she, tames the dragon in moment's haste, serpentine eyes on all.

skin and flesh, melted bone, the flame of the mountain 'pon his tongue, he knows there remains the bloodied score of other breath than he---- and the red dragon implores, smoke-mist breathing through each nostril, waiting for the wretched taint to rear it's head.

not a coin tucked betwixt any scale, no jewel that hides his tremendous gloat; red-gold fires that inhale sharply, the descent of universe's glow, he speaks once, tail withering through and through;

( gold shifts as does he, riches of yore and dwarven kind kindled upon terrible reign-- ) 

                                            ' Well, adventurer. '

here, where voice thrums through stone, wild and bold as the quiet brain perplexes; he deciphers no less that she hails from the isle of man, the very same that bewitched tales of his brethren-- 

( slay the dragon, mount its head, pike its bones and feed its meat; ) 

scales were not born for sallow death, what mad pursuit can only express-- the mountain-built, the pitchers of blood he stew, what grating claws ached for a soul abroad.

                                        ' What do you do now? '

poison is in his lungs, black and monstrous-- the dread of the mountain bears wars in his heart, fire in his blood, and spared none whom dared enter his mighty kingdom.

[traagu]

and he smells it---- elven blood, the thick and disastrous taste of it, nigh upon the back of his throat. the delicacy of the eye, but still, all too unbidden blood. It had been years since the frost of the dawn had greeted him, the thick musk of lush and nature kine, brazen against hot pyres of the dragon's air.

oh, but this is no one mere elf, for there is something sickly familiar----

the moon was at it's edge, wan stars dancing in between-- the tuft of an old creature born anew, a charming heir, dressed in wooden favors, or so he can manage,

( if he can smell a single coin amiss, he can decide the subtle mass of creature; ) 

to lay still, perhaps to even let the meek thing wander among his treasure; a mercy.

he moves, he ascends from his golden throne, head rearing as coins and jewels alike burst at deepest plea, red-gold eyes lowering to the death of tranquil air.

beastly scales slither upon the grasp of riches, wings stretching to reach as he moves closer and closer to the man, flesh mending in his image, light unwoven as marred bone is none to be found; for he is smaug, and he has no weakness. 

he stops before him, only few steps beyond, neck arching to impede a closer look.

no moon shines where he stands, a low husk of thunder in dragon-throat, wings of yore steadying fast with tyrannical desire, as what only breathes-- Is beastly fire.

         ' What enthralls you to wander so far from your home, elf? '

whom dared to seize the flames of the mountain, the dread of dragons, the horned king, as he spoke of terrible things under his tongue--

( of a hidden death that awaited the end of the elvenkind's tale. ) 

tremendous body, doused in jewels, he paces in circles around the other-- climbing around him and beckoning, teasing for the first attack.

' To reclaim treasure, to steal precious gems and live off of wealth? '

he mocks, willingly, for there is no army to save the lone ramblings of one pious elf.

( and even if there was an army, he would have taken them to war. )

[traagu]

Smaug the fire-breathing dragon

[traagu]

the mountain rumbles as does the d r a g o n beneath it-- but precious gold does not shake, it merely flows from one end to another, coating the body of a marauding worm, he decides: simply to watch, to incite the fashion of pride and vain, to wait till it would destroy those whom sought it. 

( five long winters, and only the most stupid would wander within, ) ; ➔

a peeled eye, a wispy breath of dark-colored smoke; the fog of the draconian terror breathes around the intrusion--

( his maw reflects in the ruby's own, terrible and mighty, teeth of torn spines. ) 

the engrossed scent of something human but not, twine and meshed against the scales of his own nostrils, as the stranger continues to plague his air.

                            ' Please, look around some more. '

his breath stings, jaw tickling the hairs upon the back of the creature's head;

( he waits---- )

The thunder of a crash echoes without remorse, the effect of having a cave like area to collect sound is the amplification. It was not as if they had attempted to sneak in however, the noise barely ringing in ears adapted at tuning out the tin of machine guns and the roar of monsters and Mechs. His landing is not as neat as hoped form, the piles of treasure that boots attempt to balance on giving out beneath the figure clad in red. What a disgrace, his figure slipping and sliding till he finds traction and stillness, his fingers dipped deep into the blood of gold. He pauses before standing tall, carmine digits snagging a ruby ring from the mess of it all. He inspects it instead of the beast that he smelled from even outside the rocks, holding it up to the light to catch its true color as he awaits something.

[traagu]

he rises from slumber, the universe whimpers.

( teeth like a knife, they say; )

the gods, they quake, they shiver as gold does (all around him, whispering to one another of incarnate greed, the spoiled lust of dragon-bound rhymes of glory and gore), and there is a terrible, acrid stench as he exhales into the black earth.

                              ' Your scent cannot hide you. '

he rumbles deep, throat a dark and poisoned chord of voice, echoing through hot air, through the mist-fires of the mountain, eyes curling open, a slither of tremendous body as he arches into the light.

broken bones are what he tastes so full and brim, as smoke fumes from each nostril, till dwarven blood was frozen slowly, and eyes were darkened wholly----

( the air trembles, his delight shivers, and the world burns-- at his very disposal. )

tossed ruby, the shade of sanguine that spanned across no willowy hills and fields among, where only curled screams were sung along; the old and great, mighty smaug, the scales that slithered upon his backbone, red as the bloodiest battle.

( coins fall of him as he stands, the mild, clink clink, reminding the dwarves of their loss )

a stare to the darkness, the thief that lurks in the night, how dare anyone trial his throne-- how no fear beckoned, as one faced,

the king of the mountain.

[traagu]

The Lonely Mountain