Then Linglorel spoke to her Dúnedain lord:
„No, don't draw your shining sword,
And, for our love, speak not a word
Until I charm the dragon, else may all be lost,
And of this quest our lives yet pay the cost.”
Golden-haired Linglorel pushed the stone door,
And dragon lay on his hoard upon the ice floor,
Not moving, though his restless gleaming eyes
Left them no hope of deception, trick or surprise.
Hideous Vethúg was, where all things else were fair,
White-skinned, with dry scales thick like a hair.
Thindaer wondering with what trick his dame,
That fair elf daughter such a monster could tame,
And of his sheathed sword had but little shame.
But being within the lair, both cloak in dark grey
Her twilight mantle Linglorel cast away,
And in thin soft silk alone was clad,
And around her neck a strap she had,
Whereto was hung a harp of pearly white.
Then the pale drake, at that shimmering sight,
Raised himself up upon his hideous feet,
As if to meet her, while her lily hands sweet
Already moved amongst the silver strings,
Preluding elvish and magical things;
But now she beckoned Ranger to her side,
For slowly towards them 'gan the dragon to glide.
„O Irmo, You who create each dream anew”
Whispered she, while ceaselessly she drew
Her fingers through the strings, and fuller grew
The Elfinesse music, but the Vethúg drawn nigh
Went slower still, and turned his head
And circled them with eerie tread.
And as beast went, sound rattled and churned
From his dry scales; but as dragon turned, she turned,
Nor failed to meet cold eyes that on her burned
With shining eyes, and, lastly, soft but strong
Her voice broke forth in sweet elven song:
"Enchanted songs such as these
From silver gardens of the Lord of Sleep,
Where fountains play, and shadows creep,
By pale Estë power, and now you shall
Let yours upraised wings let fall,
Relax your talons, let both your eyes
Be closed, dream fantasies when you lay
Fill your giant head till dawn of day
And we are far upon our way!"
As thus she sung the cold-drake seemed not to hear
Her sweet spell at first, but ever drew anear,
But slower soon he dragged his length along,
And on his limbs he tottered, till at last by her song
To elven maiden and her Ranger feet he crept,
With cold eyes closed, as though well-nigh he wept
And there before her laid head down and slept.
- "Aldamir" from Lays of Bard Pantlinn -
The dragon Vethúg entered his lair, cruel and merciless as winter. With scales like the living ice, with eyes of pale blue crystal, vast translucent wings, and breath of cold. The glance of his fell eyes was keener than that of eagles, and outreached the far sight of the Elves. He brought with him a fierce wind, it was so cold that the rocks cracked and snapped around them. They could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed. And then they saw Aldamir, the Green Jewel on his chest, green as the leaves but with the light of the Sun trapped within it. They now recalled the words of the dwarven sage Rakul of Erebor, to whom they had gone earlier for advice to learn the dragon's lore: “Those drakes and worms are the evillest creatures that Morgoth has made, and the most uncouth, yet of all are they the most powerful.“
And as when above a pile of smouldering wood countless eddies of smoke roll up mingled with soot, and one ever springs up quickly after another, rising aloft from beneath in wavering wreaths; so at that time did that monster roll his countless coils covered with hard dry scales. And as he writhed, the elf-maiden came before his eyes, with elixir from the poppies called fumellar, the flowers of dreams, and with her sweet voice calling to her aid sleep and Vala Irmo, to charm the monster; and she cried to the queen of rest, Estë, the night-wanderer, to be propitious to her enterprise. And Caleardor's son followed in fear, but the serpent, already charmed by her song, was relaxing the long ridge of his giant spine, and lengthening out his myriad coils, like a white wave, dumb and noiseless, rolling over a sluggish sea; but still he raised aloft his grisly head, eager to enclose them both in his murderous jaws. But she with a newly cut spray of juniper, dipping and drawing untempered charms from her mystic brew, sprinkled his eyes, while she chanted her song; and all around the potent scent of the charm cast sleep; and on the very spot he let his jaw sink down. And far behind through the corridors were those countless coils stretched out.
For a moment Linglorel could not believe what she had just done. She watched Vethúg closely, doubting that he could possibly be asleep. She half-expected him to open his eyes and seize her, but he did not stir, save his eyes moved rapidly behind his lids. He was dreaming, of what she did not care to know.
She sat there for a while, gathering strength. Then she worked up to creep around the slumbering dragon and began to search for Thindaer, not daring to call out his name. She found him at last, for every moment seemed an age. She was terribly weak, drained by all her singing and invoking. She laid her hands upon Thindaer.
Thindaer stared at the Green Jewel for a moment, and then he began to cut it. After much sawing and cutting, the Aldamir slid out of the dragon's scales and into Ranger's hand. He almost dropped it, for he had learned from the Elves about magic of their kind, but there was no pain. Thindaer held it in his hand, a mortal. He held it up high and his heart beat with triumph. Never had he hoped within dream that he would hold this thing aloft now, yet there it was, resting upon his grimy hands. Linglorel looked up as the light of the stone spread and became bright, touching their upturned faces. Their hearts felt renowed; their spirits revived. The beauty of it was captivating, and Linglorel smiled and breathed a collective sigh of relief.
But then acid from dragon's maw struck Thindaer upon the face, and he reeled back, shrieking in unbearable agony, his left cheek sizzling in the dire liquid. And he fell to his knees before the Dragon, oblivious to the danger in his desperate anguish, frantically clawing at his face. Yet strong hands lifted him up; ’twas Frimsi and Linglorel and Passerose, come to the aid the Ranger, raising him up and dragging him backward into the passage.
The dragon's body trembled and moved, his tail beginning to batter the ice floor, knocking down the snow walls. They heard a loud roar of rage behind them, and ice shards detached from the ceiling and began to fall on their heads.
