Chapter 7: Chapter Seven – Wormtongue

After Calamitous slew his beloved twin brother, he aimlessly wandered the wild empty North, and he felt as hollow and empty as the lands through which he stumbled.

The multicolored swathe which his mother had made for him so many years before did little to keep him warm. As I said before, the garment was never woven for that purpose. The Ancients only wore swathes to cover their nakedness, for the dim light that lingered within their flesh was enough to keep them warm. However, with the last of that light now gone completely from his skin, Calamitous began to painfully feel the cold.

Thus, as he struggled through the frigid landscape, his limbs were frozen, and his hands and feet were frostbitten. So it was that with great suffering, he trudged on with benumbed and blackening fingers and toes.

Finally, after almost a month of delirious meandering, he found himself, by little more than chance, standing on the rim of the crater where the Tree of Deepshadows still grew. As before, snow was falling all around the tree, but none fell within the crater, for the thick clouds overhead seem to slowly swirl keeping the snow from drifting down into the wide depression.

With the murder of Salubrious, the evil tree had grown considerably. Its trunk was now some sixteen feet in circumference, and its height was around one hundred and sixty feet. Its tangled limbs and glossy black leaves cast a far greater and darker shadow than before, and here and there, its black gnarled roots were beginning to escape the bowl of the crater. With these roots, there also came the oozing mushrooms and their foul rotten odor filled the icy air.

Moreover, there were new even stranger plants sprouting up around the tree and its outstretched roots. Some had leaves that were like small traps which quickly snapped shut around any insect or tiny creature that was foolish enough to land upon them.

There were also other odd-looking plants that had leaves which grew to form tiny cup-like vessels. Each cup had a leaf that served as a roof to keep the snow out of its container so that the liquid within the vessel would not be diluted. Like the snap-traps, these death-ewers were also designed to capture small creatures, but their method entailed hundreds of tiny hairs angled to make crawling out very difficult. Once caught inside, the poor creature was left to die and decay.

Moreover, both types of plants continuously emitted the putrid smell of death, and by this, swarms of flies were drawn to their ultimate demise within these plants.

Still at her post coiled around the base of the evil tree, the young Dragon's eyes were again closed in apparent slumber. With each of her rhythmic breaths, her black obsidian scales slightly bristled.

Half frozen, Calamitous stumbled down into the crater and gazed at the stone sword he had made. The lithic weapon still stood stabbed into the ground where he had left it as a further reminder of his utter failure.

As he looked at the obsidian blade, Calamitous noticed that it was warmer down in the depression. Glancing around the tree, he saw, for the first time, that there were four large boulders standing tall around the base of the Tree of Deepshadows. He could see waves of heat radiating from these standing stones.

The now gray-Ancient cautiously glanced over at the sleeping serpent and then crouched down next to one of the stones to further warm himself.

“Why have you come and awakened me this time, little brother?” the Dragon suddenly asked without opening her eyes.

At the sound of the flying serpents deep hissing voice, Calamitous shuddered with terror, for he now felt keenly what is called by many, Dragon-fear.

“I’m cold,” he answered nervously. “And so, I only hoped to warm myself by your great stones.” Then suddenly, his curiosity outweighed his dread of the flying serpent. “How is it that these stones are so hot?”

The Dragon hissed a chuckle. “Like all my kin, I have the power of fire. Therefore, when I feel cold, I simply blow my fire upon these stones until they are sufficiently warmed.”

Without further words, the gray-Ancient studied the rock by which he was warming himself. Touching the boulder with his outstretched and blackened finger, a sizzling sound caused him to quickly draw it away again though his benumbed finger felt nothing.

“I fear, however, that I cannot allow you to warm yourself by my stones until you have given me some token of your loyalty,” the she-Dragon continued to explain while pretending that she actually cared whether or not Calamitous was cold. “After all, I can’t risk you killing me in my sleep, now, can I? I mean we both know what befalls someone who happens to be your sibling.”

Inwardly, Calamitous groaned from the pain that these words caused, but he desperately fought to hide it from the serpent. “Token of my loyalty?” he echoed as though the last comment meant nothing to him. “What kind of token?”

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A cruel smile exposed the Dragon's white fangs stained black. “Bring me some tender morsel to eat, and then I shall know that you, indeed, are not my enemy.”

“What kind of ‘morsel?’” the gray-Ancient asked with a clear note of distrust in his voice.

The flying serpent gave her answer in a deep growling purr. “The more innocent the kill, the more tender the meal. Therefore, I should like a child. They taste best.”

The Dragon began to salivate as she spoke, and the oozing drool steamed and sizzled as it fell upon the gray earth.

“In fact, if you bring me a babe yet living, I shall give you a bit of my fire to use for your own purposes.”

The idea of having his own fire was very tempting as his body numbly ached from exposure, but Calamitous could not bring himself to even imagine fetching a helpless child for this cruel beast. Finally, after a second or two of deliberation, he shook his head so faintly that it was hard to tell he had shaken it at all.

“I will not do this thing,” he mumbled quietly.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t quite hear your words,” the serpent hissed with a note of irritation.

Calamitous slowly stood, and trembling with fear, he set his jaw in a defiant expression. “I said I will not do this thing for you!” he restated with more resolve and growing anger.

“Then you cannot warm yourself by my stones,” the Dragon replied with a snort. “Be gone and take your foolish sword with you!”

Hearing these words, Calamitous sighed and seemed to deflate. Crestfallen, he walked over to the stone sword and drew it from the ground. Glancing at the blade, he thought for a moment of simply falling upon the sword, but in his mind, even this seemed to be a punishment which was less than he deserved.

As his misery seemed to overwhelm him, a question suddenly interrupted all of his other thoughts. He turned back to the serpent.

“By what name are you called?”

“We are not friends. You have made that plain enough. So why should I tell you my name?” the Dragon replied in a manner that almost sounded childish.

“I would know the name of the beast that made my life so utterly miserable,” Calamitous explained with a sad and broken tone.

The idea that she was a bringer of misery greatly appealed to the flying serpent. After a moment more of deliberation, the she-Dragon answered, and a note of enjoyment danced within her deep hissing voice. “My name is Wormtongue.”

Saying nothing, Calamitous nodded and then staggered away. Moments later, he had climbed out and was standing upon the rim of the crater. Over his shoulder, he mournfully eyed the Dragon one last time, and then he turned from the sight and began anew to wander the frozen lands.

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