Read the Creator's Thoughts down below.
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The army and I held the last rites for the fallen. The total number of dead was in the thousands, though I could not tell you the exact amount. There were tears and laughter, sorrow and joy. The dead were praised and mourned as they passed on into the hands of Eru Ilúvatar or Aulë (see Auxiliary Chapter).
As the last embers of the funeral pyre died down, The Last Alliance started breaking apart as the various races planned their return home. The dwarves to Khazad-dûm, the elves to Lothlorien or Rivendell, and the men to Gondor.
I was in an awkward position. I celebrated the victory with everyone, but now, in the end, no one wanted to see me come to their lands. The people of Middle-Earth looked on from afar in fear of where I might go or do. The only ones who treated me the same were my new friends, Graghin and Elrond.
On the day everyone planned their march back, Graghin and Elrond approached me.
"What are your plans, Tiberius," Elrond asked. I had disclosed my name to them during the festivities as I was tired of them calling me Urulóki or Jurgen. I was different from others of my race. In middle-earth, names have power.
"I do not know. I… I want to see the rest of the world, but I know I am feared, and many would raise arms without question just at my sight." I sighed, as this had been on my mind for a while.
Even when I was just flying around looking for the timeline, people would sound alarms and shoot arrows at me even though I never turned in their direction or showed any interest. It saddened me.
Graghin shifted uncomfortably as he seemed to contemplate what to say.
"Unfortunately, my friend. The terror and scars left by some of your kin have made my people unable to accept you. They may not fire upon your golden scales but will not put down their fear. I asked the King, but he explained that it would not be possible for you to come to Khazad-dûm."
I could see the uneasiness in his eyes. Dwarves were a very stubborn and loyal people and it probably did not sit right with him that someone who helped them defeat Sauron and his friend was being ostracized due to his race.
"I figured my friend. Dragons and Dwarves have a long history of wanting each other's treasures," I grinned.
Elrond cleared his throat and lifted his head regally once we both looked at him. We both almost rolled our eyes at his clear exaggeration.
"I, Lord of Rivendell, would like to invite you, Tiberius, to Rivendell and extend an offering of friendship between our people in the name of future prosperity," he smugly declared.
I felt my eyebrows twitch as Graghin gave me a side-eye. The question was practically written on his face. What is wrong with this elf?
I know he was being goofy to raise the mood, but there was probably also a seriousness to this. He was taking a risk to himself and his people by inviting a spawn of Morgoth into his home.
Tears came to the corner of my eyes, causing me to raise my head to look at the sky quickly.
"WELL! If it can't be helped, I guess I can grace your puny realm with my magnificent presence," I declared as I prayed the tears would evaporate.
Graghin and Elrond grinned as the somber atmosphere became one of friends just goofing off. Some may think it strange, or even unlikely, that we could be allies let alone friends, but in the fire of adversity, even the most hated of enemies could become the best of friends.