Fear coated her eyes with a glassy sheen, covering the glimmers of hope with a gossamer lining. She shrunk into herself, struggling to draw on the anger she had captured moments ago with fragile hands. Her heart clanked about like thunder inside her; she wrung her hands gently, hands that felt weighted by an invisible layer of ice.

"The price is 25 gold coins. Or..." he paused and smiled wickedly as he said the words, a drop of anticipation wound its way into his tone as he looked over Túrien and Eärwen.

"No. 25 gold coins it is," Lord Túrien said abruptly, his fierce gaze never wavering from the man. He reached into a tiny, leather bag wrapped about his belt and tossed it to the man, "25 gold coins."

With eager eyes the man opened the pouch and began counting, purposefully, slowly, "One, two, three..."

She glanced at Master Túrien, who had locked eyes with the group of men in front of them. His face gone dull but strong; she loved him more than anything at that moment. She drew from his strength and stood a little taller, finally raising her eyes to meet the leader of the men. Her emerald eyes tore through him with sharpened icicles; she felt her fear melt into the earth as the man counted the last coin and fought her glance with his own.

Instinctively he took a step back, her glare unnerving him--even in his half-drunken state. Then he laughed at himself while a cruel note rang through his voice as he spoke, "Arrogance and disrespect will get you nowhere, Missy," he said tying the small bag to his own belt greeting her eyes with a malicious grin.

"I mean no trouble," the regality and courage in her voice warmed Túrien's heart and she took a half-step forward, her eyes flashing warnings onto the men's faces.

"I think the toll had just increased my good Sir and Lady," the man growled, his vicious, blood-shot eyes rested on Túrien; his hand reached for his sheathed sword. The men at his sides followed suit and soon they were advancing upon them like starving wolves. Their spider-thin limbs seemed to be dangling under the weight of the swords and their jaws set in a grimace of frustration.

"We mean you no ill will," said Lord Túrien, his voice never wavering, he held up his hands in a defensive stance and stepped in front of Eärwen.

"Tell that to your pet," the man barked, his eyes soaking with a diseased thrill.

"Lord Túrien," she found herself whisper, her arms reaching up to pull him back, "Let me."

Her own words sent a stunned silence through her and she fought the urge to erase them from her mind--to pretend she hadn't said them. She knew they were outnumbered and that Master Túrien could not take them by himself; her mind raced back to the night she had found  Ammaráth. The destruction of her home fumed in her body like a noxious vapor and she found herself searching her heart for the dragon within.

With trembling hands but a steady voice she spoke, "I do not wish to harm you."

A snicker then peels of laughter burst from the group of men; their guard slackening as they drew slightly closer. She gritted her teeth and repeated her words, "I do not wish to harm you."

"You couldn't if you tried Missy," said the men, laughter glinting against their swords.

"I warn you," she replied taking a step towards them, her skin beginning to emanate a eldritch, emerald light.

"What...what kind of magic is this?" one of the men said, his sword plinking uselessly to the ground.

Velvet, viridian lights encircled her and wove themselves around her delicate frame, creating a nitid mist of white. Her being became showered in green and freckled with the colour of newly fallen snow. Her body began to shift, from fair maiden to an iridescent dragon as she took yet another step closer to the men. A rush of wind gusted around her, sending the particles of light swirling fervently around her, temporarily blinding any who beheld her metamorphosis.

With a violent crashing sound the fragments of light catapulted themselves into the ground; melting into the dirt. She dug her claws into the ground, leaving shallow scratch marks as she lifted into the sky. The men below her stood helpless, gazing up to the sky and watching her fly gracefully around the trees. A single cry came from her dragon form, capturing all the courage the men had managed to hold on to.

In an instant they fled, sword clamouring to reach the ground as she flew above them, her shadow chasing them as they ran. She circled back returning to Túrien, landing before him; the ground rumbling slightly as she touched the ground. A smile began to play across his face as he looked into Eärwen's eyes--they still held the same vigour of the beautiful woman she had become. Within seconds she began to transform again, a slight light grabbing onto her body then releasing it with a brilliant, green spark.

She returned her kind smile as she returned to her human form, "Well," she said, her smile growing wider, "That was easy."