“Your ladyship,” said a vulture servant, bowing to the Queen Mahannon. Mahannon nodded at her to speak. “We have received word that your daughter has been taken into the lair of the beast… He has sent this message, ‘surrender Himring and submit to me and in return your daughter will be set free’. He… also sent these…” the messenger took a small rolled up paper off of her ankle. It unrolled revealing a few singed and bloody feathers.

“No...” Mahannon breathed. She had feared that this would happen when Nameless opened the portal allowing for easy travel between Beleriand and the rest of the world.

“What should we do?” the messenger asked nervously. “Are you going to consider surrender?”

“No. We cannot surrender, we must figure out a way to rescue my daughter. But do not let any of this plan on to Ancalagon or his servants,” Mahannon replied firmly. “For now, act like we do not care. The worm won’t have a hard time believing it… all things considered…”

“Yes, my lady,” the messenger responded. She turned around and returned to the upper level of the fort.

Left alone, the vulture thought back to when her daughter was just a chick. She had failed to rescue her when she had been kidnapped back then, but this time she could not fail her, there was too much at stake.

Later in the day, an emissary of Fire Nation came to the fort. Mahannon came out to speak with him directly.

“Speak now, servant of the worm, before we carry you off and drop you over a cliff somewhere.”

“I would not speak so hastily if I were you, Queen of the Vultures. In case you have not heard, we have the princess, your daughter, in our custody. She is being held quite securely in the dungeons, though her stay will not be comfortable… I believe Drogoth is actually torturing her right now as we speak,” the emissary says silkily. He checks his watch, “Ah yes, it is indeed time for her torture.”

“Get to the point, I am growing impatient.”

“Yes, I should make this rather brief, shouldn’t I? Between you and me, I don’t think your daughter is going to last long in there. Drogoth is working to break her spirit as we speak and it looks as though perhaps your grandchild will be born soon. While I do not care for babies, Ancalagon would be glad to have a newborn half vulture to squeeze the life out of. I believe he is already planning to use it as his slave. But you, and you alone, can stop all of this from happening.”

“You want me to surrender Himring. I am sorry but that price is too high,” responded Mahannon coldly.

“An old rundown fort means more to you than your daughter who is with child? The future of the vulture kingdom?”

“You know it is much more than that.”

“Well then,” the messenger smiled wickedly, “I’m sure Drogoth will enjoy torturing the princess to insanity. I will inform him of your decision.”

The Vulture Queen watched the messenger walk away. Once he was out of earshot, she let out an angry, frustrated screech. It was time to call together her people and make a plan to get her daughter out of Gorgoroth.

Unfortunately, no one was able to offer up a good plan to break the prisoner out.

“With all due respect, my queen, it is nearly impossible to slip into that fortress unseen. And even if you make it in, it would be impossible to get to the dungeons unnoticed. Surely whoever goes in there will also be caught and perhaps that kind of move is what the worm hopes we will make,” said Mkyl, one of Mahannon’s most trusted advisors.

“If it is too dangerous for anyone else to make the attempt, then I will do it myself!” the queen announced, making up her mind.

“But you will die and then who will lead us?” questioned another of her advisors.

“In the event of my death, my daughter will lead you. She is my heir. I could not free her from Baraddur, but I will see to it that she will not have a long stay in this dungeon. I owe this to her, even if it means I must die trying.”

Then Mahannon appointed Mkyl as her regent until her or her daughter returned. After this was done and the proper arrangements were made, the Vulture Queen took flight. She flew over the lands that she ruled for a final time before heading to the underground fortress of Gorgoroth. She stole in the back door, which was unguarded as the dragons had forgotten about it. It was too small for them to use it themselves.

Finding the place deserted, Mahannon made her way to the dungeons. She had been within the walls of Gorgoroth before when the Vulture Kingdom was not openly at war with Fire Nation. She had used to come here to raise some of the newly hatched drakes. Back then, it was full of noise. Now it was quiet. Too quiet.

Finally Mahannon reached the dungeons. She was not prepared for what she found. In the back most cell was her daughter. Bloodied. Burnt. Beaten. She was asleep but even in her sleep she appeared to be pained. Her breathing was shallow as one who has suffered broken ribs.

“Daughter?” she chirped.

Her daughter did not stir.

“Sweetie?” she chirped louder.

Still her daughter did not stir.

Mahannon had to get in the cell. She knew the secrets of the dungeons and found a small opening near the ceiling that allowed her to squeeze in.

She pecked at her daughter tenderly, whispering her name until finally she cracked one of her eyes open.

“Mom?” she asked weakly.

“Yes, it is me sweetie. I have come.”

“No,” she croaked, her voice hoarse. “This is what he wants. He knows you’re here. He knew you would come.”

At that moment, the outer door to the cells shut with a clang and a key turned in the lock. Now they were both prisoner. Mahannon had expected this.

“It’s okay,” Mahannon whispered hurriedly. “I need you to listen to me. There is a fire drake. He will help you escape. He is a traitor to Ancalagon. His name is Vingaard and he will free you. Understand?”

The princess looked confused but nodded her head weakly.

The mother looked over her pregnant and wounded child. A sudden surge of shame overtook her.

“I’m so sorry,” Mahannon said, tears welling up into her eyes. Her daughter looked at her confused again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t rescue you from them sooner.”

“Mom, its not your fault-”

“No. I should have been braver. I should have gotten you out of Baraddur. When you were a chick, I was not the bird you have become and I never will be.”

Finally, tears fell from the queen’s eyes, landing on her daughter’s burnt skin.

Mahannon knew she did not have much time left. She resolved to use these last minutes to care for her daughter. She flew out of the cell and stole a rag from an adjacent cell and returned. Using her magic she filled a bucket with water and began to clean her daughter’s wounds.

Her daughter moaned in pain at the stinging feel of water against raw skin but she was too tired and weak to move. She appreciated what her mother was doing for her, but it was causing so much agony that she wished she would stop and just sit with her for awhile.

When Mahannon was done, she stroked her daugher’s hair and softly sung an ancient vulture children’s song, lulling the princess into a slightly more restful sleep.

Finally, the doom would strike.

“Well, well, well. I see the mother and child are reunited at last. How heartwarming, after all these years,” mocked the great dragon himself, Ancalagon. “And now it is time to bring an end to the vulture kingdom.”

It all happened in an instant.

Ancalagon unleashed his disgusting dragon breath. The mother threw herself in front of her daughter. The daughter covered her eyes with her hands. “No!” the two vultures screeched!

There was a blinding light and immense heat. The daughter braced herself, expecting to feel pain but it never came.

She heard Ancalagon laugh and slink away. She uncovered her face. There, laying in front of her, were a few charred feathers, all that was left of her mother. She had sacrificed herself for her.

The daughter began to cry.

“CURSE YOU ANCALAGON!” she screeched.

“And the same to you,” he laughed in return, leaving the dungeon and locking the door.