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The sun swung low. Shadows reached long across the valley. Golden grasses rolled as waves. It was not a beautiful day's end, not for the small drake who crossed those fields.

He was Eru: son of Girmn, Lord of All Below. By blood and by call, he would inherit his sire's Hold, and all who hunted at its pleasure. And this hour, this eve, he was late for supper.

'Twas by no accident. Eru's belly sagged with roots and nuts and vermin: poor fare in face of the feast of prey shared-him each night by his sire, but they were all he had managed amid fits of worried prowling. Now, the last light fled too fast for anything more, and his insides wrung, unsated and uncalmed by such meager pickings.

His heart thumped, his head buzzed, his breath scraped his throat. He wanted to run. He wanted to turn tail and flee, far as his legs and wings would bear. But a sight as that - the Hold's heir driven to haste, to panic - would draw interest. Too many older, better beasts denned along his path, and he was ever too worthy of attention. They would come curious. They would come near. They would see what slid out beneath his belly.

One glimpse, one sniff, and he would be ruined.

It took every measure of effort to keep himself reined. He walked a line of death, and still his treasonous prick sought any crack in his resolve through which to wriggle out. So he walked on wings and legs, stride even and narrow - and stiff, but stiff could not be helped.

At peak of the path loomed his sire's cavern. Home. Even so many lengths away, it yawned to swallow him whole. He did not want to go: going would find him to his end. But he was Eru, his sire's son - he could not flee, but only face what waited.

His claws reache that threshold, crossed it, and that scent - his father's musk - drifted in warm wafts from the depths of the den. A shiver, instinct-deep, crawled down shoulders to back to belly-and-hips, and there reached the swelling thing between his thighs. It beat from its sheath into the cool, autumn air.

He clamped his knees, his fangs, and pressed on, in, before any last passery-by might see his shame.

'Twas warm inside, warmer than he remembered. Gentle torchglow painted the rock amber-bright, more even than the fading light he left behind. He caught a whiff of meat, and for a breath the swirling shame was driven back by simple hunger. That gave him heart. That gave him drive. That gave him another step, another pace, another beat to reach his end.

He called out, soft. No reply. He called again, louder; his voice caught, it cracked. He swallowed it, gathered breath to try again, but his sire's rumble shook the cavern's depths:

"You are late for supper."

And then, in that blink, Eru was again his sire's son: small and eager to please, even when he knew he had not. He padded forth, called back with fresh voice, if his sound still came thin, "I am sorry, sire. I was lost in thought and noticed-not the sun's setting."

Girmn sounded anew, closer, "I trust you have filled your belly of your own."

Eru bowed, though his sire would not see. "I have." He went on and in - to the lingering smell of meat, to his sire's rich scent beneath.

"Good." It came more as grunt than words, deep and loud and shaking the walls. Yet his sire was not cross, only speaking to be heard throughout the whole of the cavern, as ever when they were alone.

He reached the tail of the tunnel and crossed into the den. The great boulder that was their door stood aside to welcome him and him alone. He padded about, put to it his shoulder, and heaved against it to shut him and his sire in.

Between the slow grind of stone on stone and his own efforted growl, he heard-not his sire's coming until a deep snort called his heed:

"What are you doing?"

It made him jump. He dropped wings to hide his shame, and spun to meet those two red eyes and the beast of obsidian scale they led. It flowed from the shadows, and made graceful crossing to the thick nest of furs which adorned that favored basking rock. 'Twas a vast bed for a vast beast - he was twice Eru's bulk, if not twice-again more. Round of belly, mighty of limb, sh.arp of fang and claw Any drake who crossed him, he would break; any who ran, he would fall upon from the sky; any who flew, he would catch and cast upon the rocks. There was none greater than he.

"Sire," Eru spat out, almost a squeak, while his thoughts scrambled into place. "Are not the day's duties done? You need not trouble yourself when I am so able."

Girmn's gaze held him fast where he stood. Yet the monster did not leave his spot, but pawed at the piled furs beneath him, and there spread his wings and laid himself down. In that breath, 'twas clear what was expected.

Eru returned to the stone and put himself anew to his task. Slowly, slowly, it slid, then rolled; and with a few more heaves, it fell into its proper place of nightly rest. The work left him near-to breathless, but there too came pride with pain. He was larger and stronger than he had ever been, nearer a match to the weathered-strong Lord who had sired him.

Still, a match he was not, and would not be for many seasons. What he strained to manage, Girmn undid every morning without effort; nor was this a feat for those other great beasts who denned among the cliffs in his sire's shadow. Eru was still small, and he was still his sire's charge.

"You are not like this," Girmn rumbled. "What troubles you?"

And with that, Eru knew himself undone. To hide his shame from all outside, he had sealed himself in with the beast beyond beasts. Now the question was asked, and he could not hold his tongue. His voice stuck in his throat, unformed. He choked, he gagged.

Girmn raised his head, his paws pressed into to the furs beneath. "Are you ill? Has something-?"

Eru shook his head, fast and firm. He coughed out the last of it, then spat the words, simple and short: "Not ill, not ill!" His knees shook, his belly, his jaw. "I am, I am," the whole of him drooped, "I am afraid, sire."

'Twas a sound soft, yet too familiar to miss: Eru looked up and saw Girmn risen from his roost. The lord drake stepped down onto the cavern floor, even of pace, head tilted, eyes sharp - studying his son, reading him.

Still, the sire was patient, and that patience sounded still in his deep and rumbling call. "What fear grips you, Eru?"

You. That, he could not say. Every male in this hold. Nay, either. Only one thing would bear telling, "Sire, I am wrong." A truth.

Girmn huffed, not quite a snort. "About?"

And again Eru was undone. His confession, upturned. His resolve, broken. He could not make the words.

But Girmn was patient, always ever patient. He waited and watched, assuredly unhurried, while his son sweated and squirmed. And in that pool of shame, Eru knew: there was but one path, there had only ever been one path.

Eru bowed low, fores and wings splayed out to yield. "I am wrong," he gave again, if not so firm. "My beating heart, my wanting belly."

His sire flashed fang. A grin? "Morn will come and you will break your fast. Doubtless, you shall not starve before then."

Nay! Yet Eru dared not argue aloud. So he kept there silent, still, and spoke naught that would raise his sire's ire.

But Girmn saw them, those shades of words unsaid. His gaze came sharper, it cut Eru, peeled his hide, stripped him bare. And while his sire watched, waited, he could only squirm.

Then, as that shame boiled, Girmn gave plain command:

"There is more. Tell me, son. Speak it all."

And Eru broke:

"I am wrong. Wrong! I see them, I smell them, I want them. Every day, every-! I cannot stop it, I cannot keep it in. One of them will see, will smell, will know! And they are all so much bigger - what chance do I stand when one - one! - finds me out? What Hold can survive a conquered heir?"

He could not bear his sire's sight. His own darted around that face, to the sides, down beneath. Anywhere but those shining red slits.

But there was no hiding. Eventually, inevitably, he had to meet the gaze of the beast who seeded his egg. And there, for the first in all his seasons, he saw it crack.

Wide-eyed confusion. Then a dawning. A step forth, a snarl, a baring of all those fangs. "What blather is this?" Wings unfurled, legs rippled. "What have you done?" Steam from his snout, embers from his throat, he raised a great paw and all its claw. "What have you done?"

Eru shrank, curled himself beneath his Lord's fury. "Nothing, sire, father! Nothing, nothing, I have done nothing-!"

Girmn hissed at his ears. "'Nothing' you say, yet come here begging - what? Forgiveness?"

"Forgiveness, sire, but not for deed! Upon my life, my honor, on every drop of heartsblood: there has been no deed!"

He felt death - that hot breath - full upon his face. It seared his horns, his spines, his scales. If he yet drew breath by dawn, at least the black of his pelt would mask his wounds.

But Girmn did not strike, nor spill flame upon his back. Breath came, breath went, but naught more than those deep and heaving snarls. And then Eru knew: his father was patient. The Lord of All Below did not strike on passion alone - he would let his prey to speak again, to damn himself beyond mercy.

And Eru could do naught else. "Slaughter me, it is your right and duty. I beg only that you know I am not yet ruined, that your line is unshamed! And I pray that you forgive me what I am when you give me my end."

Another breath. Another snarl. And then, "How." Another, rattling low. "How do I trust that you are unruined." Girmn did not ask.

Even for all his shaking, Eru shuddered anew. All his words of shame, of fear; small shames and smaller fears of what might-be. But this he had to do, one last and wretched act before he met the void:

He threw himself on his side, hefted his wing and hindheel, and spread his legs.

Girmn gave a furious grunt.

"Sire," Eru whimpered out, "see that I am unspoiled! Smell no male on me! I have not given in. I have not given up the honor of your line!"

Another grunt, deeper, lower. Disgust? Whatever it was, he deserved. Already his treasonous prick swelled. Girmn, so near, so warm, so strong; his Lord's musk, even through the burning air-! Eru's breeder, so much less than that which made him, now beat out where his father would see. Not even coming death could stop it.

And then he felt what he had not heard: the touch upon his tail, his belly, what lay between. One paw - four claws - pried his hips wide, spread his thighs astride. Girmn's snout pressed into that gap behind, to the hole at base of his tail. It dragged air, hard and deep and cold. Then it huffed back out, hotter than a wash-bowl baked to bubble in fire.

Eru squirmed. He mewled. His breeder beat in the heat of his sire's breath.

Girmn drew up and away, though his paw remained where it stood. "Unruined. You do not lie."

Eru nodded.

"You say I should kill you, afore this can change."

Eru nodded again. There was no other way.

"There is no other way?"

Of course! It was, it was, it had to be. Only in his darkest, most wretched dreams could there be...

Again, Girmn saw those things unsaid. Again, his glare cut Eru wide. Again, it made the littler drake squirm.

"Tell me, son. Speak it all."

He would not, he could not, he must never-! But Girmn had him caught and laid bare, and his fear for death had no more care. He could not anymore fear his father's fury. He could only tremble beneath that look in his sire's red eyes as he failed one last time.

So Eru did as told. "If I raise my tail to them, if I give it, they will take it, take me; conquer me, ruin me. But if my tail is no more mine to give-!" He choked those last words.

His sire made a sound he did not understand. Then, snarled, "Spit it out."

Eru told more. "You, sire. You, Lord. No drake dare touch what you take. No male dare mount what dam you mark. Mark me. Take me."

It hung between them, in the heat of Girmn's swirling snort. He drew back, he swayed. His head tilted the other way. One fore padded the ground; the other, Eru's shame.

He kept speaking, he could not stop. "You are above me, ever you will be. Is it such shame to be conquered by my rightful sire? And any lesser male who might then dare - they would not ruin me, but thieve from you! Their death, deserved-swift; your honor, avenged by right in full. Take me! Make me yours! Leave it on me, in me: your scent, your mark, your claim!"

Silence. Girmn stood unmoving - unmoved? His mask, a polished wall of ebony; his horns, bloody spires of red; his maw, a furnace that lit half the den.

Death. Eru had sealed it. He was doomed already by his snout, by his belly, by his traitorous prick. And this fool hope had only damned him the more. There would be no swift bite to his neck, no merciful void a breath after. Girmn would tear him apart, rend his worthless inmeats across the cavern walls, and he would meet this end screaming, sobbing, soiling the den he so undeservedly called home.

The great beast gave a snort. Then another, louder, harder. Then another, demanding.

Eru opened eyes he had not shut.

Girmn stood straight and tall, glared down his snout, and embers swirled before him. His paw, still-between Eru's thighs: it clenched, it clutched his rump. Fury? Eru could not say.

But his sire then spoke. "You will still breed."

Breed? Eru would not, could not, not yet, not as mere heir. It would be seasons - seasons upon seasons - until he was worthy-! "Yes. Yes! A thousand times yes!"

His sire's narrow slits searched him, snout to tail. "You will, with vigor. You will, with zeal."

The shade of death came light. Eru raised head to his father, his sire, his Lord. "I know my duty, I relish it!"

That great paw dragged from Eru's hindquarters, those claws parted about his prick. They rode his belly, his breast, his neck and chin. And there, his sire's toes - rough, warm - took his cheeks.

"Why did you not tell me sooner?"

Eru heated - not just where his sire touched, but every scale of his face. He wished again to hide his eyes, to flee his sire's unrelenting gaze; but that came too warm, too welcoming. "I thought I was strong," he gave out the heart of his shame, "I thought I would grow strong."

"You are Eru, strongest of my spawn."

"Not strong enough."

Girmn snorted, loud.

"Father, tell me true: peak of her heat, can a dam but need you inside?"

"Of course not-"

"Of course not."

His sire turned aside and gave another snort, but shorter, softer.

Eru shut his eyes, he pulled from his father's grip. "I am weak. Ever I will be."

Yet as Eru's snout slid from those foretoes, they tightened on him, stopped him, held him fast. And then came Girmn's call, hushed but no-less firm for it:

"Son. So am I."

Eru opened, he blinked.

Girmn went on. "Behind a dam in rut, I cannot hold it in. The smell, the sound, the feel of her..." His wings drooped, he swayed where he stood - inelegant, thoughtless. "I am beast, beholden to what wants between my legs."

And then those clawful toes loosed Eru's chin. He drooped free, tucked back and to himself beneath that awful pity - and his sight came level with his sire's underbelly. There, from those mighty thighs, the bulbous thing between Girmn's legs bulged bright red.

The words rolled over him, filled the chamber end to end: "Son. Is this what you need?"

Eru did. Oh, he did! His sire's spire, that which had made him: it swelled from its sheath, pushing, pumping out in the den's dancing light. The head flared forth, his father's spout spread afore his eyes, and he saw the first clear smear seep free.

And the smell! He knew it, by wisps and whiffs as far back as his memory went: heady, blunt, greasy-rich, and so very, very warm. His father's musk, thicker than he had ever hoped - it filled him, thrilled him, made him flush, made him gasp. His jaw hung, his tongue too. He had seen it before in glimpses and peeks, but never so close - now near enough to taste, near enough to drink!

It came at him, and he felt that selfsame twitching between his own thighs. He was so much less than his sire - down there as everywhere else - yet he could no more shy or flee. Though his shame, his cheeks, his prick burned bright, he crawled beneath his father and stretched his neck to reach that greater wyrm. And there his snout met spout.

All around him, his sire tensed - he felt it in that belly, pressing down upon his face; he heard it in those claws, scraping at the den's hard floor; he saw it in that breeder, twitching twice and thrice before his eyes.

"Eru, what are you doing?"

Eru did not know, he did not think. Girmn's girth filled his sight, plump and proud and pressed to his muzzle. He parted lips, parted fangs, and let his tongue roll out. It reached, it touched; his mouth filled of his father's flavor. Like fish, like cream, like fat and salt and spice: warm, wet, flowing.

"Son..."

His jaws spread wide and took it in. The taste came strong at the tip. Eru coiled his tongue around it, lapped it all up - Girmn's greasy musk, both fresh from the tap and what still lingered from ruttings-last.

"Eru, Eru-!"

Eru suckled as a preyfoal on teat: slurping, swallowing, simpering for more. And more came. First a bead on his tongue, then a spurt across it, then a pooling leak into his maw. His sire stiffened above as below, and his tip swelled to fill Eru's maw. It sputtered, it spat - thick and steaming - down his throat.

"Ease!"

A paw wrapped Eru and hauled him off. The spire popped from his mouth, his tongue fell free; a fat gob fell back to his sire's spout, and another bubbled up from inside. He reached out for that, lest it fall wasted to the ground, but Girmn's grip dragged him away and he could only whine after what was lost.

"You make your muzzle too pleasing," his sire growled. "Is this how you would be with another male?"

Eru could not deny it. The taste swam on his tongue, the scent clung to his snout - that male essence, those sacral airs.

"Is this how you would be with me?"

Aye! Girmn was no mere male: 'twas better, 'twas worse! His father, his Lord, who stood above all; this was the male who would defile him. That touch, the paw holding him back, holding his belly: it only made him want more, more, more! He would be ruined by the very spire which sired him. His toes curled up, his tail flagged high, his own breeder begged beneath.

Girmn's grasp tightened to his belly, hefted him from the ground and held him rump-high. Then hot. Then wet. A snout pressed his uncovered tailhole, sniffed. Long. Deep. A rumble, a trill.

And then his sire put him back to the den floor. Eru wobbled on legs and wings, trying not to pant. Upon his tongue sat that last glorious glob of father's filth. He clutched it there, lest it too soon melt away. But melt it did - it slid down his maw, and then was gone.

A thump drew his head up, to look, to see. And there, Girmn reclined again upon his side across that furred perch which he favored most. His broad belly borne, his terrific thighs spread, his pride protruded stiff and long and thick from where those all met his tail. 'Twas glorious: ridged and red, a monument to all the Lord must be. Full out, full up, it reached from base to peak of his belly. And girth, it had no lack: enough to stopper any drake's maw with flare alone. And that spout! Doubtless what dams he spilled it into, his seed was so much - so thick - that no other male's could mingle in after. A spire to be worshiped. A sire to be revered.

An unbearable display. Quietly, patiently, Girmn welcomed Eru to his end.

Eru rose. Eru went.

The spire beat out to meet his snout. Girmn growled - not approval, but not rebuke. So Eru put nostrils to his sire's shaftbelly and sniffed, deep. It stank as wind and earth and flame. Girmn growled again: lower, softer. Eru parted lips and let slip a lick. It tasted of sweat, of lust, of recent release - and still, faintly, of the dam it had last spilled into. Eru opened wide and wrapped around his father's girth. It pulsed with want, with need, with ready seed.

Girmn's hips rocked, his tailbase twitched. He put paw to his son's head and humped into his mouth.

So warm, so big, so full! That great span heaved and dragged between Eru's shaking jaws. He was still so small - too small even to fit it all in. It, which had sired so many. It, which had sired him. That thought alone sent shudders up his belly. He wanted to see it sire, to feel it do its deed!

Up and down and up again, he tended his father's length. And at the head, he clutched with lips to cradle that fat flare, the spout which split it, and that first ridge that fanned out and back.

This had made him. This would save him.

This, he gave himself to.

Behind him, beneath his tail, his sire's other forepaw reached. One rough toepad found his pucker and prodded. Eru gasped; he slipped free of his father's flare, but Girmn gripped him by the horns and put his lips back to the belly of the shaft they were to please. The toepad worked his tailhole, wormed it open, made him shudder, made him clench, made him squirm. Then the rest of the paw clutched him, tugged him, dragged him by his tail to his father's front, his waiting snout. A push of air at Eru's tailhole: warm, dripping. Then, a drag.

The cooler air tickled his rump, between his legs, around the base of his breeder. Then another hot huff, then another cold sniff - deeper-still, louder-still. His father's breeder beat hard in his mouth. Another push, another drag. Chills raced down Eru's spine, instinct-strong and just as deep. His breeder twitched and dripped out on his father's lounging furs.

Nay! He could not spoil them so! "Sire!" he sputtered around his father's spire, "I am sorry, sire! I did not mean-!"

"You smell," Girmn huffed, soft yet louder-still. "No dam in heat, but you smell." He drew another breath. "It is strong." He gave another huff. "It is so very-"

Then, his father's tongue! Wet, hot. beating, it dragged up Eru's rump, from taint to tailhole. Once. Twice. Thrice!

Fresh cream bubbled up from Girmn's straining spout. Thick. Rich. Eru slurped it all up, swallowed it all down, before any could drip. 'Twas not anymore enough.

"Please," he wriggled in his father's clutch. "Please." Release. Relief. "Please, sire." Forgiveness. Mercy. "Please, father." An end to it. Any end. "Please, please, please!" His toes pressed up, his tail flagged high, his breeder bloomed and begged beneath.

His sire saw. "Are you-?"

Eru only whimpered. The whole of his hindquarters burned.

"Ech, Eru," Girmn pulled his son's head from his spire and pushed him aside. "I, too, am beast." He rolled to belly and rose. "I, too, cannot hold."

Legs thick as trunks, strong as stone. He - this beast - sired the greatest drakes: his belly bore full, his breeder hung fuller. It drooled beneath him, a mess richer than any Eru had managed.

"Here," his father spread his wings and rapped a fore to the furs below, "Come."

Eru did. He mounted the tall step to his father's soft perch and crawled beneath him. 'Twas a tighter fit than those days of old, when he had curled at Girmn's breast and slept so warm through cold of night. Now, that breast - and belly, too - pressed him down in the pelts, and he crawled by wings and bent legs to back his rump up to that dripping tip.

Girmn thrummed against his back, "Is this what you want?"

Eru turned his tail aside, far as he could manage.

Girmn thrummed again, "Is this what you need?"

Eru gripped the pelts.

Girmn's tip poked its mark. "I will not hurt you."

Eru's tailhole quivered and winked and gave.

Girmn pressed in. "You are my son." His bulb peeked inside. "You are mine." His flare pried Eru wide. "My blood." Then his first ridge, behind. "My flesh." A sounding plop, and the whole shafthead was in. "Mine."

A grunt, a snarl. Another bulging ridge packed Eru's hole. He squirmed and bleated, clawed through the furs to the stone beneath. His belly quivered, his legs buzzed. He dragged in breath and blinked away tears.

Girmn's hindquarters rose, and dragged Eru's rump with. Then they bore down anew, and packed another ridge in. Then again, then again! Stronger, stronger, he felt his father's heart - that great and steady beat! - within his own belly, singing against his own.

Girmn laid his head to Eru's and trilled again, "I will not harm you."

And Eru knew it true. He was once more his father's son, clinging to those great limbs, that grand tail, his belly and breast and, now, breeder. He pressed back against it, clung tight to that seedful spire. No other male could compare, none came close. He belonged to this, his Lord's, his sire's, his father's. All who dared look would see.

"Rut me," Eru hissed to his father on his back. "Mark me," he growled. "Fast as you wish, hard as you wish," he snarled it out, "I am not weak! I can bear it!"

"Desperate dam," Girmn gave as grunt, and then bore down. Another ridge popped in. And then he rutted, short and fast. Another ridge. He packed it in, beating, drooling. Another!

And then Eru felt his sire's slit kiss his trembling ring. It was in. Every ridge. All of his father filled his belly.

So stiff, so fat, it stretched him to stinging. His hole cramped, clamped; it tried to push his father out.

And Girmn let it. The other way - ridge by ridge - he drew up slow, and Eru hung from his shaft, belly emptying of father.

The fullness, the weight: these, he had dreamed. But the emptiness, the loss? He was not ready.

"Please!"

Half out, Girmn stopped. His hips twitched, his tail swayed. And then he heaved back in, harder.

It drummed through Eru's ring - stinging again, but not so dear. And beat on beat, it drummed something more inside - a spark, a heat, a shock of storm that crackled up his back and down his shaft.

Again, Girmn's slit slapped home; again, he drew back out; again, he plunged back in. More sparks, more fire, more thunderous pleasure. Again! The furs stank of him. Again! His slick ran down Eru's rump.

"Nay... ever... stop-!" he squeaked out, so small beneath his sire.

Girmn curled around him, held him down, slammed his flare deeper, deeper! It swelled in him, so much, too much, more than he had imagined. He heard his father snarl. He saw the glint of fangs. He felt the flecks of drool.

"None will touch you." Girmn's flare shuddered, his shaftbelly throbbed. "None will defile you!"

Eru arched back into him, "Only you, always you!"

"Always, mine!" His his jaws came down on Eru's neck: no killing bite, but firm to hold him down. Girmn heaved his flare - every inch, every ridge - deep as it could reach.

"Daddy-!"

Daddy pulsed in Eru's ring: Once, down all his length. Twice, swelling wide his flare. Thrice, his spout - it shuddered, it shot!

That heavy mass spewed into Eru's belly, hot and sloshing. Then another, then another. Glowing, growing; his sire's seed! So much, so fast; it did not stop coming!

Eru could not hold it. His own breeder, not half his sire's, bloated and spat out onto the furs. Another pulse, another swell, another spit: the weight of his sire's seed pushed out his own. Legs wobbled, they gave; but Girmn's breeder held him up. And still, it pumped in more. The warm, the wet, squeezed back up Eru's hole and spilled from his pucker to slop down his thighs.

Then slower, then weaker; the flow faded to a lapping warmth. Girmn's wings fell aside, his heartbeat slowed. He loosed his jaws, he let his son go.

Eru gasped, for air, for life. 'Twas not so easy to breathe with so much of his sire stuffed in him. But that was not so bad. The furs, the den, they smelled no more of meat, but stank only of his father, of rut - and not even a whiff of his own little mess.

And that was right.

Girmn drew out. His mess spattered, loud, onto the pelts. He snorted, proud, and laid himself to the side. His breeder, soft, hung and dripped, the other end of the trail to his son's rump. He bared his belly one more time, and patted the furs before him:

"Lay with me."

Though his legs still shook, though his rump still dripped, though his insides still swelled with heat - Eru did.

Girmn clutched him, wrapped him, held him tight; he sniffed Eru, licked him, purred at his side.

Eru purred back beneath his father's wings, at last unafraid. None would dare touch what the Lord of All Below claimed. No other male could compare.

And Eru needed only him.