His attention, so wholly focused on the threatened charge from the beast of molten rock, did not catch the silent approach of the golden stallion. His navy eyes were transfixed on the waving ears and steaming legs of the fiery creature, his entire mind willing it to not charge its devastatingly hot and powerful body towards him. And it worked… if only for a few, precious moments in time. And, unnoticed by the King at the moment (but to me realized later in a moment of epiphany), gone was his outrage and dangerous temper. They were embodied in the beast before him.

So directed was his attention that the voice that floated on venomous droplets and slid into his ears were an entire shock to the mammoth. Eyes, widened in surprise, flew to the source of such smugly malevolent words, head raising even to an even higher height. His thick hide was stretched tight over taunt muscles that bulged with a need for action— the shock and surprise was never pleasant for him. He needed to react, respond, do something.

Yet, how does one react to flaming elephant peeling out of ones skin?

The beast, slowly becoming less attached to his elephantine form, rounded on the golden stag, mirroring the shift in Tembovu’s attention with eerie similarity. Tongues of flame licked from between hardening and melting lava on its back, while heat waves distorted the air around its body. Its ears, which wavered to and from their original shame and balls of flame, flag in fury as its burning pits of eyes try to train on the golden one. It is loosing its magic, its purpose with being so long outside its maker.

But the destructive anger which had birthed the beast provided enough fury for a longer lifetime than it would normally have had. So it charged in a flaming burst of enraged trumpeting. Or what would have been trumpeting, were it a true elephant and not some rage-created hellion. Each pounding stride left an ephemeral trail of salty steam and a small amount of lava. The fiery melting of the creature dissipated in hot ash to the wind. Molten tusks curved, grew, leapt with flames as it stampeded towards the intruder. Surely he must be deserving of his rage.

The true Elephant, the man who had unknowingly given breath to this demon, snorted in a combination of concern and fear. Though the events were unraveling too quickly for him to fully form a sentence before the charge began. The golden stag had barely halted or finished the syllable of ”fun” before fire started rushing at him. “Watch yourself!” The warning, perhaps futile, came as a low rumble from his barrel.


Summary: The magmaphant, which is starting to loose its form, charges @Thranduil :o

He paid for his sins. He was saved.

But some sins haunt us no matter how much we pay.