Belated response to challenges 8 and 10
Linked from theatrical_muse
I would not share my dinner with any being; what I hunt for myself, I eat myself, and woe betide any who would seek to take what is mine! But I understand from the replies of others that this question really means "Who would you like to hold a conversation with", which is a different matter entirely. I wish that I could meet Glaurung, the Father of Dragons. His tongue was of quicksilver, and his words could hold a mortal in thrall for days, weaving a prison of silver lies like thorns to capture their minds. I could learn much from him; the subtlety of his thoughts, the puissance of his malice. Yet, he is gone; slain by the very mortal he ensnared, though his revenge was not long in following. They put up a marker of some kind, I hear tell, on the spot where both Dragon and Mortal met their end; and it says "Túrin Turambar Dagnir Glaurunga" which means Dragon’s Bane. Yet Glaurung was the bane of Túrin, and all his kin; for that one threw himself onto his own sword for guilt of the deeds wrought under the madness of the Dragon, and they buried him, but the body of Glaurung they burned. And if such are the markers raised by mortals in their loss, I would have none of them. Rather would I have the tales of my life and glory continue through the ages, to chill the hearts of Men and Elves and cause them to glance over their shoulder at the shadows of night, and start at the sudden spark of the fire at their backs. Such is a more fitting memorial to our kind, and I know that Glaurung would not be displeased by the stories still told of him.
I would not share my dinner with any being; what I hunt for myself, I eat myself, and woe betide any who would seek to take what is mine! But I understand from the replies of others that this question really means "Who would you like to hold a conversation with", which is a different matter entirely. I wish that I could meet Glaurung, the Father of Dragons. His tongue was of quicksilver, and his words could hold a mortal in thrall for days, weaving a prison of silver lies like thorns to capture their minds. I could learn much from him; the subtlety of his thoughts, the puissance of his malice. Yet, he is gone; slain by the very mortal he ensnared, though his revenge was not long in following. They put up a marker of some kind, I hear tell, on the spot where both Dragon and Mortal met their end; and it says "Túrin Turambar Dagnir Glaurunga" which means Dragon’s Bane. Yet Glaurung was the bane of Túrin, and all his kin; for that one threw himself onto his own sword for guilt of the deeds wrought under the madness of the Dragon, and they buried him, but the body of Glaurung they burned. And if such are the markers raised by mortals in their loss, I would have none of them. Rather would I have the tales of my life and glory continue through the ages, to chill the hearts of Men and Elves and cause them to glance over their shoulder at the shadows of night, and start at the sudden spark of the fire at their backs. Such is a more fitting memorial to our kind, and I know that Glaurung would not be displeased by the stories still told of him.