In the far north of Middle-earth, beyond the Grey Mountains and past even the Lonely Mountain's reach, lay frozen wastelands that never saw warmth.
Ice and snow covered everything. Few had ever set foot in this desolate place.
But today, a figure came here with purpose.
Saruman rode a fell beast northward, cutting through swirling snow and bone-chilling winds. Frost covered the creature's leathery hide like armor, while ice crystals clung to Saruman's eyebrows and beard.
But he felt nothing. His thin robes fluttered in the bitter wind, clinging to his gaunt frame. The cold might as well not have existed.
His sharp eyes pierced through wind and snow, fixed on a great mountain ahead.
Soon, the fell beast carried him to this nameless peak.
The creature sensed danger and grew restless, refusing to approach.
"Quiet, beast!" Saruman's voice cracked like a whip.
But the fell beast's fear ran deeper than obedience. It resisted his commands, wings beating frantically.
Saruman's expression darkened. His voice carried irresistible magical power. "Land in the mountains ahead!"
The fell beast's body went rigid. As if controlled by invisible strings, it flew toward the snow mountain in a daze.
The passage was already massive at the entrance, but it grew larger the deeper he went. The winds grew stronger. Colder.
Even Saruman felt his limits being tested. He raised his staff, its tip releasing warm light to ward off the killing cold.
Finally, he reached the crevice's end.
An enormous dragon head lay sleeping, eyes closed. With each breath, icy winds blew from its nostrils, creating the gales that swept the entire mountain.
It was a massive black dragon. So enormous, Saruman could only see its head. A single scale dwarfed him completely, emanating ancient, terrible power.
Long ago, Morgoth had created dragons to rule the world. His most devastating weapons.
Dragons came in different breeds. Wingless ones walked on four legs like giant lizards. Winged dragons were either bipedal or quadrupedal. Some breathed fire; others breathed freezing death.
Smaug, whom Kael had tamed, was a quadrupedal winged fire dragon. Powerful among current dragons, but nothing compared to the ancients.
Like Glaurung, Morgoth's first creation. Wingless, four-legged, breathing flames, and wielding terrible magic. In the First Age's Dagor Bragollach, it led fires that consumed entire plains. Later, it destroyed the elven kingdom of Nargothrond.
Or Ancalagon, the first winged dragon. The largest and most powerful ever created. Its wingspan could eclipse the sun, its flames hot enough to destroy the One Ring itself.
When Eärendil killed Ancalagon in the War of Wrath, the creature's massive body brought down mountains when it fell.
Besides fire dragons and cold dragons, Morgoth had created others. Serpentine dragons without limbs. Lightning dragons that breathed electricity. Light dragons that emitted deadly rays.
And ice dragons that breathed freezing death.
But these were rare exceptions. Unlike fire and cold dragons that formed entire clans, they were barely known.
The dragon sleeping beneath the glacier was precisely such a rarity. An ancient ice frost dragon that had somehow survived the War of Wrath.
Sensing Saruman's Maiar presence, the long-slumbering dragon opened enormous eyes. Pupils like black holes radiated cold and evil.
"Who dares disturb the great Glam's slumber?"
The voice rumbled like an avalanche.
Saruman remained calm. "I'm Saruman of Many Colors. I've come specifically to visit you, most ancient of surviving dragons."
"A wizard?" Dragon Glam's gaze locked onto the ant-sized figure. Sharp eyes filled with suspicion. "I smell those western Valar on you. Though you wear flesh, don't think you can fool my eyes!"
It prepared to breathe soul-freezing death.
Seeing the attack coming, Saruman gripped his staff defensively but spoke quickly. "That was in the past. I work with Sauron now. I come representing him to discuss cooperation!"
"Sauron? He sent you?" Glam stopped mid-breath, looking suspicious.
Saruman nodded. "You've slept long in the far north. Perhaps you don't know that Sauron has taken up Morgoth's cause. He already rules the continent's east and now prepares to march west."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"But western humans and elves have united in stubborn resistance. Plus there are emissaries from the western Valar. Grey Wizard, Brown Wizard, two Blue Wizards, Black-Robed Wizard. All helping the resistance."
"So we want your cooperation. Use your frost breath to bring endless winter to the west. Help us unify the entire continent! Then Sauron will give you dominion over all northern lands and half of all plundered wealth!"
Dragon Glam showed no interest. Instead, it sneered with ancient disdain.
"Hmph. Even my master Morgoth failed to achieve world domination. How dare Sauron boast of completing master's work?"
Its voice dropped to a dangerous rumble.
"He's merely one of my master's servants. Gained favor through cunning schemes and a silver tongue. But commanding us dragons? He lacks qualification!"
The dragon's eyes sank into terrible memories.
"You haven't experienced that ancient war. You don't know how desperate and terrible it was! The earth shattered, continents sunk, mountains crushed, seas flooded, lava erupted... the entire world fell into apocalypse with countless dragons slaughtered!"
"When the Beleriand continent was sinking, I was there. Personally witnessed furious seas swallow all my dragon kin!"
The ancient pain echoed in its voice.
"I was fortunate. When seawater was about to engulf me, I breathed out cold breath in time. The water froze into ice blocks that encased me, saving my life. Ocean currents carried me in ice away from the battlefield to this continent's northernmost edge."
"So from that time, I swore never to leave this place!"
Saruman knew of that war. The War of Wrath of the First Age. As a Maiar then, he hadn't participated.
Seeing the dragon's fear, contempt flashed in his eyes. Just a dragon frightened by war.
But knowing his mission's importance, he didn't give up.
"Speaking of dragons, I think you should know that currently a fire dragon named Smaug has been subdued and become another's mount."
"Impossible!" Glam's disbelief shook the cavern. "Dragon-kind acknowledges only Morgoth as master. No one else can make us submit. Not even Sauron!"
"But it's fact," Saruman said smoothly. "The one who subdued Smaug is a Black-Robed Wizard named Kael. Riding this dragon, he's caused us much trouble. This news has spread throughout Middle-earth. He's even earned the title 'Dragon Lord.'"
"Dragon Lord? Ha! Ridiculous!" Glam's laughter was like grinding glaciers. "Only Morgoth, who created us, is the Dragon Lord! A wizard dares claim this title?"
Its eyes refocused on Saruman with growing impatience.
"So you came seeking cooperation to have me deal with that fire dragon and Black-Robed Wizard?"
"Unfortunately, you've miscalculated. It's just a small fire dragon. I wouldn't deign to notice it!"
"Well, if you have nothing else, don't disturb my slumber!" The dismissal was absolute.
Saruman's eyes flashed coldly.
This dragon was impervious to reason and showed him no courtesy. How could the proud Saruman tolerate this?
He cast mental hypnosis directly. His voice filled with hypnotic, bewitching magic.
"Dragon Glam, master of frost, please listen to me. Don't be so resistant... Are you truly content to cower here, rotting in this barren mountain in self-abandonment?"
The words wound around Glam's mind like silk chains.
"Follow me, Dragon Glam! I can give you all the world's wealth! You'll be renowned and brilliant like the dragons Glaurung and Ancalagon of old!"
"All will remember your name and tremble! You'll be the incarnation of extreme cold and death! Winter is coming, and you, Ice Frost Dragon Glam, will bring the long winter from the north..."
Saruman's magical voice struck every buried desire in the dragon's heart. All the unwillingness and forgotten dreams.
Dragon Glam's enormous eyes fell into a hypnotic stupor.
The ancient creature's mental defenses, weakened by eons of isolation and bitter memories, began to crack. Saruman's influence seeped through like poison through stone.
Victory was within reach.