Ashton's spines bristled out again as the older dragon drew closer and, his first thoughts being to defend his gold from being taken again, spat flame from his throat in a short burst of warning. He didn't quite dare to blow fire directly at the larger dragon, however. The black scaled dragon lifted up on three legs, the fourth still clutching his gold. His growl rumbled in his chest and his expression was fierce, teeth bared.
The hiss was all but involuntary when he was accused of being foolish. Weak. He was not those things! But something about the way the Jörmungandr said it didn't just offend Celebrimbor, it made him want to prove him wrong. Ashton had, all his life, wanted to be the most powerful, the most clever, the most beautiful dragon possible - so having an older and wiser dragon tell him he was anything but, well, it did not sit well with him. Ashton especially hated that he was being called out for his addiction to the gold.
Ashton turned his body on the sand when Leif circled, wings coming up and snapping tight in a threatening pose as his rear end swerved to stay ready to spring into action. Ashton hated that the ice dragon had now put himself closer to Ashton's cliffs. The younger dragon looked between them and the immediate threat, putting his head down in a subconsciously subordinate position. The booming voice had that kind of effect on him.
"No one!" he hissed back. "No one taught me! I hatched alone and learned without need of anyone else." It wasn't entirely true. Ashton had the gold of his parents hoard with him. The comforting presence of a massive treasure that permeated his blood and kept him going.