Land of the King
Chapter 72: The Hunt for the Glaurung
4447 E.L
A train of wagons and carts trekked along the Arnorian-built roads, guarded by a platoon of Valyrian kataphractii. Their destination was the Valyrian encampments located deeper within the province of Tálnandor. They would not however be arriving at their destination.
At Boromir's signal, the Arnorian cavalry made their presence clear, charging for the convoy and luring away the kataphractii who galloped to intercept. At that moment, the remaining Arnorian forces revealed themselves and attacked the convoy, peppering the defenders full of arrows before seizing the supplies.
Concurrently the Arnorian cavalry cut through the kataphractii who finding themselves overmatched, withdrew to the convoy which had just been overpowered by the Arnorian archers. Caught between Arnorian knights and archers, the kataphractii force was soon slain entirely.
As the battle finished, Boromir moved in to inspect the supplies.
"Smoked and salted foodstocks, weapons, ammunition, and medicine. We feast on Valyrian food tonight! Let's all thank the Valyrians for their generosity men!"
His soldiers laughed as they began readying the wagons and convoys for transport back to the Arnorian lines.
"Lord Boromir! You need to see this!" Boromir heard a call from a squad near the centre of the convoy and moved to see what the commotion was about. The men parted ways to let their commander see what was inside the crates in the wagons. What he saw was shocking, but also potentially good news.
"Valyrian steel armour," Boromir noted as he saw the smoky, swirly patterns iconic to that type of steel.
He took one piece of plate out of the crate and examined its shape, noting it was shaped similarly to dragon scales.
"Replacements for the Glaurung no doubt," he said as he dropped the piece back into the crate. "It's coming with us," he ordered as the Arnorians readied the convoy and set off back to their lines. As they rode, Boromir was deep in thought as he tried to plan his next move.
In the past three years, the Arnorians had determined how exactly the Valyrians had armored the Glaurungs. Normal, traditional steel, or even steel of Arnorian make would be far too heavy to armor the beasts in and expect them to be able to move. However, Valyrian Steel was by some magic the Arnorians had never been able to deduce, far lighter than any other steel.
The Valyrians had, at great expense, created thousands of Valyrian steel plates and then interlocked them together with rings to form a second protective coat around their Glaurungs that made them capable of tanking hits that would have killed any other dragon. However, with Arnorian-made steel and black arrows capable of rivaling even Valyrian steel and with their newfound knowledge on how the armour was fitted onto the Glaurungs, the Valyrians began needing to repair and replace their Glaurungs' armour after almost every major engagement and it was during those windows of time that the Arnorians sent in elite forces behind enemy lines to raid their supply convoys and deny the Valyrians resupply, including parts for their Glaurungs' armor. It was hoped that in time, this would enable them to deprive the Glaurungs of enough of their armor to render them vulnerable to the Arnorians in battle.
Three years of such attempts however had failed and the war had seemingly descended into stalemate. In the Heel of Essos, Arnorian forces were bogged down in Myr and Tálnandor, unable to break through the Valyrian lines. They had come close on several occasions but all such breakouts had come to a fiery end under the maw of the Glaurung.
The heavy casualties among the giants in those years, had forced Aragost to conscript the entire adult giant population, even females, to combat roles, stirring up more public opinion in the homeland against the High King.
Thankfully, not all news was dire. In the northern front, the Velvet Hills had proved the perfect defensible line for the allied armies and despite Arnor originally landing more soldiers in the south, there were now more soldiers in the north. The pressure that they were exerting on the Valyrians against Lorath, Norvos, the Rhoyneland, and Pentos and the Flatlands in the north ensured the Valyrians couldn't afford to assemble enough soldiers or dragons to win the southern front nor could they redeploy the Glaurung they had sent north.
In the southern front, with Arnorian soldiers threatening to break through from either Myr or from the coasts near the Stepstones, the Valyrians had been forced to split their host in two, using the Glaurung wherever it was needed. What that meant however was that now with the Valyrians constantly redeploying the Glaurung between Myr and Tálnandor without any soldiers or dragons to spare, the possibility of catching it alone, away from a substantial escort was getting increasingly high.
The Arnorian high command had hedged all their bets on this happening and after years of bleeding the Valyrians and raiding their supply lines, it was finally beginning to show how desperate the Valyrians had become. If they could kill the Glaurung, the Arnorian army could reclaim the whole of Tálnandor and allow their allied forces in Myr to break out, potentially allowing them to seize the whole Heel of Essos at which point the Valyrian war efforts in East Arnor would break down.
Things were not as simple as they seemed however. Even if everything went right, Valyria still had hundreds of dragons and hundreds of thousands of legionnaires. Driving them beyond Rammas Rómen could take years more of bloodshed and the longer Boromir took to kill the Glaurung, the longer those years would be.
"And you are sure this will work?" the King asked.
"Yes Your Majesty. Our three years of raiding and fighting have proven their worth at long last I believe. The Valyrians do not have any strength left to deploy in Tálnandor anymore, not while the northern front threatens the Rhoyne itself. If a major attack strikes out from Myr, they will have no choice but to deploy their Glaurung and unless they want to risk drawing away too many forces from Tálnandor where our own forces will be striking as well, the Glaurung will have only its handlers and a light escort as it travels."
The King thought further, before asking, "And you are certain, that if you can get the Glaurung alone, you can kill it?"
"With any luck Sire? Yes. I have many elite and veteran giants and rangers with me along with artillery. And if we can get the Glaurung near a river or when it's raining, we would have access to water support as well. If all else fails, the operation would have at least pushed our lines in Tálnandor a few miles further north."
"Very well. I consent to this plan. But Boromir, the consequences of failure will be dire. The Arnorian people are tiring of an endless war with no victory in sight. If we cannot produce results soon, I may have no choice but to sue for peace with Valyria."
"I understand Sire. I will not fail. The Glaurung will die, no matter the cost."
The glass candle extinguished and Boromir let his eyes adjust as the colours of the world returned to normal.
Once he had recovered from the mental exhaustion of using the candle, he straightened and got up from his seat, a determination filling him. He would see the Glaurung dead, even if it cost him his life.
"Loose!" Boromir shouted.
A hailstorm of projectiles fired at the Glaurung and its escorts, cutting the soldiers to pieces and aiming for the weak spots in its armour, drawing blood from the beast.
A stroke of luck had seen them manage to ambush the Glaurung and its small escort near a river in Tálnandor, it was possibly the only reason why their entire force hadn't died in blazing agony as the water mages shielded them from the flames of the Glaurung. Boromir had gambled that the Glaurung would pass by this route along the road to Myr and had fortified the surrounding hills to the teeth with artillery and archers.
Panicked and with its escorts and handlers dead or dying, the Glaurung tried to run from the river as the Arnorian water mages began pulling it into the water to keep it stationary. Thrashing around, the Glaurung unleashed bellows of flame, reducing the trees and grasses in the surrounding region to cinders and boiling away some of the water of the river.
Boromir ordered the archers and artillery to keep shooting the Glaurung at the weak chinks in its armour and its eyes, while giving the most dangerous job to a team of water mages to try and keep the beast in place.
As the dragon bellowed flames at its Arnorian attackers, the water mages shielded them as best as they could from the fire while also using water whips to keep the Glaurung from fleeing, slowly trying to pull it toward the river. No dragon, not even a Glaurung could bellow flame continuously forever.
The rain that began falling, soon turning into a downpour, helped a lot as well, the rain providing extra water for their mages to use against. Slowly as the river banks swelled with water from the storm, they gained the upper hand on the Glaurung, intent on forcing its head into the river until it drowned.
As the Glaurung bellowed flame, a large spout of water did not shield the soldiers behind it as expected, allowing the flames to reduce hundreds to bone and ash, but distracting the Glaurung long enough for the water to wrap around its jaw like a muzzle and snap it shut. In the next moment, a squad of giants threw a chain, guided by a spout of water, to wrap around the dragon's mouth as well. Then the giants and the water mages pulled the Glaurung into the river where the water mages were able to force its head under the water to drown.
Desperate and panicked, the Glaurung thrashed around in the river trying to escape, but with the giants holding it down and the endless supply of water from the river and the storm, it could not break free. While the beast was trapped under the water, other water mages and the giants began targeting the straps and links holding the Glaurung's armour together, stripping the Glaurung's armour from it, one plate at a time even as their artillery and archers continued pounding it with more missiles, now able to pierce flesh more easily without the Valyrian steel armour blocking their path. Some giants had taken up their huge axes and began cutting into the dragon's flesh at dangerous melee range. Streams of dragon blood flowed out into the river as the Glaurung slowly drowned and bled to death.
It had been a hard and hours-long fight, but Boromir was beginning to feel hope. Without its armour or an escorting army, the Glaurung was just another dragon and one that could not even fly, and Arnor had killed hundreds of dragons. Yet something told him that it was too easy.
Soon enough the Glaurung, began thrashing about once more, and this time the Arnorians could not keep it down. The Glaurung had held its breath under the water, endured the pain of the Arnorian weapons piercing into its skin, conserving energy and firepower before it rose from the water again, snapping the chains in a berserker rage before it bellowed a great hot flame that turned parts of the river into steam.
Even a well-aimed shot to its eye from a giant steelbow failed to slay the beat, only enraging it further as it began eviscerating Boromir's army. With the tide of the battle turned, Boromir desperately ordered his men to keep attacking the Glaurung. This was the closest they had gotten in three years, he couldn't let the opportunity slip from his fingers.
They tried pulling the Glaurung back into the river again but it failed almost immediately with the rage the dragon was in. Boromir quickly changed tactics and pulled back his men, the enraged Glaurung showing no signs of escaping now that it had incinerated the Arnorian encirclement. Instead the beast began charging the Arnorian positions, trying to destroy their artillery and archers which had so caused it pain.
With almost all their water mages and giants dead, the Arnorians were vulnerable to the Glaurung, but Boromir ordered them to hold and keep loosing arrows and bolts at it.
Terrifyingly, the Glaurung stalked to the hill that Boromir was on with a unit of artillery and archers and began bellowing flames at them, their dragonhide armour helped a little, but not enough.
"Run!" Boromir shouted to his men as they dived for cover, the Glaurung's flames incinerating all their equipment.
Seemingly out of flames, the Glaurung stopped breathing fire at the Arnorians and took an almost savage glee in killing them with its teeth and claws now.
As he tried leading his men away Boromir felt a sharp pain in his chest as the Glaurung's tail collided into him and his men, sending them flying yards away. Boromir felt his body break as he landed, felt the last shreds of pain in his body before he felt nothing ever again.
"I see," Aragost's eyes widened in shock as he heard the report.
"Arnor thanks you for your service soldier. Get some rest, tend to your wounded," he ordered the officer who reported to him before dismissing him and extinguishing the glass candle.
Boromir was dead, and with him over seven thousand Arnorian soldiers, water mages, and giants. They joined the millions of Arnorians, both civilian and soldier, who had already died over the course of this long war.
The Glaurung had limped away from the battlefield after breaking out of the river Boromir had tried to imprison and drown it in. After brutally massacring the Arnorian army to its satisfaction, the beast had limped away from the battlefield, heavily injured and bleeding profusely with many arrows and bolts embedded deep in its flesh. It finally collapsed a few miles away from the battlefield, likely from exhaustion and the severe blood loss. A death by a thousand cuts.
There was no foolproof way to kill dragons. Even the strategy and doctrine Arnor had devised, the most successful in the world, often failed and even when it succeeded, often required the sacrifice of thousands just to bring down a single dragon. His Steward and thousands more had died in the line of duty to bring down the Glaurung. Millions more had died in the rest of the war, with a million from the Drowning alone. How many more had to die before this war could come to an end?
Yet despite his grief, and he was indeed very much aggrieved for despite their differences Boromir had been his most trusted advisor and even a friend of sorts, Aragost knew he had to keep pushing forward.
With their sacrifice, Boromir and thousands more had ensured the war could be brought to a quicker end. Arnorian forces could now break out of their footholds and reclaim Tálnandor and the whole Heel of Essos. From there they could converge on the Flatlands of Pentos from two directions until it fell. And there was only one Glaurung left.
Two down, one to go.
The war was far from over and it would likely be years more of pain and suffering, of thousands of Arnorians never seeing their families and loved ones again. But at long last, the end of the war, the end of the carnage was in sight. A path to victory could be charted, and Aragost would see it through to the end.
"I'm sorry," Aravorn gave his condolences but Cirion brushed him off. They had just received word from Myr that the Steward had fallen in battle.
"You've nothing to be sorry for. My father did his duty, and because of his sacrifice, another of those accursed Glaurungs is dead. Arnor is closer to winning the war, but my father will never see its end," Cirion said bitterly.
Aravorn wasn't sure what to say to that. He couldn't imagine how Cirion would be able to comfort him if the reverse had happened and his father had died. His friend was now the Steward of Arnor, a heavy burden at such a young age. He decided to turn the conversation to a different matter to take Cirion's mind off his father's untimely death.
"With the Glaurung gone, the Southern Front will finally advance. By the end of the year, we will have regained complete control of the Heel of Essos, at which point it will be only a matter of time before we can advance on Pentos from two fronts," Aravorn said, coming to the same conclusion his father had.
"An advance after three years… the war is finally closer to its end yet it will be even more years before the Valyrians are driven back entirely. How many more lives will be lost before this blasted war is done?" Cirion asked.
Aravorn replied, not truly feeling the optimism in his voice, "Too many. But the war will end someday."
"And when it does? What then?" Cirion asked, his eyes dead and tired.
"We rebuild, and we make sure that it never happens again," Aravorn answered firmly, saying it more like an oath than a statement. He did not know if any of them who fought the war would ever truly find peace after its end, but the least they could do was ensure future generations need never suffer as they had suffered.
