'Wake up, sluggard!'

The command was accompanied by a tug on his braids so hard that Glorfindel yelped. As he focussed, there was Námo looking at him, not smiling or grinning tonight, just looking a bit cross.

'My lord Námo?'

'Come, you haven't got long, and you will want your hair out of the way this time... wake up!'

'This time...?'

But Glorfindel was talking to the dark night air and Erestor was crouched at the foot of his bedroll, about to shake him. Nearby, he could hear muffled weeping.

'It is three hours before dawn, perhaps more. One of the Galadhrim woke a few moments ago in extreme distress,' Erestor said. 'Now, he may have dreamed about danger because we're expecting dragons, or it may have been a vision; he admits he does not know. But Arveldir wishes us to ride for the garrison at once. '

'I saw him again, Erestor. I saw Námo.' Glorfindel sat up and gathered his hair in his hands, twisting it around and around until it formed a sort of knot at the back of his head. 'And he said... keep my hair out of the way this time, and I find that a little worrying...'

He pulled on his boots, fastened on his sword belt and found a couple of sticks which he poked through his hair to keep it in place. Arveldir was readying the horses, Erestor breaking camp assisted by most of the Galadhrim.

Glorfindel went over to the one who had had the dream-or-vision, hunkering down beside him.

'Lumormen, isn't it? I had a visit from Námo, what did you get?'

The Galadhrim shook his head.

'Just... a sense of loss, of something ending, bigger than myself, than all of us... bigger than the forest...'

'You don't have to come with us; you volunteered, and we're grateful, but if it's too much, you can go back, take one of your friends with you.'

'Thank you. But they say we will be there tomorrow – later today – no, I have come this far; I would feel ashamed to turn back now.'

'Then all we can do is ride to meet it head-on. Whatever it is.'

Lumormen nodded.

'I'm ready to face what comes.'

'Let's hope we all are.'

Triwathon was moving even before the knock came at his door, his boots on, his weapons in place, his light armour over his leather jerkin.

'Commander, the warning bells...'

'I am on my way.' He pulled on his boots and opened the door, following his second along the corridor. 'Report, please, Narunir?'

'We doubled the watch. Some of the trees were uneasy. Then the bells started, something passed overhead, high in the western sky... sir, is it true, as they say, there are no more dragons?'

'There have been no more dragons for thousands of years, or so they say, Narunir. But in that time, I have seen at least four.'

Outside in the dark night, the muster point was alive with warriors and orders.

'Commander!' Elrohir hurried up, Rusdir with him, still buckling on weapons. 'My husband woke up in a panic; the bells – our honour-sister…'

'At the moment we do not know exactly what is going on, Elrohir, but…'

The duty captain stepped forward.

'Sir, Captains Thiriston and Canadion, Celeguel and Amathel, Erthor and Calithilon all wished to be put to use amongst the guard.'

'That's excellent news. Rusdir, if you and your husband want to join us, we will be glad of your weapons.'

'Of course, Commander…'

'Thank you.' Triwathon nodded them over to where the other visiting elves were gathered. 'If it is dragons, we will need every bow, and I know many of you have fought dragons before. Welcome to the Garrison Guard. So. Three companies, one to guard the New Palace, one to respond with force, the third to assist the villagers to shelter.'

'Yes, Commander,' the duty captain began. 'But... if it is dragons...?'

Triwathon nodded and raised his voice.

'If it is dragons, then they are vulnerable in the eyes, down the maw if they are gaping ready to flame, under the throat. The smaller they are, the younger, the easier to kill. Watch lest one is a cold drake, with no flame but only breath; it is the breath that kills on that sort. If they are young, still, you can pierce the belly and that will slow the fires. But, basically, arrow after arrow until you can get close enough to hew the neck. Captains Canadion and Thiriston, I know you have slain dragons together but also that you have other expertise. Will you join with the company helping get the civilians to safety?'

'Gladly, Commander,' Thiriston's voice was a growl.

'Celeguel, I know you have dragons in your past, too. You and Amathel, with me, Erthor and Calithilon, too; you know how to fight such things. We head the attack force. Narunir, you have the most important job of all, holding the New Palace. This is the only safe shelter for miles; if we cannot slay this thing – these things – then you will have to do that and keep everyone safe, as well as get word to the Old Palace and to Ithilien.'

'Agreed, Commander... but...'

'You will have people coming in from the villages – well, that's what they're supposed to do when the alarms sound, but whether or not they all will… or will be able to…'

'Commander!' Parvon came across at a run. 'I heard the bells and someone said, dragons, perhaps...'

'Narunir's command will guard you, Parvon.'

'No, it will not! It will guard Faerveren; I will join the rescue teams. If there is fire, I understand how to use the water piping system...'

Triwathon drew breath to argue; Parvon was too important to the New Palace to allow him to take the risk, but before he could speak, Canadion jumped into the conversation.

'So do I,' Canadion said. 'My adar showed me how to fight the fires from the water tanks; I am glad he is not here now, though. Parvon, if you could explain where to find the junction points…'

The Advisor was already nodding and Triwathon acknowledged defeat; after all, every hand mattered and at least fire control was slightly less dangerous than leading an attack on any actual dragons…

'Good, that's excellent. Parvon, do try to keep out of trouble. Narunir, you and your warriors have the hardest task although you may not think it. Everyone – may the Valar keep you and let's try to keep ourselves alive, yes? Good fortune to us all. Lead out!'

The Rivendell company had been riding for about an hour when suddenly from far across the forest they heard the warning signals; a wild jangling rang out as if many bells were being shaken and rung all at once. Arveldir shook his head as everyone reined in, responding to the sound.

'There is meant to be a signal system, three bells clear and a rest for fire, two and break and another two for an attack... not this wild panic...'

Glorfindel winced as a shadow and a streak of flame zoomed high overhead to the north east. The horses skittered, uneasy.

'What's the signal for dragons?' he asked, dismounting. 'Or shall we assume that was it? Whatever, we won't get much nearer on horseback; the poor things are already edgy and they'll do better without us. Can someone unload the pack horse?'

Lumormen slid down from his horse to help free the pack horse of its burdens, and sent the animal off with gentle words back down the trail while Glorfindel drew Asfaloth to one side.

'Listen here, old friend,' he said, rubbing the horse's forehead. 'You know I didn't really want you to leave your nice warm stable to come adventuring again, but you insisted. And you've been amazing on the trail. But it's time now, dear old fellow, to say our farewells, just for a bit, eh? You can lead the other horses out to the scrub at the edge of the forest, water and forage there for you, don't get too close to the hills, though, do you hear me? Might be wolves. So, go on home with you.'

Asfaloth pushed his muzzle into Glorfindel's chest.

'Yes, I know, old thing. But you wanted to come. Now, I won't take your bells off you, but you'll be better without the rest of it, yes?'

He stripped the light saddle and saddle pad from Asfaloth's back, unclipped the reins to leave the horse just in his bell-bedecked headstall.

'Now, go and make sure the other horses don't do anything silly, will you? And watch out for dragons!'

The horse snorted, dipped his head, and turned to trot off into the forest.

Glorfindel sighed. The sense of something coming to an end was growing in him, the feeling that this was the last thing he needed to do before he could sail, and he tried to shake it by turning back to the company. He wished Mel was there, so he could give him a hug, except he was glad his young friend was safe in the Valley, because it would have been worse to see so gentle and un-warrior-like an ellon thrust into battle against dragons… He pulled himself back from the thoughts as he heard muttering from the Galadhrim, who had reluctantly abandoned their mounts and stacked all the gear in the undergrowth with bad grace. Glorfindel called them to order.

'We can't make the horses ride into this kind of danger, we're better off on foot anyway. So, come on, brace your backs. Arveldir, what do you suggest?'

'We're not really far from the new settlements,' Arveldir said. 'Perhaps a mile or so. We should head towards them.'

'Can you smell burning?' Lumormen asked.

'Let's hurry.'

Shouts, soon, ahead and to the left. Arveldir sent out an identifying whistle, and an answering call came through the forest.

'Is that a Silvan? Who calls, who comes? Stay away, stay back!' A young ellon came running through the trees, his hair awry, unbound. He was shaking. 'Oh, Lords, I... dragons, there are dragons in the Greenwood!'

'Say again?' Glorfindel asked, reaching out a hand to steady the youngster. 'What dragons, how many, where?'

'Many, oh, I do not know, several groups, two or three at a time and... and the trees, ai, they were screaming and the fire... it is too late, and the others cannot get through, the ways are watched...'

Behind him, a little group, a cluster of distraught and dishevelled Silvans burst out from cover, all shouting and calling out.

'The way to the New Palace is blocked!'

'There are dragons everywhere!'

'They flame if we try to get near, or around, or...'

'Is anyone hurt?' Arveldir asked loudly. 'What's happening in your village?'

'Someone sounded an alarm, and we gathered in the Heart Glade to decide what to do, and some said, send the elflings to safety along the river trail, but the dragon stooped on us as we gathered and caught some up, then threw… threw them to the other littler ones and…'

He faltered and fell into weeping. Another ellon stepped up.

'Lord Arveldir? Is that you?'

'Yes, it is I.' The advisor came nearer to look at the ellon more closely. 'Cennon, is it not? What happened, can you say?'

Cennon shook his head. 'Only that we were settled for the night and there was an alarm from the trees. Came a rush and wail and the forest ignited around us; a dragon circling, perhaps more than one. We all fled our talain to gather in our Heart Glade and found more dragons waiting there for us, two of them, they... caught several of us, ate... ate... still alive...'

'Come.' Glorfindel put a gentle hand on the ellon's shoulder. 'You need rest, healing, you...'

'I need to find somewhere safe for my people, lord!' Cennon protested.

Others of the fire-damaged elves murmured assent.

'There are other villages, and we cannot reach them, the fires are between us. We heard the bells, but one settlement did not signal, we fear the worst for them…'

'Do you know ought of Rusdir and his husband Elrohir?' Erestor asked. 'They were visiting Rusdir's sister, Rhoscthel? She is widowed, has two sons...?'

'I know Rhoscthel. I... we...' The elleth who had spoken dropped her head. 'The next village north from us. The ones who did not signal the warning… I do not know anything of Rusdir or Elrohir.'

Arveldir nodded and turned again to Cennon.

'We will leave two of our Galadhrim friends with your company; they are armed and well able to protect you, perhaps even from dragons. Lead them where you will, where you think best, but try to get to the New Palace if you can by the outer trails. We will press on and see if we cannot find a way round these dragons.'

'Or through,' Glorfindel said. 'Do not forget through. We have destroyed dragons before.'

Waiting for the thought to sink in, and hoping it would bolster both those who remembered the fight and encourage those who had never defeated dragons before, he turned to Arveldir.

'You probably know these woods better than any of us. What do you suggest?'

Arveldir ran a hand through his braids.

'Standing orders when the alarms sound are to evacuate to the New Palace and, of course, the garrison will have heard the bells and will respond. But these settlements are so far out we could well get there before any help from the guard…' He glanced at the huddle of refugees. 'Rusdir is a fine shot, an excellent warrior, and his spouse Elrohir has skill with the sword and the bow; they will be able to help protect the village until we can get there.'

'If you can get there,' one said. 'It seems to me now that the dragons had set the flame to encircle our village; what if this is what the dragons are doing for each settlement? What then?'

'Well, can any of you suggest anything helpful?' Glorfindel asked, trying to keep the acid from his voice; he was trying to stir everyone, he didn't want them becoming more fearful… 'Come on, none of us can stay here, and I'd rather go down fighting if I have to; if you've got several of these things to cope with, then the more damage we can do, the easier it will be for everyone else. Seek safety if you must, but isn't there someone? Anyone? Well?'

The youngster who had found them first came forward. He was visibly shaking, his hair awry and tangled, his face smudged with soot and grime and he looked the most unlikely ally since a hobbit offered to save the world… but since said hobbit had, in fact, managed to save the world, Glorfindel wasn't about to judge his only volunteer.

'Brave lad,' he said. 'What do they call you, then?'

'Thandir, lord.'

'Thandir, eh? Well, I'm Glorfindel, yes, him, Balrog, all that, never mind it now, this is Erestor, and there's Arveldir, who used to run the King's Office back in the day. And the others are Galadhrim, don't worry about their names, except Lumormen, he's all right. Good, so that's settled. Your village, which way?'

'West, and north of west. But…'

'West and north of west it is, then. We'll go quietly, do you know any of the call signals?'

'Just what they are. And my name.'

'Good, Arveldir knows a few, I think. If we get separated, don't shout, use the signal, yes?'

Thandir nodded. He looked across to his fellow-refugees. Cennon nodded.

'Good luck,' he said. 'I hope we may meet again before long.'

'In one world or another, I am sure we will.'

Triwathon's company set off with one of the rescue parties into the forest. As they readied themselves, the rescue captain called for order.

'Did someone other than Master Parvon say they knew the water systems?'

Canadion lifted a hand, Thiriston echoing his gesture.

'Then I'd like to keep Master Parvon with us; Pengnir and Hannith will lead you when we get closer. You'll need to go to the fires, so you've just put yourselves into danger… '

'When did we ever do anything else?' Canadion said with a sigh. His spouse rumbled a laugh.

'Looking good on it, penneth. Come on, you know we were getting bored down in Ithilien.'

'True.'

The companies inserted themselves into the forest as easily as a foot in a boot. Thiriston kept watch, looking to the trees for guidance, trying to unravel the scents of the forest mingling with the arboreal pheromones. But the night-time woods were cold and stark, the trees sleepy and less responsive than they were in seasons of growth, limiting the information the big elf could gather. He shook his head.

'Too much smoke in the air, not the sort of wood smoke you get just from cook-fires… ach, I don't like that at all!' He wrinkled his nose at the drift of smoke that lifted through on the breeze.'

'I thought it was a sweet smell, myself,' Hannith said. 'Almost like an evening roast when boar is on the spit.'

'Exactly,' Thiriston said. 'I don't know, maybe you're a bit young to remember, but back in the day orcs used to eat their captives. If they weren't too hungry, they'd cook them first.'

'Are you saying…? Yrch?'

'No, I'm saying burned flesh.' He shuddered and Canadion stroked his arm. 'I'm all right,' he said, smiling down at his husband. 'Really. Dragons, Hannith, what do they do?'

'They… they flame, oh, sweet Lord Eru, are our people burning in dragon flame?'

'Only way to find out is to get there.'

Canadion kept close to his husband, not quite believing Thiriston's claim to be all right. He knew, although it was not common knowledge, that Thiriston had lost his parents to dragons when he was an elfling, they and almost all the caravan they had been with. More recently, but still a while ago now, there had been an attack on their camp by three dragons, one of which Thiriston killed and another of which had burned the Elvenking; Canadion, rushing to his king's aid, had himself been injured by flame and still bore small scars to prove his courage.

As Triwathon led the two companies deeper into the woods and the darkness congealed around them, the taint on the breeze grew stronger. The shrill of the alarm bells had faltered, ceased as they advanced; either the villagers had become too busy to continue the signal, or they were unable to keep it up.

'Can you go up?' Hannith asked. 'We will be quicker, have more cover.'

'Not from dragons we won't,' Canadion pointed out, keeping an arrow nocked and an eye on the sky. 'If they are distracted by the chase, by feeding and flaming, then they are less likely to notice us,' he said softly. 'We have seen how they delight in toying with their prey. How far…'

'We risk falling behind the Commander; we would go faster in silence, keep to signals if you must.'

Thiriston caught Canadion's eye. 'I think she wants us to shut up and run, penneth. Just like the old days.'

Just like the old days. Well, they had come through those relatively unscathed, and many of the garrison guards were known to them from days of battle. They had fought with Commander Triwathon in the Battle Under the Trees, had seen him save the Elvenking and in turn had saved him; if there was anyone to go into battle with against dragons, Commander Triwathon was probably one of the best.

After they had covered a mile or more and the smoke on the breeze was more than just a taint, Commander Triwathon called a halt and addressed both companies.

'We will continue on together, but don't forget your allotted tasks; if you are on rescue and fire control and there is a better route, take it. But do not attempt to attack, no fighting unless you need to actively engage. We don't really know what we're tackling here yet…'

A shadow darker than the night and larger than nightmares passed high to the west, circling and rising to turn and stoop, echoed by other, slighter, shadowy shapes.

'…but I would estimate a large dragon, perhaps not acting alone,' the Commander finished. 'Well. Onwards.'