A/N: Here we go – a new story and it's a prequel to my other fic Wrath and Ruin. It'll be three chapters long in total and I do so hope you enjoy!
Pyrrhic– (noun) (of a victory) that inflicts such a devastating toll on the victor it is tantamount to defeat.
Prologue
Aglardaer watched the unmistakable shapes with a growing sense of trepidation as they landed in slow, swirling elegant swoops one by one. The oddly mesmerising movements would be considered beautiful were they done by any other creature.
As it was, the sight of the last one landing made the Crown Commander of the Woodland Army feel as though a lead weight had landed in his stomach.
Dragons.
Thranduil would not be pleased. Not at all. They'd heard rumours and whisperings these past two years of dragons having been roused and on the move. But up until this point they'd remained just that - rumours and whisperings; and though all warriors on the Northern and North-Western border patrols had been required to spend some of their patrol scanning the skies for these winged wyrms none had been spotted.
Not until today.
Aglardaer sighed, he did so hate to be the bearer of bad news; especially where Thranduil was concerned – the messengers tended to get 'shot' so to speak. But there was nothing for it, over the past week the rumours and whisperings had grown more fervent and so Aglardaer had decided to come and stake out the skies for himself. He'd been here just over a day and he hadn't been disappointed though he sorely wished such had been the case.
What had started off as indiscernible black specks the day prior had gotten closer and closer; coming in first from the general direction of Gundabad and gradually moving in a more easterly direction until they'd been swallowed up in the mists that shrouded the tips of the Grey Mountains. Yet the first spark of true fear had been lit within Aglardaer and he'd hardly dared move from his perch as he strained his elven eyes to see all that they could see.
And this morn they saw a whole lot more than he'd prayed they would.
It was time to head back to the palace.
It was time to warn his best friend and King.
It was time for them to prepare for yet another war.
~o~
Thranduil cleared his throat and at once the room fell into a hush before him. He was seated at the head of the long councillor's table and had summoned to him both the War and Defence Councils. Aglardaer's news that had seen Thranduil dragged from his bed in the middle of the night had been ill indeed.
The Elven King resisted an urge to sigh at the memory of it and instead turned to address all the anxious faces upturned toward him.
"I am sure you are all eager to know why you have been summoned and so urgently at that, so without any further delay – I shall hand over to our Crown Commander."
"Hannon-le Aran-nin," Aglardaer dipped his head toward Thranduil before he turned toward the councillors who waited with bated breath. "Dragons have been spotted and what's more they are headed this way…"
Immediately a great uproar began and Thranduil reached out and gave two solid knocks of his water glass against the table. "Silence – you shall all have your time to speak. For now listen."
Thranduil gestured for his best friend to continue and Aglardaer gave a small nod of his head in thanks before he carried on.
"As I was saying, the dragons are headed this way and I motion now for both the War Council and Defence Council to agree that we march to meet them - for they cannot be allowed to get near the Wood. That would be to the detriment of us all."
Pandemonium ensued once more and Thranduil let them have at it for a minute – let them get the initial hysteria and panic out of the way. He could not begrudge them for feeling such, after all he'd very nearly swooned when Aglardaer had brought him the news the previous night. A steadying draught of Woodland whiskey had been necessary then but alas, there were no such comforts here.
When the King at last deemed his councillors had had sufficient time to get over their shock with their raucous babble he again slammed down his heavy crystal glass.
"Doubtless you all have many questions; Aglardaer will do his best to answer them to your satisfaction and I bid you all remember you are elven councillors and not dwarven fishmongers and to behave in a manner befitting such."
For crystal or no Thranduil did not think his water glass would survive another hammering. And he intensely disliked unnecessary noise and discord.
The leader of the War Council - an ever excitable and self-important ellon was the first to pipe up. "You ask us to sanction the army to march out to meet these alleged dragons. You do of course realise what you really ask is for us to embroil ourselves in yet another war?"
Aglardaer was firm. "There are no 'alleged' dragons. There are real dragons making their very real way toward us. To let them meet us here in the Wood would be an utter madness and would be to sentence our people to death. It would take but a single fiery blast from one of the beasts and our home would be lost."
Another councillor chipped in. "Ah yes, exactly how many dragons are we talking about here?"
Followed swiftly by the leader of the Defence Council, who was a far more level headed and humble elleth than her War Council counterpart. "And how certain are you that they are headed for us?"
"And what's more are you absolutely certain what you have seen are indeed dragons? That you've not mistaken them for aught else?"
Thranduil felt sorry for his friend having to deal with the onslaught of questions; Aglardaer had ridden hard throughout the previous day to bring the news as swiftly as possible, had stayed up long into the night discussing said news with Thranduil and had had little sleep and the King could almost feel the exhaustion and frustration his dear friend was struggling to hold back at the disbelief he was now being met with.
But Thranduil would not interfere. He was not a dictator but a just King that ruled in the best interests of his people and allowed them to have their fair say in all matters concerning them and the realm. And to march to war was definitely a matter that he would let the councillors representing his people discuss. So to that end he did nothing to intervene, only turned to watch his friend who took a deep centring breath before he begun to speak once more.
"Twelve dragons in total have been spotted, and no - I cannot be certain they are heading for us – after all who can predict the whims of dragons? Yet they are taking up residence in the foothills of the Grey Mountains – that is not nearly as far away from the Wood as one might think – not where giant, flying, fire-breathing beasts are concerned. And to answer your final question, yes I am certain these are dragons – I have made no error in what I have seen and now report before you."
Frustration laced every single word Aglardaer had ground out from between his tightly clenched teeth and he glared round at the councillors before him. "Are there any further doubts you'd all like to throw upon my report?"
Thranduil gave Aglardaer a quelling look for his sarcasm even as the council itself ignored his snarky question and erupted into loud chaos around them as they once more began to argue the pros and cons of embroiling themselves in yet another war.
Thranduil let them discuss without his input and listened intently to each argument put forward whilst his secretary, Bôr, took down notes on the most pertinent points and his Regent, Lord Arahaelon, sat grim faced and silent in sober contemplation.
At great length the raucous babble died down and the self-important head of the War Council addressed Thranduil directly.
"You have remained silent on the matter Aran-nin. What do you think about this report of dragons?"
Thranduil lifted his chin and gave the ellon a hard look for his disrespectful tone. "I trust the word of the Commander of my army implicitly. If Crown Commander Aglardaer says there are dragons encroaching upon our borders then it is so. The only question that needs be asked and answered now is what are we going to do about it?"
A rippled murmur went up from the councillors but Thranduil held up his hand.
"No, no more discussion – we put it to the vote now. Do we march against the dragons? All those in favour?"
There was a resounding chorus of "Aye's".
"And those opposed?"
There was a tiny, almost inaudible bubble of "Nays".
"The Aye's have it," Thranduil announced with grim finality. "We marched upon the dragons. We march to war."
~o~
"I propose we take the fight to Withered Heath and meet the dragons there." The leader of the War Council was resolute.
"Withered Heath is far too exposed a place for us to face dragons. Do you mean to kill us all?" One of his fellow councillors was less convinced.
"Of course not – do not be absurd nor obtuse - there are plentiful caves in the foothills of the mountains surrounding Withered Heath where we can take refuge, as well as some small woods and plentiful scrubland." The head of the War Council remained unmoved.
"Withered Heath is a long march. A very, very long march." Still another of his fellows had yet to come around to his way of thinking.
"And that is exactly why I propose it – we do not want any of the flame wreathed destruction that is sure to occur to be anywhere near the Wood. Need I remind you that it will take but a single stray flame to bring ruination upon us all? Thus we fight on the plains of Withered Heath and protect the Wood. Also, the maethyr will not die due to a long march – it is what they have trained for."
A moment of silence was followed by nods of acquiescence as one by one all members of the War Council agreed upon the plans laid out by their leader. The discussion lasted a few moments longer as the leader of the War Council and Aglardaer poured over a large map – highlighting places they could camp, where they thought an ambush might best work, where they could place archers, and where their spearmen might have the best shot at piercing the heart of a dragon.
A long discussion of tactics followed then; they would target all the most vulnerable parts of the dragons – their thin leathery wings being a prime target. If they could ground the beasts down to their level that would be half the battle won. The eyes and throats of the wyrms were also targets, all whilst they would be doing their utmost to remain out of reach of the destructive flames the beasts were known for.
At last satisfied that the War Council had done their part, Thranduil poured himself another cup of calming chamomile (he'd long since sent for refreshments to keep them sustained through what was proving a lengthy session) and gestured for the Defence Council to have their say.
The leader elleth of the Defence Council gave a small nod of thanks to the blonde King before she began.
"We shall need Black Weapons of course, if we are to have any chance at defeating the dragons, and I propose this be our first course of action – to assess our stock levels of Black Weapons. We will also need to check with the forges for our levels of Black Iron; for I propose every warrior carry one weapon that has been at least tipped with Black Iron if not actually forged from it. I also propose we march with two thirds of the army – that will give us sufficient numbers to carry out the War Council's battle plans, and having the remaining third of the army here to protect the people should things go ill is simply wisdom."
Thranduil nodded his agreement to the head Defence councillor's plans. "All your plans are solid; send out to the forges and the armoury for I am certain that we have enough Black Iron stocked to provide each maethyr with a Black Weapon as proposed - whether tipped with the metal or entirely forged from it."
Discussion then turned to their stocks of salt and sand and how much of the materials they could carry with them to Withered Heath for fire suppression purposes. Talk also included what skin protection would be required to keep the maethyr safe from the potential heat and flames they might face.
Another round of refreshments was brought and served as the gathered elves hashed out the final plans of their impending march to war.
~o~
"So, we are all agreed, correct?" Thranduil looked round at his gathered councillors who were all nodding in grim faced agreement.
"Aye Aran-nin we are all in agreement." Aglardaer spoke for them all.
Thranduil gave a satisfied nod of his blonde head, pleased that after the six hour long session they finally had some plans in place, with a clear series of next steps and actions needed. He was not pleased that the end result of said discussions was them marching toward yet another war, but in the face of dragons and the destructive threat they posed the blonde King couldn't think of any other solution. It was not their first war and it would likely not be their last either; the only thing Thranduil could do in the face of such facts was to ensure that as their King he did everything in his power to see to it that as many of his warriors survived as was possible.
Thranduil let a heavy sigh escape him. "Very well then, it is decided upon and our plans are in place - we march to war. Crown Commander," Thranduil placed his sealing signet ring in his best friend's upturned palm, "you may begin sending out the conscriptions."
~o~
Aglardaer set his knife and fork down upon his plate with a feeling of satisfaction. The cooks had truly outdone themselves, likely at the behest of Thranduil, to provide them with such a wonderful and delicious repast. And dessert was still to come.
The Crown Commander sobered a little at the thought that this would be the last dessert he'd be served for a good long while; for they marched out toward Withered Heath at first light tomorrow, and it would be naught but lembas and dried meat and fruit rations. Which was all the more reason for him to enjoy this 'last meal' of sorts Thranduil had been kind enough to invite them all to.
Aglardaer glanced round the table; as well as Thranduil and himself there was his wife, Mael (Lady Mael if Aglardaer were to give her proper title), their son Captain Halon (Aglardaer was still so proud), Crown Princess Rithel, young Prince Legolas and the ever dour faced Lord Arahaelon. Theirs was a gathering that had taken a great many meals together in the past, although those were undoubtedly far more spirited affairs than this. For though things were still quite comfortable between them all, there was an inescapable tension that permeated the room. A tension that reminded them all that this could well be the last time they ever enjoyed each other's company in such a manner. For there was the looming risk that those due to march out tomorrow might never return.
It was a fact they had all strained to ignore thus far, but they could only feign ignorance of and skirt round such a huge topic for so long.
And so as the dinner plates were cleared away to make room for the dessert ones, talk at last turned to the looming war.
Somewhat surprisingly it was Mael who spoke up first.
"You've all been to the temples right? For your war blessings?"
"Of course hervess," Aglardaer assured, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his wife's hand.
"Yes, Lady Mael," Thranduil lied through his teeth.
Aglardaer fought the urge to roll his eyes at his best friend who he knew had not set foot near a temple for well over a decade.
(His friend had never been that conscientious when it came to observing the rituals and prayers others in the Wood offered so faithfully to the Valar; but all the losses Thranduil had suffered over the last few centuries, the most recent being that of his beloved Queen, seemed to have thoroughly embittered and hardened Thranduil's heart toward the Valar.)
The Crown Commander said nothing to refute his friend's untruth - twas always better to keep the peace at gatherings such as this - and instead smiled approvingly as Halon confirmed he too had been to get his blessings.
"I have also been to the temples," Princess Rithel interjected with a small smile. "I have burned incense for you all and entreated upon the Valar to protect your paths as you go. I may not be able to march out with you this time," the Princess gestured toward her still healing side - which had met with the wrong end of an orc's scimitar five days prior - in explanation. "But rest assured I shall bear you all in my prayers every day until your safe return."
"As shall I," Mael put in with a smile and tone that aimed for confidence but did not quite hit the mark.
"Hannon-le both of you - that is most kind." Thranduil gave Mael and Rithel a reassuring look. "It is my hope and expectation that the upcoming battles shall not drag on too long; and do not worry - when next we sit here we'll have returned triumphant, having rid the North of the dragon scum. When next we sit here, it shall be to toast to our victory."
"Well," Lord Arahaelon held his glass aloft, "why wait? Why do we not toast to your victory over the fire wyrms now? For there is no doubt as to your victory."
"A grand idea," Aglardaer grinned, thankful to both his best friend and the silver haired Regent for doing their best at reassuring his nervy wife. The Commander held his glass aloft. "Si ath thûr!"
"Now to victory!"
The others joined in with the shouted toast and just like that the pall of nervous tension that had hung over them the entire meal dissipated and it was Legolas, who with the enthusiasm of the young, stirred the conversation around so that the warriors at the table - Thranduil, Lord Arahaelon, Princess Rithel, Halon and himself - got to talking about past victories, the idiocy of the minions of the Dark One and the general shenanigans that maethyr tended to get up to during downtime on campaigns.
The rest of the meal flew by in a blur of hearty laughter, good natured ribbing, an overall sense of peace (temporary though it may be) and the best blackberry and cream blancmange Aglardaer had had in decades.
~o~
"That was a good meal and a jolly good idea to get us together like that."
"Aye, I enjoyed it."
"But?"
Thranduil turned to face Aglardaer from where he had been staring out across the Wood from his balcony. "But what?"
Aglardaer frowned at him. "You claim to have enjoyed the meal but already your mind is miles away, preoccupied."
"I am a King on the eve of war - I have much to be preoccupied about."
Aglardaer's frown deepened. "Not really, not with all the extensive planning and preparation that we have done over the past two weeks. We are as prepared as we can be and well you know it. There is no need for you to sit here and idly fret over anything to do with the army marching out tomorrow. There is something else, something more which troubles you. What is it?"
Thranduil hesitated even as he cursed his best friend's eagle sharp eyes and intimate knowledge of him. It was difficult to ever keep a secret from the Commander of his army.
"Well?" Aglardaer prompted impatiently when a long moment passed and still Thranduil did not speak. "It will not do to have you marching out at the head of things if you are going to be as preoccupied as this. Will you not share what troubles you? I might yet be able to help."
The Elven King breathed out a sigh. "I am worried."
"About what in particular?"
"This war…the dragons…they are a formidable foe. One we have not faced before…and I know we have made our plans and preparations but we…none of us have ever faced dragons before. What if we get there and see that all our plans are for naught - that they do not work against the thickness of dragon hide? What if the beasts are larger than we have accounted for? What if I am about to follow in Adar's footsteps in the worst possible way and lead two thirds of the army to their deaths?"
Thranduil pressed his lips tightly together - he had not meant to let slip that last traitorous thought.
Aglardaer sidled up to him and leaned so that their shoulders bumped together. "All reasonable fears but all ones that can be dealt with. If we show up and see our plans will not work or that our foe is larger than expected we will pull back, reassess and plan anew. And I have faith in you as our leader, the entire army has faith in you as our leader - we would follow you regardless of whether or not our path leads to death; but we trust you and your judgement. You would never lead us to death on purpose, nor did your Adar for that matter."
Aglardaer clapped Thranduil heartily on the shoulder and pulled him into a loose, one-armed hug. "You are a good King and a mighty warrior Thranduil. Our trust is not misplaced and you will lead us well regardless of whatever challenges the fire wyrms may throw our way. We will follow you unto triumph; no matter how many plan changes or tactical retreats that might take."
Thranduil threw his arm around his friend and gave him a little squeeze back in silent thanks.
It was good to hear that he had the confidence and trust of both his Commander and the army but Thranduil still could not entirely shake the heavy feeling of looming dread that felt like a stone in his stomach.
There was just something within him that said the price of any victory in this upcoming war would be very, very high.
Thranduil could only hope he would be proven wrong.
TBC.
Hannon-le – Thank you
Aran-nin - My King
Ellon – Male elf
Elleth - Female elf
Maethyr – (plural) Warriors
Lembas – Elven Waybread
Hervess – Wife
Si ath thûr – Now to victory
Adar – Father
