Chapter 37

By the time the Elvenking's host returned to the Halls, news of the battle of Dale and King Brand and King Dáin Ironfoot's demise had traveled across the land. Both of the northern Kings had fallen before the gates of Erebor during the assault of the Easterlings, while the siege of the mountain still went on for days. And Thranduil was saddened to hear of this news, for although he held a dislike for the late dwarven King, he respected him as a fierce warrior and an exemplary leader. The death of King Brand served only to deepen his sorrow, as he had always been a loyal ally of the Woodland Realm.

The King's grief over the heavy losses of his army as well as the fall of the allied Kings and the continuing siege of Erebor prompted him to announce with a royal decree that no feast would be held in celebration of their victory, at least not until the war was over. Instead, he proclaimed a three-day mourning for their fallen, after which he would muster the army once more and march northwards to the aid of the men and dwarves, thinking to deal a decisive blow to the forces of the Easterlings and end the battles on the northern front.

Many of his people were surprised to hear of this, and were dismayed by the prospect of another battle and more death, and all this only days apart from the battle that had just been fought, and when the grief was still too near. The three days of mourning passed with discontent silently brewing. But Thranduil would suffer no objections. Being adamant in his cause, he gathered now his councilors and his generals in the throne room, with the intention to put an end to this argument.

"Three days of mourning I had decreed for our fallen. And now these three days are done. I do not say that our grief will pass, neither that we shall forget those we lost. But there will be time for mourning aplenty, once all is done. But not yet; now the tides of fate are upon us. I say that we must look to the living, and to those who are in dire need of our aid. The southern borders of our realm are secured for now, after our victory, and the decimated forces of Dol Guldur will not dare attack us again, not unless the Dark Lord reclaims his Ring and prevails. But if the besieged men and dwarves in the north fail, we shall be facing the Easterlings alone. And they are not mindless orcs or clumsy spiders; their armies are vast, and they are disciplined and organized, and their battle prowess is deadly. And they will come against us in all their might, with their morale high after their victory", he spoke, standing at the foot of his great antlered chair, and shining in his raiment of silvery blue.

A wave of low murmurs then washed through the gathered elves, as they all voiced their concerns to each other in whispering tones, but none dared to openly oppose their King, not even the sharp-tongued councilors. Daenerys, who stood to the right of the stairs to the throne, noticed this change in their demeanor, and with an inward smile she stepped forth and looked up with a steady gaze, for in her heart she knew the cause of this change.

"My lord King, if I may speak my mind?" she asked Thranduil. He nodded, and motioned for her to step forth and speak.

Daenerys now stood in the center of the plateau before the throne. "My lords", she called over the sea of whispers. "Our King shares your grief and uncertainty, do not doubt that. How can he not? Do all these losses not affect him and reflect on him first and foremost?"

Her voice rang true, and the murmurs soon died down. Thranduil from his high place watched her out of the corner of his eye, unchanging in his steely countenance, but teeming with pride on the inside.

"But you have known him for so long. When has he ever led you astray? When has he made a decision that was not for the benefit of this realm? When has anyone felt diminished or wronged under his rule? If any of you wishes to answer these questions, I call you forth to speak!"

The crowd fell completely silent. Some of the councilors gave her looks of discontent, but spoke not a word.

"A lot has changed in these last few months", she went on in a milder tone. "King Thranduil has opened the doors of the Halls to me and my dragons. Dragons! I am well aware of the abhorrence the elven race harbors towards dragonkind, and I find it entirely justified. But your King – our King – has chosen to trust me. And look where we stand now. We won the battle, owing a large part of it to the dragons. And King Thranduil has even ridden a dragon! When have these lands seen such things take place before?"

The elves responded with nods and murmurs of affirmation. Daenerys paced closer to them. "You have chosen to trust your King and his decisions before. You have trusted him all these countless years of your lives. I only ask you to trust him once more."

Then the councilor Orodlin, who was the brother of Istuives, stepped forward and separated himself from the crowd. "I must say, my lade Daenerys, I belonged to those who most strongly opposed you and your dragons' presence here. My counsel has always been against your dwelling here", he stated, glancing from Daenerys to Thranduil and back. "But your deeds have proven me wrong. You have shown yourself a most trustworthy and effective ally. It is true that without the aid of you and your dragons the battle might have turned ill for us. Thus it would be unwise of me not to acknowledge my fault. In light of all this, I must ask your pardon. Please forgive my initial misgivings. So, on behalf of the council and the rest of the elven-folk I wish to assure you that all doubts about you have been banished from the minds of all. We do now consider you a loyal ally; one of us, even", he concluded, speaking honestly and with humility.

Daenerys smiled brightly at the unexpected words. The councilor's formal apology and words of acceptance and support strengthened her position. "Thank you, my lord councilor", she said.

"Still, there remains the matter of the proposed march northwards", Orodlin said, looking now towards Thranduil. He left Daenerys and made for the foot of the throne. "My lord, in the name of your loyal subjects, of your people whom you love and who in return love you, I beseech you, do not give us the command to fight another battle, when the wounds from the one we have just fought are still open and bleeding. Our grief is great, and our population dwindles. I fear we will not be able to withstand the repercussions of another battle now", he pleaded.

The Elvenking, who had remained completely still and silent all this time, lifted his hand, and all voices faded. "I have heard you all speak in turn. I share your grief and your fears, but as your sovereign it is I who must make the hard decisions. And so my decision stands. We cannot abandon our allies to their fate, lest they be overrun and the enemies turn against us next. We march north." His voice rang deep and clear as crystal in the caverns, and having spoken thus he turned and slowly made for his high seat. Orodlin bowed in submission to his King's will and retreated, while his wife sighed in sorrow beside him.

A voice then broke the heavy silence. "There is an alternative."

Thranduil turned sharply and saw Daenerys standing before the crowd once again. She lifted her eyes to his, and said, "My lord King, will you allow me to speak my mind once more?" He simply nodded, curious to hear what she had in mind.

"What if there is no need for our battered warriors to march again? What if we can still help our allies, while not expending our depleted forces?"

Thranduil's brow furrowed, as suspicion of what she was about to propose formed in his thought. "Daenerys, speak clearly", he commanded.

"I can go to the aid of the north. I can fly with my dragons. Let me rain down fire on them from the sky and decimate their numbers! There is no need for more elven lives to be risked. If you are to accept me as your Queen one day, let me be one. Let me protect you!" she cried, and her violet eyes shone with the fervor of purpose, shining like gems of amethyst, like the one in Edhelvir her circlet.

The elves gazed at her with wide eyes and gaping mouths. "My lady, this is a very perilous thing you are suggesting!" Orodlin said. "We cannot have you go against the enemy alone. No, we cannot endorse that."

"I will not be alone. I will have my dragons, and you have seen what they can do", she insisted.

The murmurs of the crowd grew loud, and soon there was upheaval in the throne room. But then Thranduil stood and tapped his heavy oaken staff on the floor, and the sound echoed in the hall. Silence fell once more. "Daenerys has brought forth another perspective. I need time to think on it. And now this meeting is adjourned. Tomorrow you shall have my decree."

That night Thranduil went to Daenerys in her chambers. He found her expecting him, and she greeted him with a glass of wine. Together they sat in front of the fireplace, for it was a cold night, although March was well in its way.

"You did a daring thing today", he started.

"I know. But it felt necessary."

"Necessary? You offered to risk your life."

"And preserve the lives of many. This is a risk I am willing to take", she responded firmly. "I do believe this is the right thing to do. Please, do not try to persuade me otherwise."

He smiled faintly and placed his glass on the table. "I did not come here to dissuade you."

"You did not?" she asked in disbelief, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I came here to tell you that I admire you deeply, and that you made me very proud in the throne room today when you spoke to my people. They do look to you as their Queen now, I believe. And what you did, what you proposed to do, is something only a true ruler would choose to do", he explained, and his voice was low and smooth.

Daenerys could not help but smile at his words. "Thank you, my lord." And then, looking into his eyes she said, "My love."

Thranduil leaned towards her and softly kissed her lips, and they were hot and wet against his. A shiver ran down his spine, and his fëa reached for her spirit, seeking to entwine with it. It was keen and luminous, burning like a brand. How could he ever suffer to be parted from her?

"When this war is over – and it soon will be, and when my son is returned, I will wed you, Daenerys. This I vow", he whispered to her fervently.

She took his hand and sat up. "There once was a time when I was a naïve little girl, a lost princess, who dreamt of princes and majestic weddings and grand palaces. Now this little girl is gone. I care neither for luxuries nor for ceremonies. I know that you love me, as I love you. But I cannot think of weddings, when there are still battles to be fought… and when my dream of going back to Westeros is still so far away. So far away, that at times I fear it will soon be lost to me forever", she murmured, her voice fading in the end.

He moved to cup her cheek. "No, Daenerys. Your dream is not lost. Trust me when I say this", he told her, gazing deep in her eyes.

She held his gaze for a while and nodded. Then with a deep breath and a weak smile she said, "This is not a conversation for now. This is not the time for talk of the future. I must focus on the present, and the promise I have given these people. I will make for Erebor as soon as I am ready."

"As soon as we are ready", he corrected her.

"We?"

He chuckled. "Did you think I would let you undertake this mission on your own? Or are we not both dragonriders now?"

"Do you mean to fly with me, then?" she asked in surprise.

Of course. The thought formed in my mind as soon as you proposed to go north with the dragons. But I wished to speak to you first of it before I announced it to my people", he replied.

"Thranduil…" she murmured and caressed his hand. "It would not be wise to put your life in danger now. You are the Elvenking, and your son is so far away, on a very perilous mission of his own. What if something befalls you? What will happen to your people then? And what of me? What am I to become without you?"

"Are you the lost princess or the Dragonqueen?" he scolded her gently.

Daenerys was at a loss for words. "Thranduil…"

"Hush. I am not afraid of death. Never have I shied away from wars and battles. If I am to meet my fate now, then so be it. But I will not have it said that I cowered in my Halls, whilst my Queen faced our enemies alone. Together we shall fly to the north, and stem the waves of the Easterlings. And, trust me, together we shall return victorious."

His voice was steady with resolve, and his eyes shone. She took courage from him, and embraced him tightly. "Together then. Together we shall burn down our enemies and save the north from a dire fate."

An ardent kiss sealed their agreement. "Daenerys… my love. My fire-queen, mother of dragons, wielder of fire magic, Daenerys naur-nestril, you are so precious to me", he whispered in her ear, and kissed her again. "I would give anything for you, for your happiness, never forget that." His kiss grew deeper and hungrier, and she softly moaned in his arms, as he laid her back on the sofa and covered her body with his. Emboldened by his initiative, her hands crept underneath his tunic, and he shivered, while his mind raced. I am prepared to give anything for you…

First came Drogon, the fiercest and most impatient of the three brothers. On his back rode Daenerys, dressed in battle armor of deep crimson and black – the Targaryen colors, and her dragon-crown was on her silver head. On her belt her sword Lagorúth and her dagger Deldhin were fastened. On her finger gleamed Dílloth her ring, made in the semblance of the mallorn flower, which she took as a symbol of hope renewed. As dragon and rider descended from the clouds the view of Erebor besieged became clear to her. Vast forces of Easterlings were arrayed before the grand iron doors of the mountain, their coppery-red armor glaring under the afternoon sun, and the diminished armies of men and dwarves strove to withstand the pressure. And even if the shadow of the dragon as it fell on the battlefield was not enough to turn many heads upwards, then his deep roar as it reverberated on the mountain slopes and shook the ground caused everyone down below, ally and enemy alike, to freeze in terror. For although Thranduil's elves were by now used to the presence and the sound of the dragons, this was something entirely new to the rest of the peoples. And all cowered, and the battle ceased, for the men and the dwarves were reminded of Smaug the Terrible, and the Easterlings did not recognize this dragon as a fell beast of Mordor.

Drogon circled the battlefield, as Daenerys thought on her plan and saw the positions of the defenders and their foes. The other two dragons then flew down and joined their brother, and Thranduil was on Rhaegal's back, following his Queen and waiting for her command. And, true enough, it was not long before Daenerys cried, "Dracarys!" and with terrible roars the three dragons spewed streams of fire down to the lines of the enemies. In horror they abandoned their positions and dispersed, running frantically away from the battlefield, which was now aflame. But the defenders still dared not to move, fearing the three winged beasts, although they saw that they did not seek to harm them.

Drogon and Viserion chased the Easterlings, wreaking further havoc before the gates of Erebor, and they were relentless in their pursuit. But Thranduil, holding tightly onto Rhaegal's horns, lowered his head towards the dragon, and whispered, "Rhaegal, take me to that high rock over there", wishing that the beast would obey him.

And he did. The green dragon growled low in his throat and made for the place Thranduil had suggested. Batting his great wings, dust rose up from the ground, obscuring the view of the landing dragon from the defenders of the mountain. But as the clouds of dust cleared, they could see the Elvenking standing before the huge, winged beast and brandishing his sword high above his head, and his blade matched his gaze, gleaming silver and burning with icy fire.

"Warriors of Erebor and Dale hearken to me! I am Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. We have come to your aid! Look not to the dragons with fear, but calm your hearts and trust me when I say this to you: we are here to defend your lands and turn your enemies to ashes! Your enemies, who are also our enemies. Fight for your homeland, and be not afraid of the flames of justice!"

Then voices rose up from below, and at first there were mutterings of mixed awe and fear and disbelief, but also hope and rekindled courage. But then the new Kings of Erebor and Dale stepped forth towards the rock where Thranduil stood, and lifted their swords in unison.

"Hail Thranduil Elvenking!" shouted Bard. "We greet your timely arrival with gratitude and joy! The time is not for questions and answers, but of battle and blood!" he yelled, and vigorously pounded his sword against his shield, driving his men to do the same, and soon the clangor was deafening like a raging storm.

"Hail Thranduil Elvenking! Grievances of the past die now. Today we fight as one! Sons of Durin, to battle! Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" Thorin Stonehelm bellowed above the noise, and soon all the dwarven warriors took up these words as a chant, and repeated them over and over, as with renewed morale they assailed their enemies, and drove them from the gates of Erebor through the flaming fields.

And Thranduil took to the sky again on Rhaegal's back, and flew forth to join Daenerys, continuing their work of ash and smoke and fire and blood.

But the hordes of the enemy were vast, and as soon as they recovered from the initial shock of the dragons' assault, the Easterlings brought forth their reinforcements and their siege weapons. Amidst them were ballistae, and the engineers of the enemy loaded them with iron bolts. Through the rising smoke and the waning sunlight they tried to aim for the dragons, but their targets were agile and evaded the deadly missiles.

"Aim for the ballistae!" Daenerys yelled, but her cry was swallowed up by the clamor of the battlefield below. She looked into the distance and saw Viserion raining a stream of fire towards a band of Easterlings that had surrounded a small group of dwarves, and Thranduil on Rhaegal making for the city of Dale, where many of the enemies sought to flee. She knew then that it fell upon her to destroy the war machines before a bolt found its target.

Armed with determination, she drove Drogon to dive from above, and his growl sounded like rolling thunder, causing the Easterlings to run for shelter. His scorching breath followed and engulfed the first ballista to come into sight, but many more were arrayed in a line northwards from their position. "On we fly, Drogon. Dracarys!" she cried, and another ballista went up in flames, together with many foes. A wild smile then rose on her face, and she felt her blood boiling with the heat of battle, as she drew delight from the destruction of her enemies. This is my destiny, she thought. This is what I am supposed to do, fly with my dragons and smite my enemies. I wonder, is this how Aegon felt, when he and his sisters lit the fields of northern Reach on fire, and when he smelled the scorched flesh of his foes? Is this the terrible joy he felt when he roasted and melted the stone towers of Harrenhal?

The dragon then landed amidst the Easterlings, and his great tail smashed everything around him. Craning his neck forth, his throat glowed red like a furnace once more, and flames bathed the evil men before him, leaving only ash and smoke in his wake. Satisfied with the deed, Daenerys ordered him to fly again, and now he headed for the next ballista. But the engineer operating it was prepared, and as Drogon made his descent, he released a bolt against him.

A screech of pain and anguish tore the sky, and it was a sound unlike any other, chilling everyone to the bone. The black dragon was wounded. The iron bolt had found its mark, lodging itself on the junction between his neck and shoulder, the throat having escaped the mortal blow by sheer luck. And now Drogon was falling from above, and Daenerys had never before felt so scared and helpless. "Drogon! No, no! Hold on!" she cried.

Hearing their brother's cry, Rhaegal and Viserion abandoned their tasks and flew to him. When Thranduil saw Drogon falling, paralyzing fear gripped his heart. "Daenerys! Daenerys… It cannot be", he whispered, shocked by the sight he was witnessing.

But the black dragon was not mortally wounded, and managed to overcome his pain. With a toss of his head and a powerful beat of his wings he found his balance mid-air, only a small distance before hitting the ground. Anger rose within the beast and his rider, as he turned towards the man that had dealt him the blow. The dragon's jaws parted, and in an instant the Easterling was turned to ash and bones together with the ballista. Following their brother's example, Rhaegal and Viserion made quick work of the rest of the cursed siege machines. Seeing their efforts failing and their numbers decimated, the Easterlings abandoned the fight and retreated unceremoniously, throwing down weapons and shields. And whoever managed to escape the dragonfire found their end by the blades of the pursuing men and dwarves.

Drogon landed some distance from the wrecked fortifications of the enemy, and Daenerys climbed off his back. He lowered his head, while his constant growls signaled his pain. "Oh, my child, they have hurt you", she whispered, and grasped the iron bolt that was still embedded in the dragon's shoulder. She pulled at it with all her strength, but it would not budge.

"Let me help you", she heard Thranduil's voice calling, and soon his silhouette appeared through the ash and smoke.

Daenerys was glad to see that he was unharmed, as he approached her with quick strides. Together they pulled at the bolt and at last it came out. Hot blood sprang from the wound, staining their armor, but they cared not. She then leaned closer so as to inspect the gash. "It is deep", she muttered.

"We can help him", the Elvenking said. She looked at him with wonder in her eyes as he took her hand and placed it above the wound. "We can heal him", he told her in a calm and reassuring tone. "Use your fire magic, Daenerys, and I will assist you."

He then began chanting a healing spell. "Drogon, lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad", Thranduil said over and over. Daenerys joined in with hesitation at first, unsure whether she could really help her dragon, as her heart was still in disquiet and worry. But as soon as a warm glow appeared underneath their palms and the growls of Drogon became less pained, she took heart, and focused all her energy onto the healing. Heat rose from the dragon's wound, causing Thranduil to flinch, but he did not move; he was prepared for it, remembering how he had healed Rhaegal. But Daenerys saw his distress and his effort to counter the unpleasant feeling, and placed her hands under his, shielding them from the fiercest waves of the heat. He looked at her then with marvel and gratitude, and she gave him a small smile and nod.

Like that they stood until the black dragon's wound was mostly healed. All light had faded in the horizon, and the first stars shone clear up in the sky. Then at last Thranduil and Daenerys drew back, and the great serpent crawled away to find his rest.

Without words the Elvenking reached for the Dragonqueen and took her in his arms. She took a deep, shaky breath, releasing all the tension from her heart and mind, and held him tightly. "We did it", she whispered.

"Yes…"

His hand caressed her tousled locks, as her braid had come undone during the battle. "We won the battle and we healed Drogon", she said.

"Yes, my heart. We did. And you are safe in my arms now. When I saw you falling from the sky…" he sighed. "I do not know what I would do had anything happened to you."

"Hush now, Thranduil. I am fine, safe and sound as you said. Drogon would not be felled so easily, and he would never drop me as long as he lived", she replied, trying to sound confident, but in truth her whole body was trembling from the ordeal.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "You are valiant and fearless, my Queen. But you risked too much when you took up the task of destroying the ballistae on your own."

"It had to be done. If we allowed the Easterlings to regroup and use their ballistae properly, I fear the outcome would have been different. The dragons are strong, but they are not fully grown yet, and can be still vulnerable to well-aimed missiles. I had to make haste and catch the enemy unprepared. I knew the risk, and I will not say I was not scared to death when Drogon was hit, but I had to try", Daenerys said.

"I understand… You made a strategic decision when the time was most crucial. As your King, I commend you for it. But as the ellon who loves you…" He shook his head. "I wish I could shield you from all harm, but I know it cannot be."

She took a step back then and looked at him. His face and hair was dirty with ash and blood, but his eyes glimmered with love for her. Tears then welled up in her own eyes. "Kiss me", she said. "Kiss me in our field of victory, kiss me amidst fire and smoke, kiss me for all that were and for all that will be… Kiss me, my love."

And he kissed her then under the night sky, and on the barren, rocky ground of the plains before Erebor. And his kiss was forceful and desperate at the same time, needy and loving, and he gave her all that was him, and all that she loved in him. And his fëa at once reached out to her spirit and engulfed her, desperately seeking to connect with her. She was ready and willing, and opened her heart and mind to the profound spiritual connection that was so unique to her and Thranduil, and even at times surpassed the carnal ecstasy they reached with their lovemaking.

But then the ground trembled underneath their feet, and a deep rumble coming from the bowels of the earth itself was heard, and the foundations of the mountain shook, and in the distance the bells of Dale began to toll in rhythm with the quaking ground. Thranduil and Daenerys dropped to their knees, and every man and dwarf fell down and remained utterly still, beset with fear. And then a strong gust of wind blew and bore away the clouds and smoke, and the air was suddenly clear and fragrant with the scent of herbs and flowers. And the stars shone brighter than ever in the sky, and among them the Star of Eärendil was the brightest. In the distance they heard the frantic screams of the enemies, until they faded to silence. And then the world was still, and a profound calm and peace descended upon it like it had not been felt before.

"What happened?" uttered Daenerys in shock, as she slowly rose to her feet.

Thranduil glanced about him, and then rose to his feet, while a bright smile dawned on his face. "The Ring… It must be the Ring. The Ring is destroyed! Sauron is no more!" he cried for all to hear.

"How… How is that possible?" Daenerys wondered, coming to stand next to him.

"I feel it in the world around us, my heart. Do you not sense it too? It is changed. The shackles of evil are broken, and the air is free. Arda is purer now, and the stain of evil is washed away. The Dark Lord is vanquished!" he said and his eyes glimmered, and there was a smile of joy and relief on his noble face.

King Bard and King Thorin then emerged, followed by a number of their soldiers. "Oh Elvenking, we felt the ground shake and heard the mountain roar, and then we heard your cry! Is it true that Sauron is defeated?" the dwarf asked.

"Yes, my lord Thorin. Believe me when I say that the war against the Shadow is done. I know not how, but the Ring is destroyed. The Fellowship at last succeeded in their task. We have victory!" Thranduil answered.

"We have victory!" Bard echoed the Elvenking's words.

Then more warriors came and surrounded the three Kings. Wielding their swords and spears high, they cried, "Victory! Victory!" and their voices resounded on the mountains and were carried on the wind to north and south, east and west. And the three dragons flew freely above the battlefield, joining with their roars in the cry of the warriors below.

And the day was the 25th of March of the year 3019 of the Third Age of the Sun.

Translations

naur-nestril = fire-healer (female, Sindarin)

dracarys! = dragonfire! (High Valyrian)

Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu! = Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you! (Khuzdul)

Drogon, lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad = Drogon, hear my voice, come back to the light (Sindarin)