Legends of Belariath

History of the Empire

Nanthalion - As Dragons Sow the Seeds of Empire

As reported from the bards tales by Kaytoo

The Druids ties to nature strong, seeing no distinction between things of old and of now, all things simply of Nature, just as is their view on dragons. As a bird flying from one forest to another sows the fields between with the seeds of all they ate and that lit upon them, so too do dragons sow the seeds of the world. It is in this way the people of nature believe the third continent came to be. A winged dragon of old, a thousand, thousand millennia ago or more, flew from the first continent, and upon a barren land sowed the seeds of life. Yet as this first had done, so had others to lesser degrees, and in their passing, sowed the seeds of man where there were none.

Yet the Shamans ties to spirit and superstition view the dragons in a different light. That the dragons foretell of things to come, like messengers of the spirit world to warn those who still walk among the living of hardship approaching and its form. That a dragon bathing in a river foretells of flood, circling overhead means war soon on the horizon, or to drink from a well a sure sign that town will perish. Yet among the hundred signs of simple dragons actions, one tells of a warning to the rest of the world. That one being where a dragon pauses, in that spot conquest and empire will spring from, and the direction it travels there after, the direction of that peoples expansion.

The Clerics obviously not as primitive or so they would like to believe as Druid and Shaman, long ago decided their beliefs lay with the Gods. Dragons things of older times, the Gods long ago having conquered the realms of the Titans and Chaos, dragons simply a relic of old soon to fade from existence. Yet the dragons they knew had to have a place though, as if not, why had the Gods let them live. That place clear to them as was naturally everything else. That dragons were the Gods way of blessing a place or people with power and dominion. Just a sign perhaps, then again perhaps a true gift. Yet whatever the outcome it was clear, that where a dragon stopped and took offerings, that land and people would prosper.

Perhaps all were right to some degree. Perhaps all were wrong. Yet to a Dragon, especially an old one, what interest could the faiths and religions of man matter. Man simply prey or at times to be avoided. Simple beasts really, caring little for the puny things that scurried about as one would fly by. Though they were curious, much like a newborn thing, gradually changing and expanding from central points like bees from a single hive. Yet to one dragon, an old Wyvern such a place he had seen grow from nothing, to a small something. So as he had for 20 or so odd years now, this spring once more he looked over again this curious place thinking back on his days witnessing these beings.

Finally freed from his lake within the mountain that grew around him, the mountain's face one day simply slipping away. Crawling out of the rubble and climbing to its peak, he spent the next thirty or so odd years stretching his wings, and hunting in the swirling winds that surrounded his mountain as the curious beings built an empire at the mountains base below. They were noisy things though, and as conflict arose amongst them the din truly became intolerable. So quite simply one day spread his wings wide, and riding a strong southern wind simply flew away.

To the far northwest he flew, nothing much of interest along the way except some odd abandoned white tower some twenty-one or so days walk for the tiny things north west of his abandoned mountain home. Not far enough he thought as he flew on, and in an equal time away from the tower he found a new mountain. Days spent sleeping upon its peak his nights filled with hunts the game plentiful he knew he had found a home. Some eight cycles of the second moon the air grew cold, and to keep warm he crawled into the cave below drifting off into a slumber like he had never known before. An odd sleep yet welcome and comforting as though some unknown force beckoned him to drift off ever deeper.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Time of little consequence to a dragon, and the cave so cozy and warm. Yet after a bit of a slumber, only a short five thousand years or so, he awoke, and crawled from his stone den and looked out over the land once more. The lands of his second home had changed though, snow and ice, the scent of game at least four months old this something he had never known of. So the Dragon once more set his wings to the wind, yet these winds took him toward his first home, still on he flew.

He could feel he had aged though an inconsequential amount, yet as he passed on high over the lands he noticed a change. The snow and ice becoming scattered, and as he flew further south east soon the world took on a bright green hue as though all things were new except one thing. As through the foliage up sprang that odd old abandoned white tower, and this time it held his eye.

Looking the area over the old dragon set down in a field some two flaps west of the tower, ten miles to you or I. He found the high grass soft, the scent of Elk and Deer strong, and as he lay down to rest in the warming sun he somehow knew day and night were balanced, an equinox if you will, and the days to grow only longer. A fine place he felt to stay, river near by, food, shelter of no concern, and with that drifted off to dream however dragons do.

His slumber was short however as he was awakened by an "itch". Rising up he shook, and from out of his scales a dust seemed to shake. Yet the itch was strong and required a scratch. So the dragon scratched and picked and shook driving the offending particles from himself then paused noticing a scent. The scent was of his first home, more to the point of those that filled the base of the mountain scooped away. Smoke from their fires perhaps or maybe just old memories turned to dust. Yet it concerned him as he began to circle the spot where the dust had fallen like cast seed.

Again and again he went round, his path ever widening in radius searching for a clean place to lie down. Till finally he encountered the forest about the field, and an uneasy feeling befell him. Man, the scent clear, as he remembered to him feeling as though only eight months prior. Flanking the field one last time he looked east seeing the top of the tower white as the snow once more in the distance, and with that launched himself skyward, angered by the people that had driven him from his first home, and set out to raze theirs.

Hard and fast he flew, yet as he arrived where he knew was home he found nothing. Not his beloved peak so high among the rolling plains, it now just a gentle hill of green. No people to devour to soothe his rage, yet instead the scents of nature and game, devoid of mankind, and so he rested on his now hill for home once again. The world had changed somehow though as the animals he hunted and the weather seemed shift as it had not before. Seasons now the rule, and migration of that he fed upon. So as the game moved so did he, his hunts eventually leading him ever northwest once again.

Having to feed he flew following the smell of game. Ever north west following the moving game he suddenly found himself met by the white tower once more, and just beyond it near the field by the river, a new structure of man. Small at this point just a cabin at best, though none the less new the logs ends fresh in their color, the tree stumps left testament to their loss as well. So landing near it, he paused and sniffed the air. The scent clear, man, yet this man resolved much like those of his first home so many years ago.

Vengeance the dragon thought as he snapped up a horse and began to feed. All till a lone man exited the building and acting as though one hundred times his puny size charged the dragon lance in hand. The lance biting shallow never the less surprised the dragon. So taking his prize of the horse simply rose high and flew ever northwest still following the game, till he found himself at his second home once more.

So it had begun for this dragon and many others as well. Migration the rule dictated by season, and as the Geese would fly south, so would he to only return roughly six months later along the same path. Curiosity perhaps, then again maybe just a halfway point or possibly even custom, the Wyvern seemed to always make a stop near the cabin he had been driven from. Always such a fine feast there till the people of the area became too much a bother to stay longer, and so easy to catch in those pens of wood and stone.

Yet forty migrations later the dragon circled the tower and surrounding area considering if feeding even though it seemed as if offered to him was worth the trouble any more. The area had changed so much. So many of the small beings scurried about never granting him much time to simply eat before they began their pointless taunts. The area itself even troubled him, the dense forest about the once cabin thinned, fields of grass now crops, and soft black soil in some parts covered in stone. Worst of all the structures of man had multiplied dramatically over the past twenty years, the pestilence spreading.

Looking down upon Nanthalion he remembered how the little cabin had grown into being second only to the white tower one of the most imposing structures in the area. Still mostly of log, rough hewn beam and stone had been utilized in its growth. Six human males or more high at its ridge, twice that as wide and then again twice that or more as long. Massive single logged beams protruding from under its roof line, the ends of which carved into heads of Dragon and the like. Dark rough hewn wood abounding, the shutters to cover the windows almost countless set back from the large porch and perhaps on occasion used as parapet as the dense heavy railing shown wrapping about the two upper levels. Musing at how easily the structure could burn, the wood shingled roof still having parts of the old thatch, wondered if the numerous chimneys had ever tempted such a result.

No doubt the spring that had been there before and fed into the creek behind was now used to supply water within even though the old stone well still remained out front between the inn and its barn and stables. He thought back, and remembered on his very first journey how Dwarf, Dark Elf and Troll had scurried below the dark rich ground there no doubt into some tunnels below, perhaps even an ancient realm then debated if the new tenants above had ever found them, then found his answer.

Almost south of the inn was a large round structure, the stone of its low sides suggesting a single level. He looked down through the open roof it only cloth and skin extending over what appeared to be rows of benches, many of which were stone as they neared the center, as the guts of this second blemish on the landscape went lower into the ground. Its center a stone walled pit and it was clear these humans had found the lair of those so long ago utilizing the rare cut stone to build with. Turning his head at the smell of combat, sweat and blood he could even taste though so high, he noted another building though much newer, and such opulence meant these petty beings felt secure.

Somewhat toward where the sun set from the round structure another low and clean of stone. He had planned to drink and bathe from the waters that welled up from the ground there till these beings had come. Both hot and cold, rare so close, yet now sealed off by roof and walls of stone. Considering taking it all back, razing to the ground all built by the peoples here, he never the less continued to circle the area trying to decide whether to feed here as he always had in the spring and fall. So widening his radius he continued to debate.

Passing over the town proper he had watched how they had encircled it with a creek of sorts. That creek filtering out into the fields that had once been wood and pasture. Yet between the creek he noted a low wall of field stone, and within that wall many others and fences, a cage or prison perhaps he speculated for the beasts these beings kept. Perhaps however for themselves as he noted how these low cages of stone and wood tended to section off many of the small buildings within the borders of the outer wall.

Most small however though a couple larger. If he had been so inclined he might of laughed having noticed how the crude structures of grass, skins and sticks had been in some cases plastered over with mud and painted white to look smooth, still others replaced from time to time some even being of collected stone. However for the most part, the majority of the structures within the town were of sod, log, sticks or combinations thereof. Few roofs of cut shingles of wood or clay, most of thatch, sod and even skin or mildewed cloth. Even the manner to contain fire primitive for most, chimneys of stone few. Many simply a hole cut in the roof, yet many being leaning towers away from the structures of sticks or sod, the charred remains of their predecessors clear having obviously when their time had ended caught fire and been pushed away from the small buildings.

What he had seen in his travels of other specific races he did not find here. No castles of stone, nor even great fortresses of wood, no great cities and cathedrals to Gods he would never know the names of. Cut lumber rare, more so stone and brick though the reason being cost lost to him. He did note however the stone bridge over the great river, and how even the main path through this area had been inset with stone for some distance. Yet as his circle ever widened he realized the scope and diversity of this young empire.

Smoke, smoke everywhere for a radius of roughly ten miles. Though becoming more scattered the further from the main town he flew, what concerned him most was from where the smoke came from. Shelters built into grassy hills common to the Halfling he had seen, some in trees, some of obviously Elven, or of Sheyka design. He noted Wagons meant to both travel and live in, fields cleared and game trails littered from men. Caves of Ogre, and sod structures of Swamp Trolls, cut stone entrances into caves of Dwarf and Dark Elf, and even that of Barbarian and Tribe. No race of humanoid or type of modest building of their races lacking. More so except for the inn no common structure of defense.

Though ignorant and uncaring of these beings, for some reason it bothered him. His kind would not socialize with say Heraldic or Guivre or Amphipte're, more so, he would always try to be close to shelter and defense even if his victory was assured. So even though he could not place why, such defined logic not a part of a dragons thoughts, he never the less felt uneasy feeling as though threatened. A couple thousand at best their number not the issue it small compared to many other kingdoms he had encountered. What did however was that for the past six migrations they had come out to defend their beasts when he tried to feed yet as a group. Mixed in race and manner, style and aggressiveness though all working together and he knew they must be a threat to others their defenses so minimal.

So he circled the town and debated, then circled more, and though hungry and unafraid not knowing fear yet uneasy, circled one last time and continued to his summer home upon the grassy hill far to the south. Yet as he over flew his original home to look it over once more he noticed something far to the south on the small strip of land that connected the north and south land masses. Smoke of fires and high rising dust from the multitude of other small beings heading somewhat his way as the din from their weapons and armor filled the air.

His instincts for defense of his territory rose within him, yet he hesitated as he realized this large group of similarly tiny beings would bypass his beloved first home. Their path toward his second via that white tower halfway long. So he landed upon his high grassed hill and watched, vowing to deal with them at his second home in six months when he returned there. Four months after they would arrive. After all in the end, these people had nothing to do with him, nor him they.