Continued from Manhandled Folly and Fury Sword and Stone Black Ice Deep Thoughts The Speech Expectations Leaving All Sadness Behind Put to Good Use
"The Orcs outnumbered the Noldor and took them by surprise, yet the Elves reacted swiftly and drove the Orcs back into Ard-galen, killing many of them. Dagor-nuin-Giliath was fought under the strategically noteworthy circumstances that two armies converged through different passes of the Ered Wethrin. The Enemy was seeking to divide up the Noldor, and sent a second large army north against Celegorm’s men. However, they were poorly coordinated, and divided themselves. The Angband force was overwhelmed by Fëanor’s powerful army and their superior weapons, and were routed. Fëanor chased the retreating army around the innermost angle of Ard-galen. His troops were not so very numerous in that place, since, even with the large number of his court, his vanguard had moved so far ahead from the main force of the Fëanorians. And so one cannot avoid the fact that Fëanor grew overconfident as the armies of the Enemy retreated, and so he overextended himself, and was cut off from help. And then, the Balrogs added to the fray, and so these proved to be his demise," concluded Condir the Tactical Scholar.
“So, Master Condir," Parnard said, "if Fëanor had not charged rashly ahead, and had not hurled himself upon the whips of the Balrogs, then the battle would have been a great victory! The Noldor would have destroyed Morgoth.”
“Actually, no,” Condir replied. Parnard looked confused.
Condir smiled condescendingly at him. “Of course, I must first explain it again for you in terms that even you may understand. The situation was quite different and not as simple as you propose, Parnard. If the Fëanorians had actually had a great numerical superiority, they would have been completely capable of choosing a battlefield appropriate for them. They might have taken position around the fortress of Angband. At any rate, when it was reported to Morgoth of the Noldor’s coming from the West, he quickly sent his armies to take care of this underestimated threat. Fëanor could have turned, for the pass was not narrow, but was in fact a great plain. It gave a larger force an advantage, as it was not trapped as in the neck of a bottle. The Fëanorians might have been able to withdraw again, and resummon their strength, but Fëanor in his blind wrath urged them on, for always in his mind were the Jewels he created, and these, and his revenge were the prize for victory over Morgoth Bauglir. That fiend would have devised some other trap for him, but it is no wonder that this one was so successful!”
Parnard nodded gravely, and wrote in the margin of his book: Fëanor blundered and got himself skewered. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, as if he had just eaten a heavy meal that was very hard to digest.
"But if he had been successful,” Parnard wondered aloud, “all that came after would never have occurred, if the Noldor had gained their Jewels back again as soon as they stepped foot upon these shores. They would have gone away, where, I do not know, but perhaps Gondolin would not have been destroyed, or even made, and I would never have met the Lords Anglachelm and Veryacano, and I would not be sitting here talking to you! Why, whatever would you be doing with yourself, Master Condir? You would have none of these glorious wars to study in this library and reflect upon. You would be someone else entirely: a tailor, or a baker –“
“A baker?” cried Condir. He made a haughty toss of his head. “I dare say I would be doing something far more grand than that.”
Parnard nodded. “Of course, of course!” He thought a little while longer. “Were you in this ancient war?”
“Well, no-o-o,” replied Condir. “ I did not witness it, not first-hand,” he admitted. But I have read of it. Extensively. And I feel almost as if I were present –“
“It is not the same thing at all, to look at something from the outside, and not be inside it,” said Parnard, a strange gleam in his eyes.
“You have done it again, Parnard!” snapped Condir. “As usual, you have skipped over the most important points, and have come to a wrong, and entirely irrelevant conclusion! What do you know of war?”
“I suppose I know very little,” replied Parnard humbly.
“Pray, tell me what you know. Do enlighten me.” Condir pressed his fingertips together and curled his lips in a tight little smile of anticipated amusement.
“Well,” said Parnard slowly, gathering his thoughts, “it seems to me that War has ruined much that was fine and noble. War is the Scourge of Peace. It is a devourer, and brings leanness upon the land. War distresses folk, and removes all joy and pleasure. War causes hardship and strife betwixt brothers, and worry and hard choices for kings and nobles. War makes them ask themselves what strength to take, and if it is enough; and whom to sacrifice and whom to spare, and how to get all knowledge of the strength of the enemy, and how to bring War to him. War burdens leaders with considering all perils, if they are wise, but War makes fools of those who are proud and daring only. War has been seen before, many a time, and War will be seen again. War ends, yet has no end. War is a friend of the wicked, a servant of the cruel, and a lover of those who chase after its stepsisters Valour and Glory. War is sometimes just, but never merciful. War is biased, yet even-handed: it brings an end to the mighty and the lowly alike. And while War is frequently sought, it is usually unwelcome, and War cannot be wished away, once invited inside.”
For a while both elves were silent, lost in their own thoughts. Then Parnard spoke again. "Master Condir," he said eagerly, his green eyes glowing with a fierce intensity, "Did you ever beat off a flock of crebain before they pecked out your eyeballs? Or have you ever seen a goblin lap up warm blood from a split skull? Or did you ever grapple with famished wargs that howl for the very flesh on your bones? Well, I have! That, to me, is war, and I have been inside it, and it has been inside me: beating, biting, snapping, scratching and pecking!"
Condir looked disgusted and not a little uncomfortable. "Oh, how horrid!" he cried. "You are become morbid, Parnard. You do say the strangest things at times, did anyone ever tell you that? I thought so. And, as is your usual way, you speak words that are totally irrelevant! I know well enough that you know precious little about war. You do not have as much knowledge as the elf that butters my bread for me. It makes me sick to think about such stupidity! If you knew more than I did, you would not be here, wasting my time, professing an interest in my tutelage, but instead blathering on about fanciful immaterialities. Are you still interested? Yes? Good. Then attend my words, Wild One, and listen now: you may yet leave here learning something today."
