((Sorry for the delay all! IRL has been busy since my marriage and a few other happenings, and I'm also starting work on my first novel. I'll keep you all posted here as it develops!))
War and The Military
War, the greatest of conflicts and disagreements, is no foreign concept to the world of dwarves. We here upon the surface make war whenever we find our interests, needs, and desires at odds with our neighbors and no other solution is considered feasible or advisable. Be it a need for resources, removal of a threat, or irreconcilable cultural differences, war is the final solution to the problems faced by a given human society. (Ed: here Nimir waxes philosophical for some time on the nature and follies of war; while his views on diplomacy are certainly interesting, the lengthy tangent serves no real purpose in understanding the dwarves and has thus been removed from this treatise)
So, we have established why humans go to war: to obtain what they need. Food, mineral wealth, land, peace of mind and security; whatever the society and its leaders demand and cannot secure within their own territory is the driving force behind war. In any case, something is always gained in these campaigns, or at least the desire to gain something was the impetus behind the waging of the war. What then of dwarves? We note that dwarves have never conquered an outside society to our knowledge: there are no tales of the dwarves marching forth to take the farms and fields of their neighbors, or to exact ruinous tribute upon those with wealth and resources they lack. Yet even the most ignorant of rustic peasants is aware of the dwarves' predilection for weaponry and armor. Tales of the superior nature of dwarven metalwork always include the near-mythic skill of their weapon smiths and armorers. These grand, impressive tools of war are no decorative pieces either. As discussed dwarves prize function foremost, and so even though form and beauty form an important part of their finest work the true dwarven artisan considers his creations worthless if they cannot likewise fulfill their intended function as well.
War is fought in the dwarven lands for much the same reason as laws enforced: restoration and maintainence of integrity. In this case it is not threats from within that are handled (as law enforcement deals with errant citizenry that threatens the integrity of the whole), but threats from without. Wars are punitive things, meant to demonstrate the power and might of the dwarven nation and so discourage their enemies from approaching. The dwarf is a territorial creature, for the tremendous strain and limited resources provided in a life underground means that dwarves are far more concerned with protecting what they have than reaching for more. Humans for example can risk a campaign to secure a new mine, city, or stretch of land because even if they fail all is not necessarily lost. Granaries may be burnt and cities sacked, but homes can be rebuilt and food foraged, and the wide open nature of the surface means that endangered people have many ways to flee the coming attack. In essence war is a calculated risk among men. For dwarves, there is no such recourse: tunnels are only as wide, far reaching, and useful for escape as one makes them. There are only as many escape routes as one purposefully digs, after all. The inverse is likewise true: an invading army knows where the enemy might flee, or hide prized resources and caches, for there are only so many routes that lead away from the settlement and thus the next path to take is immediately clear. The scant resources provided in caves also means that should a dwarven city be sacked and lose its supplies of food and drink, there is likely to be far worse starvation and ruin than humans would see. A city without a granary is doomed to famine and hardship; a dwarven hold without a granary is a tomb. Thus, the dwarven army cannot march forth on the motives of sheer greed. The risk is so immensely high if they fail, only a threat to the kingdom itself is worthy of raising the army and sallying forth to conquest.
In short, we humans see war as an offensive matter meant to solve a problem facing us; dwarves see war as a defensive matter meant to save them from annihilation. This is why nearly every dwarf has some manner of combat training, and the source of stories of humble peasants and miners suddenly turning on invaders with savage fury despite their status as a civilian. A dwarf at war in his tunnels is a cornered badger: short, hairy, and full of fury beyond the estimation of his size. Tales are many of the end result of warring with the dwarves after all. Though I cannot always sift myth and legend from fact, the stories themselves told by dwarves and men alike illuminate the nature of dwarven warfare and its brutal, harsh need to destroy the threat rather than "win" the spoils. The tales themselves are perhaps ones you've already heard but no less suitable to demonstrate the point: the dwarven queen who personally slew hundreds of enemies rather than surrender; the dwarven high king who sailed across the sea to sack the elven capital, slaying the elf king and taking his crown as prize and proof of their terrible fury; the dwarves who returned, decades after their home was laid low, to bring death and ruin upon the fearsome creature that conquered their halls; the besieged miners who emptied the blood of the mountain itself upon the beasts and invaders that plagued them. Whether truth or fiction, all have the same moral: Woe unto you who wage war with dwarves, for even should you triumph your reward shall only be blood and misery. In none of those tales do the dwarves take land, demand tribute, or take on new subjects, for such is not the nature of dwarven war.
Dwarves speak of ancient times when they were not united as one people, but there is little record of those times. Today the notion of many dwarven nations is a fairly curious one: are not all dwarves one, after all? Yet we know that our fellow men are as divided as a race can be without descending into chaos. Even elves manage to form disparate groups based on the philosophical differences between their cultues, yet dwarves are homogenous. Dwarven tales tell that in those early times, the dwarves were united by the first high king, and thus it has remained since. Changes in the monarch or even the dynasty have not resulted in new nations, for that would shatter the integrity of the dwarven nation. As already mentioned, this cannot be allowed, for to dwarves as a whole the integrity and unity of their land is paramount and supersedes the individual in importance. This is why a coup might be tolerated, but a civil uprising would be crushed by loyalist soldiers and neutral citizens alike: the kingdom could fall into irreparable ruin from such infighting, and thus it cannot be tolerated.
Thus, the importance and reverance of the military among dwarves is made clear. The finest soldiers, champions of their people, are rather like petty lords (in fact, some argue that the translation for them is literally "War Lord" or "Weapon Lord"). They do no work, only spar and train, and yet none begrudge them their meals and beds. In fact, many live quite lavish lives: they drink and eat when they please, sleep with their brothers and sisters in arms in spacious barracks rather than shared family alcoves, and all sing their praises in the halls and taverns. The soldier is the strong, able arm that defends the home, and the finest soldiers are the greatest bulwark the people have. It is no wonder then that the people happily allow them much less obligation outside of those duties, even if they spend nearly their whole lives without fighting a true enemy. Miners dig, masons work stone, and soldiers fight. It is not the miner's fault if the settlement needs no ore, nor the mason's if all has been built. Sadly, the myriad dangers of the life below mean that a soldier who has not seen battle is as rare a thing as a dwarf can imagine.
Dwarven warfare is a fearsome thing on the surface; stout warriors who march forth, grim and inexorable in their approach, a solid wall of iron and steel that balks before nothing. However, below the surface the fierce and brutal nature of tunnel fighting is a thing to behold. I was, I hesitate here to use the word "fortunate" though I cannot find a suitable alternative, fortunate enough to witness such a skirmish during one of my visits, and can assure you, my readers, that it is a thing that would test the mettle of even the boldest human knight. Crossbows, not relying on the high arcing shots that the longbows of our surface wars require, are the ranged weapon of choice. Standing behind stalwart soldiers, bolts are fired upon the invaders while the dwarves themselves fight in tight formations. Melees are brutal and bloody, and while the dwarves start any engagement as a disciplined phalanx, the tight confines and inability to maneuver and flank means that most fights become savage affairs where the enemy clambers and lashes to get beyond the front ranks. Dwarves are trained to handle this, and thus every rank is ready to fight, vigilant of invaders coming from above and below as well as in front or behind. Even a massive foe, such as a giant or the like, must be met with similar grim determination. There is nowhere to flee, and thus the legendary courage of the dwarves stems from this singular convention. One cannot evade an attacker, and to flee is to simply offer the speediest route to home and family to one's enemy. Dwarves therefore learn quickly that fear must be replaced with stoicism.
Perhaps the best way to demonstrate how deeply ingrained this is into them is to compare a similar idiom. Among humans, we call a "backstabber" a treacherous, untrustworthy type who exploits the helplessness of another; while a strong insult, it focuses upon the perpetrator rather than the victim of the stabbing. It is the inverse with dwarves; the emphasis is upon the victim of the back-stabbing. Among dwarves, to be "backstabbed" is an insult of a deep nature, for it suggests one is not just a coward, but a coward who prizes selfish desires over their people (for, as discussed earlier, a hold that falls to invaders will almost certainly be annihilated to a man, meaning flight from battle is a largely useless gesture), and thus has no sense of honor or duty. It is one of the most cutting insults the dwarves can speak and has even been the source of blood feuds, which is why one hears it so rarely that humans have long lived under the assumption "beardless" was the worst insult they could offer. Even in describing the insult to me, my dwarven hosts were extremely careful to couch their words lest another mishear them, so potentially devastating was the misuse of this phrase. Even in describing a warrior slain in honorable battle from behind (by perhaps a sneaky enemy or sheer random misfortune), there is a distinct separate phrase used to ensure no insult is implied (roughly, it translates to "slain from the rear" or "behind-murder"). Visitors would do well to ensure they know the difference perfectly, for dwarves are loathe to forgive insults and transgressions of any severity as it is.
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Topic: On the Nature of Dwarves (Read 36061 times)