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All Óin had, was iglishmek. The nasty Goblins had destroyed his ear trumpet, the device that had been specially designed for him to understand everything that was being said arround him. While it was a little battered with age and Óin needed to tap it a few times so the sound would flow easily through it, the old Dwarf could still listen and hold a conversation with someone else thanks to it.
Inside the cave, after staring with horror at the flat piece of metal his trumpet was now, under the gross, smelly foot of one of the foul creatures, when Gandalf had somehow appeared out of nowhere and saved them, he had been a tad relieved that he could listen even without his trumpet to everything developing around his group. The shrieks and screams, and the commands from the Wizard and from Thorin. He could hear the panting of his brother, next to him as always, and to his warnings when a Goblin was too near, and Óin would swing his spear and cut many enemies at a time. He fought and ran, screamed and stabbed, and he forgot about his hearing problem in favour of trying to survive and to help his brother to do as well. But all this because the sounds were extremely high. There wasn't much to listen anyways, so Óin didn't worry yet.
The problem had been later, when they were out of the reach of peril, as they descended the Carrock. Óin couldn't listen to anything, and his brother realised this. When they were safely under the shadows of the trees surrounding the Carrock, Glóin cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, and asked them to please communicate in both the Common Tongue and iglishmek, so that his brother could be able to know what was going on around him. They all agreed, nodding and signaling to Óin, and the old Dwarf felts grateful for the understanding his fellow Dwarves showed.
It was very difficult. As much as everyone cared for his hearing problem, they sometimes forgot that he couldn't hear, and Óin would end up walking right into where the others were warning not to step into, or he'd stop the Company with the need to make a bathroom stop because he hadn't known they had made one a few hours back. The only ones who signaled all the time were Bifur and Glóin. But Óin couldn't blame the others. He tried his best not to appear like a nuisance, and keep to the pace of the others even if he didn't know what they were gonna do half the time.
He couldn't hear the rumble of the sky when rain threatened to fall, nor to Gandalf's thunder voice when the Dwarves annoyed him. He was gloomy all the time, because even when he heard little with the aid of his trumpet, he could listen to the chirping of the birds, and the soft carees of the wind on the leafs. Óin missed all that. He missed the rumble of his brother's voice, and the annoying high pitched voice he did avery time he spoke of his son and his wife. He missed the high energic laughter of his companions.
The journey and stay in Beorn's land was longer and boring for him. He didn't really enjoy it.
When they entered Mirkwood, his mood dropped even more with the environment of the woods. He tried to help as much as he could, but as he could not listen to instructions, he fell to the back of the group. Everything was so dark in there, not even iglishmek worked for him.
He realised Bombur was asleep only when Dwalin pulled him and suddenly the cook's weight was full on him. He noticed Thorin was missing only when they were already inide the Mirkwood Elves' house.
He was clutching his trumpet still in his hands, even if he knew it wouldn't just start working again out of the blue, but it made him not lose his mind at the muteness of the world around him. It comforted him in an odd way, as if not throwing it away made him keep the normal he used to have.
Some Elves were eyeing him in a funny way. Óin thought he might already be losing it, but he saw something like pitty in their eyes. That couldn't be. Elves were evil and proud. Pitty was something they didn't feel. So he shrugged it off, and walked behing his group, while they were led deeper into the big house.
They were locked in the dungeons.
Well, nice dilema we got ourselves into. Signaled and said Balin, looking sternly at the door.
If it hadn't been for our empty stomachs, us and our King would still be fighting our ways out there! added Dwalin with voice and hands.
They all nodded in agreement. One by one, each of them fell into conversation amongst themsleves with their respective brother, and so did Óin.
How are you brother? signaled the fire haired Dwarf with gentle eyes.
I'm fine, thank for everything you have done so far, Glóin. He signaled, looking at his brother right in the eye. It was hard to show any emotion while signaling, as little expressio n could be done with the hands, but he wished to show how he appreciated Glóin, not only because of the help he brought Óin, but for being such a great brother in general.
Glón smiled widely at the moment, as it was very rare to get any feelings demonstration from his older brother. I would do anything for you, Óin, and I know you'd do it for me. That's why we both came, in case anything would happen.
Óin nodded and leaned closer to Glóin, pulling him towards himself and putting their foreheads together.
When they pulled apart, Glóin with a tearful eye (he was so sentimental,ugh) and Óin with a smile from ear to ear at his younger brother, they noticed everyone was looking at them, and when they made eye contact, each Dwarf turned away awkwardly. It seemed displays of affection from these two brothers was odd not only for Glóin.
The night passed as any night would if you were in a dungeon inside the house of Elves: cold, uncomfortable, and miserable. They didn't know where Thorin was. From what Glóin informed, now that Bilbo had made himself known, he said he'd go and look for their mighty King inside the castle.
Some of them fell asleep, but others remained wide awake waiting for any news of Thorin.
Óin was leaning agaist a wall, dozing off. He saw Nori in front of him, nodding as well, when the slim Dwarf gave a start.
What happened? signaled Óin now awake.
Footsteps, outside signaled back Nori and nodded towards the door.
Óin could hear nothing, but he stared attently to the closed door.
After a few seconds, it started opening, slowly, and none of the sleeping Dwarves stirred. A yellow silver haired head popped into view from behind the heavy door and looked around, until it spotted Óin, who growled at him. The Elf started moving his lips, though Óin couldn't understand a thing.
What is the Elf saying, Nori? he asked with his fingers moving quickly.
He, wants to speak with you. answered Nori with hesitant signals.
Óin shot a brow up and turned to look at the Elf defiantly
What does it want to speak about? he asked, not removing his eyes off the Elf, but then turning at Nori to know what he said.
Nori's lips moved with a grimmace, he didn't really like talking to an Elf, and then the Elf's lips moved in answer with a bored fashion.
He says you'll know when you come out to speak.
Óin wasn't stupid, he wasn't going out of a dungeon, with no weapons to defend himself, in the enemy's house. And he signaled Nori as much.
He says he won't harm you, he merely wants to ask you something, and that I can come with you, if it will make you feel better. Nori moaned while signaling this to Óin after spatting what the older Dwarf had said to the Elf. Why did he have to be awake?
Óin hesitated for a moment. Maybe if he answered the Elf's questions, he could ask his own, and know where they were keeping Thorin. He nodded and stood up. Nori followed reluctantly.
They tiptoed to the entrance so they wouldn't wake any of the others up, and went out of the dungeon. The hall was dimly litted with torches, and they could make out only a little more out there than inside the prison.
Óin stopped outside and crossed his arms. There was no point trying to talk to the Elf, as Óin wouldn't understand a word he said, so he just stared at him with an inquiring look.
The Elf looked at him for a moment and asked something.
He wants to know what happened to your trumpet Nori was standing next to them, and he promptly signaled to Óin.
Óin looked at the Elf confused, because why was that relevant?
Should we tell him, Óin?
It doesn't matter, as long as we don't say what our purposes are. If we answer carefully enough, we might ask questions of our own. Tell him, Nori.
Nori moved his lips quickly, and the Elf's fair (not that he would ever admit to having though that) face broke into a disgusted and indignified grimace. Now Óin was really confused. Was this Elf actually feeling for them? But Elves were evil! They couldn't!
The Elf said something, turning to Nori this time, now that he knew talking directly to Óin was pointless.
He says he's, sorry? And that he wishes there was something he could do for you.
Óin snorted internally, he still needed to know where Thorin was, so he nodded. Yes, tell him I too, and ask him about our King, please.
Nori did as he was asked, and the Elf shook his head, saying something that made Nori roll his eyes. While the star shaped-haired Dwarf signaled to Óin that such information could not be given to them, the Elf stared closely at Óin.
Poor Dwarf, so old, in the wild, going through peril and unknown lands without being able to listen. It was misfortune indeed. Elves and Dwarves might not get along, but that didn't mean Elves were an evil race. The Elf motioned for the two Dwarves to go in the dungeon again and locked the door behind them, leaving without another word.
What a waste of time. Goodnight Óin
Óin only nodded and landed on the same spot he was before the Elf had come. He fell asleep to the silence of his head.
Next day, an Elf guard came with breakfast for their prisoners. They might be the worst race of Middle-earth (save from orcs, of course, nothing beats that scum) but they sure knew how to treat a prisoner. The plates were rich in food, and they were brought tankards with ale as well.
They all ate cheerfuly, and wished Thorin was being given the same courtesy, or the Elves would pay.
Óin was munching over a big apple, when Glóin tapped him in the shoulder. He looked up to his brother, who signaled towards the door. The Elf from the previous night was looking at him, with the corners of his mouth curled up into the tiniest smile. Óin rolled his eyes. WHat did he want now? The Elf looked for Nori and called him. The thief Dwarf turned and rolled his eyes as well. He turned to look at Óin, who looked back bored. It seemed like the Elf wanted to talk to him again, and Óin had to stand up and follow Nori out. He would kindly ask Nori to tell the Elf to please shove his mane up hi-
He's got something for you
Just, what? An Elf had something for Óin? This journey couldn't get worse, it seemed. An Elf had something for him, which problably was lethal, and Óin had walked right into it by letting an Elf talk to him. Perfect. And Nori was there too.
He looked at the Elf defiantly and positioned himself to defend if the Elf tried anything. At which the Elf rolled his eyes. Óin felt anger rising over his annoyance and he found himself spatting at the Elf. He could hear himself just fine.
"Who are you rollings your eyes at, boy?"
The Elf looked at him with amusement and he reached for something inside his cloak. Óin and Nori both growled and leaned forward in case there was a sword under the silk cloth. But to their surprise, it was nothing like a weapon. It was, an ear trumpet. All silver and gold, with patterns decorating the gleaming metal it was made of. The Elf, who looked almost shyly at Óin, handed the trumpet to the old Dwarf. Óin took it with wide eyes, and his heart was beating hard inside his chest. He turned to look at Nori, whose brows were shot up to his hairline. Nori shrugged at Óin's questioning look. What had just happened? Had he just received a gift from an Elf? What was happening to the world?
The Elf smiled at Óin. He told something to Nori, to which he answered in an angry manner, by the looks of his frown.
He wants to take you somewhere, and me to stay. I'm not so sure Óin.
Óin felt gratitude towards his friend's protective nature, but he shook his head at Nori. The Elf could mean no harm, if he had given such a gift to Óin.
It's alright, my friend, go back. I shall be fine.
Nori hesitated for a moment before glaring in warning to the Elf and going back to the dungeon. Óin turned to looked at the Elf, who was still smiling. He motioned for Óin to follow him, which he did. He didn't know where they were going, but he somehow didn't feel scared. He felt he could trust that the Elf wasn't going to harm him. The Elf kept glancing back at Óin, who was eyeing the trumpet in his hands with curiosity and wonder. It was made of steel, Óin could feel the hard metal against his fingers and recognised it immediately. Dwarves used steel as well, after all, it had been a long and loyal friend to them. To his amazement, the other metal that composed the trumpet, was Mithril. He knew Elves had been asking the Dwarves for Mithril to buy, and that Dwarves had agreed on trading the true-silver. He never thought Elves had so apt fingers to manipulate the precious metal. The structure was so strong and firm, and the steel, though hard, has beautifuly polished and looked almost tender. I was painted with gold and it sparkled with the fire from the walls. The Mithril didn't stay behind. Light danced on it's surface with a perfect rythm, and it got lost in the patterns carved gently on the edges of the device. Green paint glimmered from the carvings, bringing out the gold and silver into a mixture that reminded Óin of night and day. It was beautiful, there was no doubt on that, and Óin had his mouth hanging. The Elf blushed at the look in Óin eyes. When Óin catched his eyes, the both turned away, avoiding each other's gaze.
The Elf finally stopped and turned to look at Óin with an infectious smile, which Óin tried to bite back. Years of enemity with a race weren't so easily erased, though he may try if the Elf did as well.
The Elf opened a tall wide door behind him and beckoned Óin outside. It led outside the Elves' castle. Óin could see nothing beyond the steps to the entrance, and he turned to look at the Elf with an inquiring look. The Elf turned down at him and rolled his eyes again. He motioned for Óin to try his trumpet. The Dwarf's fingers tickled with anticipation. He did want to try it, and he probably looked like a dwarfling with a new toy sword, which was the only thing stopping him from doing it. A Dwarf should always keep the composure, right?
The Elf was almost bouncing as well, and urged with his hands so that Óin would cut the attitude and just try the trumpet.
Óin sighed, feeling fondness for the Elf. They all looked always so tight and as if they thought to high of themselves, and looking at one smiling so goofily down at him was an eye opener. He looked at the trumpet before puting it against his right ear. The sound was almost deafening. After weeks of not listening to nothing but to his own breath and thoughts, the sudden burst of different noises almost pulled him off his feet. It flowed inside the trumpet and into his brains, swimming into his body and leaving a ringing sensation all throught it. It was like sweet air after spending too much time under warm water, and Óin could almost taste the sounds of the forest. He felt a single tear trickling down his cheek. At this point, he didn't care if the Elf was watching. He had given him a wonderful gift. He could hear everything more clear than with his previous trumpet, and even if it wasn't so, he could hear. He had been on his own even with a loud company of twelf for far too long. Now he'd be able to join in in the songs and merry making. He wouldn't be a nuisance anymore, and he'd help his brother more than before.
He turned too look at the Elf and smiled.
"Thank you, lad" he said, and his voice wasn't hesitant. It was sincere, and it showed no disgust towards the Elf.
"Don't thank me. Goblins are such a nasty race, and what they did was all kinds of disrespectful. I couldn't bare to think that such a brave Dwarf was being held back from everything around him because of the mischief making of a group of Goblins. I am glad it works for you."
The Elf's voice was so sweet! Like the chirping of birds on warm summer mornings, offering their songs to small dwarflings playing and laughing. Óin would never be able to pay this gift to the Elves.
"I do not know what to offer back to you. All I can think of is to thank you again, and to ask Mahal that your days may be merry and full of love and peace."
"I thank you, for your kind words. I ask for nothing from you, except maybe for the ending of enemity between your race and mine." He smiled again.
Óin did wonder, sure, both races had had many a wrong turn in history that had made them be in ever lasting hate towards each other, but Óin recconed now, that both races were capable of good deeds between them. He nodded at the Elf.
"It shall be that way. I make a promise, that I will try to dissipate it from my companions' mind, though it will not be an easy task."
The Elf chuckled with the tone of hundreds of silver bells ringing, and it warmed Óins heart. "I should think it won't, but we can both try with our respective lot."
They stood there for a while, just enjoying the sounds around them, until the Elf told Óin they better head back, lest Thranduil or someone of the King's guard spotted them.
"May I ask your name, if it's not too bold?" basked Óin, his gift held high.
"It is not bold at all. My name is Legolas Greenleaf, Master Dwarf" answered the Elf Legolas.
"You have a very good hand, Master Legolas."
"I thank you, such a compliment coming from a Master of Metal is of great importance. Your trumpet shall never break, for it is made with a speck of Elven magic, just like the one we use on our weapons"
Óin nodded in amazement, once more.
They got to the dungeons once more, but Óin's heart felt quite happy and his spirits were lifted above the clouds. He smiled at Legolas.
"I hope next time we see each other, Master Legolas, it is on better circumstances. Until then, I suppose!"
"I hope so as well, Master Dwarf, may your journey be prosperous" he said, and winked at the Dwarf.
Óin stared confused at him for a moment before waving and going inside.
As soon as the door had closed behind him, a heavy weight crashed against him, almost pushing him to the ground.
"Where on Durin's name were you!?" yelled Glóin, and it hurt Óin's ears.
"Oi! Don't yell at me you brat!" Óin pushed Glóin away, and rubbed at his ear.
His brother was looking at him with bewilderment, and then with understanding at the trumpet in his hand.
"What did that Elf want?"
"He gave me this, if you must know, his name is Legolas, by the way." he answered feeling irritated.
Dwarves did have to work on the hate nonsense towards the Elves. They really weren't that bad.
"He gave you an ear trumpet?"
"And one crafted by himself, with the special gift of not breaking ever." Óin boasted.
"What if it's a trap? And it strangles you on your sleep?" asked Nori, suddenly appearing next to him.
"Or if it is poisoned?"
"And the poison goes into your ear and kills you?" chimed Fili and Kili, looking at the trumpet as if it would jump at them at any second.
"It is not dangerous, you big oafs, besides, if young Legolas was trying to kill me, he would have done that already, as he took me far and away to try the trumpet on. Also, why kill me, a simple Dwarf, when they have Thorin in their hands? They obviously know he is a King. No, this isn't dangerous at all. Now please, stop looking at it with such disgust, it is of great help and a kindness from the Elf. If he helped me, I think he might agree to help all of us. He seems like a fine fellow." Óin looked at every one of his friends in turns while giving his speech. The three youngest ones, Ori, Fili, and Kili, had a glint in their eyes Óin recognised as the simple curiousity of their young ages, but the others looked skeptical. It wouldn't be easy, as he had said, but he was going to try. Something good might come from being in good books with Elves, who knew, perhaps sometimes, they would call each other friends.
The End.
A/N I read at The Lord of the Rings Wiki that Elves used steel to make their swords, amongst other metals, though they don't mention which, and iron is weaker than steel. That's why Óin's ear-trumoet was crafted with this metal, and well, obviously with Mithrill. I dunno exactly when were Elves allowed the use of Mithrill, but I hope you don't mind in this story they already can.