Author's Note: J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate own all the characters found within. This not intended as copyright infringement. I am making no money from this, and if you can afford a lawyer you make more money then I do. Takes place in either the book or movieverse.
By Christine Ethier
My brave companion stands patiently before the door to the Mines of Moria.
Mines! Humph. Men!!!
Its hard to believe that he tackled the Pass of Caradhras without a mummer of complaint, though the wind was cold and he had no coat or cloak. Never balking, never complaining, putting one foot in front of the other and making his way up the mountain.
Even a dwarf like me would have to admire that.
The wind blows his hair, his luxuriant mane, into his eyes but it does not bother him. He does not move the fair strands of his face like others do. No minor or major event or problem seems to disturb his calm. Not the crows - for he did not seem upset after they past. Not even the Mines, if the blasted wizard can open the doors, seems to worry him. Surely it should worry one of his kind. And yet he seems unfazed.
A dwarf has to admire that.
One can draw inspiration from his strong, steady presence. While Strider and Boromir are stronger, and Strider has an air of command, he has a feeling of willingness to share his strength. A dwarf can see this strength shining though his eyes along with that calm steady presence. A presence that he has given over to the protection of the hobbits without even thinking about the matter.
He has one flaw; however, he's a little too tall. But that is hardly his fault.
My people were wrong about his kind but
Sigh.
Good-Bye Bill.