For this story to make sense it will be easier if you've read at least part one of this Series entitled, Legendary Friendship. In our alternate universe elves reach adulthood at 1,000 years of age, Legolas is around 800 or so, and Gimli has been asked to act as his guardian when he is away from home. We know what professor Tolkien says about the age of majority for elves, but have decided to respectfully ignore his view. This story was co written with Minnie who writes Legolas' pov and Beth who writes Gimli's pov.
Thanks to everyone who has commented so far. We truly appreciate all support. It is greatly encouraging to know people are reading and enjoying.
Also this series was originally written for a discipline fic group so the vast majority of our stories (including this one)
contain Non sexual consensual (at least tacit agreement) spanking. If this offends please do not read!
As always we'd love to hear your (polite) comments
Enjoy!
I have to work hard at controlling my breathing, for my breaths are coming short and fast. the palms of my hands are moist, and were I to be asked to speak I suspect I would have difficulty putting together a coherent sentence.
It is scarcely more than a half-day since we bid farewell to the escort my father insisted escorted us on our journey. The northern patrol is even now ensconced in the trees on the edge of my Ada's realm where they will remain until I return to them.
Arod is also there. Although Gimli assures me that his folk keep ponies for their own use over long journeys, most are stabled in Lake Town, and I would not wish my own mount to be left in the dubious care of the men of Dale. Although, round about now, Lake Town seems more and more inviting.
I draw in a deep breath and try to concentrate on the rhythmical thud of Gimli's walking axe. He is anxious to be home and I am increasingly wishing I had never agreed to this visit.
We made a pact with each other before the battle of the Black Gate that should we both survive, which at the time seemed unlikely, we would make every effort to bring about reconciliation between our two folk. Back then the idea of being alive long enough to visit Erebor as a representative of the folk of the Wood had seemed an unlikely enough scenario as to be easy to agree to. Now, it is too much a reality and I am by no means ready for this.
Yet how can I honourably withdraw? Gimli more than fulfilled his part of the bargain, bringing me home safe and almost whole to my father and then making an excellent job of acting as ambassador for the dwarves of Erebor in my Ada's court. While he made no mention of it, I am all too aware that some of my people were less than welcoming of Gimli's presence. He met with his fair share of ignorance and prejudice as well as hospitality and acceptance. Gimli took all in his stride, being more than competent at handling all that was thrown at him, good or bad.
I am by no means so sure I am capable of doing the same.
Yet my Ada has given me his blessing for this venture. I know he was less than happy at my wishing to leave the stronghold so soon after my return from Minas Tirith. Yet he could see that should I fail to fulfil my side of the bargain with Gimli then our folk would be lessened, and it is only for a few days. My Ada would not consent to an absence from his side of more than a sennight and Gimli who has become like a second father to me would not see me wrenched away from my home for any longer than is necessary to fulfil our agreement.
I believe he would not even have asked for that, save that the news of our pledge had already been sent to Erebor and my arrival was expected alongside that of Gimli Gloinson.
The new king under the mountain sent a personal invitation to me to visit. He is named Thorin III Stonehelm. When Gimli and his father, Lord Gloin, left Erebor to seek counsel with Lord Elrond, the king was Dain II Ironfoot. He died during the war at what was to dwarves a good age of 252. My friend was unaware of his king's death until we came to my father's halls and the news was a grievous blow to him. Yet dwarves are hardy folk and he rallied quickly and the knowledge that his father and mother were well and that King Thorin had sent an invitation to me to visit acted as a real tonic to him.
Gimli has been anxious to get home, and who am I to complain of the pace he set once we had departed my father's hall. I had told Ada I was looking forward to the experience and that I would do all in my power to give a good impression both of our kind and of my king to the dwarves under the mountain. Now as we come almost in sight of the entrance I find myself wishing my father had forbidden me to make this journey.
How will I be received? Will I be able to uphold the honor of my father and king? I shudder as I recall the dark, dank, dangerous halls of Moria and the horrors the Fellowship encountered there; the smell of death and decay, the darkness. Shut away from all that is natural and right, the sunshine, the stars, the song of the trees. Beneath the earth there is only silence, heavy oppressive silence. Menacing stone on all sides, above and below; walls pressing in on every side and no air, or at least no fresh air, no light, save the flickering of fire and torch. I have to fight with every sinew to keep from panicking and running for all I am worth back to my beloved trees.
Surely, if Gimli could overcome his dislike of forests I can survive another trip into a dwarven mountain. It will not be the same as Moria I try to reassure myself. This is a thriving community and it is my friend's home. My own father's stronghold is built into the side of a mountain; save that even inside there is air and light, for the caverns do not delve deeply into the earth. Carvings and tapestries cover the stone walls and plants grow and thrive. Yet even there I prefer to be outside and under the canopy of the stars rather than solid rock
If I am not to shame my father, and myself I must do all I can to show the denizens of Erebor that an elf can learn to live deep beneath the ground. It is the least I can do, after all Gimli has done for me, I owe it to him and to my own kin to represent them as well as I possibly can.
Yet, with each step that carries me closer to the mountain my courage sinks and my nervousness increases. Without realizing it my pace slows until I am all but dragging my feet. Gimli looks back at me with a frown.
"What is it Laddie? Is aught amiss?"
How am I supposed to answer that?
We have been walking now for half a day, our Elven escort having stopped to wait in the edge of the forest for their Prince to return to them. Already the land is filled with the waters of the great River Running where it trickles down in hundreds of winding courses. A strong stream flows through the center of the mist and as I look ahead I see it. The great lone mountain looms in the distance, with its highest peak hidden from sight in the clouds. This is the point in any journey when I feel that I am truly home. I hurry my steps in my desire to arrive home. It has been too long that I have slept among the trees, and I suddenly long for the comfort and security that comes from being inside solid stone walls. With any luck, we will be inside the gates this night, though I cannot help wondering if things will be the same, for I have recently received some tragic news. My kinsman and King, Dain II, known as Ironfoot, is no longer among the living. It is a sad loss for Durin's folk, for he had reigned for nearly eighty years and will be sorely missed.
Well I remember the tales that were told to me as a child about the great warrior, Dain, who hewed off the head of the Orc Chieftain, Azog, to avenge his slain father, at a time when he was barely old enough to be considered battle ready. The Great Red Axe, Barazantathul, was used to accomplish this amazing feat and Dain was never seen without it during battle until King Thorin II Oakenshield was lost during the Battle of the Five Armies. It was at some point in that battle that the Great Axe was lost, and after it that Dain Ironfoot was made King Under the Mountain. It is difficult to believe he is gone, and yet he died fighting right at the very gates defending the home that he loved. He died with honor and at a ripe old age, and a dwarf cannot ask for better than that. I am certain his son Thorin III Stonehelm, will fill his shoes with dignity and honor. It is he who has sent a personal invitation to my traveling companion, which I consider to be a grand triumph.
The Elves of the Wood, have not been welcome under the mountain, and a rift remains between our two realms, so I was deeply touched that this invitation had been extended. It is a testament to the King's respect for me, that he was willing to entertain what must have seemed an unusual request. I hope it will have a healing influence for my people to see that a friendship is possible between our two races. For indeed, the elf who walks behind me has become much more than a friend. He has become a kinsman to me; very like a son. I do not think I would feel this any more strongly had he come from my own seed, though that may be difficult to explain to some folks, my own mother and father to begin with.
Talking of my elfling, he has become very quiet over the last little while. I have been so caught up in my memories and excitement to be home that I have not been paying proper attention. I turn to see why he has fallen so far behind and notice that he is looking decidedly uncomfortable having become quite pale and is breathing erratically. Immediately I become alarmed. I know Legolas will say I am a terminal worrywart, and while that may be true, he has given me plenty of cause to worry. His stubborn carelessness came close to getting him killed on our journey back to his home, so now I feel I must keep a constant watch to make sure everything is well. I wait for him to catch up to me before I speak.
"What is it, Laddie? Is aught amiss?" He hesitates as if to speak, and then only shrugs one shoulder which is hardly an acceptable answer.
"You had best remember the promise you made to your ada, and keep nothing from me. Now answer me honestly, for I can see something is amiss. Are you well?" Though I know he will find it irritating, I cannot help reaching out to touch his brow, checking for unnatural heat. I am correct in guessing that he would not like this. He scowls and moves out of my reach and I almost laugh at the petulant look on his face.
"You have asked me that same question for seventeen days in a row, Dwarf! Yes I am well! I have been perfectly fine for many, many days. There is no need to continue asking. I will inform you immediately if there is any change in the state of my health." He sighs and reaches out to grasp my shoulder, "Honestly Elvellon, I will tell you. You can trust me."
I reach up to pat the hand on my shoulder. "I trust you, Lad." Yet I can see that something is on his mind. He has not yet perfected the serene look of more mature elves, and I have learned to read his face fairly accurately. Perhaps as we come closer to the Lonely Mountain, he is wishing he had never vowed to try to help relations between our two realms by visiting each other's homes. believe this is a wonderful opportunity, but I would not sacrifice the child's happiness for diplomatic purposes. I do not wish him to feel stuck in a bargain we made in the heat of an intense moment so I decide to let him off the hook
"It is not too late to turn back, Lad. I would think no less of you, if you would rather go back home. In fact I would be more than happy to see you return your family right away. You are under no obligation to complete this trip."
Evidently this is not to be considered, for he squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath. "I promised to go with you, and I will not go back on my word. It would be most shameful to do so, especially after you have kept your end of the bargain."
"Come let us make haste then." I take his elbow and pull him along. I wish that I could promise that all will be well when we enter my home, but the truth is I do not know what the response will be. Old prejudices run deep, as was borne out to me on my visit to Eryn Lasgalen. While the King was most hospitable and grateful for my care of his only child, others were not quite so forgiving and made it quite plain that I was not welcome, not that I plan to tell the Laddie that. I must tell him to stay with me once we enter and then I will just hope for the best.
We walk along for some time and after a bit it becomes clear that we are climbing steadily upwards. Before long we come across the two pillar stones and the first of many steps we will have to follow as we wind our way up to where the River Running begins and to where the vapor mixes with water and pours out from the great arched gates. As the stairs beside the river start to narrow, my heart pumps just a little faster. Whatever happens, it will be good to be home.
Ahead of us I can see the two pillar stones that mark the beginning of the steps that will lead to the great gates and my footsteps falter once more. I wish more than ever I had the courage to take Gimli up on his so generous offer to run back to the shelter of my Ada's arms, but of course I do not. Instead I drag my feet and Gimli looks back at me with concern in his dark eyes. I force myself to smile and shoulder my pack more securely as if I had stopped to readjust it before waving him ahead of me.
As we ascend the steps I try to go over in my mind all that I have learned about the dwarves of Erebor from my father and from Gimli himself. I have also gone over in my head all of the facts and figures that were stuffed there all those years ago by my tutor, I recite them silently as we climb upwards, Dáin, Thrór, Frór, Grór, Thráin, Náin, Thorin, Frerin, Dis and then back to Dáin again. So many names, so many dwarves.
Even though they live what are considered long lives for mortal kind, they come and go far more swiftly than I am accustomed to in my own life.
I watch Gimli's broad back as he stumps up the stairway and my heart quails as I think of what the future will inevitably bring; Gimli's death and our separation. He has perhaps another hundred years or so if he is fortunate. To me it is like a blink of an eye. How will I deal with his loss?
He has become so dear to me. I have come to rely on his care and kindness in the last year. He is like a second parent and I love him as I do my father and it is for him that I keep walking up the steps as I do.
I will try my hardest to fit in within the community beneath the mountain and listen closely to my guardian's advice. I know I must expect to meet with some prejudice from Durin's folk for the enmity between our peoples goes back a long way, and while Gimli was careful not to show it, I am aware that he met with some unpleasantness within my father's halls. Elves have long memories too and some find forgiving difficult. I freely admit that I was one of them before I met and got to know Gimli son of Gloin.
Gimli has taken quite a gamble in asking for me to be invited to Erebor by the king and I must keep that at the front of my mind if I meet with resentment and attempts to put me out of countenance. My father has also taken a risk in sending me as an ambassador and I want to make him and the folk of the wood proud.
I am desperate also to make a good impression on Gimli's family, for I know his love for them is as great as my own for my Ada. I met Lord Gloin back in Imladris but am sorry to say I probably did not make a very good impression upon him. I snort silently. Who am I trying to fool? I made a really awful impression upon him and he was a venerable warrior who deserved my respect for that if nothing else. I can only hope that he will be as willing as his generous hearted son and forgive me.
Lady Vonild, Gimli's mother, is someone I know I am going to have to work very hard to win over. Her approval will be vital if I am to have any chance of making this visit a success, yet my knowledge of females in general, and dwarfish females in particular, is sketchy at the best.
I know they rarely ever leave the underground kingdoms that form their homes, that if they have to travel they are disguised as males. This is not as difficult as it may at first seem, for both sexes have beards and are of the same stocky shape and both are highly proficient in the use of weaponry. For while they may rarely appear on the surface, in defense of their homes and families female dwarfs are said to be ferocious fighters.
Dwarfish society is also matriarchal which seems strange to me, but as Ada pointed out to me that is because I have lived much of my life in a male dominated family and I should be foolish indeed to believe that the feminine gender wield any less real power than the male. He has preached to me the importance of showing both respect and courtesy to any matriarchs I come into contact with. Perhaps there will not be too many if they are as strong and as fierce as I have been told.
For I know there are far fewer females than males and that there are even fewer children so that each child born is loved by the whole of dwarven society. That is at least is something our two races have in common, the love of children. I can only hope that with Gimli's support I can show both Lady Vonild and Lord Gloin that his relationship with me is not a mistake and that elves and dwarves can indeed be friends and allies.
For now I see ahead of me the great gates and Gimli is stopping on a wider side ledge brushing down his clothing and ensuring that his braids and beard are tidy, I hurry to do the same with my clothes for first impressions are important and I very much want to make a good impression.
As I straighten up I see Gimli looking at me closely and inspecting my appearance. His expression reminds me of my nurse and I shall not be surprised if he asks to inspect behind my ears to ensure they are clean.
Apparently he decides my appearance is 'passable' for he nods approvingly and asks if I am ready. I nod in return, being unable to speak, as there is a huge lump in my throat at the thought of entering this alien world.
The specter of Moria rises before my eyes. I take in the magnificent entrance ahead with its dwarven guards beside the open doors, but I see instead the closed stone of Moria, doors that once opened to us brought us into a place of death and darkness, horror and heartache. I have to turn my face to the distant woods for comfort,
"Are ye ready lad?
"Y … yes let us go in directly, I am anxious to meet your family." And if that is not exactly the truth I trust he will be so caught up in the pleasure of being home he will not notice it.
XXXX
We finally arrive at the top of the winding stairs and the familiar arched gates of my home. I stop to brush the road dust from my clothing and to give the lad a moment to compose himself, for by this point he seems almost ready to bolt. The whole time we have been ascending the stairs he has been asking me questions at intervals, about the succession of the Kings of Erebor and important figures and dates in Dwarven history. When I look back at him now, I see he is fussing with his clothes, arranging and rearranging everything. His desire to make a favorable impression with my people is endearing and much appreciated, but the truth is no amount of knowledge will make much difference as to how he is received. If the dwarves under the mountain do not welcome him, it will have rather more to do with his pointed ears, than his lack of knowledge of who were the second cousins of Thorin Oakenshield. Still I dare to hope that since he was invited directly by the King himself, others will follow our leader's benevolent example and at least behave in a civil fashion.
Yet I know intolerance of elves, and especially of Thranduil's kin has been branded into the minds of many, including my own up until a scant few months ago. On top of that the ones most responsible for my skewed views are the very ones he must win over in order to gain real acceptance by Durin's folk. My father, Lord Gloin, is a formidable warrior and very influential, being a kinsman of the King, but if Legolas is to have any hope at all, he must gain approval from my mother, Lady Vonild. Females are considered rare jewels among dwarven society, and my mother is worthy of double honor having given birth to a daughter. While we follow a king, there is no doubt that it is the females who are in charge when it comes to running things within the mountain, and Lady Vonild would have no trouble speaking her mind to the king himself were she to find a need for it. I fear that the cards are stacked against the lad especially considering that he becomes tongue tied at best around females of any race, which likely can be attributed to having lost his own mother at a very tender age. Still I like to remain positive and we must take this one step at a time, the first step being making it beyond the gates.
I glance back at Legolas to gauge his mood, and the look of unadulterated terror he is wearing makes me wish I had never asked this of him. I do not speak of it however, because I know he will not turn back now, no matter how much he may desire to do so, so I simply ask if he is ready. With one final fleeting look at the woods behind us, he replies, "Y … yes let us go in directly, I am anxious to meet your family." I chuckle to myself at this obvious untruth; the poor lad can't lie to save his life, which is something I am sure he finds to be a distinct disadvantage in certain situations. He takes a deep breath and courageously steps toward the gate, but I reach out a hand to prevent him. I have one final thing I must say before we enter.
"Whatever happens inside nothing will change between us. I know this is not easy, but I am honored to have you with me and proud of you as well." I squeeze his hand and he smiles with pleasure at my words.
"Thank you, Gimli. I shall try not to disappoint you."
"That I know, Laddie, but you must remember one thing," I put a hint of a warning tone in my voice, "we are making history here, and I do not know how things will go, but whatever happens you must not leave my side without my leave. I need to know your whereabouts at all times. This is not meant as a restriction, but is for your own protection and for my peace of mind." My voice sounds stern even to me, "Do you understand me, Elfling?"
I expect him to roll his eyes at this direction, but he does not. Instead he merely nods solemnly, which further verifies how very nervous he must be. And though I am eager to be home, I must admit to having trepidations about what the next seven days may bring. I say nothing more, however but just smile encouragingly, and then we walk inside.
When we step into the entrance beyond the gate it takes a moment for our eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when they do, I see that very little has changed in this past year or so. The same cavernous entrance is still grandly decorated with shields and weapons hanging upon the highly polished stone walls. To the right hangs the shield once used by the great warrior Náin in the Battle of Azanulbizer, and next to that the crossed throwing axes of his father Grór. All these mementos of great deeds have been embossed with filigreed mithril, silver, brass or gold when they were retired from use and preserved for posterity. Each artifact has a story behind it, and someday I mean to explain them all to my elfling, who now is taking everything in with wide-open eyes. Right away his sharp eyes notice a mounting board in the very center above the main entrance and he asks why this one place is left blank. I explain about Dáin Ironfoot's Barazantathul being lost in battle and that it was considered the most formidable weapon every made by dwarfdom. This place of honor has been saved for when the Great Red Axe is found. I do not go on to explain about all the complications involved in retrieving it however, for now we have other things to contend with. We have been seen, and are gathering quite a crowd of gawkers it seems.
I grasp Legolas firmly by the elbow and begin pushing my way through the crowd, greeting old friends, but answering no questions, at least for now. Some avert their eyes, some stare curiously and others glare openly as we make our way to the steps that will lead us deep inside the mountain. I do not know exactly what to expect, for our precise moment of arrival could not have been known. We will have an audience with the King perhaps sometime tomorrow, but for now I wish only to find refreshment and a place to clean up from our travels. The heady aromas of roasting meats make me even more determined to do so. Legolas seems to be of the same mind. Sounding surprised, he comments as if to himself that the smells in here are very pleasant. I laugh at this and wonder what he was expecting.
We arrive at the bottom of two flights of stairs that empty into the Grand Hall that is ten times the size of the entrance and is the center of social life for my people. Here things become even more uncomfortable, for each chattering group grows silent as we walk past, and most have no problem with staring openly. We have made it halfway across, when I hear a familiar voice.
"Uncle!"
It is my nephew Greirr, and standing behind him, my sister Dorbryn. After my long absence I had feared that he would not remember me, but that does not appear to be the case for he runs flat out, crashing into me and almost making me topple over.
"How ye have grown, Beardling! Why I am not certain if I am still able to pick you up!" I say as he lifts his arms to me. I lift him high over my head and then he wraps both arms around my neck in a fierce hug, before twining one hand into my beard and pointing at the elf behind me.
"Who is that?" he asks in the blunt way that children have.
"This is Legolas, my friend who has come to visit us."
"He is very tall," Greirr observes and then directs his words to Legolas. "Are you from outside?"
My elf's eyes flicker a question in my direction, and I nod to him. "Yes, indeed, I am from outside," he answers looking intrigued.
"His hair is a strange color," he reaches out to touch the golden locks, "and it is soft." He furrows his brow and looks at me, demanding, "Where is his beard?"
"He does not have one."
"Is he going to get one?"
"Nay, Lad, he is not going to get one," I chuckle as Legolas flushes under my nephew's scrutiny. Greirr seems oblivious of the discomfort he is causing for he asks, "Do you find it strange not having a beard?" He reaches out as if to touch the smooth skin when his mother finally reaches us.
"Enough, Child!" she says, taking her son from my arms. "You will wear Uncle's guest out with all your questions." She turns to Legolas and says, "You must excuse my son's manners. He does not intend to be rude, but he has never seen anyone other than dwarves before so he is quite curious."
"It is entirely understandable…umm…" he looks at me for help as to whom he is talking.
"My sister, Dorbryn."
"I completely understand, Lady Dorbryn. I remember having such feelings myself as a child," he says. I smile because to my way of thinking he is still a child himself, though my sister and nephew have no way of knowing that. Of course I do not say such, but just make introductions all around. I am more than pleased with my sister's kind welcome and don't hesitate to tell her so.
"You are quite generous and open-minded, Sister."
Dorbryn giggles and says, "If you are crazy enough to invite an elf of the wood under the mountain, I have to trust that you must have good reason indeed to do so, Gimli." She looks at Legolas and declares, "My brother is a good judge of character. If you are his friend, then you shall be mine as well." She turns and beckons us to follow her, before glancing at me meaningfully and speaking in a low tone, meant only for my ears.
"I cannot say that Mother or Father feel the same though. They still don't believe the rumors that you are bringing a 'guest'." She does not mean for the elfling to hear her words as she is unaware of his sensitive hearing, but he glances nervously in my direction. Without thinking, I reach out to take his hand for a moment, giving it a comforting squeeze. Dorbryn gives me a questioning look, and continues to lead us away. If nothing else, this should prove to be interesting.
I do not know what I was expecting, save that it was not this and it is all I can do not to stand with my mouth gaping as I take in the wonders of Erebor.
The entranceway is broad and filled with trophies from battles in the past, light pours in from the open doorway and lamps burn in the sconces, so that it takes but a moment for my eyes to adjust to the change, The air here is still fresh and the rich smell of meat cooking makes my mouth water.
How very different this is to Moria, this place is full of life and noise. I recall our entry into the mines and know now how Gimli must have felt when he saw it dark and desolate, devoid of all dwarven life. As I look around I see an empty plinth in the center of the display and Gimli briefly explains its purpose. While I know this is not the time I decide I must find out more about this axe, which the dwarves consider so important. There must be wonderful tales to be told of it.
For now Gimli is urging me up a broad staircase and acknowledging the calls from those of his kin that recognize him. I very much aware of the stares and mutterings that greet my presence. It is a little discomforting but I expected that to be the case, and in the last year or so I have become adept at hiding my discomfort at being an object of interest, for many men we met had never seen an elf before either. I remind myself however that this is different, dwarves like elves have long memories and do not forgive easily and there will be some here who not only disapprove of my presence but actively condemn both me and Gimli for bringing me here. I repeat my promise to myself that I will be on my very best behavior and to stay near to my guardian while I am here.
Having ascended the great staircase I then find we have to go down again to access the great hall. I can see the sense in this though for this arrangement would make it difficult for attackers to storm the mountain. Below us a hall similar in size and design to the Dwarrowdelf stretches out before us. This must be the main public meeting place for the families who live beneath the mountain. Our entrance causes quite a stir, but Gimli being Gimli takes no apparent notice merely marching on across the marble floor ignoring the whisperings, glares and sudden silences as we pass. I detect a broad mix of emotions amongst the dwarves watching our progress, hostility, amazement, interest and some amusement.
Gimli is suddenly hailed by a young voice and a dwarfling throws itself into Gimli's arms. As they greet each other fondly I realize this must be a relative and the child is a male. I stare at him as interestedly as he does at me although I am glad to say I am sufficiently mature enough not to ask such blunt questions. Yet the youngster is probably only asking what many of the adults here would like to do. I feel a heat rise in my face as Gimli explains to Greirr that I will never grow a beard. Initially it seems strange to me that this youngster has probably never left the mountain or seen anyone other than his own kind, but I remind myself that it was many yeni before I saw any other than elves or was allowed beyond the boundaries of my own home and that had I met a dwarf back then I would have been just as intrigued by his strangeness as Greirr is with me.
Another dwarf now hurries forward scolding Greirr for his questioning and apologizing to me I am at a loss as to how to address them but Gimli comes to my aid presenting her as his sister Dorbryn. I blink, for it had not occurred to me to ask if he had any family other than his father and mother and I know how rare it is for a dwarven family to have daughters. Perhaps that is why he did not speak of Lady Dorbryn while we were on the 'outside' as Greirr called it.
I bow and make myself known to the lady and she smiles and welcomes me with a cheery 'My brother is a good judge of character. If you are his friend, then you shall be mine as well.'
I begin to feel as if my sojourn under the mountain may not be such an ordeal after all only to have that hope dashed as I follow her and Gimli out of the hall and into a long passageway as she says quietly to her brother "I cannot say that Mother or Father feel the same though. They still don't believe the rumors that you are bringing a 'guest'."
She obviously did not mean me to overhear her words but I do and my heart sinks. Gimli gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and I take comfort in that as I go further down into the mountain and towards my first meeting with Lord Gloin and Lady Vonild.