I remember when I first laid eyes on Thorin Oakenshield, I was still considered a youth and he stood a foot or more taller than me. He looked like any other wandering dwarf, with the way he was dressed, but what set him apart was the air around him and the look in his eyes. I was in awe of this dwarf, with his black beard and gleaming axe.

He turned to look at me as if he could feel me staring within the makeshift smithery. I had been in there all day, sweat and grime caked my face and every inch of my exposed skin. I had yet to bathe that week and had been in a fight just the other day. Black eye still shining and my split lip still swollen.

My fight was with another dwarf who wanted to take my younger sister with him. Keeping my promise to our mum I refused his offer. The persistent dwarf returned daily, he even dared to woo my sister without my presence. I warned him to back down or I would get angry. He then decided that my opinion did not matter, reckoning that I was young (though just a decade or half younger than himself), and noticing that there was not single hair on my chin. So, before he finished mocking my inability to grow facial hair, I began to see red and my fist connected with his nose.

The fight ended the way most do. Others stepping in to break it up and then the process to find out why it began. The restraints, the calming of both sides, and to resolve the issue, the caravan leader was called. I, being in the right to defend my sister and my honor, was free to go about my business, while the other dwarf (in a far worse condition than I, much to my satisfaction) was fined and banned from trade or association with the caravan.

Though I received my unjust punishment later that evening, a scolding from my sister. She lectured me as she cleaned my injuries, while cooking, and all the way through dinner. It wasn't till almost time to sleep when she finally laid the issue to rest and I could barely hear her mumble a thank you as she rolled over farther into her cot to sleep.

That night I rested easy, thinking to myself that things would go back to how they were. Little did I realize that everything was about to change in the appearance of a dwarf in a blue cloak and common clothes.

Thorin strode into the smithery, ignoring the other smiths as he walked straight to my station. I concentrated on the work before me, new shoes for the horses. The job passed down to me by an older smith, informing me that the work was too lowly for him but just right for me. A common occurrence within the smithery, being too young to do any work of real importance. I kept my nose to my work, endeavoring to ignore the imposing dwarf in front of my station.

The forge master, noticing a promising customer, waddled as fast as he could to my station. It was quite impressive how he could maneuver through the different stations without knocking things over with his incredible mass. Huffing from his haste for gold, "how can I assist you, sir? My name is Delg, I am the forge master of this smithery." He gazed down at Thorin as if he were a prize. His newly adopted tone and manner of speaking made me sick to my stomach. His obvious greed for gold had made his voice lighter and his manner of speaking became more subservient. Man's need for more, never ceases to astound me.

Without passing the forge master any indication that he noticed him or heard him, he spoke directly to me "what is your name, young dwarf?" Startled to be spoken to directly, it took me a moment to respond. "Naril (nAh-rill), my name is Naril. Son of Nowil (know-ill)." He raised an eyebrow at this, "son, you say?" By this time the forge master was well irritated, never before had he been thoroughly ignored by a customer.

"If you are not going to buy anything then I am going to have to ask you to leave this establishment," he demanded straightening up. The dwarf continued to stare at me, and after a moment he responded, "I would like for this young dwarf to make me a sword," without ever breaking eye contact. Delg spluttered, "b..b...but sir, that is unheard of! He is but a child dwarf, without a shadow of a hair on his chin." He gestured to my reddening face, "he cannot make you a weapon of any quality."

I began hearing the sound of wood splintering and felt the handle of my hammer crack. The customer, I would later know as Thorin, spared a moment's glance at the hammer in my hand before turning to the forge master. "That is of no concern," he then dropped a dark green purse on my station, "I want this boy to make me a sword, I care not of the end result. I am willing to pay fifteen gold pieces, five now and ten after its completion."

There was a sudden clattering noise, and the smithery had gone quiet. I had dropped my hammer. Fear flooded through me as I awaited the blow to the head for my transgression, but none came. The forge master shocked gaze was trained on the customer, as were the eyes of all the other smiths. Delg took a moment to gain his composer, "I cannot allow this…"

The strange dwarf cut him off. "Why are you denying me? I have provided a significant amount of gold, and I did not give a preference to the type or quality of the sword," he looked at the forge master skeptically, "what is your concern? Why do you fear this young dwarf making me a sword?" Delg became red, no one had dared to challenge him before.

At one moment I believed that the forge master might snub his bulbous nose at the customer. Alas the lure of the gold was too great; he hitched on a horrible smile and bowed as far as his mass would let him. "A thousand pardons sir, I am sure the lad would be glad of the experience."

The dwarf seemed satisfied with this answer, I suspected that he was used to getting his way. "I will return in a three days time, to see the progress. I expect the finished product within a fortnight."