Mithril found herself in the armory, where excellently crafted axes, swords, mallocks, and an assortment of weapons laid. Steel and iron chain-mails lined up in their stands. Helmets, boots, plate armors, and other forms of protection were lined up as well- a splendid sight for the Dwarves of the Ironhills.

With her nimble fingers, Mithril traced the outlines of the dark ebony mail that stood out from the rest. "It is such a beautiful color." she commented with an interested smile.

"But nothing could compare to anything made from the purest type of silver, from an ore priceless as its beauty."

Dáin walked in with his most trusted companions; Bor, Fulli, Bran. Dáin smiled at his companions, stout and hardy dwarves who wore the best iron mails. Fulli and Bran were excellent fighters as they were also twins. While Bor on the other hand was excellent in another field, for Bor desired knowledge, it was his most beloved treasure. This was why he and Dáin became good friends.

"Aye, my lord. Nothing can beat Mithril, the purest and strongest metal in the face of Middle-Earth. "

Mithril grinned from ear-to-ear, as if they were talking about her and not some type of mineral. Dáin caught his daughter's grin and he chuckled.

"My friends," he paused and looked at Mithril, "And you all probably know why I named her after such a magnificent piece of treasure."

"Truly she is, my lord." Fulli added, Mithril gave out a joyous laugh as she awaited for Bor's statement, the dwarf she was the closest with.

"Now now, we are showerin' her with too many compliments," Bor cutted in with a mischievous grin, looking at Mithril with his laughing green eyes, "But I could not agree more, our little elf has grown into a lovely la-"

"I remember the days when Bor would come at me and say he hated ya, lil' one!" Bran laughed and made fun of Bor, "But look at him, he has grown to love ya, lass!" Bor smacked Bran with his gauntlet, but the two laughed it off as they had always.

Dáin walked towards and looked at Mithril with a fatherly gaze. "As all of us had! My child, you are dwarf at heart."

"And that is true!" Mithril beamed, as they all shared their laughter. Mithril stood taller than the four dwarves, but they did not mind, it did not hinder the loving respect they all had for each other. Mithril followed her father with Bor, Fulli, and Bran towards the training grounds. After a set of tunnels and grand staircases, they soon found themselves in the spacious training grounds lit by the towering stone pillars where the torches were perched.

There were many dwarves who sparred with each other, skilled and strong were the dwarves when it comes to close-range battles. They wielded the axe and sword, proficient they were with the bladed weapons, but the dwarves did not favour the use of bows as much, which is why Mithril did not know how to use one at all.

"I would like to see our lord fight like the old days, he was the best among us all!" Bran turned to Dáin and encouraged him. Dáin could not hold his excitement at the sudden proposal. "It has been so long, who would duel with me?" he asked and almost all the dwarves in the training grounds dropped their weapons in hopes to be chosen as a worthy contender.

Mithril raised her arm with an enthusiastic smile, and the commotion died. Bor and the two looked like they swallowed a huge fly, even Dáin lost the smile he had, for he was surprised. Silence reigned in the spacious place. Mithril picked up one of the swords the dwarves dropped, and walked towards Dáin with eyes that held determination.

Dáin's brown eyes stared at Mithril's grey ones, he could not believe that she would be the one challenging him, his look sold it all. His surprised face was instantly replaced by a proud smile.

"Now there's the child I raised!" he chuckled, he picked up a nearby sword as well in a second, and those that watched them both gave them enough space to duel while cheering merrily with their loud voices.

"Do not get to full of yourself," Dáin playfully reminded, Mithril smirked, and in an instant, the two clashed their iron swords, creating a deafening sound of clashing metal. Mithril was strong, she took pride in being trained by the best of the best; her Ada.

Mithril defended herself with a quick counter-attack when Dáin attempted an assault.

In the eyes of the dwarves, it was as if everything they had seen was purely fantasy. Both warriors were amazing, skilled, and strong. Mithril displayed her grace in fighting, which made the dwarves admire her in her prowess. Dáin on the other hand proved that nobody else was fit to be lord of the Ironhills but himself, it was truly a sight to behold. It was fire against fire, the ringing of metal swords was music to their ears, the dwarves watched as the battle reached its climax, Mithril was about to throw in a move she knew would defeat Dáin.

Alas, in a careless move, Mithril was tripped by Dáin's outstretched foot, causing her to stumble forward.

"Hahahahahahaha!" laughter erupted in the halls and Mithril stood up with a sour expression. The match was over with Dáin's playful tactic, but the young elf was not happy at all with the results. "That's unfair! You tripped me!" she complained but Dáin gave her a lesson she should soon apply if she were to fight in the upcoming war.

"Mithril, there is no such thing as being unfair in the battlefield," he gave her a disheartened frown. "My child, this is why I would not allow you to fight in the battles to come-not yet, that is. You are too young and naive to realize the harsh realities of the battlefield."

But Mithril could not hold the humiliation she felt, not it front of everyone she knew. She dropped her sword and ran away, after giving Dáin a pained look. The dwarves who had witnessed the scene could not help but talk about Mithril's sudden behavior. Dáin politely asked them to continue training, and so they did as they were told.

Bor stepped in and placed a hand on Dáin's shoulder.

"You cannot keep her locked forever. She is mature enough to realize these things herself. She has witnessed it beforehand, you above all, know this."

Anger swept Dáin as he looked at Bor who remained steadfast with his opinion. Fulli and Bran stood with Bor, and Dáin could not accept the fact that even his closest friends thought so too.

Dáin sighed as he realized his sudden act of belligerence towards his friends. He looked at the three with a warm gaze. "I apologize..."

"Well... we could not blame Mithril, after all, you two are very alike." Bor joked, "What would you expect if she were raised by the stubbornest of all the Dwarves of Aule!" and the four laughed just like they would usually do.

Dáin grinned at his companions. "That explains a whole lot!"

"Well then go talk to her, Dáin!" Bor urged, and the lord of the Ironhills went after his beloved daughter.

To Be Continued...

A/N

Mithril is still immature, since she has been cooped in the Ironhills for too long, and well she'll be given the proper character development soon ;) anyways the following chapters will give hints about Mithril's hidden ancestry (which she has not yet known of) better watch out! whooooo