Author's Note: So I was halfway to writing this story and I was going to introduce a little piece about the dwarven religion. However, I found that it…doesn't work. So I am going to do it here to give a background.
The dwarves believe the Stone is a living entity which all dwarves come from. It is referred to as She and treated not as a god, but a sort of benefactor. According to the codex entry by Shaper Czibor, the Stone "..supports us, shelters us, offers us the most priceless gifts of the earth. The worthy return to her embrace in death, becoming Ancestors. The unworthy are cast out, unable to rest, that their failings may not weaken the Stone." Every dwarf hopes to return to the Stone when they die, or else they are left to wander, unable to find peace.
For this story, the following assumptions were made from my understanding of their religion:
1) Good and Evil is innate in dwarves, not as a result of social conditioning. The Stone is believed to be not entirely pure, but is corrupted by the gangue, which is also sentient. According to a Legion of the Dead inscription, "For the dwarves to prosper the gangue — the waste and unstable rock — must be cut away from the raw Stone." Thus, each dwarf is born with a certain share of good and evil, depending on how much the Stone remains pure or corrupted. In order to preserve this purity and thus ensure that the next generation of dwarves born has more good than evil, they must strive to remove the worst traits of themselves. Whether they really do this is up to them.
2) Good and Evil can be inherited. If the Stone finds someone unworthy, they are rejected, becoming the casteless. In their society, caste is passed from father to son and mother to daughter. It seems to be a powerful incentive not to do wrong, as the perpetrator not only dooms himself/herself, but also his/her descendants.
3) Their belief does not allow much possibility for redemption. Again, another incentive to live with good character.
Please do not compare this to caste systems in real life.
They found the servant's entrance and sneaked in.
The place was curiously empty, just some guards here and there. They pretended to be servants and the guards let them pass. It never occurred to the guards that elves would infiltrate the place, confident and relaxed in their safe place and also believing elves are too stupid to do anything but the most menial tasks. It is after all, suicidal. Certainly, they weren't expecting an experienced burglar, not in broad daylight.
Tabris and Soris tiptoed along the corridor, listening for human footsteps and peeking in through the keyholes of doors. They couldn't hear much of what was passing inside the rooms, since the walls were thick and made of stone. Tabris picked a locked room and found an armory. He let Soris have daggers too, as they could not have hidden sword or shield while maintaining their cover as servants. He picked another room and found a dead elf woman.
Soris looked at the body. "They…killed her. Nola. I…can't believe this."
"We should hurry then and save the others."
After a long time of sneaking around, they finally found Vaughan and his men. The humans were lolling about, stupid with drink, while Shianni lay at the center of the room, sobbing, her clothing torn. They entered and bolted the door.
"My..my, what have we here?" Vaughan drawled as he saw the invaders. He stood up and staggered forward to them.
"You took our women. I'm going to take them back" Tabris said to him, his voice low with cold rage. He scanned the room and saw that the door behind them is the only exit.
Vaughan raised an eyebrow and turned towards his companions. "Look at thissss, the little knife ear" he slurred. "Take them…take them back, he says? Well, boy, no one takes anything from Lord Vaughan" he said, poking a finger on Tabris' chest drunkenly, while trying to take a swig with his other hand. "See here, mates, how I teach uppity elves their place."
He swung a fist at Tabris but unfortunately for him, it was shaky from drink and Tabris remembered how he got floored back at the platform. A trick never works twice.
The elf evaded the fist and swung his own fist on the unprotected ribs. A grunt and Vaughan went down. The other humans tried to stand up, alarm creeping at their face, but their feet were made of jelly.
"Nobody move. I'm just here to take back our people." Please don't fight back.
Of course, someone had to move. One of the humans moved to call the guards so Tabris stepped fast, his dagger slitting the human's throat before he could scream. The other humans saw this, and reached for something, anything, be it a fork or a bottle.
There's no way this won't end in bloodshed.
He gave a signal to Soris as the humans started to yell and attack. They started slaughtering, cutting necks, stabbing, hacking and slashing; blood spurting in arcs; the room painted red; blood and wine running in tandem, in beats; as the screams died out in gurgles.
When the thugs were taken care of, the arl's son was quaking in his boots. Typical. Without hirelings, the nobles always stop pretending to be more courageous than they really are.
"Soris, change into clean clothes and wipe those blades."
He turned to the weeping swine.
'Where are the other women?" he asked as the noble scrambled to his knees.
"In the back room, there, take this, take this key, just spare me, please, Oh Maker-"
"Shut up. I didn't come to hear you weeping." He tossed the key to Soris and his cousin went to get the women.
"Spare me, and I will stay away from the alienage. No one would need to know about all…this." Vaughan looked up to him, quaking, drenched in the blood of his companions, the metallic smell mixing with the fragrance of spilled wine.
He looked away to Shianni, before returning his gaze to Vaughan.
The rich will always find a way to twist the law to their favor. And poor people, like him, will always see the harsh side of the stick they call justice.
"No. You're not getting away with this. Not this time," he said as he plunged the blade to the bastard's neck.
Thorin waited in his cell, his wrists bound behind him, wearing clothes made of sackcloth when the door at the entrance swung open.
"You've got ten minutes ser. Orders and all, you understand" a guard said to someone. He couldn't see who was talking, as he's not desperate enough to put his face past the bars and look to the corner. Soon he heard the door close and footsteps approaching his cell.
"My Lord."
"Gorim? What are you doing here?" Thorin was surprised to see his second, whom he expected would never be allowed to talk with him again.
"I came to see how you are doing. I would have come sooner had they allowed it. How are you?"
"I am well enough. At least, compared to Trian."
Gorim gave a short grim laugh. "It's good you are able to rally, because I bring only bad news." He looked at Thorin's alert face, wondering how he can tell the truth to him. "Bhelen has taken Trian's place in the assembly. He introduced a motion to..condemn you. Immediately. And it passed."
"Bhelen? But why would he-" He saw Gorim's face and he understood. "No. No. You were saying it was Bhelen who framed me?"
The answer was in the silence.
"Why? Why would he do that? We are brothers; why would he-?" Thorin knew Bhelen is ambitious if a bit indolent, but he also recalled the way Bhelen's face darkened when their father paid attention to either Trian or him. He knew that of the three of them, Bhelen is the weakest, and he had neither Trian's confidence nor Thorin's skill in arms. Bhelen had only his wits and nothing else. It was easy for him to be overshadowed by his brothers, in their father's eyes and to all of Orzammar. It must have galled him, to be always overlooked. Enough, to commit murder of one brother and treachery to the other.
Grim looked silently at Thorin's stunned expression, wondering what was worse: Trian's death, or Bhelen's betrayal.
"How had he convinced the lords to pass the motion?" the noble dwarf finally asked.
"Bhelen must have been making deals and alliances for years. He…has played you. Has played all of us. He had half the assembly ready to vote on something completely against tradition and justice."
"It seems I was mistaken in the lords too." Thorin said bitterly, thinking of the nobles who had sold their own honor in exchange for profit. He was mistaken, in believing Lord Dace is an exception rather than the rule.
"Some of the lords, like Harrowmont, are suspicious of Bhelen's rise and are trying to stop him. But they are rallying too slowly. The Assembly has already sentenced both of us."
"Both of us? You too? What are they going to do to you?"
"My knighthood will be stripped, and my name torn from family records. I'm to attempt to have some sort of life…in the surface."
Thorin looked at him and knew how Gorim felt about his pride being stripped from him. "And you would go to the surface?"
"They did not give me any other option."
"I'm sorry, Gorim, for you being involved in this."
"I never regretted being bound to your service. Not even now that I am to be sent to surface."
"It was an honor to have you, Gorim. I only wish that you find happiness in your new life."
"Thank you, my lord."
Thorin gave a small smile as Gorim raised himself up. "So, if your punishment is to live out your life in the surface, then what's mine? What is my sentence?"
"Lord Harrowmont moved for a similar exile for you, but Bhelen's supporters overwhelmed him. You are to be sealed in the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn until you are overwhelmed and killed."
"I would have thought they would have me executed on the spot. Not be generous and give me a warrior's death."
Gorim stepped closer, holding the bars as he whispered. "You don't have to die. Lord Harrowmont gave me access to see you to tell you this: Duncan and the Grey Wardens are still in the Deep Roads. If you survive long enough to find the Grey Wardens, you may be able to escape with Duncan."
Thorin was silent for a long time, before he spoke in a pensive voice. "That would mean I have to live on the surface too. Which is right, to live for only a short while but die with the dignity of a dwarf, or live a full life but be lost to the Stone?"
Gorim had no answer to that. "My Lord-"
They heard the rattling of the door.
"Our time is up. May the Paragons guide your sword and the Stone hold you up" Gorim said in haste.
"The same to you, my friend."
"I will always be your man, Lord Aeducan."
The guard was coming for them and they exchanged a final salute, for the last time.