I do not own nor profit from LOTR or JRR Tolkiens works.
A/N: *RE-EDTIED* Thank you all for continuing to read this story, and hopefully enjoying it. I must thank you all for your reviews as they help me gauge this story. A big Thank You to MrsJohnReese who has been helping me with the editions on this story, giving me her ideas and giving the yay or nay on some other ideas. It's always appreciated!
"Hello?" Beriadanwen called out weakly across the hall. "Hello? Is there anybody here?" Her soft steps echoed quietly against the stone walls. The hall was high, with torch sconces lighting the way deeper into the wide walkway. Luckily for her, the sconces also emanated enough heat to begin warming her bones. "Surely there would be someone here to greet." She murmured to herself. Her feet carried her in deeper, the walls dank, moist, and musty. She could hear gentle sounds of clanging in the distance. There were people here then. At least she hoped it would be people.
"Who dare enter Moria?!" A dwarf appeared out of the darkness. His eyes were black, his beard long and red as flame. He was a broad and hardened dwarf, standing as high as her elbow perhaps with a squat, yet just as hard and iron axe in his hands.
"I am Beriadanwen. I come seeking refuge from the winter cold, and perhaps some healing for my wound." She held out her hands, bowing her head.
"I would have your head on a plate, elf! Leave! Your kind is not welcome here in Moria!" He moved towards her, ready to bury his blade into her at any given moment, as it was poised high over his shoulder ready to strike.
"I apologize, I do." She stepped back quickly. She felt her cheeks get hot, as she and this dwarf had a standoff. She couldn't make her feet run away from this short man.
"What makes you think we would give refuge to the likes of you she-elf?!" The dwarf commanded in a gruff booming voice. Berri went to her knees to show submission. She was in no mood to fight, nor any condition to defend herself properly.
"I am no elf, Master Dwarf. I am a friend of Bolin, son of Tolin. Does he not still venture these mines?" She looked into the eyes of the rugged dwarf man.
"You are a friend of Bolin?" She nodded her head. "Son of Tolin you say?" Again, she nodded vigorously. The Dwarf lowered his axe. "How would you know of him?"
She stood not that the threat of the axe was gone for the moment. "I met him, not long ago. I was headed to Rivendell, and saw him first at Weathertop where his company felled some highwaymen though he lost some of his kin. I met up with him farther down the East Road, and we again came into highwaymen. I fought by his side, to protect him. From there, we became traveling partners. When we came to the Ford of Bruinen, we parted ways, he went south, and I, north."
The dwarf sheathed his axe back on his back. "Beriadanwen, the graceful, lady." He extended his arm out to her. "You are most welcome here. You say you were a friend to him?" She again nodded her head. "How long ago did you see him?" He asked as she thought back.
"Naught but about 7 or so months, Master Dwarf." She shrugged.
He shook his head. "Time among the elves is different than time among men and dwarf, lady. Bolin passed away five years after his encounter with you. And his passing came about 3 years ago." The dwarf reached out to steady Berri as she swayed on her feet, shocked to hear the news.
Eight years had passed that she had been in Rivendell. She had not known of it. "Tell me, sir, how did you know of me?" The dwarf patted her on the shoulder as she shook her head. Together they walked further into the mines.
"My lady, Bolin never forgot your kindness. You saved his life, and he owed you a life debt. But he never was able to reach you again. You see, they would not allow us through to Rivendell to give you his payment, nor would they accept his messages to you. He often told stories of the lost warrior. A she-fighter, greater than any he had ever seen, aside from dwarves of course. The details may have changed over the years as he got older, but the story was always the same. She saved him and his group. He was our king, you know, and as he grew sicker, he became more obsessed." She shook her head. He had never spoken of being of nobility amongst the Dwarves.
"He always hoped to see you again on his travels, but, he got weaker, and had more messengers than he did life in his old body. But dwarves are resilient. He held out every day in hopes to hear word of the lass who saved his life more than once over. He never did find her, and he passed in sadness." The dwarf stopped. "Welcome, to Moria." The narrow uneven stone passageway they'd been walking opened up to a mighty cavern. Stone stairs elevated in midair were in use all over by dwarves going to and from their businesses. The stairs were sharply inclined, angled in all different directions, leading to all different sorts of tunnels. Berri's mouth just dropped. She had never seen anything so busy in her life. A mountain she would have taken as dead was now alive, bustling. Below her, she saw dwarves pushing and pulling piles of rock in rickety looking carts.
"This is our pride. I welcome you to the mines. Step lightly, for one misstep will send you to your death below." The dwarf cautioned her. She looked down over the edges. There were so many dwarves, and the mine ran deep. Far into the depths, she was able to see the last glimmers of lanterns swaying to and fro. It was a noisy place. The guide called back over his shoulder. "Come, I will take you to our king." He led her down another long tunnel. It was dark until the end, where it opened up. This cavern was no hole. It was a mighty hall, large and expansive. Wide columns in perfectly placed positions extended far. The ceilings stood high, higher than any she had ever seen before, as if they held up the peak of the mountain.
As they walked through, he spoke of his home. "Rolin, son of Bolin, ruler of the Dwarves of Moria." He stopped and turned to the right. There through an expansive doorway, she saw a throne elevated on five marble stone steps, short flat, and deep. The steps shone against the large fires that raged on either side of the room. As Berri stepped in further, she made out the details of the throne. It was a grand throne with shining gold designs and jewels decorating the head above the dwarf that sat in it. A long silvery carpet led up to his feet.
"Step forward, tall one, and speak to the Lord of Moria." A bold, but older, wiser voice called to her. Berri walked slowly towards the Dwarf, and bowed down painfully before him. "Introduce yourself." He barked.
"Lord of Moria, I am Beriadanwen, but a traveler, I have come seeking refuge in your mighty halls from the early winter snow and healing for my injury." She dared not make eye contact, rather focused on the intricate threading of the royal rug.
"Stand. Stand and see your lord." She saw the heavy steel boot of Rolin. She stood slowly, and looked into the man's deep brown eyes.
"Beriadanwen," he whispered. "You are as beautiful as my father always spoke of. He long awaited your return. As he awaited you, I too looked for your coming. My son, Arbin, has also expected you. The paintings my father had commissioned do you no justice." He sighed and smiled. "Tonight, we feast in your honor! A hero graces our halls! But first, I suppose it would be wise to tend to your wound." He bellowed loudly, a smile present underneath of his long ashen brown beard. His eyes gleamed.
"I did not know I was so popular to the Dwarves." Berri smiled nervously to the king.
"Come young one, let me show you what you meant to my father. I'll admit you probably mean very little to the dwarves of other nations, and you'd likely not be as welcome there as you are here, but no matter." He shook his head.
Rolin led Berri through a door behind the throne. It was smaller than the other large looming doors of Moria she had seen. Rather this one was of a dark wood, carved intricately of large oak trees, and vines with fragile flowers creeping around them. "You will stay here this winter. The snows ended late this year, and have begun early. We will show you the true hospitality of the Dwarves. Ales and meats, food to keep you warm and healthy!" He spoke animatedly as he led the way through the stony halls. "These are the private quarters of the noble family. My father regarded you as a noble to these halls. To save the life of our king is something noble indeed. He always spoke of your beauty and your kindness to him and his people. You knew not the struggles and relations of the dwarves and men. You knew what treasure he carried, yet you tried not to take from him. He owed you much." He stopped at a door at the very end of the hall. "This, my lady, was your room."
Rolin opened the large heavy wooden door to reveal darkness. He grabbed a torch from the wall, only the bobbing light visible in the darkness. It went to one side and lowered, lighting a fire in a large onyx fireplace. The columns were painted of silver and shaped of axes. Intricate designs were carved into the mantle. As she stepped in, Rolin went to the other side and lit the other fireplace. She saw a large bed of stone. Furs piled on top of the stone slab created a cushion, and more blankets covered the furs. Elegant pillows sat at the head. She ran her finger over the thick crimson blankets, embroidered with the most beautiful golden thread.
"Take a look, lass." Rolin nodded his head to the wall behind her. On the wall was a large portrait. "My father sat with painters for months getting it just right." Indeed he had. The portrait depicted her fighting the highwaymen. She was caught in mid attack, one foot behind her, the other in front. A dagger in her lowered hand, while her hair flowed out behind her also caught up in battle.
"My father also had this for you." Rolin opened up a large cupboard. There stood a life sized statue. She stood, looking at herself. "My father, in his last year, wanted to see you. He sent for his finest sculptors to create your statue, and the finest armorers to create what she wears." Berri's eyes fell to the black suit her statue wore. "He thinks he did a good job of your dimensions. I think he did as well. A suit of black mithril, and he wanted no less for you." She ran her fingers on the soft, glossy material.
The neck and wrists were embroidered with silver and gold decoration. The ankles and boots also were decorated in silver and gold. A delicate hand had crafted this suit. It hugged every curve of her statue. "This, is, beautiful Rolin." He smiled and sniffed.
"My father always wanted to look upon your face once more. But he never got to. I am happy to look upon you. In all honesty, he became rather obsessed with you near the end, and it was difficult to watch his unhealthy infatuation. There in the chests there, are things found over the years, and other things that were crafted that he wished to save for your coming. But, I will let you get settled in now, lass, I will send someone in when the feast is ready, and Inga, our family healer." With that he stepped out and closed the door.
Berri was stunned. Her friend had died three years ago. He wanted to see her, but she never came. A wave of nauseating guilt overcame her. She looked at her hands, but they showed no signs of age. In the gold lined mirror, her reflection showed no age when she touched her face gently. "So young still, what's happened?" She whispered. She set down her pack and lay down on the bed. It was surprisingly soft as she stretched out. In truth, it was a little unnerving that this dwarf king had become so obsessed as to order the creations that hung around her room.
Her troubled sleep was short lived before a heavy knock came to the door, not waiting for a response before entering. "You must be Beriadanwen." A short brown haired dwarf waddled in carrying a tray of various cloths and instruments. Two other dwarves followed behind, one carrying another tray and the other was balancing bowls of water.
"Yes ma'am, I am. May I ask who you are?" She had an idea, but wanted confirmation.
"I'm Inga, King Rolin sent for me. I hear you have quite a wound for me to look at." She set the tray down at the end of the bed. Berri nodded, lifting her shirt for the woman to see the crude laceration. "Goodness dear! Telda, go get the chopping block." She snapped at one of the younger girls who had come in. Now that Berri had a better look, she could see that the younger women were actually twins. "Hilda, get some linen strips and ointments prepped for me." She ordered the other girl. She could only tell the difference because Telda had short blonde curls, while Hilda had longer hair, and a mole on her cheek.
Inga gestured for Berri to removed her shirt, which she did, letting Inga get a closer look at the damage. "Yes, I'll need the block for sure." She murmured, poking at the wound. Berri gasped, lurching forward. "It's infected as well it looks. Hilda, go fetch me some wine and honey mead when you are done with that." She had a frown on her aged face. She looked over her tray, taking note of her utensils. "Do you drink very often?" She turned to Berri, who had her arms crossed over her breasts.
"Um, I might drink a glass of wine or two at night, not enough to get drunk though. I was unable to find any sort of healing herbs on the mountainside; none that I could identify anyways." She offered, not really keeping track of her drinking habits.
"Good, it will be easier for you then." She smirked. Telda was returning with a short wooden narrow table that seemed to glide across the floor without wheels. As it got closer, Berri could see old stains darkening the tabletop. Berri gulped to see such a sight, her eyes widening. "Pay no mind to that." Inga smiled, laying a blanket down onto the table with an extra cushion for her hips and head.
With hesitation, Berri laid down on her right, facing towards the fire. She couldn't see what they were doing behind her when Hilda returned, but Inga made sure to offer her plenty of wine. "It will take the pain away, I promise you." She smiled. It only made Berri more nervous for what was to come.
Before the wine could settle in properly, she was racked with the pain of Inga scrubbing and reopening the mostly closed wound on her side. Her cries echoed through the stone chamber, and she felt her shoulders being held down by one of the twins. Berri reached out, as if grasping for salvation from the pain, but she clenched her fists, knowing the pain would endure until Inga was done. The burning of the honey mead on her wound only amplified the pain she felt. It was almost as though a white hot branding iron was resting upon her skin and she had no way of removing it. The pain radiated to other parts of her body as she felt nerves twinging in her legs and arms.
"Well, I'm sorry but it's gotten pretty bad my dear!" Inga huffed, mopping at the wound with a cool cloth. It was the only reprieve Berri would receive from the pain in that moment. She shivered, sweating and nauseated from the agony she was enduring. "How did you get this again?"
"I was assailed by an orc pack, or an orc scouting party." She spoke, her voice wavering violently. She struggled to keep the slim contents of her stomach down.
"Well then count yourself among the very lucky. It's rare an orc blade isn't poisoned these days. Most blades are just covered in filthy nasty poisons. You may have just been bit by a dirty blade. I can make you a concoction to rid yourself of the infection, but it looks pretty standard to me." She reassured. And for Berri, it was a reassurance that she had been twice lucky on the same shot. Not only did the orc not impale her, but he also hadn't poisoned his blade. She supposed she could be thankful for that.
Berri could see her blood running down her stomach as Inga began to stitch her wound shut. Luckily for her, the water she had used seemed to have been laced with some sort of mild numbing agent. She could barely feel the needle weaving between her severed flesh though she could feel the rest of her body, and her head wasn't swimming as if she were drunk. "Did you numb my cut?" Berri finally asked after taking a few good deep breaths to steady her heart.
"That I did." Inga spoke a little muffled as she focused on the crisscrossing of her stitch.
"You didn't think to start with the numbing agent first?" Berri braved, hoping she could have been spared a lot of pain.
"She would have, but it interferes with the mead." Telda spoke up, tamping her forehead with a wet cloth. "The alcohol and the honey in the mead will clean your wound, but the plants we use seem to destroy that property if used beforehand, at least for the mead. The ointment, well, it doesn't seem to affect in quite the same way." She shrugged.
"Correct Telda, you will make a good healer yet one day. You as well Hilda, you did marvelous with the cleaning." Inga praised the twins. Berri was just forced to nod and accept the treatment as it came to her. Soon, they were laying the ointment laden bandages over her wound, and wrapping her torso in clean fresh linens.
"Thank you very much, I feel a lot better, I really do." Berri smiled, reaching out for the tunic that Hilda was holding out for her. She pulled it on over her head, feeling far more comfortable than she had before the assault on her wound.
"It's nothing at all. Just be sure to take the mixture I give you. I'll make sure to come back and give you a bottle of it for now." Inga spoke, cleaning up the bloody mess made.
It wasn't long before another dwarf stepped in to announce the feast to her. "Rolin requests you attend in your mithril attire." He said shortly before he left her to change. She changed into the black raiment with a little difficulty from the newly places sutures. It shone on her body, accentuating her face, a contrast to her black hair and midnight armor. She pulled her hair back into a tight bun. As she stepped down the halls following a dwarf, she was surprised by the light weight of her suit. She felt almost as though she wore nothing at all. Her Elven blade sat on her hip, her hand resting on its hilt. She walked towards the loud rambunctious gathering she assumed was the feast, and walking through the door, she was stunned.
Rows of long tables were set up, with one table angled the opposite direction at one end, overlooking them. She was summoned to the lone table at the head of the room, elevated above all when the room went quiet. "My fellow Dwarves of Moria, welcome, Beriadanwen. Long ago, my father, Bolin spoke of a hero. A hero who saved him on 3 different occasions. She fought valiantly, and she knew not her company. She, a long shank, knew not that she defended the king of our realm, and my father. Only that he was a dwarf. She carried on with them, for days, before their road split. Before they left, she gave them the last bits of her rations to save them from starvation, when she herself could have starved. He died wishing to see her again. You have heard the stories on your Dwarf ears, and now, you see before you the Hero of Bolin!" He raised his flagon. "HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!" He was repeated as she blushed. She stood with her Flagon raised with them. As they drank, she too drank deep. The sweetest mead she had ever had at her lips.
The night went on with plenty of boisterous laughing, and food was plentiful. Potatoes, large cuts of roasted savory meats, bread, and more ale. She drank heartily, and deeply, enjoying the songs and dances of her hosts. After hours of the dance and song, many dwarves slept where they landed. She however stumbled her way back to her quarters with the help of Rolin, careful not to jar her laceration too much.
"I'll tell you. Not many outside of dwarves can keep up with the drinking of dwarves, but you gave it a go didn't you." Rolin chuckled, a bit inebriated himself. She laughed intoxicated as she thought of even attempting to drink a dwarf under the table. Rolin got her into her room and out of her suit, hanging it up gingerly on the statue while she flopped down onto the bed, lazily replacing the clothes she was handed earlier. She slid under the blankets in her tunic and leggings, and beckoned for Rolin.
"My Lord, would it be too much to ask one thing." Rolin shook his head. "May I learn the ways of your people while I am here?" Her words were slightly slurred, but she was curious.
Rolin stiffened. "Milady, never has anybody asked of such a request. I do not know if I can allow this. The secrets of the dwarves are ones we keep." With that Berri nodded off into an alcohol induced sleep.
Her hangover the next morning was severe. Her stomach lurched violently and her head was pounding like a gong in her skull. She rolled out of bed, landing on her hands and knees, reaching rapidly for a bucket she saw at the side of her bed. Most likely it had been set there in case her stomach did decide it wasn't happy with all of the ale it ingested the previous night, she was thankful as she retched and vomited into the wooden bucket.
She sat back, resting her head against the bed, breathing heavily, clearing her throat. Someone had come in sometime before she woke up, stoking one of the fires having added more wood to it. For that she was grateful as her tunic was damp from sweat and the cold air would have only made it worse. On the small bedside table, she saw a little bottle filled with a greenish liquid marked for her. It was a small bottle, enough for perhaps two swigs. Though she was feeling nauseous, she mouth was a bit dry so she took the bottle to her lips and downed the cool liquid. It tasted oddly like mint, dirt and a little hint of vinegar or so she detected.
It took a while before she crawled out of her room, straightening herself up, in a fresh tunic and a long skirt with some slippers from Rivendell. Her hair was tied up in a low knot as she shuffled through the hall to the throne room. The smell of smoked pork and potatoes filled her nostrils causing her stomach to rumble in disgust and desire at once.
"Ah, milady, you have awaken finally." Rolin chuckled, watching her disheveled form come from around the side of his royal seat. She smiled weakly at him.
"Yes, it would seem I've indulged a bit too much last night." She groaned. "But the problem now is I don't know if I'm sick from ale, or sick from hunger." She chuckled.
"Well, food is never slim in these halls. Whenever you wish, you may eat." He nodded to her. "Today I'll take you among our halls, I think." He let out a thoughtful breath.
"Does that mean you'll teach me how to mine and craft?" Berris eyes opened with hope, her hands clutching the other against her chest.
"Ha, no child, that I cannot allow. See, we keep our secrets to ourselves. As much as I would love to show you, I simply cannot. But I will allow you to look upon our mines and our home. That will have to suffice for even that is an honor." He cocked a brow. Berri nodded in disappointed understanding. It seemed like at least being shown around Moria would be the best she would get.
She struggled to manage a small meal of bacon and potatoes, but wrapped some sausages in a cloth to eat later. She was eager for Rolin to take her through Moria. It wasn't long before they were on their way through the long halls. She looked among the gorgeous tapestries that graced the walls, telling the stories of the dwarves in times long past. Rolin would stop before each one, and tell her what was being represented in each picture. The passion in which the king spoke touched Berri.
They walked down a few flights of stairs and came to a large room. There were long tables with compartments full of gems of all colors shapes and sizes. "Here is, as you can see, our gem room. All of the diamonds, emeralds and sapphires that come from the mountain are sized, and inspected for flaws. The higher grades are used for the finest jewels and gifts." He picked up a sparkling white diamond that gleamed in his hand, showing it to her. It was brilliant, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and take it. Rolin gave a quick smile dropping it down in the pile with the rest of the brilliant diamonds before moving on.
He showed her the smelter room briedly, but lingered in the armory. Her hands ran across numerous suits of armor, touching the hilts of blades. "These are just… Stunning." She smiled gleefully.
"Dwarves are known far and wide for their craftsmanship, but in reality, most of these are just show pieces. They are not as functional for actual combat. They are too heavy, or inhibit movement too much to be practical. But the weapons are certainly useful." He picked up a spiked mace, inspecting it. It looked silvery copper with a leather wrapped handle for better grip.
They walked all day through the halls as he taught her more about their culture and history. She felt like her head was going to explode with all of the information he was filling her with. By lunch, they had wandered far from the main halls. They sat on a step, as she pulled the sausages from her pocket, passing one over to Rolin. He ate it graciously, needing a snack to tide him over until they could get back to the dining room. By the time it was dinner, they made their way back to the throne room to refresh for a much needed dinner. They both appeared to be worn out, Rolins voice even a little hoarse from all of his talking that day, and Berri was in need of a good hearty meal and to rest her side.
A few weeks had passed before she was allowed to roam the halls on her own. Her presence was always noticed of course, as she was the tallest one among the bobbing heads of intricately braided heads. Most of the dwarf women wore curls, where the men wore their hair or beards braided. The thing that Berri enjoyed the most, was watching the women stitch and sew the intricate dresses they wore. Many of them were sewn with jewels and golden thread, standing out against the fine dark fabrics of crimson and midnight blue. Like the men who sifted through the fine gems, they were sat around a long table, littered with bins of gems, and pincushions.
The days went on, where she would wander where she was allowed. The liquid given to her from Inga helped immensely as she had not even come down with a fever. But her side still ached from time to time when she moved too vigorously, but it let her walk farther and farther every day to take in the city. To imagine a whole city thriving under what appeared to be such a placid mountain never failed to put Berri in awe. She never would have thought that beneath the stones, carved halls stood, with paths and bridges that crossed across the expansive caverns where the dwarves delved into the deep dark of the mountain.
The library was a favorite dwelling as the time wore on. She would find herself curled by a fireplace with a heavy leather-bound tome on many occasions. Of course, she couldn't read the dwarfish runes and text, but she could at least look at the many pictures inside. It would draw snickers from the other dwarves who found it odd she would sit for hours with books that she could not read. She was able to pick up on a few words from the books that were translated to common tongue, but without them, she would have been lost.
She had been looking at a picture of a large man with a thick beard and massive arms standing over an anvil with a hammer in his hand raised above his head ready to strike. He was a beautiful man, with long hair and a focused face. Berri found her fingers stroking down the page in admiration.
"I see you have been drawn to Aule." Rolin chuckled behind her. She turned over quickly with a blush on her cheeks.
"I, um, I was just looking at the picture." She mumbled, embarrassed by her attraction to the image.
"Of course you were." Rolin gave her a sarcastic look. "You should pack, there is a break in the weather, and it seems that the winter will be coming to an end soon. It would be best to get you on your way." He unfolded his arms, taking a few shuffling steps towards her.
"Already? But it doesn't seem that long." She furrowed a brow.
"Do not ask me about the weather of the world, for I do not control it. But you must be on your journey south." He sighed. "Come, I'll take you back to your room." He held his hand out, helping her up, walking her back to her accommodations. Rolin didn't stay. He left her to gather her things and prepare to get back onto the road.
In all honesty, Rolin had felt he had extended their hospitality long enough, even if it was to the Bolins Hero, and he was happy to send her along at the first signs of warming weather. She was the first human to roam their halls, and her stay had made many of them uneasy for a deep seated fear that their secrets would somehow be stolen away. Should she wish to return in the future, it would perhaps be alright, but to have been there for over two months, roaming about freely, it was just too much for many of them.
Only the crackling of the fires broke the silence in her room. She looked at her maps again to plot a course. She could leave back through the Doors of Durin, and make her way down through Dunland, turning east from there to Isengard. Or she could cross over to the East Doors, against the Realm of Lothlorien, and then turn south, and curve around. Perhaps she would pass through Fangorn Forest, and approach Isengard from the north. She sighed, for she only had but a day or two to decide where she would go. She decided if she went through the eastern doors, she could stay in the shadow of the mountain, and head straight down to the wizards' tower. She would miss the dwarves during her travels, and their cold yet homey halls.
The food lining the tables of the dining hall that night was some of the most amazing food she had ever smelled. The spices and tender juicy meats, and the piles of cheese, bread, potatoes, fruits she had never tasted before, wines, ales, meads, beers, she ate until she was at full capacity, and drank until she could no longer see straight. Berri stood with the dwarves on the tables and danced, and knocked back the ales far enough to slake the thirst of the dwarf behind her. In all the drunken merriment, she fell asleep on the table that night, among piles of other dwarves. At least for the night, she felt as though she blended in, unlike being that sore thumb that had been sticking out for two months.
As the ale induced coma wore off of Beriadanwen, she stirred, still huddled in a mass of dwarves, keeping warm with body heat. "Oh, jeez..." She stood up unsteadily, just as many other dwarves were beginning to open their eyes. As quietly as she could, but as fast as she could, she ran out of the hall, and back to her own room. She looked at all of her clothes there on her bed, having been washed for her sometime throughout the night. A bath had been drawn for her so she may cleanse herself one last time before making off on her trip, so she took advantage of it. It was warm, like those in Rivendell. She still had soaps from Rivendell she had decided to keep, which she used now, the first time since she left.
Berri got dressed, lacing up her tunic and pants gingerly. A dwarf woman came in and helped her into her armor, making sure she was covered well head to toe. She put on Berri's' boots for her, tucking the ankles in, and the wrists into the black clawed gloves. Of her final task, she withdrew from her pocket a loose rectangle of the finest black mithril, on either side, an extra loop. She attached the mithril to her helmet to help disguise and shield her face on her travels. As the dwarf finished attaching the belt and sword to the waist of the hero, she minded her hair, pulling it down beneath her shirt. This way it could not get caught. Berri delved into the chest left by the old king, withdrawing gold and gems for payment on her travels.
It seemed as if all of Moria followed Beriadanwen. They trailed behind her as she walked through the great halls. She made her way towards the bridge of Khazad-Dum, down the long stairs where there were no railings to catch you if you fall to the fire below. As she walked high over the fire, it cast a glow against the black armor, and shone off of her elven weapons. She held her helmet under her arm as she walked sure across the bridges. She saw it. The bridge of Khazad-Dum, it was a narrow bridge, above a deep chasm. The chasm was bottomless, as she saw nothing but dark extending down. It would seem not even the dwarves mined there; a torch would be consumed by dark before finding the bottom of the pit.
Before she crossed, she turned around. "We will miss the presence of a Hero gracing our halls." Rolin stepped forward with a long cloth bundle. "Your heroism and your kindness to Dwarves of Moria will not soon be forgotten. My father, Bolin, my son, and I... No, all of Moria wish to present this gift unto you." Rolin held out the bundle to her. She took it, and pulled back the cloth, looking upon the blackest of the black long sword she had ever seen.
At the pommel, was a large crimson ruby, as well, rubies were placed on either end of the cross-guard. She looked at the grip, a full tang blade she could see, but the grip was also made of ebony, and wrapped in black leather. She unwrapped the gift fully. A black, stiff leather scabbard, with silver tips at the locket and chape appeared in her hands. Slowly, she unsheathed the blade. Black, wicked as obsidian, she stared at the glossy lacquered blade in front of her. It was a blade to strike fear into anybody she came against.
"Never before has a sword been forged in steel, plated with ebony, and again in black mithril, and never again it shall be made. This blade, will last you long beyond your years. Mithril keeps a blade sharper, and keeps it stronger. You will never need to sharpen your blade. It will never fail you." Rolin bowed as she mounted the new blade to her hip, holding Haldirs sword in her hand. Berri extended her hand out to Rolin,
"I will return to see Moria again." She said strongly. They need naught say anything, other than the nod they shared. She put on her helm, and attached the draping mithril. With no other words, and nothing else she turned slowly, and walked quietly across the bridge. As she walked, the slow rumble of dwarves pounding their shoulders carried their goodbyes to her
A/N: I hope this wasn't too terrible of a chapter. Next chapter should have a bit more Haldir, and any suggestions I'm open to. It is still a work in progress, thats for sure. Reviews are always helpful and appreciated, and I will make sure to respond to each as best I can :) (also, I am trying not to make this so mary sue-ish, so if it feels that way, please let me know so I can tone it back.)