...it's my first time...be gentle with me...
This is an idea that has been puttering around in my head for a while. I was never happy with Thorin, Fili, and Kili dying so I'm changing some things...don't really know how many people will read (god...) or even LIKE (oh god...) this story. It will not be canon in some aspects. Dwarven lifespans are furthered just a bit, my knowledge of geographical locations is rusty, and my timeline for events is fuzzy as well...but here I am. I struggle at times with dialog so any advice is always welcome.
From well known and adored characters that we all know and love to new O/C's that I HOPE you'll come to enjoy. (I play Skyrim and I personally enjoy the archers so my main OFC is an archer ((sue me alright?))
...This is a love story ;)
Elinor could vaguely remember, when she was a small dwarrow dam, the colored banners that hung from the tiered battlements of Erebor on a sunny day. The lovely Durin blue shone in the sunlight against the cool stone of the city. The two great majestic statues of the dwarves guarding the entrance into the keep, steadfast walls built for defence.
One could see them from Dale, tiny bits of cobalt dancing in the wind, the silver flashing of the guards' armor winking across the distance. Her father was one of those guards but his lower rank meant that he patrolled on the lower levels, near the great forges.
Her mother...she can't really remember her face...but she remembered soft chestnut hair and her hands. Slim and graceful, calming when she would brush them over Elinor's hair. Her father, Nargu, had told her that her mother was the child of an unlikely union between a dwarf and a Silvan she-elf. Dwarves normally tended to stay within their own race but every now and then they found their One in unusual places. Her father had often told her that as soon as his eyes landed upon her mother in the market, he knew that fair Elenwen was his. Their courtship was short and both of their families disapproved but they forged their own way, their differences making little matter to either of them .
Elinor knew she took after her father for the most part. She was of dwarven stature, if a little too on the leaner side to be considered of full blood, and had her father's fiery hair and strong jaw. But Nargu called her his 'Little Gem' because she had her mother's sharp moss green eyes. He often blamed her 'witchy beauty' on her mother and lamented her lack of a beard like full blooded dams had but he still adored her all the same. It made her a prime target for attempted bullying from other children but she recalled her mother keeping most of it at bay, even though she was a subject of ridicule herself.
She felt a tightening in her chest as she remembered the day the great serpent, Smaug, had changed the lives of her people…..changed her life...forever.
Elinor had been at the market in Dale with her mother, wearing a pretty green dress that her father had said matched her eyes. She had gotten it as a present from a friend of her father, Balin, for her eleventh name day. Her father had braided her thick hair and placed a child's bead in one of her plaits by her ear, a small silver ornament embedded with agate. She remembered how happy everyone had been about that but none more so than her.
They had been shopping and enjoying the nice weather, the chatter and bustle in the market almost relaxing as she and her mother walked hand in hand back to their horse so they could head home.
Her mother had gotten Elinor a doll from one of the merchant stalls. She was getting too old for dolls but she wouldn't turn down a gift from her mother. It was of elven make and so pretty that she couldn't take her eyes off of it, trusting her mother to guide her.
All of a sudden she was jerked to a stop, her mother standing stock still and her grip tightened as the first of the horrified screams started. There was a loud growling and a great shift in the air before a deafening roar was heard, so loud she felt her teeth rattling. Elinor had clapped her hands over her ears, her doll tumbling to the ground, and she looked toward the skies to try to find the source of the noise. She felt her jaw start to drop when her eyes tracked the movement of a terrifyingly large beast as it circled back around before it started a quick descent back over Dale.
Her mother turned and picked her up so fast it made her dizzy, their purchases left abandoned on the ground in the chaotic madness that consumed the people in the market. She remembered clutching onto her mother as she bobbed against her shoulder, people scattering everywhere. Wild eyed, fleeing into buildings, pushing each other, the sheer force of the panic palpable to even her younger self. Her heart was racing and she couldn't breathe for how tight her mother held onto her, people crowding and crashing into them.
Her mother panted as she ran to the post in front of the inn, the frightened horses and ponies tied and forgotten in the frenzy. A few others had the same idea as her mother to grab a mount and flee to the protection of the mountain or the surrounding forests. Elenwyn had shakily shoved her onto the jittery horse before mounting behind her and directing the anxious animal towards Erebor, adrenaline fueling their flight. Her mother leaned low over her as she urged the horse to swiftly flee and Elinor turned to look behind them.
She wished she hadn't.
The great fire drake had swooped down with is huge bat like wings, opening his toothy cavernous maw and rained great plumes of fire down upon Dale. Tears of shock started tracking down her cheeks as agonized screaming reached her ears, fear making her breathe heavier. Her lungs tried to pull in air that felt like it wasn't even there.
Her mother's hand quickly turned her head away before leaning down to her ear, her shaky voice barely discernible over the wind, "Don't look! We'll be safe soon, dearest!"
Elinor squeezed her eyes shut and the world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was just gone. She could feel the wind rushing against her face, the sting of quickly drying tears pulling her skin but it felt like her head had been stuffed with cotton.
They had made it across the vast field that separated Dale from the Lonely Mountain, others following behind, and were galloping full speed up the dwarven road that led up to the gates. Already there were soldiers clamoring out of the entrance to defend their home, the dragon seemingly already had attacked the mountain. There were archers lining the battlements in the spaces that weren't aflame as they prepared for a skirmish.
They were close to the massive doors when the horse they were riding stumbled, the very ground underneath it's hooves trembling. She and her mother tumbled to the ground as the horse fled, shrieking in terror. Elinor's head thumped against the hard ground and her vision swam. Almost instinctively she curled upon herself but Elenwen struggled to her feet.
"Get up, Elinor! Run!', her mother desperately urged. She dragged Elinor upright and was pushing her towards the doors when the air vibrated and shifted once more.
They had just made it inside when she felt an immense heat at her back. Her mother had stiffened before she curled her body around Elinor, letting out a shocked scream as they fell on the stone floor. The scream that rent the air was indescribable. Nobody screams like that unless it is terror and agony beyond endurance. It was unmistakably a child and a young one.
It took her a moment to realize….it was her….she was screaming...
Elinor's right shoulder and arm, that side of her neck and jaw...her body felt like liquid fire had been poured over them, sharp pain lanced through her head and colorful spots flashed in front of her eyes. A horrible smell pervaded her nose and nausea rolled through her belly.
She felt her mother's limp heavy body pressing her down into the hard stone floors, smothering her and she felt an overwhelming panic start to seize her.
Her mother wasn't moving. She couldn't hear her!
"Mama?", Elinor shrieked, tears streaming down her face as she tried to kick her legs or wiggle free, "Mama!"
Searing fiery bursts pulsated along her skin, intensifying with each movement, jarring and brutal. With each kick or jerk the pain amplified, the bloody muscle quivered, her consciousness ebbed. Black mists swirled at the edges of her mind drawing her into the dark abyss as her cries became weaker.
Suddenly, she felt her mother's weight lifted off of her. A young dwarf stood over her, his beautiful face pale and his azure eyes wide in disbelief under bowed heavy brows, lips parted in horror. He had long dark hair and a short braided beard, his long deep blue tunic had soot in places that were singed. He stared at her in stunned disbelief for a moment and Elinor felt something in her chest just...ease.
Even at that moment, chaos everywhere in abundance, Elinor was happy to have seen him. She felt her hand lift unconsciously towards him even when she felt the strength to do so dwindling.
He snapped back to himself and cast a glassy sorrowful glance at the gruesome sight of her mother's body as he bent to gingerly lift her and she stiffened, preparing herself for the pain. He attempted to calm her even as he rushed further into the interior with her cradled gently in his arms. The heady scent of earth and sweet moss surrounded her and she felt oddly soothed...comforted.
She didn't want to die. Not here. Not like this. Elinor could feel this stranger's strong hands holding her tightly and she almost couldn't bear the thought of it.
Dying at this moment.
"I-I...", Elinor cried, the lump in her throat making words nigh on impossible.
"Shhhhh, little one. Hold on. Hold on, please", he choked wetly as her eyes fluttered, "I'll get so-someone...You, there!"
His hoarse voice called out to someone but she barely heard the other person. She felt the wetness of hot tears dripping onto her face as he sobbed before she blessedly lost consciousness.
I wish I could have known you...
"Your grace!"
This was all….many years ago…..
Elinor didn't remember much from her early days living in Erebor nor the many months in healing tents and halls but she remembered that day. The visage of the dwarrow who saved her had faded greatly with time sadly. But his eyes….she still saw them in her dreams, the echo of his deep voice ringing softly in her ears as she woke.
Her father was devastated when in the aftermath he learned of his One's passing and his daughter's uncertain future. The fevers almost took her more than once while recovering. Elinor was sure that he would have faded long ago if it wasn't for her and he had times where a deep melancholy overtook him. But he had found her in the frenzy and by a captain's orders, gathered as many women and children and workers from below to help them flee from under the mountain. They learned later that some of their people were trapped in their once magnificent city after tunnels collapsed, doomed to suffer a tragic end.
Afterwards the great serpent, Smaug, gloried at all of the gold within the mountain and made it his dwelling, emerging only every so often to hunt from the forest surrounding the ruins of Dale.
With his family and the remaining soldiers, the King went into a homeless wandering southward before engaging in the Battle of Azanulbizar.
The battle claimed the lives of many dwarves and left the young Thorin Longbeard as the new King. He was only fifty three years old at the time of that great battle, earning himself the name of Oakenshield.
Most of the dwarves who escaped fled to the Iron Hills or the Blue Mountains with their kin. Thorin Longbeard settled in Ered Luin and established his hall there.
There were also many who were low born with no close family relations that travelled with a group of citizens from Dale and a company of Elves. Their numbers were a fair amount, nigh on a thousand collectively.
This particular company of mismatched citizenry went North together, past Angmar and traversed Forodwaith, the frozen wastes, past the Iron Mountains. The frozen terrain seemed endless and bleak, much like the sorrow that many in the ragtag caravan harbored in their souls.
They travelled almost a hundred miles past Angmar when they came across the ancient ruins of Utumno, nestled into the base of a forbidding mountain, the first fortress of Morgoth. Destroyed a millennia ago by the Valar in the first age but inhabited now by an unlikely people, a howling fjord nestled amongst the vast forestry past the wastes.
The Men of Forodwaith were a strange untamed folk and had established a kind of township in the rubble, swathed in furs and primitive leathers from the vicious arctic animals they hunted. Surrounded by a large forest of white trees with pale leaves and thick sharp brush, the travelers settled in with the wild people they found who, while roughened folk, welcomed them at the urging of their elders and seers.
A sizable town was established, a blending of cultures borne of necessity to survive in the beautiful harsh climate. The dwarves, Dalemen, and elves that travelled with them worked together to educate the frosty tribesmen, some helped to carve dwellings into the mountain face while others dug deep into the frozen earth to find a reliable water source. Apparently the wild people had just been gathering snow on heavy fall days to set aside in leather bladders. They sent their carts back across the wastes with precious metals and gems for tools and supplies to sustain their foundling town. The hard work kept their focus, determination set to start a new life while also keeping in touch with their own faiths.
Forges were built that helped produce tools, smelters constructed so that they could make metals from the ore they mined from the hard earth. The elves and dwarves cooperated and worked out a rough plumbing system as well as venting for fireplaces in the living quarters, kitchens, and common areas carved into the mountains. The Dalemen and the wild people chopped trees and used the logs to move great chunks of stone from the ruins to set up a barrier to protect everyone before using the lumber for other tasks. They made armor from leather and lined them with furs to help with the bitter cold, even using the bones and fats of animals for tools or other uses. They worked together to make weapons in their forges to arm all who could wield one and built a small armory as wild animals and even frost drakes were very real threats.
They labored to make rough paper so that books could be made to pass on knowledge, the frost men teaching others about their language and better ways to survive in the unforgiving climate they were all making their home. Impressive libraries, bathing halls, infirmaries, were also implemented as well as rooms for learning littered the fast growing city.
They scouted and foraged the vast surrounding forests, learning the shapes of the craggy slopes, hidden caverns, and lush snow covered thickets. They hunted wildlife and fished the frosty inlets of their fjord. They succeeded in growing food in cavernous hot rooms on the ground levels, thick panes of glass letting in light. Vegetables harvested were then stored for later consumption in the night months. During these long winter months, some of the nomadic northern tribes travelled to weather at the hold. They brought cured meats, furs and leathers, bones and herbs from the plains.
Everyone helped in these endeavors. Men and women. Young and old. Healthy and any of the infirm who felt they were able enough to contribute.
Elinor herself was in a sort of tent for a long time while she recovered, kept with a she-elf healer and other children before being moved to a rough hut. The fever ravaged her for what felt like forever before it broke, her body scarred, angry, and weak. She remembered the smell of herbal tinctures and festering flesh, her right side nothing but numb while also agonizingly sensitive.
The dragon fire had seared her and burns from these particular beasts were known to not heal well. She would always be in some type of pain or discomfort for the rest of her days.
Her right shoulder, some of her back and ribs, and the top of her right arm was a mess of flesh, pulling no matter how she held herself. It had also burned up her neck on that side, singeing the hair right off of her scalp all the way until a little over her ear.
And her ear…..dwarven ears, like elven ears, were so sensitive. The front didn't look so bad, even if for years it was a nasty angry color….but the back didn't escape the scarring either, pulling the tip a bit crooked. The she-elf master healer, Eurielle, applied poultices and salves to help her as much as she could.
Everyone lived together with little strife amongst themselves, the tales of their people told over fire pits in the great halls or read in the libraries. The elves, dwarves, and men working together to coexist in the harsh landscape of the north, living as a unified people no longer separated by barriers….even if it took the elder dwarves longer to adapt to that aspect of cohabitation with other races. But the days and nights were different this far north. The night seemed to stretch on forever and lasting months before anyone saw the sun rise again. The night sky was so beautiful that Elinor sometimes wished the light would never come. The blue black sky was dotted with thousands upon thousands of twinkling stars and was occasionally cut through with dancing ribbons of soft glimmering light.
A small high council of ealdormen was made up of an elder from each race to help make decisions or settle disputes as they arose, several wardens of their respective races selected by this council. There was even an old Northern woman who was a soothsayer who advised the council. Her father, the wise and weary Nargu Iron-Axe, sat upon this council alongside Eurielle, the she-elf healer. An elf that had lived in the north for an age and looked as cold and hard as the frozen wastes. A dark browed white haired elven sorceress whose graceful frigid countenance naturally commanded respect from others. She was already a member of some of the nomadic tribes who were elevated with her guidance.
Beirand Bearclaw, an imposing seasoned warrior with intelligent eyes currently sat for the race of men. With their monthly caravan that traversed the wastes as well as an occasional wizard or two, Nargu kept a somewhat steady correspondence of letters with the sparse number of friends left that did not travel with them.
They established a steady trade with the Ironfoot's of the Iron Hills, sending ingots of dalvinite, a unique ebony metal they mined from their mountain as well as raw ore. From there, half of the materials went to the Blue Mountains to be used there as they saw fit, transported by the dwarves of the Iron Hills. Trade was made with the elves of Mirkwood as well, the elves craftsmanship with leatherwork unsurpassed.
They all lived for well over a century in their new home, in relative peace, many from other races making the journey to make new lives for themselves or their families. Most were low born but not all.
They all settled into the home they built together and named their stronghold Hammerdeep.
Thoughts? Constructive criticisms?