Sorry for the delay. This time of year is always busy at work and I really hated to disappoint you all...all 5 of you are special to me 3
Anyways, enough of the mushy stuff and on to the show!
...pst! please let me know what you think!
The chambers of Nargu Iron-Axe were situated on a different level inside their mountain, befitting his higher station on the small council. Though in reality, they were similar to hers just bigger. Her father was a wizened dwarf, handsome in his youth in fact. But a lifetime of being a loyal guard, the grueling task of establishing a domain of culturally diverse people, and losing his One has aged him considerably.
His once fiery mane had coarsened and greyed, his face hardened from the weather and his struggle with his melancholy. He was a gruff but quietly affectionate person, his stout form often rigid with a pride that hid his inner struggles. But Elinor saw through him, like his close companions could. His closest friend, Rhosyn, wasn't present so that meant he was either asleep in his chambers or on watch.
Elinor let herself into his quarters, the warmness of his dwelling almost stifling and she felt sweat break across her neck. She removed her cloak and hung it near the door and as she moved into the great room, she saw he had company.
She saw two figures sitting in low chairs before the fire, both of them speaking in hushed tones. Her father and their seer, Salma. Elinor's steps slowed to a halt as she pondered the reason for her presence.
Salma was an elder North woman who had an unnaturally long life and had been with their people since the beginning. She had seen that the travelers who did undertake the journey would flourish and that the North would grow with them. She was older than many in the keep, barring the elves.
They both sat with blankets upon their laps and conversation abruptly stopped, the seer inclining her head in Elinor's direction.
"Come, child", her throaty voice called.
Elinor circled around to stand next to the fire, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two figures. She saw the trepidation in her father's eyes, when he finally decided to look at her and she felt….unease.
"Adad, are you unwell?", she questioned, worry sinking in her stomach like a stone.
Nargu waved her off with a weathered hand, "I'll live".
"We heard of your kill, Drakesbane. Most impressive".
Elinor blinked at the seer before responding, "It was not mine alone".
The seer's eyes continued to observe her, "You've still plenty of dragon killing to do".
She felt the hairs on her arms stand on end. The seer always unsettled her and she cut her eyes to her father to change topics.
"You wished to see me, Adad?"
He sighed and looked at Salma before once again looking at her, "I wanted to speak with you about a matter of great importance, lass".
Elinor eyed them both but remained silent, her brow lifting marginally.
Salma scoffed and waved her hands, "Oh get that look off your face, girl. I don't wanna marry your father".
Elinor inwardly sighed while her father clicked his teeth at the seer, "I'd rather face a pack of ice wolves with no weapon".
Salma made a face and shared a laugh with her father before Elinor interrupted, "You wanted to see me?"
Nargu's face grew somber before glancing once again to the seer before steeling himself, turning to her once more.
"We've received word from a contact within Dáin Ironfoot's keep. The king under the mountain is trying t' gather support t' take back Erebor".
Elinor's eyes grew wide in shock. Thoughts whirled in her mind as she contemplated this news but her father pressed on. This was...she didn't know what to think. What would this mean for Hammerdeep? Although greatly improved, life here was not easy but their people seemed content. Would they leave? Their numbers were considerable….with many warriors as well as blacksmiths, tanners, miners, scholars, healers, hunters, bakers, and many other craftsmen. Their whole citizenry consisted of men, dwarves, and elves. The Dale men had fully bred in with the Northmen decades ago and the dwarves made up a considerable portion of the population, at least a third.
Would they all really abandon their home for the lonely mountain? The older dwarves...a very real probability. The younger generation….she wasn't so sure about. This has been the place where many of them were born or grew to adulthood, strong ties built with many in the community. She couldn't remember much from her childhood but she didn't think the more traditional southern dwarves would approve of their lives here.
Their close proximity with elves and men most assuredly would be seen as unfavorable. She remembered how most dwarves were suspicious of men. They were downright hostile at times toward elves no matter their once amicable history.
"We'll have t' assemble the council and let the people know. I'll prepare myself for the journey".
Her mind snapped back to the conversation and her mouth fell open in disbelief. Her emerald orbs ran over the form of her father, taking him in. His posture long bent with age, his face timeworn and wrinkled. Elinor couldn't recall the last time he walked without a thick walking stick, and even then he is somewhat unsteady on his feet. His hands were gnarled and knotty, years of hard labor and soldiering having taken their toll.
Elinor met her father's gaze, determination lighting his blood flecked eyes and she felt her heart sink. Her father was in his twilight years, looking every bit of four hundred and seventy four, but she could tell that he would try his best in this battle.
"Father, you can't-"
"You keep your tongue behind your teeth and mind your place!", Nargu exploded at her, his skin mottling with emotion, "I can and I will!"
She snapped her mouth shut, her worried eyes riveted on him, his posture stiffened with anger. He'd never survive the journey….let alone the battle. His pride would never allow him to say he was too old for this. His explosive reaction alone told her that he knew she would protest.
Elinor felt anger simmer in her at his stubbornness, "And how many dwarrow are they sending from Ered Luin? The Iron Hills? We've heard nothing of this before now. Surely Dáin would have said something? What's changed?"
Elinor's brows furrowed. Dáin kept up frequent communication with the Elders, some of their merchants, and occasionally herself. He and his advisors had pushed for some of his own people to be placed within the keep to apprentice in the crafting of the unique ore they mined under their mountain. He had also hinted, rather heavy handedly, that he would like to see Elinor wedded to one of the nobles of the Iron Hills or his kin. He seemed to have no qualms about her low born status or mixed descent but Elinor had stood firm for years. She would not marry out of some notion of duty no matter how hard or long Dáin harangued her. His closest advisor however….Farki Firebeard was as slimy as they came. Never failing to raise her hackles whenever his scheming eyes alighted upon her or Hammerdeep. His was a greedy sort that played on Dáin's moods, much to the misery of those he thought to discard or remove from his path.
Nargu lips were pressed thin as he brought himself under control, taking a deep breath before replying.
"Tharkûn has convinced the king that the time is right and has been trying t' gather support for this endeavor. That part of the region is vulnerable, the mountains swarming with orcs. He's convinced of a looming darkness, an evil that will pull us all into unavoidable conflict. Erebor is a powerful fortress that would keep a strong hold for the dwarves", he elaborated.
She leaned against the wall, the stone walls coolness felt through her clothes. She could feel eyes on her and glanced up to see the seer studying her intensely as her father pressed on.
"The wizard thinks that malicious forces might try t' coerce Smaug into their service and use the Lonely Mountain as a base t' attack the free people of Middle Earth".
Smaug had dealt a great injustice to the dwarves and the Dale men, leaving them to a life of fear and exile. Tharkûn was a friend to many races and had visited their hold several times. He'd brought her soothing salves from Rivendell for her one hundred and twenty fifth nameday. Like many, he had great respect for the Longbeards and the line of Durin.
His endorsement of this journey would hold a lot of sway with many of the dwarves, no matter their natural skepticism. If all went well, the dwarves could reforge ties to the other free peoples. The Longbeard's could have their kingdom back, the surrounding areas would be enriched, and they'd have a fortified stronghold.
Not to mention the evil menace of Smaug would end.
It was smart...but…
"Adad…", she started softly, "You are a ferocious warrior who has seen many victories….but you cannot hope to return from this…."
Nargu's back straightened once more, his face stern but his eyes sorrowful, "I know...but it's right. The king has called for help. Iron-Axe may be a common name but we are proud. I have raised you with dignity and you are very capable. You'll do our name proud after I've gone".
Elinor could feel Salma's eyes boring into her as her thoughts flew. Her father would surely return to The Stone if he went. Sooner rather than later. She would never see him again…...but she could see how much this meant to him. To fight. Fight for his home. To fight for his king.
The king….she couldn't even remember the Longbeard's….not that a dam from a commoners family would be on intimate terms with royals. She was so young when Erebor fell and so below them that she couldn't even pick one of them from Mahal. She had read in many of their tomes that Durin's folk were wise and courageous, exceptional leaders to the children of Mahal. To see her father stirred with such devotion moved her but she didn't wish to see him embark on a journey that would guarantee his death.
Elinor took a deep breath, kneeling down before Nargu, "If it means that much, I'll go instead...for you, father".
Nargu's weary eyes widened in outrage, "Absolutely NOT!"
"But, Adad-"
"I will not send my daughter, my only child, t' battle that dragon in my stead!", he raged, clambering feebly to his feet with his walking stick clutched in his fist. She was sure the hammered circlet he wore was covering a bulging vein in his forehead.
Elinor's own temper simmered hotly as she watched him move to slowly pace about the chamber, growling under his breath. She kept her lips pressed together to keep from giving a hot retort.
He said all of that like she was some fresh damned greenheart!
She had been out in the wilds hunting for their people, fighting off arctic bears and ice wolves alike for decades.
Not to mention the damned frost drakes!
Elinor had collected an impressive collection of scars to add to her dragonfire burns that showed how capable she was. She might not be a soldier like he once was but she was a fighter. And all of a sudden he wanted to treat her like some delicate blushing flower?!
She would have scoffed if she thought he wouldn't have smacked her for her impertinence.
Her lips thinned in frustration at his determination to get himself killed before she turned to Salma. The seer hadn't moved, her hands still calmly folded in her lap as she observed.
"And you?", she sniped, "What do you think about all of this?"
The seer's ancient eyes alighted upon her and Elinor felt a quickening of her pulse, a shot of….something...went through her, making her wary as the seer stared at her.
"I see the decline of the dwarves if we do not retake the mountain. This extended exile will dwindle dwarven numbers to the brink of extinction no matter how they thrive here. We need the line of Durin to endure if they have any hope of survival".
The wise seer spoke with such a surety that Elinor didn't doubt her terrifying words in the slightest and a cold dread settled in her gut.
Elinor's breath fled from her lungs when faced with such a horrifying statement, "Wha…", she started shakily, "What have you seen?"
The elder woman's eyes fell to the fire and her father's steps slowed to a halt.
"I see those mighty halls of stone, the silver floors dusted and empty. I see the dragon no longer dwelling in the mountain...but I see none dwelling in the mountain. The ancient runes upon the great carved doors have faded with time, the forges as cold as the stone. Sorrow will reign over fields of red, littered with shattered shields and bones".
Salma's brow wrinkled as her eyes continued to stare unseeingly into the flames, Elinor trying to keep her heart from thundering in her ears.
"I see the king under the mountain….shrouded in the death-sleep eternal...with the rest of his kin. Entombed with his Orcist and the Arkenstone. Without the leadership of Durin's sons, we cannot move forward and the children of Mahal will slowly disappear".
Elinor's brows pinched in thought.
Orcist? Wasn't that an elven blade? Why would Thorin Longbeard have an elven blade?
Her father let out a ragged sigh and hung his head, Salma reaching forward to take her hand.
"The line of Durin must be protected at all costs. They will be facing more than one foe and our numbers will help make this endeavor easier. If they perish, all hope for the future generations of dwarves will be lost".
Nargu's hoarse voice gruffed, "We must hold a council".
The next night, the raised voices of many echoed in the great hall during the feast of the fallen. Dwarves, elves, and men alike debated the topic of whether to send aid to the king under the mountain. Elinor sat at one of the many long tables, exhausted from a restless night and her food mostly untouched. Faylen and Hadvar opposite of her with Agatha beside her on the bench, lazily drinking her mead from a tankard. They both had their ears tuned into the discussion, silently observing as citizens cried out their opinions.
"We have no ties to any of the other free people of middle earth. We have had minimal contact for well over a century!"
"We must help! They're our kin!"
"Our kin is here!"
"We could rebuild our home!"
"So we abandon one home to rebuild another?!"
"What about our lives here?! I feel no loyalty to a king I've never seen!"
"Will we be able to come home if we fight? Maybe we can help them and in return they'll help us with strengthening our stronghold here!"
"We cannot spare our forces or resources! It'll be time soon enough for the night months and the frost drakes might attack!"
Elinor huffed in frustration and took a gulp of her wine, the alcohol sitting warmly in her belly. All of this tension made her skin prickle and itch and she tried not to scratch at her jaw and neck. Agatha had helped her shave the area of the scalp around the scars on the right side of her head earlier and apply more salve to her irritated skin. Her hair had been rebraided, a full plait ran from the part in her hair down the right side of her head along the edge of the shaven strands and scarring. From the part, a long fringe was pulled towards the left side and a large braid was made behind her left ear. Her gold warrior bead winked in the light. One dwarven ear partially covered by the flaming strands and the other slightly crooked ear displayed. All of her beads were in place as well, per dwarven custom, in other smaller plaits woven into her mane then pulled into a tail with a leather thong.
She had on her normal attire for when she was home, a woolen padded gambeson with black fur lined collar with her steel shoulder plates. She had a claw like scar on her chin from that damned bear, curling down to her neck and had the leather from its carcass used for her boots and the fur for her collar. This all sat upon a base layer consisting of a simple tunic with ornamental stitching on the long sleeves. A wide leather belt similar to the one worn by her father wrapped around her waist. She left her sword belt in her room, her sword sent to be sharpened after their journey. One her right forefinger, she had her signet ring. A silver and dalvinite band that bore the symbol of Hammerdeep, three intertwined circles signified her role as a vassal of the keep and warden of their people. A small pair of crossed axes in the center reminded others it was hers.
The fires in the great hall were usually comfortably warm but with so many people, it was almost stifling. The normally cheerful atmosphere weighed down with serious conversations.
The council sat at the high table, seated as they listened to the citizens of Hammerdeep loudly voice their concerns.
Beirand Bearclaw finally stood and the room went quiet, his commanding presence having long ago earned the respect of their people.
"We are not forcing any of our citizens to go but this would be a great opportunity to foster a relationship with the great dwarves of Erebor. I am confident in Seer Salma's abilities and I trust the word of Gandalf the Grey".
Hadvar was steadily devouring his food as he growled, "Damned witches see omens in the clouds".
Faylen silenced him with a swat on his arm as Elinor met Agatha's eyes for a moment.
"This doesn't mean that any dwarf here is unable t' return to Hammerdeep. This is your home as much as the Lonely Mountain. If what Tharkûn says is true….an even greater evil is rising", Nargu intoned from his seat, his hand tightening on the arm of his chair.
Eurielle stood gracefully to her feet, her long sun spun hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. She placed a hand on Nargu's shoulder before addressing those gathered in the hall.
"A world divided is one that will surely fall", the she-elf added firmly.
The other elves in attendance looked slightly taken aback, one elf questioning, "Will the southern dwarves even accept outside help?"
At this the room fell completely silent. The dwarves' prejudices well known, their natural suspicion of other races making them difficult to other people of Middle Earth.
Beirand and Eurielle glanced at Nargu for guidance, the elder dwarf lost in thought before speaking.
Elinor herself held her breath, also aware that Agatha and even Hadvar were waiting for a response.
"I think….that over a century and a half of wandering will make the King under the Mountain and the nobles more amenable t' help. No matter from where it comes".
Beirand's fist slammed down onto the table, "And they'll get help from some of the best warriors this world has to offer!"
A raucous chorus of cheers rose from many of the dwarves and north men, Agatha raising her tankard before swallowing the rest of her mead.
"Let's get out there and show those southerners how we handle dragons in the North!"
More cheers arose and even Elinor felt her spirits lifted, however marginally. Hadvar was invigorated at the thought of a great battle and Faylen smiled but…..looked about sadly. Having seen the results of battles many times and always left saddened by loss.
They were going to do this. They were going to march south to help the dwarves of Erebor and to take back the mountain.
Beirand drew his sword at the high table, holding it aloft, "For blood and glory!"
Almost every hand in the hall went up, a goblet or tankard in firm grips, "For honor!"
Phew! It's done!
...well...this chapter anyways.
...meh.