This one was weird. I needed six, I had five. I had tried doing one for Gloin, and one for Goldberry, but neither of those two were working out. Slight problem there. And then I hit upon doing one from Gimli's perspective, and then burying it in the middle so at the end my teacher wouldn't remember it as well as others *guilty grin* I guess it worked. *shrug* I don't know if it's bad, I just don't know if I like it as much as others, like Sam's and Galadriel's. Anyway, here's Gimli.
The dwarf's turn. Gimli reflects on certain things right before the start of the Council of Elrond.
When sitting among all these people, I feel small and insignificant. I have no heroic deeds or great learning to my name. I'm a simple dwarf, one with almost impossible ambitions. Being a good fighter does not make you a hero. And there are so many heroes here it's almost impossible to comprehend. Gandalf the Grey is not the least of them, and may be the bravest among us. Certainly one of the wisest, if not the wisest. He knows my father of old, and my father talks of the wizard often, fondly.
Even the little hobbits here are heroes. We did not know much about their race before Bilbo Baggins traveled with my father and Thorin Oakenshield and their companions to destroy the dragon Smaug, but Bilbo's nephew Frodo and his friends Peregrin, Meriadoc, and Samwise are proving as stalwart and determined as my father's old acquaintance. From the limited amount I've heard they have been through dangers innumerable since they left their quiet home in the Shire I've only heard about through my father's stories.
Growing up the son of one of the most famous dwarves in recent history has its downsides, as does any high position. All my life I have heard of the journey to the Lonely Mountain. In my mind I can see each and every detail of the epic battle that ended with three of the companions dead, including Thorin, the leader. My father and his friends came out victorious heroes, and many people expect me to live up to their legacy. It is a hard thing to do when there are no large problems.
But recently several large problems have fallen into our laps. Balin, Ori, and Oin, whom I considered surrogate uncles, have vanished. No more messages come from the mines of Moria. And recently messengers have arrived from that greatest of all evil beings, Sauron, asking about hobbits and a certain ring. We do not know what they mean by the ring, only that it must be very important, but it is plain they are looking for Bilbo. No one wants to give up an old friend of the dwarves to evil, so my father and I were sent to Rivendell to ask the advice of beings wiser than us.
And here we learn about the ring, and its power, and the evil that is rising in the distant lands, and how its tentacles of evil are spreading again over our land. And we learn as well about the quest to destroy that ring and end forever the reign of Sauron.
And here is my chance to prove myself to everyone who doubts me.
But I don't care what the others think. I only care about one person: Gloin, my father. He is a loving father, and has never put pressure on me to be anything but what I want for myself. He only wants to see me do well in the path I choose. How could I tell such a contented soul that I wanted to be just like him? I wanted to walk in his footsteps, become a hero. I wanted it more than anyone wanted me to do it. I perhaps am my own worst critic, and put more pressure on myself than anyone else.
So it is I who is going to represent the dwarves on this quest, the greatest of all time, where the rewards are almost as dangerous as losing. The risk of death is high, but I wave aside that concern without giving it a thought; it will be enough, I know, to have gone on this quest of all.
And maybe I can live up to my father's name.
