Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 6)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for strong language, violence, sexuality and disturbing imagery)

Warnings: Angst, violence, cursing, gore, and violence, violence, violence! With a dash of madness. If you have a weak stomach you might want to read with caution!

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few original characters, Gimli, Gandalf, and other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli while he and Thorin's company were away on their quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is a Book-version, Not movie-version.

A big 'thank you' to everyone who left reviews and emailed me, doomo arigatoo gozaimasu ^_^ !

And another huge 'thank you' to the lovely Little My, for beta-reading! Everyone go read her fics and bug her for more ~_^ !

~~~

Beasts.

~~~

It was late, past midnight, as two figures walked down one of the dark hallways in 'The House of the Red Blossoms'; luckily the brothel catered to clients any time of the day or night.

"You're so late! It's been over two weeks--I didn't think you were coming! Forgot all about me, I thought!" said one of the figures in a pouting tone, causing the other to chuckle.

She wore a long skirt of rich brown and a dark red bodice with no under-blouse, leaving her smooth arms and shoulders open to view. She was an attractive Woman, with an hourglass figure and pale skin that contrasted with her long mane of auburn ringlets. Her large brown eyes, full-lipped mouth and the light dusting of freckles over her heart-shaped face gave her a look of seeming innocence, which couldn't have been farther from the truth. For Ruby was a street-wise Woman and knew exactly how to use her looks to her full advantage.

"Can't get enough of me, eh?" the other laughed, allowing Ruby to lead him down the hallway, watching as she flashed him a pout over her shoulder.

Tir was an average-sized Man, in good shape, and could be counted as quite comely. With his dark hair that just brushed his shoulders, his gray eyes and charming smile, all set in a bit of a baby-face, one would never have guessed what lay just under the Man's handsome exterior.

"I got a bit held up doing something. Men's work--you wouldn't understand. But don't you be worrying none about me stayin' away. Not with those tits and rump here waiting for me!" he continued with a lecherous smirk, giving her posterior a squeeze.

"Tir! Ya beast!" she giggled, smacking his hand away, then playfully evading his arms as he made a grab for her.

She ran ahead of him then, laughing the entire way. Tir growled and gave chase, and she didn't get far before he caught her around the waist. She gave a giggling squeal when he buried his face in her hair, licking her pale neck as one of his hands crept up her chest and began fondling one of her breasts.

He never saw the grimace of disgust that flashed over her face, before the smile and the false giggles returned.

"Hee, hee, Tir! You're so bad!" she playfully admonished him, subtlety forcing his hand off her breast.

"Can't help it--Valar! I could fuck ya right here!" he said between sucking and licking her neck. He gave an annoyed growl when she managed to slip from his grasp again, and watched as she walked backwards away from him before stopping at a particular door.

"I have a surprise for you," she said with a secretive wink, her hand on the doorknob.

"Oh? And what is this… 'surprise'?" he asked as he followed her, not really caring about the answer while again grabbing hold of her and trying to get a kiss.

He gave another frustrated growl when she managed to squirm out of his grasp and evade his kiss.

"It's a surprise, silly!" she said with a laugh, leaning seductively against the door. "Come, have a look!"

With that she opened the creaky door, motioning for him to look inside. His curiosity sparked, even though his mind was on other more pressing urges, he looked into the dark room.

The windowless room was small and sparsely furnished with a single bed, a large chest at the foot of the bed and two small tables. The room was dark save for a single lit candle sitting on the table by the bed, and a small fire in the brick fireplace on the wall opposite the door. Its flickering flames illuminated the place in a soft orange glow as deep shadows jumped and danced.

Yet that was not where Tir's attention was focused. For sitting seductively on the bed with her long legs crossed was Ursla, her blue-gray eyes watching him eagerly with anticipation that he assumed was for him (and he was right, in a way).

He looked back at Ruby, who only smiled, undoing the top laces of her red bodice as she leaned against the open door beside him.

"Both of you?" he asked, his eyebrows raised, looking between the two Women.

"That be right. Two for the price o' one," Ursla said in a husky voice, from the bed. "Now… come over here." She beckoned to him, gracefully crooking a long finger for him to come closer.

Tir flashed Ruby a lustful grin, before eagerly stepping into the room, his arousal clearly evident as he began to hurriedly undo his belt. His hungry gaze was directed at the still smiling Ursla, who slowly uncrossed her legs as she leaned back on the bed.

He took no notice when one of her hands slid under a pillow that was sitting oddly in the middle of the otherwise neatly made bed.

He had just finished undoing his belt, when he jumped in surprise as the door behind him suddenly slammed shut, followed by someone hurriedly locking it from the outside.

"What the--!" he yelled, whirling around in surprise.

Tir immediately went for the door, trying the handle before giving it a few vicious yanks, even though he knew it to be locked.

"Alright, no games, Ruby! Open the door!" He paused, waiting for the door to open, but only heard silence. After waiting a few more moments and still hearing nothing his temper began to flare.

"Open this door! Ruby! RUBY! You open this door right now, you hear me!? Ruby! RUBY, you fucking bitch! OPEN THIS DOOR!!!" he yelled, now pounding on the door as he tried the handle a few more times before finally giving up.

"Alright whore! What are you two playing at--Whoa now!" He had turned around to demand answers from Ursla, only to find the dark-haired Woman now standing next to the bed, a long dagger pointed at him.

"Ursla! Whoa now! What's this all about?" he said, putting on his best disarming smile, his hands up in mock surrender.

"Shut your mouth! Ya…ya piece of troll shit!" Ursla snapped, her red-painted lips pulled into a snarl, her dagger still pointed at him.

"Ursla--Sweetness, come now. Put down the knife. This is must be some kind of mis--"

"I know," she said simply, cutting him off. "I know about Black Hollow. My sister!" she hissed, watching him with enraged and wary eyes.

At the mention of Black Hollow, Tir went still and something dark flashed across his's face, his hands dropping back to his sides. Ursla felt a cold shiver run up her spine as she watched his charming smile immediately disappear into a frightening mask of cold calculation, the room's temperature seeming to drop several degrees.

"How do you know about that?" he asked, his flat tone making it a demand.

"Someone survived," Ursla answered, forcing herself to sound calm.

"Damn! Those idiot goblins can't be trusted to do anything right!" Tir snarled to himself, before turning his attention back to the raven-haired Woman. His smile from before came back to his face, only now it was truly sinister.

"Oh well, nothing to be done about it now…except clean up some loose ends," he said in a charming voice as he began to advance towards her.

"Why!?" she hissed, backing away as her heart raced in her chest. "Why betray your own kind!?

"Don't be a fool! You're a whore, you know exactly 'why'. Why do you lay on your back with your legs splayed for any Man?" he sneered at her with a laugh.

"YA FOUL BEAST! Ya helped murder all those innocents! Betrayed your own kind for GOLD!?" Ursla spat at him, her teeth bared as she trembled with barely suppressed rage.

"Of course gold. All the gold one could ever want. Sounds like a good payoff to me," he said with a smug smirk.

"How could ya!? Slaughterin' an entire town for--" But Tir interrupted her tirade with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

"So? Who will care about some miserable little coal mining town with a load of no-name peasants and a bunch of dirty Dwarves, eh?"

"And me sister and her family?!" Ursla demanded, the dagger in her white-knuckled grip trembling as Tir still advanced.

"An old whore and her vermin offspring," he told her with a smile and a shrug.

"Valar stab your eyes! You--YOU MONSTER!!! Coming in here, speakin' ta me! Having a grand ol' time, knowing what was happening there-- to all of them!" she hissed at him, tears of anger now streaking down her face.

"So? So you decided to lure me here, to kill me? Don't make me laugh!" he said with a nasty chuckle.

"You know it will take more then a mere 'whore' with a pocketknife to do me in," he laughed while strolling casually to stand by the bed, watching as Ursla backed cautiously away, her dagger still pointed at him.

She knew his words, no matter how maddening, were true. Even unarmed, he could easily overpower and disarm her if she was not careful.

Tir let out a theatrical sigh of disappointment, the orange glow of the flickering flames with the deep shadows of the room giving a sinister look to his otherwise pleasant face.

"I don't know how you found out, but I'll sadly have to slit that pale neck of yours now," he said, giving her an apologetic look, like he was begging her pardon for some trivial thing and not for the taking of her life.

"Nothing personal…but I can't have you running that pretty mouth of yours," he said with a little shrug while coming around the bed towards her, a menacing smile now on his face. Ursla by now had backed away until she stood by the fireplace, her back against the wall beside it.

"But before I do…why don't you tell me where I can find this 'insightful' friend of yours?" he asked, no doubt planning to silence them as well.

"Why don't you be askin' him yourself?" she said, as an equally vindictive smile suddenly spread over her face, her dagger lowering to her side. This sudden change in her behavior gave him pause, and he halted in the middle of the room.

"Did ya hear that, Luv? Someone wants to 'ave a word with ya," she cooed. Tear streaks still shone wetly on her cheeks as she moved to look at something behind him, by the door, before turning her gaze back to the now confused Tir.

"You'll be dyin' ta meet him," she smiled coyly. The dancing flames lit half of her face with an eerie glow, casting the other half in deep shadow; suddenly she seemed strangely menacing as she watched him with pained and vengeful eyes.

Tir felt icy fingers race up his spine as all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He whipped around in the direction of the door, fists up in a defensive stance, cursing that he no longer had his sword at his side.

'The House of the Red Blossoms' had few rules, but one of them was that no weapons were allowed in the brothel. Lady D strictly enforced the rule; all weapons were to be checked at the door. No exceptions.

The room went deathly quiet, except for the occasional pop or hiss from the small fire, as Tir's gray eyes scanned the room for this 'him'. At first he saw nothing but the locked door, the empty bed, the small table with the still lit candle, the fire causing the many dark shadows of the room to jump and flicker. But then he saw something…

Deep in a shadowed corner of the room by the door, he noticed what looked like two sparks of flame. At first he didn't know what he was looking at, then a deep dread seized his heart. He realized that what he was seeing was the room's small fire being reflected in a pair of eyes that watched him silently from the depths of the shadow.

It was then he heard the sound of movement, as something shifted in the recesses of the corner and the owner of those frightening eyes began to move forward. He watched with baited breath as a Dwarf appeared from the darkness, the flickering flames of the fire casting sparks off his dark copper hair held back from his face in a thick ponytail, and the thick crescent blades of the two axes he held.

He sucked air in sharply through his clenched teeth, the blood draining from his face as he stared at the Dwarf as if seeing a ghost. Which was not far from the truth.

He remembered this Dwarf; Grim, Grimly, Gimli--or something of that nature. The copper-haired Dwarf was always with that loud insulting one--the Dwarf with the amber-colored eyes, the one that was always cracking jokes, always insulting him and the other wagon drivers.

He remembered watching this Dwarf and the other one fighting and cursing like mad as the goblins clapped them in chains, then dragged them kicking and screaming down into the bowels of the mine, with all the other Men and Dwarves. Down into the mine that would be their tomb.

He remembered going with Rowell sometimes to watch the mine owner gloat over the prisoners, feeding them lies about their loved ones so they would stay passive and mine the coal. He caught occasional glimpses of them later, when he was not delivering the coal, chained with the other Dwarves down in the lower tunnels, covered in soot, pickaxe in hand, mining the coal with all the other exhausted prisoners. He'd watched with amusement as the goblins and orcs tormented them as they worked or just beat them mercilessly for the sheer fun of it.

How could he have escaped the fire!?

"You… it's not possible! You're all dead!" he hissed in frightened denial, all bravado from before gone as he took a step back. He was no fool-- he had seen this one in action when he would spar occasionally with his amber-eyed friend or one of the other Dwarves, and he knew he didn't stand a chance.

The Dwarf tilted his head a bit, as if not understanding his words, before he spoke. "Not all," he answered simply, in a deep rumbling voice.

With those few words from the apparition, Tir was jolted into frantic action. In desperation, the Man suddenly lunged for Ursla, hoping to use her as a shield and take her weapon. But Ursla was no fool, and had prepared herself in case he tried just such a tactic.

Tir was reaching out to try and snag Ursla by her long black hair, when he gave a yell of pain as Ursla's dagger slashed him deeply across the face, from right cheek, over his nose to just under his left eye.

Ducking out of his reach, she dashed across the room, over the bed and to the door, while the Man crashed against the wall where she had stood just moments before, empty handed and clutching his now bloody face. Gimli now stood between them in the middle of the room.

"The town--the hostages…the fire! Why!?" Gimli demanded, advancing on the Man when Tir finally looked up again.

Tir watched the Dwarf stalk closer, his heart pounding in his ears, the still bleeding cut across his face painting the lower half of his face red. In a last desperate move, Tir decided that he would not go down without a fight. If he could surprise the Dwarf and just get a hold of one of those axes…it was a long shot but he saw no other option at the moment.

With that thought Tir suddenly rushed the Dwarf, trying to catch him off guard; it was a foolish plan at best.

He hadn't taken two steps in Gimli's direction when the Dwarf knocked him back with the back of one of his axes, catching the Man in the side. The blow was not forceful enough to brake bones or cause major damage, just enough to stop his attack and give him something to think about.

Tir crashed back with a yell; he stayed on the ground for several moments before slowly getting up, using the wall for support. Gimli calmly put both of his axes back in their holsters at his sides as Tir watched warily, still leaning heavily on the wall. Then the Man gave a sneer, glaring down his nose at the Dwarf, who now stood in front of him.

"I'll tell you nothing! Mud rat --Oughff!!" Whatever else he was going to say was lost as Gimli punched him in the stomach, and even before Tir could double over clutching his abdomen, his head flew back as Gimli then punched him in the face, knocking the Man back against the wall.

He would have slid to the floor in a daze if the Dwarf hadn't roughly seized him by the front of his tunic, hauling him up again. Tir flinched back as Gimli shoved his face in front of his own.

"Wrong answer! Now speak! Or I'll start breaking your hands…" Gimli snarled, and the burning look in his almond-shaped eyes told Tir that he wouldn't hesitate to carry out the threat.

Faced with this, the last of Tir's bravery fled, and now he found all he really wanted was his life. Nothing else really mattered anymore. His comrades, the gold, his pride, his dignity-- it all no longer mattered. Just his life.

"I did nothing-- I killed no one! I only drove the carts!" he denied, the right side of his face already beginning to swell and bruise from Gimli's blow.

"LIAR!!! Rowell hired you and all the other wagon drivers! You knew of his intentions before ya ever came ta Black Hollow!" Gimli bellowed angrily, disgusted that this was the same Man just moments before who had been casually smiling, about to kill Ursla as if it were no great thing. And here he was now, white-faced, bloodied and cowering. It made Gimli want to vomit.

"LYING FILTH!!" Ursla screeched. Tir looked to her, having forgotten all about her, just in time to yelp as one of her shoes bounced off his forehead, which she had taken off and thrown in her anger. It was soon followed by the second, which unfortunately missed.

"Ya knew! And ya helped those monsters! You BASTARD! TRAITOR!!!

"Coward!" Gimli hissed, agreeing with her. "Now speak! The fire in the mine, the hostages--why!?"

"I- it was all Rowell's idea! People were starting to talk in the surrounding villages, it was…they'd find out what was going on. Rowell--he was rolling in gold by then. So he came up with a plan. W-he--he waited till most of the goblins and orcs were gone--"

"Gone ta slaughter and burn the surroundin' villages, like Shiprock, ya mean!" Ursla spat from across the room.

Tir's wary eyes flicked momentarily to her with a flash of annoyance and contempt. Seeing this, Gimli made a point of lifting the Man bodily off the floor and slamming him into the wall.

"It was the perfect time for Rowell's plan!" Tir continued hurriedly, looking back to Gimli.

"What plan!?" the Dwarf demanded as Ursla came to stand behind him, glaring over his broad shoulder at the white-faced Tir, her dagger still in hand.

"He didn't want to share the gold--and he knew the goblins would turn on us.

"There were so many of 'em-- they'd already killed and eaten everything. They'd finished the last of the hostages, and were already turning on each other--w-we knew they'd be turning on us soon. So Rowell came up with a plan--a way for us to keep all the gold and get rid of most of the goblins and…" Tir trailed off, giving a nervous swallow, his heart thundering in his chest.

"And what!?" Gimli demanded, giving the Man a vicious shake.

"An--and get rid of all the witnesses," he continued again, his voice audibly trembling as he stared at the fuming Dwarf with wide nervous eyes.

"H-he knew most of the goblins and orcs would be in the mine and t-those that were left guarding the town would be hiding away in their dark holes… So he decided to collapse the mine during the day. Someone would create a distraction while someone else carried out Rowell's plan…but his first plan took too long," he told them, his voice cracking every now and then.

As Gimli stood there listening, still holding the babbling wagon driver, his memory suddenly jumped back to the mine, walking up the dark tunnel with Hanar, Ulfr, Svior, and little Nidi. The sound of their heavy footsteps and the clinking of their heavy chains echoing around the dark tunnel as they trudged. The heavy and coarse iron collars digging into their thick necks…

~~~

"Who would want to damage one of the mine's support beams?" Nidi asked from his ever present place beside Svior.

"I don't know, but whoever it was knew exactly where to damage it, and knows that if that section goes it will collapse the entire mine," Hanar answered with a growl.

"Maybe it was one of the orcs that damaged it," suggested Svior, as he gave Nidi a playful bump with his shoulder (which Nidi returned), not really paying attention to what was being said.

"They wouldn't still be down here if they planned on collapsing the mine on us. Also the damage to the wood was not from a Goblin blade, but the clean cuts of a good axe," Hanar said, shaking his head.

"Then it couldn't have been one of us. All we have is our picks and shovels. Not to mention none of us is that daft," said Gimli, as he steered around the rotting remains of some unidentified creature on the floor.

"But how could someone damage it without being caught by the orcs, or at least being seen by one of us?" asked Ulfr, his lip curling in disgust as he and the others stepped over a half eaten dead dog (orcs were not picky in the least about what they ate).

"Whoever it was must have snuck in and done it when all the goblins were fighting over that gold coin they found," said Hanar as he stroked his normally silver (now black) beard in thought.

"So that huge fight was over a gold coin?" Svior signed in disbelief.

"That's right, you should have seen them. You would have thought it was a couple of mithril ingots, the way they tore at each other," Hanar signed back, his eyes narrowing in disgust at the memory as he led them up the dark tunnel.

"It doesn't surprise me one bit. Greedy beasts, may their eyes rot out of their empty heads!" growled Gimli, hawking a spit on an unconscious orc, a broken bottle on the floor next to it, as they walked past.

"Who would want to collapse the mine? If it's not one of one of the prisoners or the orcs, maybe it's Rowell?" signed Nidi, as he twisted his earlobe in thought. The tunnel had widened enough so that the four no longer walked single file; Hanar was in the lead, with Gimli and Ulfr right behind, followed by Svior and Nidi.

"I don't know…Rowell is making a ton of gold with this mine. Why would he want to destroy it? Where's the profit in that?" Gimli asked as they continued to follow the grumbling Hanar.

~~~

The realization struck him. Of course! he thought, cursing himself for being so blind. Nidi, you'd been right all along!

The gold coin that caused the huge fight with all the goblins and orcs was the distraction! So someone could take an axe to one of the mine's main support beams without being caught by the goblins or being seen by one of the prisoners!

Rowell being the mine owner knew which exact beam would collapse the mine. But it took too long to wait for the mine to collapse…he must have realized that someone would notice, like Hanar, and they might have enough time to fix it.

So he had to do something else…something else that would get rid of the goblins, the evidence in the mines, and all the witnesses to what he had done…

"So he set fire to the mine!" Gimli suddenly finished for the Man, causing both Ursla and Tir to look at him. His gaze turned inward, remembering all the lives lost to the unforgiving flames, before finally returning to the present and the pale-faced Man he held against the wall, Ursla's warm presence behind him.

"A-Aye, He got Hamin to go down and set it up…when the mine blew, we made our escape with the gold. We'd be long gone by the time the goblins noticed," Tir finished with a jerky nod of his head, his blue eyes still glued to Gimli, who glared at him with contempt and disgust.

For long moments no one said anything, only the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional pop of the fire breaking the silence in the small dark room.

Then Ursla stepped closer, putting a sweating and trembling hand on Gimli's back, and leaned over his shoulder until her pretty and flushed face was but mere inches from Tir's pale and bloodied one. He turned his nervous and weary gaze to her and felt another chill run up his spine. For her blue-gray eyes were nothing but chips of cold ice, seeming to look right through him

"Tir? Be a dear and be tellin' us where Rowell and the rest of ya friends are, yes?" she cooed sweetly. Her face remained an emotionless mask, and that for some reason seemed to scare Tir more than if she was screaming at him.

He remained silent for a moment, simply staring at her, until Gimli shifted and subtly tightened his hold as a warning for Tir to answer her question. Tir looked between the two and quickly decided to answer, being not particularly loyal to anyone at the moment, save himself.

"They're all camped out in the old Ash forest, on the east road, towards Bree. Just follow the road until it hits a sharp bend, c-can't miss it. But Rowell…he's already--"

But by this time both Gimli and Ursla were no longer paying attention. Gimli dropped him to the floor before he could finish, and stepped away-- the Dwarf and the Woman cared only about the whereabouts of Rowell's and the other wagon drivers.

Tir now sat on the floor, looking up at the two as they both stared down at him with emotionless faces. Only their eyes, with the reflection of the fire's flames dancing in them, betrayed their turbulent thoughts. The orange glow of the fire and the dark flickering shadows of the small room seemed to transform them both into strange and sinister beings.

"Anything else, Ursla?" Gimli asked, breaking the deathly silence that had fallen over the room. His gaze never left the frightened Man on the floor, who looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Aye!" she said, coming to stand over Tir and glaring down her nose at him. It was hard for her to believe that this was the same Man that had planned to murder her with only a shrug and a smug smile just a short while ago.

She leaned down, getting a little closer to him before spitting right in his face.

"Valar burn your soul!" she hissed at him, watching him flinch. Then with a lightning quick move she stabbed him in the shoulder.

He let out a yell of pain, clutching his bleeding shoulder as she stepped back holding her now bloody dagger in her hand, her red-painted lips pulled back in a snarl. Gimli only watched quietly from a few feet away, until Ursla gave him a curt nod, letting him know she was through.

With that Gimli walked forward, then knelt in front of the battered and bleeding Man.

Tir looked up from his wounded shoulder, grimacing with the pain, just in time to see Gimli kneel in front of him, before a broad hand suddenly seized him by the face.

He let out a panicked scream that was muffled by the hand now clamped over his face, when he felt another broad hand grip him by the back of his head. Tir felt as if his head were caught in an iron vise, as he continued to scream and thrash desperately, kicking and clawing at the Dwarf, but nothing worked.

Ursla watched dispassionately nearby, drinking in the sight of the Man's panicked, desperate, and altogether futile attempts of escape.

A sudden loud crack filled the air, then the room fell silent once more…

~~~

There was a flurry of activity as Gimli quickly walked down the hall heading for the stairs, his heavy footsteps accompanied by the creak of leather and the occasional clink of the three axes now attached to his belt. His broad muscular form exuded a palpable aura of menace, as a fire burned in his rich-brown eyes.

Apparently what had happened in the room, where he had left Tir's remains- and Ursla, had not gone unnoticed. Many of the brothel's residents, who were still up at this hour, made sure to stay out of the brooding Dwarf's way; some watched in confusion, whispering amongst themselves, others just gave a curious look before continuing on with their own activities. But a surprising number watched him walk by with knowing eyes as they leaned in their doorways.

"Gimli! What's going on?" called someone from behind him.

"Aye! What be all the ruckus?" asked another, followed by the sound of bare feet running down the wooden floor of the hallway.

Gimli paused at the top of the stairs and turning he saw young Gwen and Raden hurrying up to him. Gwen stood at about the same height as Gimli; Raden, a head taller. Both had clearly been asleep mere moments before, Raden clad only in a pair of hastily donned trousers and Gwen in her simple sleeping shirt.

"Nothing ta worry about. I'm just off ta finish something," he said cryptically, flashing them both a winning smile that did not reach his eyes, before quickly descending the narrow stairs that led to the kitchen.

"Finish? Finish what? I don't understand!" Gwen called after him. She and Raden were just about to follow him down, when they both heard Ursla coming down the hall.

"Gwen--Luv, ya get back to bed! This ain't nothing ta worry about. That be going for ya too Raden!" she said ,coming up to them.

They could see she was quite flushed, hurriedly wiping her hands on a noticeably blood-stained rag. Neither teen moved as both stared at the bloody rag in her hands. Following their gaze, Ursla quickly hid the rag behind her back, before pointing to the directions of their respective rooms with her free hand.

"Off with ya! Back ta bed!" she ordered them. Gwen began to slowly do as she was told, but Raden had other ideas.

"I'm going downstairs!" Raden declared, jabbing his thumb at his narrow chest. "If Gimli is going to be tossing another one of the rowdy drunkards out a window again, I want ta watch!

"Beside, you're not my mother! You can't tell me what to do!" he snorted in defiance, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is that the way it's gonna be now?" Ursla asked, one eyebrow cocked as she glared at him.

"Aye!"

He let out a squawk as a fuming Ursla grabbed him by the ear and proceeded to drag him to his room, yelping the whole way. Gwen trailed nervously after them, looking occasionally back at the stairs.

~~~

When Gimli stepped into the kitchen, he was a bit surprised to see three other people there.

Sitting at the table with his long legs crossed, casually smoking a curved pipe, was Draco. Clad only in a dove-gray silk robe, his long dark hair falling around his slim shoulders and down his back, his aristocratic featured face was highlighted by his coal-lined eyes and burgundy painted lips.

Gimli had decided, after a few days of staying and working at this place, that while the exotic Merry still remained one of the most beautiful Women he had ever come to know, Draco was definitely one of the most beautiful Men(1). He caught himself many a time looking at them, which seem to please them both, and give Ursla all the more reason to constantly tease him.

Though Gimli did think the makeup Draco wore a bit odd, but that was just his opinion.

The flame-haired Lady D stood statuesquely at the head of the long table, her hair done up in its ever present bun. Her dark forest green clothes with her black shawl contrasted with her pale skin, making her face seeming carved from alabaster.

Standing next to her was the auburn-haired Ruby, who Gimli thought would be very attractive if not for her shrewish personality, that blessedly none of her clients ever saw. If she had a tail it would have been lashing back and forth with her clear agitation.

"You killed him, didn't you?" Ruby snapped, glaring holes through him, hands on her ample hips.

"What do you think?" he asked back flippantly. Giving the fuming Woman a cool glance with one eyebrow cocked, as he proceeded to take out his hair tie and refasten his hair back into a long tail. She gave him a scowl before turning to Lady D next to her.

Gimli had found out early on that Ruby had taken an immediate disliking to him, being a Dwarf and all, but most especially upon finding out that he was also a close friend of Ursla and her family. In fact she was one of only a few that disliked him here, making a point of ignoring him or snubbing him at all available opportunities. Though Gimli could truly have cared less, making a point of feigning deafness when she demanded he do something.

"I want compensation, D! Tir was one of my best payin' regulars!" she demanded, her pretty face flushed with her agitation

"Ruby, we will deal with this later, as agreed," Lady D told her calmly.

"No, I want ta deal with it now!"

"Ruby, dear, do us all a favor and kindly shut your face," the long-haired Man said, speaking up for the first time that morning, before taking another puff on his pipe.

"You shut up, Draco! You didn't lose one of your regulars!" she snapped, turning her furious glare on him. But he only rolled his eyes and gave her a rather rude hand gesture, which he still manage to somehow make look graceful.

"Bitch!" Ruby hissed at him with a glare of pure venom, as she visibly bristled.

"Cow!" he hissed right back, before purposefully blowing some smoke in her direction.

"Ladies!" D called, holding up her two hands, calmly halting them before they could continue. Both reluctantly did so, and confident that there would be no other outbursts, D turned her full attention to the smaller Woman standing next to her.

"Ruby, we will deal with your compensation later," she said again, though there was an undercurrent of steel to her words this time, leaving no room for argument.

Ruby looked as if she wanted to say more, but after catching the piercing glint in the older Woman's eyes she reluctantly backed down. She made a point of shooting both Draco and Gimli a fierce glare before storming out of the kitchen heading for the outer rooms, her heavy skirt swishing behind her.

Lady D watched her go before turning her attention to Gimli, who was looking around the kitchen for a bucket and some extra rags.

"Ready to go already, I see?" she asked him, watching him look up from his searching around in the kitchen cupboards.

"Aye, I just need to take care of the--"

"Go, Master Dwarf," Lady D said, waving him off, her long black fan in hand. "We will take care of Tir."

"My thanks, Lady D," he said, getting up and giving her a bow, a bit surprised at her offer.

She gave him a nod before turning her attention to the elegant Man sitting at the table, who had just put out his pipe.

"Draco, go get Sam. We have some garbage to dispose of."

"Oh, all right," he said with a sigh, before getting up. He gave Gimli a wink and a smile as he passed him, before sauntering out one of the many entrances, a pronounced swing to his narrow hips.

Just then Ursla came huffing down the stairs, her hair put up in a hastily done bun.

"Gimli! There ya are! Did ya find the bucket?" she asked, catching sight of him standing near one of the side cabinets. But before he could answer her, Lady D did.

"It's not here. Mavis left it in Pearl's room last night… she has quite the hangover, I hear," she said, walking up to the surprised dark-haired Woman. "With luck she's done with it by now, so why don't you go get it? I'm sending Sam up in a moment to help you."

"T-Thank you Miss D," Ursla said, before a worried look stole over her face. She turned to Gimli, who had also come to stand by her.

"I guess this means you're leaving?" she said in more of a statement than a question.

"Aye," he answered simply, giving her a small smile.

Ursla bit her bottom lip, clearly not liking the idea of him going to confront Rowell alone; in fact since they had come up with their plan, this had been the one part of it that they had fought the hardest on. Their arguments had become so heated that they had been heard throughout the brothel, but no matter how hard she fought him on it, she knew that there was not really any other way.

"Ya be careful! Ya hear me?!" she said, giving him a crushing hug and a peck on each cheek before stepping back. She then reached up and gave one of his thick forelocks a sharp tug.

"Ow! Ursla!?" Gimli yelped, shooting her a glare, which she returned just as fiercely.

Lady D watched this with one elegant eyebrow cocked. Interesting, she thought to herself.

"Don't ya even think about gettin' 'urt! Ya 'ere me!? Or ya be in big trouble! Ya hear?!" she yelled at him, her hands on her hips, before suddenly giving him another crushing hug.

Gimli returned the hug, gently patting her back, looking a bit confused. "Ursla--"

But before he could say anything else she pulled away and all but ran out of the kitchen, before quickly ascending the narrow stairs, hoping that no one saw her tears or the anguished look on her face.

The kitchen was quiet as the two remaining beings still looked to where the raven-haired Woman had disappeared. Then with a sigh the Dwarf turned and made his way out of the kitchen to the main door of the brothel, a new determination in his dark eyes.

He had just reached the door and opened it, and was in the process of stepping through it when a voice called out from behind him.

"Gimli?" He paused in the doorway, but did not turn to look back at her.

"It won't bring them back, you know…killing this Rowell and those Men," Lady D said, gliding silently up behind him.

"I know…yet I can't…Ulfr, Shala, Hanar--all the others. I…I must do this!" he hissed desperately.

"Then do what you must…but I warn you. Don't let this consume you, Dwarf," she said simply, watching him with an impassive face, though if one had looked they would have been surprised to see genuine compassion shining in her normally cold storm-gray eyes. "You tread a dangerous path."

He said nothing, still framed by the doorway, his dark eyes staring out at nothing as the first light of the rising sun peeked out over the dark rooftops, turning the gathering clouds above red and gold. D took notice of the red sky, taking it for the warning it was; a storm was coming.

Then without a word, Gimli began to walk away. Lady D now stood in the doorway, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward against the early morning chill. She watched him walk away down the nearly deserted street, his deep copper hair a shocking splash of color standing out in the otherwise dark and drab scene, before he eventually disappeared down an alley.

"Beware the road of Vengeance…for it be a lonely and short one," she said quietly to herself, wondering if he was ever going to come back.

~~~

It was late in the afternoon; the sky was overcast, the dark clouds heavy with rain, and a chill was in the air. In the forest below, a balding Man walked down a well-trodden road, heading for Ocendade.

He took no notice of the threatening weather or the dark forest to either side of the road, completely lost in his own thoughts, his two beloved dogs trotting obediently at his heels.

Both dogs stood about hip high to the Man, with short bristly tan-colored coats. They were large muscular animals, with broad powerful muzzles, short floppy ears, and thin tails (2.). Both had studded leather collars about their thick necks; their breed was used mainly in guarding and hunting of large animals, such as elk, bears or wolves.

The Man himself was rather nondescript with the exception of his thinning hair and having a crooked nose--no doubt it had been badly broken many times over the years. His dusty boots crunched loudly with every step he took, the sound companioned by the two trotting dogs' constant panting.

"That Hobbit-chewing piece of snot! Who the hell does Fouhst think he is… Taking over, thinkin' he's the leader now, splitting up the gold as he pleases… Why am I the one that has to get the ale!? I ain't no servant! Why I should…" He kept muttering to himself, glaring down at the dirt and gravel under his feet, lost in his ranting while he stomped down the road towards Ocendade.

It was just then that the two large dogs suddenly stopped, their panting immediately ceasing as their heads came up to stare at something. The fur on their backs visibly began to bristle as they both lowered their heads and growled at something further up the road.

The sound of the growls shook the Man out of his belligerent thoughts and he stopped, looking in confusion at the two agitated dogs flanking him before following where their attention was directed. He felt his gut clench as his instincts began to scream at him to run the other way as fast as he could.

Standing in the middle of the road in front of them, about ten yards away, was a Dwarf. That in itself would not have been particularly strange, except he recognized this Dwarf, and this particular Dwarf was supposed to be dead. Very dead.

The Dwarf watched him emotionlessly, its short-bearded face seemingly made of stone, its flashing eyes boring into the Man. He backed up a step, his heart racing, his grimy hand going to the handle of his sword. The growls of the two dogs intensified as the Dwarf calmly began to walk forward.

Surprisingly the Dwarf, with his frighteningly expressionless face, still hadn't taken out any of its axes that hung on its thick belt. The Man stared open-mouthed before quickly recovering some of his wits.

"Basher, Smasher! Sic 'em!" the Man ordered his dogs, pointing at the advancing Dwarf. Both dogs immediately obeyed, charging forward, barking and gnashing their teeth. As they raced towards the Dwarf it stopped and waited calmly for them to come to him.

When the first dog got close enough to lunge, the Dwarf lashed out with a lighting fast move of his arm, back-handing the dog with a closed fist. The dog gave a horrible high-pitched yelp, which was followed by a loud snap as the dog flew back, smashing into a large tree trunk before falling into an unmoving heap on the ground.

The other dog by now had also reached the Dwarf, and it too gave a yelping shriek, flying back to land nearly at the shocked Man's feet, kicking up a cloud of dust on impact.

The dog's head was partially collapsed, its broad muzzle at an odd angle, one of its eyes hanging from its socket. The Man stared in horror at the dead dog, before his attention snapped back to the now advancing Dwarf, who had just batted his two beloved dogs away as if they had been insects.

"My dogs!!! You bloody bastard! You killed them!!!" the bald Man screamed angrily, spittle flying out of his mouth. He clumsily drew his noticeably notched sword, holding it in front of him with both hands.

"Sorry about that… I'm not here to kill dogs," the Dwarf said in a deep voice that held no apology, as it calmly took out the axe from its right holster, walking forward as the Man in turn began to back away.

The Dwarf stopped its approach when it reached the carcass of the second dog. The Man watched in confusion as the copper-haired Dwarf paused then reached down, taking hold of the dog's wide collar. It then lifted the body up with complete ease until the large dog dangled from its muscular upraised arm.

The Dwarf seem to studied the corpse for a moment, before turning its dark eyes back to the nervous Man.

The Man didn't even have time to yell as the Dwarf's long thick arm suddenly snapped back, and hurled the dog at him.

He crashed to the ground, the air knocked out of him with the force of the carcass colliding with him. He gave a pained groan as he tried to rise, the heavy weight of the dog's body hindering him. He had just managed to push the dog off him when something knocked him back to the ground, and he found a heavy Dwarven boot digging into his chest.

He looked up to see the Dwarf standing calmly over him. In panicked desperation, the Man lifted up his arm that still held his sword, to try to slash or stab the Dwarf.

He felt a strange tug on his wrist when he did this, and a moment later heard the ringing clatter of metal by his ear. Time seem to stop for the Man as he turned his head and saw his own sword lying next to him, his hand still tightly clutched to the handle.

At first he couldn't understand what he was seeing, blinking dumbly before slowly looking back up at his raised arm and seeing the bloody stump where his hand used to be. The Dwarf with its dark frightening eyes still calmly watched from above him, its axe now stained red.

The Man stared in disbelief. His eyes bulged in their sockets as choked and inarticulate sounds issued from his widely gaping mouth, spittle dripping from his chin, before he turned pleading and terrified eyes to the Dwarf.

The Man saw no mercy in those burning eyes…

~~~

Further up the road in a large clearing was a camp, inhabited by ten Men. Off to one side of the camp were sixteen horses tethered to a rope line; a little further away on a smaller line were tethered four pack ponies. Various pieces of equipment, such as bedrolls, saddles, and travel packs were scattered about the camp.

Of the ten Men only two were present by the light of the camp's fire. The other eight were elsewhere-- one was still not back from a trip into Ocendade the day before, one gone with his two dogs to get some ale from town, the other off in the woods to relieve himself, four others were further down the road, filling their water skins in the creek and another out gathering dry firewood before the rain came.

There had actually been more Men camped here at one time, but some had left on their own, and a few others would never leave, their bodies laying hidden in the surrounding woods. There was no honor with this group, especially when there was gold to be had.

A wiry-built, blond Man sat next to the cheerful fire; he had declared himself the leader of those still left at the camp after the… unfortunate demise of their previous leader. He sat there counting gold coins in a sack, with many similar sacks sitting next to him, nearly nineteen in all.

Worth a king's ransom, or that of all the lives of a slaughtered town.

The other Man was standing next to the fire, looking anxiously down the road that disappeared around a sharp bend in the direction of Ocendade.

"I'm telling you, Fouhst. I heard something. It sounded like one of Graza's dogs," insisted the young Man. He couldn't have been more then twenty three years old, with dark hair that just touched his shoulders. Like the other Men of their camp he was dressed in dark, good quality traveling clothes, with a pair of high laced-up boots.

"Gaza probably kicked one of 'em again--who knows! Maybe they caught a rabbit or something. I personally don't give a shit, as long as he gets back soon with the ale," grumbled the other sourly, not looking up from caressing the gold coins in his hands.

"And speakin' of 'soon'... that snot-nosed bastard Tir still ain't back yet, and what in Valar be taking Gwiryn and the others so damned long!? Shouldn't take over half the damned day to fill our water skins!" continued Fouhst, throwing a glare down the road in the direction their other companions had taken towards the creek.

"It ain't been that long. Gwiryn and the others probably stopped to do a little sword practice with Owynvan," answered the younger Man in an admonishing tone.

"Gwiryn is out of his mind to bring that child along! We should have left this area long ago…" the Man continued to grumble, inspecting a particular coin closer.

The dark-haired Man rolled his eyes at the older Man's words, before speaking again.

"Gwiryn just wants to spend some time with his son-- he hasn't seen him since we did that long job over at that coal town down south. Besides, Owynvan is fifteen and good with a sword. It's good for him to be out seein' the world!" he said, but the Fouhst only snorted, muttering something under his breath.

Letting out a big sigh, he threw the older Man another annoyed glance before looking back the way Gaza and his dogs had gone. The strange sound from before, it could have been a scream, he thought, but maybe it was nothing. But something just kept nagging at him. He looked briefly up at the dark sky when another clap of thunder rolled overhead, trying to understand the strange feeling prickling along his nerves.

"I still swear I heard something," he said quietly to himself, but apparently Fouhst heard him as well.

"Will you shut up about that already!?" snapped the other in exasperation, looking up from the coins in his gnarled hands.

The young Man shot him a glare before going back to watching the road.

Damn Fouhst anyway! Hate the way he and the others be treatin' me like a child-- like Owynvan! Greedy…sour old bastard! he thought to himself as he stood at the edge of their camp, looking down the road while straining his ears to listen for any other strange noises.

Yet all he heard was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the creaking of the forest around them, or the occasional pop and hiss of the fire, as well as the clear clinks of the gold coins that Fouhst still fondled in his hands. Still he continued to listen for anything unusual and still there was nothing. He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling…

It was then he heard something; listening closer he identified them as heavy footfalls, coming from down the road.

Hmmm…It's too soon for Gaza to be back already, and it can't be Tir because he took his horse when he left yesterday. Probably just some peasant or farmer on their way back from town, he thought to himself, as he watched where the road disappeared around the sharp bend, the thick trees of the forest blocking his view.

He began to grow a little more anxious as the sounds drew closer, and he waited with baited breath for whoever it was to appear. It definitely can't be Gaza. I'd be hearing his dogs by now. He gave a nervous swallow.

A flicker of movement through the trees, and a moment later whoever it was rounded the bend; he strained his eyes in fearful anticipation before he saw it was--

The young Man let out a big sigh of relief, immediately relaxing. Just a Dwarf! And here I was all worried for nothing! he mentally berated himself, running his fingers through his short hair as he watched the lone Dwarf walk down the road towards him.

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance; the dark-haired Man glanced up before turning his back to the road and the Dwarf and walking back to stand by the fire again. The blond also looked up at the threatening clouds above as another clap of thunder rolled across the cloudy sky .

"Looks like rain soon," he snorted, annoyance clear in his voice as he cinched up the sack of gold he had been counting, tossing it down with the others.

"Damn it all! I hate getting wet!" griped the younger Man, glaring up at the sky.

"Don't worry about it, Hamin. Come on, you can help me set up Rowell's tent," the other said with a smirk.

"Ya mean that big one? Are ya sure?"

"Why not, eh? After all--he ain't going be using it!" Fouhst said with nasty laugh. He got up with a grunt and gave a long stretch, his back giving a series of audible pops.

Fouhst had turned to say something more when he gave a loud curse of surprise, stumbling back a few steps, staring at something behind the younger Man.

Hamin turned in surprise to see the Dwarf, who had been walking down the road, just walk right into their camp.

"Hey! Who are you!?" the young Man demanded, and immediately a pair of dark almond-shaped eyes zeroed in on him.

In that moment Hamin wished he had said nothing as a horrible dread swept through his very being. He hadn't even managed to put a hand on the grip of his short sword, when the Dwarf was on him in the a blink of an eye.

His head snapped back and he saw stars as the Dwarf gave him an open backhand that sent him sprawling. He crashed to the ground, his ears ringing as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, nearly choking on one of his dislodged teeth. But the Dwarf wasn't through yet.

He had just managed to lever himself up onto his elbows, spitting out the bloody tooth, when a scream of agony ripped through him. The Dwarf had stomped full force with the heel of its heavy boot on his leg, just above his knee, snapping the thick bone. Hamin continued to howl as he rolled around on the ground, clutching at his broken leg.

"SHUT UP!!!" the Dwarf snarled, giving the human a swift kick in the guts. This apparently worked, for the dark-haired Man fell silent with the exception of a few whimpers as he curled up, clutching his abdomen. The Dwarf then turned his attention to the older Man, taking his two axes from their holsters.

"Where is Rowell?!" the Dwarf demanded with a menacing growl, axes at the ready as it glared at the older Man on the other side of the fire, who watched with wary eyes. Another booming clap of thunder rolled above them, accompanied this time with a flash of lighting.

"What do you want…Dwarf? If it is gold you want, we have plenty," the Man asked cautiously in an amazingly calm voice, making sure to keep the fire between himself and the armed, irate Dwarf. He gave a brief glance to his left, where his bedroll and travel pack rested. If he could just get to his pack and his weapon…

"I know you do--and all of it still not be worth the lives of those slaughtered! Snake!" Gimli spat from the other side of the fire, the reflection of the flames dancing in his dark eyes.

"I know not of what you speak," he denied, trying to creep ever so slowly to his pack.

"I speak of Black Hollow, piss face!" Gimli snarled.

"Black Hollow? You mean that little mining town down south?" Fouhst asked in false ignorance, trying to buy time and keep the Dwarf talking.

"Don't play ignorant with me, goblin sucker! I'm going to kill you all, for what you've done!" the Dwarf growled, his white teeth bared. The Man edged closer to his pack, still keeping his attention to the furious Dwarf on the other side of the fire.

"I'm gonna rip out your guts and strangle you with them!" Gimli snarled, and his broad hands gripped the handles of his axes so hard they ached.

"NOW, WHERE IS ROWELL!?!" Gimli demanded again, preparing to charge through the fire to get to the Man.

Suddenly one of the tethered horses let out a shrill whinny as it reared up in fright, spooked by Gimli's bellow and all the rage and fear in the air, causing a few of the other horses to neigh and jostled one another in nervousness. The sound and sudden movement from the large animal caused Gimli to whip around, and his heart seized in a momentary flash of old yet strong fear.

Taking advantage of the Dwarf's distraction, the Man immediately lunged for something in his pack.

Gimli's attention snapped back to the Man just in time to see him snatch a large coiled whip out of his pack. Gimli went immediately on guard, never having faced this type of weapon before and watched warily as the smug Man let the whip uncoil before giving it a sharp crack. It was clear that the Man was skilled with this particular weapon.

"Ha! You want to know where that pompous ass, Rowell, is? I'll do you better--I'll have you join him!" Fouhst laughed with a nasty, toothy smile.

"Where is he--Agghh!!" Gimli let out a yell as a searing pain slashed him across the chest before he could block, the sharp crack of the whip ringing in his ears.

"You want a piece of me, Dirt-rat? Come get me!" the Man challenged, stepping around the fire and motioning with one of his gnarled hands for Gimli to come closer.

"Ahh!" Gimli let out another pained yelp as the whip caught him on the shoulder, forcing him back as he blocked as best he could against the lash.

"See, Hamin? The trick is to keep them at a distance!" Fouhst said, snapping the whip again. "Dwarves, hah! They're no better than beasts compared to us!" He laughed, watching with glee as Gimli desperately tried to dodge the whip, looking for an opening.

Gimli grunted with pain as the whip lashed him, blocking his face as best he could with his forearms and axes. The whip bit and sliced open his tough skin wherever it hit, his forearms and shoulders taking the brunt of it.

Damn! I can't get close enough for a strike! he cursed to himself, unable to stifle a yelp as the whip delivered a particularly painful blow to his now bleeding right forearm.

He continued to try and dodge, his beloved axes doing little good in this fight. Gimli even tried falling back to evade the lash, but the snickering and smug Man only followed, determined to wear the Dwarf's defenses down then whip him to pieces.

"See! They can't get you if you keep them at a distance," Fouhst laughed, making the grave mistake of taking his eyes from the pained and enraged Dwarf to brag to Hamin, who was still on the ground watching with pained and wary eyes.

Unfortunately for Fouhst, he was dealing with a Dwarf whose experiences was not limited to close quarters combat.

"They're too slow! They can-- hurghk!!!" Fouhst was cut off as his body suddenly flew back and crashed to the ground to lie motionless, Gimli's thrown axe now buried in his chest.

"Kill you," Gimli finished for the Man, as he walked to stand over the corpse. The Man's face was frozen in a look of complete surprise, his whip laying useless on the ground where he had dropped it. Gimli made a point of chopping the thing in half with his other axe, before reaching out and yanking his bloody axe from the corpse's chest.

Just then, the sound of crunching gravel and running feet announced the arrival of four other Men coming from the other direction of the road.

"Hey! What's going on here?!"

"Fouhst, Hamin! What's all the ruckus?! What the--!"

They immediately froze, seeing the copper-haired Dwarf calmly standing over their friend with two bloody axes, Hamin huddled on the ground a few feet away in the ruins of their camp.

Gimli looked up to see four other humans; he even recognized the large fat one, remembering how he and Ulfr used to crack quite a few jokes about him.

The tall husky one with light blond hair carried a broadsword, the fat one that Gimli recognized held a large rusted one-sided axe in both of his fat fingered hands. Both of the other two carried swords; they were clearly family by the resemblance of their gray eyes and dark hair, the older Man sporting a large bristly mustache. Gimli could see the other was a mere teenager, his young face covered in the strange red pustules that young humans seem to get at that age.

The Dwarf and the group of humans continued to just look at one another for a few moments, before the large Man with the axe stepped up.

"Come on! Let's get the little bastard! He can't take us all on!" he shouted to the others, his jowls and double chin visibly jiggling as he talked.

The three others yelled their agreement, taking out their own weapons. Yet when the teenager drew his sword, the middle-aged Man with the other sword held a hand out, stopping him.

"No, Owynvan! You stay here," he told the teenager.

"But father!" he protested, eager to prove himself in battle, but his father only vehemently shook his head.

"No buts! Ya stay here!" he ordered the boy, before turning his attention to the Dwarf who still quietly watched them with dark burning eyes.

Then with a shout from the Man carrying the axe, the three charged, and Gimli calmly walked forward to meet them.

He dodged out of the way of the broadsword, delivering a powerful kick in the gut to the light-haired Man, before ducking low to avoid the fat Man's axe. Gimli then quickly sidestepped a sword thrust, and kicked the Man's legs out from under him.

This unintentionally saved the Man's life, for just then Gimli again ducked low to avoid another wild swing of the axe that would have taken them both out. The Man with the mustache managed to snatch up his fallen sword and crawl away from the two combatants, in an attempt to avoid being stepped on or tripped over.

The fat Man gave an enraged series of grunts as he fought. The young Dwarf was easily evading his axe, and it still after all this time had not used the two axes it held, or the large one on it's back.

The large Man's swings were becoming so wild that that the other two combatants kept their distance, afraid of being accidentally hit, and awaited their turn. Gimli felt almost disappointed; it was painfully clear that none of these Men were true fighters, just thugs.

A large axe, while being a powerful weapon both physically and psychologically, is also very heavy. When wielded by a human, an axe must be kept in motion at all times to keep it effective and to not wear out the user. But a Dwarf had no such problems, taking fighting with one or more axes to a whole new level-- an art form that no human could ever hope to achieve.

Gimli felt a flare of anger as he easily dodged and ducked the Man's two-handed fumbling and unskilled attempts to cut him down. The Dwarven part of him was deeply insulted that this oafish piece of lard would dare try and match axes with him, with a dirty and ill-repaired 'wood chopping' axe; a mere farm tool. Gimli's lip nearly curled in disgust as he noticed that the Man was already visibly panting and sweating from his wild and uncontrolled swings.

He had just avoided another swipe, when he decided he had seen enough.

The fat Man's small pig-like eyes snapped wide with shock, when the Dwarf finally raised one of his axes and blocked his two-handed downward swing with only one arm. Then in a blink of an eye, the other axe flashed out across his undefended, bulging belly, before Gimli quickly stepped away.

The large Man seemed frozen, and his fellows watched in confusion, not understanding what was happening. Then suddenly incomprehension turned to horror as a large clean slit opened up across the Man's stomach, gaping open wider as the jumbled and bloody masses of his intestines began to tumble out. The axe fell to the ground with a heavy clatter as the Man gaped down at himself, trembling, the whites of his eyes clearly visible.

Gimli watched with mild interest as the gasping and white-faced Man stared down at his opened belly, both of his trembling hands now full of his own blood-slicked intestines that continued to spill out of his abdomen. Then the Man's eyes suddenly rolled up in his head, and he fell forward to crash to the dirt, the ground almost seeming to shake, and lay unmoving.

I guess it's true after all, Gimli thought to himself, as he looked down at the mountain of flesh lying only a few feet from him. The bigger they are…the harder they fall…

"Branis!!!" the Man with the mustache yelled in shock, his voice competing with a clash of thunder that sounded in the distance.

"You-You little BEAST!!" He turned in fury to Gimli as his companions just stood there, frozen shock.

Gimli only looked back at the enraged Man, before raising up one of his axes and giving it a few flicks of his wrist, shaking the thick excess blood off its crescent blade. It was a huge insult, and apparently too much for the Man, for he gave an enraged bellow before charging the seemingly uncaring Dwarf.

Gimli put both axes in his left hand, leaving his right hand free. When the Man reached him, he sidestepped the attack and grabbed the Man by his sword arm; then using his momentum, he threw the Man over his broad shoulder and into the camp's fire. The human landed with a crash and a shower of sparks, before scrambling up, giving a series of panicked yells as his hair and clothes caught fire.

As he began to beat desperately at the flames, Gimli used the distraction to rush the Man with the broadsword, each hand again with an axe. The Man, realizing his immediate danger with barely a moment to spare, managed to raise his thick broadsword for a block, the two coming together with a resounding clash.

He was actually fairly skilled, able to block several of Gimli's strikes, but as they fought the Man began to plead for his life.

"Please! I beg you! I-I have a family--children to feed!" he cried desperately, but he saw no mercy in those dark burning eyes, and his pleas fell on deaf ears.

It was then that the Dwarf delivered a devastating blow that knocked the heavy broadsword from the tall Man's hands. He watched with wide, pleading eyes as the Dwarf advanced on him again, his sweating and trembling hands now clasped in front of him in a sign of mercy.

"I-I know it was wrong but--but please! I had my own children to think of! I--!"

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as Gimli neatly lopped the Man's head from his shoulders, turning his attention to the other Man before the now headless body even fell to the ground. The severed head rolled a few feet away, its wide blue eyes still moving in their sockets as if in confusion.

Gimli calmly advanced on the now kneeling Man, who had managed to beat out the flames. Most of his hair and mustache were badly singed, his ash covered clothes still smoking, his pale skin red with burns and covered in soot. His sword was nowhere in sight, no doubt dropped and forgotten in his panic to put himself out.

A flash of lighting was accompanied a moment later by a booming clap of thunder, as another Man with short greasy brown hair, unnoticed by Gimli, appeared from out of the thick forest where he had gone to relieve himself earlier. He immediately froze, a short-sword clutched in one of his hands, upon seeing the scene taking place in front of him.

The Man with the mustache apparently heard Gimli's approach, for he looked wearily up, giving Gimli a defiant glare. The Man didn't bother to try and get up or look for a weapon-- he knew he was defeated, but still chose to show his defiance to the bitter end.

Just then both the Man and the Dwarf paused when the sound of running feet reached their ears, coming up fast from behind the Dwarf.

"Father!" came a cry, and the still kneeling Man's eyes suddenly went wide with fright as he saw his teenaged son coming up behind the Dwarf with his sword upraised, trying to save his father.

"No! Owynvan, stay back!" he yelled out in desperation, but it was too late. For with those words the Dwarf spun around, one of its crescent blades singing out in a disturbingly elegant move. Its long copper hair in its thick tail whipped artfully out behind it, and to the Man it almost looked as if the Dwarf was dancing.

"Father!!! Hang on! I'll help-- hurk!!!" With a sound like that of a cracked open melon, half of the teenager's head flew off in a horrific spray of blood. The Dwarf didn't even blink as he was partially drenched in the gore.

In that moment everything seemed to slow, and all was quiet as everyone stop and stare, unable to take their eyes from the morbid scene.

The upraised sword fell from suddenly stiff fingers to clatter loudly to the ground as the rest of the teenager's body went into a series of jerks before falling to the ground and flopping about. The body continued to spasm before finally, with a last few kicks and jerks, lying still.

The two remaining Men looked on in silence, agape with horror. Gimli just watched the body at his feet with indifferent eyes as he calmly wiped the red blood and bits of brain matter from the side of his face where it had splattered on him, succeeding only in smearing it more.

"By the Valar! NOOOOOO! YOU MONSTER! My son--MY SON! He was an innocent!" the Man screamed, staring at the remains of his only child.

He never saw the same bloody axe that had taken his son's life, descend and end his own. Gimli cleaved the kneeling Man's head from its neck with a simple swing, watching silently as the Man's head rolled until coming to rest next to the body of the teenager.

All was quiet except for the groaning creaks of the trees around them, and the occasion pop of the fire. Another streak of lighting flashed above, but this time with no thunder accompanying it.

Suddenly the crunch of gravel shattered the deathly silence that had fallen. Gimli looked up and turned to see a Man he hadn't seen before, with a short-sword clutched in a visibly shaking hand; no doubt he was another one of the wagon drivers by his dark clothes. Gimli felt a flash of annoyance seeing that it was not Rowell, the one for whom he had truly come.

The dark-haired Man must have appeared sometime during the fight, he surmised. The smell of all the blood in the air must have masked the Man's scent from Gimli's sensitive nose.

The Man watched as the strange blood-covered Dwarf, standing in the ruins of their camp and surrounded by the bodies of his fellows, turned its full attention to him. It stood there watching him with complete calmness, its two axes dripping with gore, its burning gaze now solely on him. He found himself caught between two options; fight or flight.

The short-sword fell with a clatter to the ground as he took off running, back into the thick woods from where he had come.

For a moment Gimli just stared blankly after the fleeing Man, as if not understanding what he was seeing, a genuine look of confusion on his-short bearded face. Then a fire in his chest flared to life, as realization struck-- the Man was running away.

How dare he!? After all he and the others had done! The coward runs!? He thinks he can run from what they did!? At that moment, something truly snapped within him.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!! Gimli screamed, his almond-shaped eyes going wide as his pupils narrowed into mere pinpricks, before taking off after him.

~~~

The Man ran in a near blind panic, dodging around trees, his heart pounding in his ears. His adrenalin gave him extra speed as he tried to put as much distance between himself and that Dwarf as possible.

Gimli charged after the Man, both axes still in hand, his rage building. The Man had a good lead on him, but Gimli could see him up ahead as he crashed through the dark trees, and with his strong legs pumping, Gimli dogged the Man's steps.

The average Dwarf can only run about as fast as the average human, but the Dwarf had the advantage here. For unlike a Man, who can only maintain his top speed for a short period of time, a Dwarf can maintain his top speed for several miles. Unfortunately for the Man, he didn't possess this bit of information.

The Man was starting to get a bad stitch in his side, as he continued to run blindly on. Surely I've outrun him by now? He thought desperately as he began to tire.

He took a chance and looked over his shoulder, and let out a cry of fright. Not only was the Dwarf still following, but it was gaining fast.

No! This isn't possible! THIS ISN'T POSSIBLE!!!" he mentally screamed in denial, his body putting on another burst of speed. But it was already too late.

Gimli waited until he was but six feet from the Man, then threw his left axe, catching the Man in the back of his right leg, slicing the tendon of his calf and effectively tripping him.

The Man crashed to the grass-covered ground with a pained yell.

"NNGAAAAHH!"

He lay there, his face pressed against the ground, his teeth bared in a grimace, his nose running. Slowly he became aware again of his immediate situation, noticing through the fog of pain the heavy tread of the now walking Dwarf, coming closer. In desperation he drew a large dagger from the folds of his tunic before turning around to stab his attacker. Only to let out another scream of agony as the crescent blade of an axe sliced the offending appendage off at the elbow.

He clutched at the stump in agony for a moment, before beginning to crawl away as best he could, adrenalin and his terror dulling the pain somewhat.

"What do you want!?! I've done nothing--" he gasped, his wide bloodshot eyes locked on the gore splattered Dwarf.

"LIAR!!!" the Dwarf bellowed, breathing heavily as it glared down at him.

Memories surfaced of all the taunts and beatings he and the others had taken at the hands of the goblins down in the mine. Watching the roaring fire spew and lick at the blackened entrance of the mine, knowing that all the others were still down there… burning. The Dwarf advanced, raising its remaining gore-covered axe.

"No, NO! Please!" the Man cried in desperation, as he tried to scuttle backwards and away from his tormenter.

Images continued to flash in Gimli's mind even as the Man pleaded for his life.

Both he and Ulfr, on the old barn's roof, watching as dark plumes of smoke rose in the distance in the direction of Shiprock, knowing that the goblins and orcs were there, pillaging and burning the cheerful farming town.

"I beg you! I'll give you anything!!" the Man pleaded with the still advancing Dwarf, but the creature only stared down at him with burning hate-filled eyes.

The mutilated bodies of the Women and children, scattered about the ground like garbage, festering with maggots. The evidence of the orcs and goblins having feasted on them and letting the rest rot, to be fed on by crows. All of it bathed in crimson, under a sinking red sun.

"Did you hear their cries for MERCY!? The Women pleading for their lives--for the lives of their CHILDREN!? DID YOU LISTEN TO THEIR SCREAMS AS THE ORCS FEASTED ON THEIR FLESH!!!!?" the Dwarf bellowed, as he visibly trembled with rage.

Svior and Nidi, nowhere in sight, the cackling of the orcs and goblins that watched them with eager and hungry eyes. Hanar's broken body, his broken battle axe still clutched in a broad hand, his own axe slamming into his best friend's chest. Watching the light dying out in Ulfr's amber eyes.

The Dwarf's dark eyes burned with a fierceness that would put the fires of Mount Doom to shame. The Man shook his head in denial, watching as the bloody axe was raised into the air.

"I--I didn't...I..!!! Please! No, NO!! NOOOOO!!!!" Down the axe went with a meaty *thwack*.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The horrible scream ripped through the forest-- deer stopped grazing and bounded away, a flock of birds flew off, scared from their roosts, and only the tall dark trees around them seemed to look on the scene taking place below with indifference .

The Dwarf didn't even flinch when a hot spray of blood splattered on his face, as he knelt over the bucking and howling Man.

"Noooo- AANNGH! Stop! I beg--AAAHHH!" Still the Man pleaded and still his cries fell on deaf ears.

The axe descended again and again, faster and faster now.

By some cruel whim, the Man was amazingly still alive-- now really only a mass of bloody and butchered flesh that still twisted and twitched, screaming as it convulsed on the blood-soaked grass.

But Gimli was beyond caring as he continued to hack at the body with an untiring single mindedness, staring down at the mass of flesh with wide and unseeing eyes. For in truth he was lost in a blind rage, all of his anger, pain and despair, pouring out in a blinding storm of red as a strange deathly silence filled his ears.

"AAAUGHHH-hugghh! *thwack* AAAhh-hurrk! *thwack* Aaahh- hughh!!! *thwack* uuuuuughhhhhkk…"

The final piteous whine was followed only by a thick wet gurgling sound, and still the Dwarf continued to hack at the body in a frenzy, some internal dam having broken.

Blood flew, drenching him and still he hacked, his eyes wide and wild, his pupils mere pinpricks. Bits of tissue, bone and organs now flew, soaking not only the Dwarf but the area around where he knelt above the body.

A body no longer recognizable as human, and still the axe descended, again and again…and again…and again…

~~~

Hearing heavy footfalls, Hamin looked up, hoping to see one of his still absent fellows returning from gathering firewood, only to see something from a nightmare.

Walking out of the woods towards him was the Dwarf; it was completely covered in blood and gore, as if the creature had been literally bathing in it.

In one hand it held a bloody dripping axe, in the other what he guessed to be a mutilated bit of Shawn's head, by the greasy brown hair. But it was its eyes-- they seemed lit from within by some terrible demonic fire.

Eyes of fire…it was then Hamin decided that this creature could be no Dwarf, but instead some avenging wraith, using the form of one. Some terrible fire-eyed demon born of the horrors and agony of all those damned in the ruins of that ill fated mining town. And now those dreadful flame-filled eyes were locked on him.

He gave a panicked cry and tried desperately to crawl away, having completely forgotten the still sheathed short-sword on his belt. He hadn't gotten more than a few feet when the demon was upon him.

The young Man stopped and huddled there on the ground, shivering in fright as he peered out from behind his shielding upraised arms at the demon that now stood glaring down at him. The Man felt his bladder go and drench his trousers.

Its lip curled in disgust as the acidic stench of urine stung its nose, watching the whimpering and shivering Man piss himself.

"Rowell…where is he?" it demanded in a deep rumbling voice, glaring down at the human in utter contempt. The Man only gave a whimper, but otherwise stayed quiet.

"WHERE IS ROWELL!?!" the demon bellowed angrily, audibly tightening its grip on its axe before tossing down the bloody bit of flesh it had been carrying in front of Hamin, splattering him with flecks of blood. The dark-haired Man gave a gasp, flinching away as he stared at the gory sight in horror. His mouth opened and closed, but still no words came out.

Losing patience the Dwarf gave him a sharp kick, causing him to cry out in pain. "WHERE!?!"

"Cc-creek-k-k…bb-by creek," he finally managed to get out in a stutter. "D-d-down there…w-w-where the road pa-pa-passes-s- the c-creek, by t-the b-b-bridge. U-u-n-nder the big ch-ch-cherry tree-e-e!" he whimpered, a trembling hand pointing down the road in the opposite direction of Ocendade. Then he curled back up, his arms covering his head as he began to cry.

It was then that the heavens opened up and the rain began to fall in heavy sheets of water, but neither being seem to take notice. The fire gave a few pops and sizzles before finally sputtering out in a long hiss, and a loud boom of thunder sounded overhead as the rain continued to fall.

With axe still in hand it walked over to the still smoking remains of the fire, where Fouhst had been counting the sacks of gold, kicking one of the bodies out of its way. It could see that there were quite a few sacks, all of them heavy and filled to near bursting with gold coins, except for one that was nearly empty. It was obvious that it could never hope to carry them all.

The Man watched from where he was still curled in the dirt (which was quickly turning into mud), as the Dwarf put its axe back in its holster then went over to where the four frightened and miserable pack ponies were tethered.

Taking two of them, a bay and a dappled gray, it then began to tack up the nervous beasts before loading the gold on them. No doubt it was a heavy burden for each animal by the way the gray began tossing its head in protest when the Dwarf was done.

Hamin watched through the heavy rain as the Dwarf raised a broad hand up to the pony. But instead of striking the animal, as he had thought, it began to pet its neck in an attempt to calm the beast. It stroked the pony's face when it had calmed, giving it a final pat before turning and walking back over to the remains of the fire.

It picked up the final sack, the mostly empty one containing a mere handful of coins, before it walked over to the sobbing Man again, who curled into a tighter ball at the Dwarf's approach.

The terrified Hamin watched with wide bloodshot eyes as the Dwarf calmly picked up the bit of bone and flesh and dropped it into the now wet and blood-stained sack before cinching it shut again.

It then tossed the bag at the Man, the coins in the sack giving a few muffled clinks as they hit the ground next to human.

"To remember this day..." its said simply, before walking back to the two heavily burdened ponies and tying the bay's lead rope to the gray.

Then without a further glance back the Dwarf walked away from the ruined camp, leading the gray by the halter as the bay followed behind, leaving the many corpses and the now hysterically sobbing Man shivering on the muddy ground as the rain continued to fall.

~~~

Gimli had followed the Man's stuttering directions.

He no longer led the two gold burdened ponies, having tied them off the road by a large fallen and moss covered tree. He had made sure they were hidden from view of anyone the road, before continuing down the muddy way.

He took no care as he sloshed through large puddles, and the tall trees of the forest to either side of the road seemed to watch him with hidden eyes. Gimli took out both of his axes as he got closer, his heart speeding up in anticipation. No doubt Rowell had a camp down here, probably with a couple of his ass-licking lackeys.

A grin crept over his face as an almost giddy feeling swirled in his gut-- he was going to enjoy this! Maybe I should split Rowell down the middle? Or cut off all his arms and legs, watch the scum squeal like a stuck pig! Maybe yank out his guts while he's still wriggling about, begging for mercy, he thought with near glee, adjusting his grip on his two axes. He continued down the road before catching the sound of a fast moving creek nearby over the sounds of the falling rain. It was then he spotted the tree.

It stood a little off to the side of the road, in a fairly large and pleasant clearing in the otherwise thick woods, and further down Gimli could see a small stone bridge. He finally stopped in front of the tree, just staring, as he stood in the middle of the muddy road.

The cherry tree was unusually large, its twisted and bent shape giving the very strong impression of a weeping, lonely old Woman. Strangely it was in full bloom, which was odd for the time of year. All the other trees stood around it at a distance, as if in a show of respect and awe for the large twisted tree.

And there was Rowell, swinging from one of the tree's large bent limbs by some coarse woven rope. An abomination of true ugliness against the tree's loveliness.

He hung like some strange spoiled fruit. The rope creaked as he swayed ever so slightly with the breeze, his long wheat-colored hair tangled and filthy, his skin a sickly grayish-white. The once white cloak about his shoulders was ripped and frayed, stained with dirt and blood; Gimli could see he was riddled with slashes and stab wounds made by the blades of many daggers. His long pale feet hung bare, several feet above the muddy road; someone had stolen his boots.

The sneer that had seemed forever etched on his once handsome face was gone, in its place an open slack-jawed grimace. His empty eye-sockets were full of writhing maggots, so many that they occasionally spilled out to tumble and roll down his clammy gray cheeks.

Killed by the very Men he hired… killed by his very own greed…

Gimli stood there in the pouring rain, the water running in thick rivulets down his face, as his harsh breathing came out in clouds of vapor in the cool air, both his axes still held in a white-knuckled grip. His large almond-shaped eyes stared and his heart pounded, as a deafening roaring began in his ears, a roar like that of the flames in the mine at Black Hollow. The flames he, Ulfr, Hanar, Svior and Nidi had barely escaped from.

A fluttering sensation started in his stomach, followed by the tickle of strange laughter, and a big grin split Gimli's face as he continued to stare at the rotting corpse. He put both of his axes back in their holsters, chuckling, before more laughter bubbled up from somewhere unknown inside of him. He began to laugh loudly and helplessly, throwing his head back in the excess of his unseeingly mirth.

He stumbled, nearly bent double with hysterical laugher before falling to his knees with a splash into a large puddle, both his thick arms holding his stomach, the loud roaring still in his ears. He almost fell over he was laughing so hard, still clutching his middle with one arm as he managed to catch himself with the other, and he was still laughing when he opened his eyes and looked down into the puddle.

He gave a sudden start, jumping back in surprise and fright, his laughter immediately stopping.

He'd seen something in the rippling reflection of the puddle. There was something… he had seen some kind of monster in the water. A strange, filthy, blood-soaked creature, with frightening and heartless burning eyes, a terrible and wide malicious grin on its twisted face.

After several long moments he forced himself to slowly creep back to the puddle on hands and knees, where he had seen it, denying the understanding of what he had seen. Until he sat there, looking down at the rippling reflection in the murky water again. This time, he knew it wasn't an orc or a goblin.

He lifted a trembling hand to his own face, watching the strange creature in the pool do the same. Suddenly the roaring in his ears stopped and there was only deafening silence. His arm dropped to his side as he looked up from the horrible reflection to stare off into space. His tormented thoughts turned inward, the realization hitting him like a stab in the heart.

The creature was him.

In the silence, the silvery laughter of the Elves seemed to echo through his head as he sat there, lost and alone.

His stomach twisted and bile rose in his throat. He felt ashamed-- his Mother would surely turn her back to him, disgusted, if she saw him now. His father, Nin, Daira, Minal, all of them; they would cast him out as a disgrace, at what he had become.

What have I become? he thought as he knelt in that large puddle, soaked and filthy, his long hair dark and plastered to his head. He found himself at a crossroads, and now he must choose his path.

Lady D's words of warning came back to him; "Don't let this consume you, Dwarf. You tread a dangerous path."

He grimaced and clamped his eyes shut, remembering the screams, the pleas for mercy, the feeling of bone splintering under his axe, the sick pleasure he got from it. Remembering how he had killed the teenager without a second thought, the way the boy's body had gone into horrible jerks as blood and brain matter flew--he had killed an innocent. A boy only trying to help his father…

In his rage he had become no better than them. If he continued down this road, he'd become something worse than them…

He opened his eyes again and came to a decision; he did not want to follow this dark path to its end, it was time to end it.

With that he finally stumbled up and went back to where he had stashed the two ponies and the bags of gold, the strange laughter still ringing in his ears. He led the snorting and nervous animals back down the muddy road to the cherry tree.

He then set about unloading the two animals, the bay giving a shrill neigh, the whites of its eyes visible, extremely agitated by the thick smell of death in the air. The dapple gray remained fairly calm though its ears were back, shifting uneasily as it stood in the mud. When Gimli was done unloading the two ponies he undid their tack and harnesses, letting them loose. A sharp smack on the rump sent both animals cantering off, glad of the chance to get away from the place of death.

Gimli watched the two disappear into the rain, before turning his attention back to his self-appointed task. He walked to the tree before falling to his knees between two large roots at its base. He sunk his strong broad hands into the earth, then began to dig, using nothing but his bare hands.

His fingers began to ache and he was soon covered in mud and dirt from his excavations. He dug and dug until his fingers bled and his nails split and still he dug with a single mindedness, ignoring all else-- the pain, the rain, and the peals of silvery laughter in his head.

Finally when he had a large and deep enough hole, he picked all but one of the sacks of gold and tossed them in, before hurriedly filling it in again. He had no intention of keeping it, wanting nothing to do with this cursed and blood soaked-gold, but he also couldn't allow any to profit from this terrible boon. It had been made from the misery and pain of those lost souls, back at Black Hollow-- his pain and misery.

When it was finally done, the young Dwarf put both of his broad, dirty and bleeding hands on the bare bit of earth; he bowed his head, then in a sad and quiet voice, spoke.

"Please, go now… and be at peace." It was then that the taunting laughter suddenly seem to vanish, leaving only silence and the sound of the still falling rain.

Then with some uprooted bushes, he covered the bare bit of earth. With luck the grass will have grown over the spot before the bushes turned brown and dried, leaving none the wiser of the treasure that lay beneath, guarded over by the weeping cherry tree. The tree that even now seemed to look down on the oblivious young Dwarf in pity and sadness as he crawled away from his finished task and curled up miserably between several large roots against the twisted tree's trunk. Soaked, filthy and tired, the Dwarf hugged his knees to his chest as he stared out with hollow and pain-filled eyes at the gently swaying body of Rowell.

The Dwarf stayed there for several hours, before the rain finally stopped and he managed to drag himself up. Then, picking up the one remaining sack, he simply walked away. Leaving the gold, the weeping cherry tree, and Rowell behind.

Rowell's empty eyes seeming to stare after the Dwarf, sadly crying his maggot tears…

Notes:

Of the ten Men of the camp, Gimli only killed nine. So no, I did not forget about the tenth Man (who was out gathering firewood). So…he's still out there O_O.

Did anyone catch the appearance of one of the lost Ent-wives ^_~ ?

(1.) This is just another of my own speculation since J.R.R. Tolkien told us hardly anything about Dwarven society.

I speculate that the average Dwarf was probably quite bisexual (if they were sexually active), especially when you take into consideration that the males of their species outnumbered females by something like one female to every three males, and that females of their species are said to look very much like the males.

(2.) Think of a dog like a mastiff.