Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 13)
Author: Ro
Warnings: Some angst, nudity, sexual situations and bad language.
Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, all 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 in the year 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 based on the books, NOT the movies.
More notes: Again, this chapter has not been beta-read yet. So yes, there are LOTS of mistakes. Please bare with me.
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"Epilogue"
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"From the smallest spark may burst a mighty flame."
Under a dark moonless sky the quiet towns of Dale and Lake Town slept, most of its people lost in the land of dreams. Only a few still up preparing for the new day or finishing up some last minuet thing. Others wandered the dark streets, some prowling for any unwary victim or walked slowly along the alleyways hopping to entice a customer as others drowned their sorrows in a bottle of cheap ale. It was hard to imagine the not a year before both towns had been nothing but ruin, the destruction from the Dragon and the following battle still fresh in the hearts of all that lived there. A shiver going up their spines whenever the weather was right and the lake became mirror smooth, for under its calm surface the rotting corpse of Smaug could be seen, the gold and jewels that had covered his long belly glittering enticingly below. Yet no matter how wondrous that treasure must be, none had the bravery to dive below those icy waters to take it, for even in death all feared the Dragon still.
With the determination of the town's people and the help of an army of Dwarven builders, Lake Town had been fully rebuilt, bigger and more stable then it had ever been before. Stretching out into the dark Long Lake on many thick stone and wooden pillars, a few boats to be seen floating on the inky surface of the lake as their owners fished by the light of lamps.
Farther up, in the shadow of the Mountain, the town of Dale was almost completely rebuilt, new buildings seeming to go up every few days. The happy sound of Dale's many famous bells having returned, their merry chiming seeming to gladded all the hearts to hear them, welcoming all travelers. Around the Mountain itself where it had once been the bare and scorched earth of the Dragon's desolation, it was now green with lush grass and many young trees, the plant life and animals returning to the Mountain again.
In the valley below the once gory and grim battlefield where so many had lost their lives in the Battle of Five Armies, their were now rich fields of grass and flowers. Where once Men, Dwarves and Elves had fought against the hoards of goblins, orcs and wargs, the towns children ran and played as the adults tended fields and planted gardens. The valley was a bloom in new life, many young saplings having taken root, the life blood of the many who had fallen there enriching the soil, continuing the ever turning cycle of death and renewal.
As for the Mountain Kingdom, it had been transformed from the dark and miserable place Bilbo had seen, to a place of wonder. Their had been much rebuilding and repair in the past year, with still more repairs to be made, but once again the Mountain halls where filled with light, life and people, the massive windows clean and free of Smaug's grime allowing the stars and sunlight to stream in once again. Though the scent of the Dragon and old death still stubbornly clung to some dark chambers and halls, a grim reminder of Smaug's foul occupation and all those lost to his terrible claws and fiery breath.
With the Mountain retaken many Dwarves had begun to migrate back to the Lonely Mountain, including Dain's Queen and family, his younger brother taking over the Kingship of the Iron Hills, since Dain was now King Under the Mountain.
Amongst the weary Exiles, Wanderers and the many other Dwarves that had made their way to the Mountain, came two survivors of the destroyed mining town of Black Hollow, having made their long journey from the small town of Telgor. It had been four months after the death of the Dragon and the following battle that a young Dwarf of only fifty-nine years, with a soft-featured face, curly light-brown hair and large haunted honey-brown eyes walked next to a larger and older Dwarf. Who was only sixty-three years of age with long coal-black hair and weary beetle-black eyes, on his back he carried their pack of meager things, one of his big hands lovingly clasped his companion's as they walked up to the Mountain on the newly repaired road. The two young Dwarves had come to start new lives at the Mountain, believing that they had been the only ones to escape the destruction of Black Hollow. They were both, understandably, quite shocked when they found a copper-haired ghost from the past waiting there to greet them before the massive entrance to the Mountain .
For many long moments none moved or said anything, until Nidi slowly walked forward, briefly having to stop and gently get Svior to release his hand before he continued forward to the apparition. Hesitantly reaching out with a trembling hand and placinging it slowly on Gimli's chest, finding the copper-haired Dwarf real, made of warm flesh and not vapor. The small, almost delicate seeming Dwarf let out a happy cry before embracing his thought lost friend, Gimli happily returning the gesture, tears of joy threatening to spill from his almond-shaped eyes.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you, Nidi!" He whispered around a sudden lump in his throat as he watched Nidi's sweet face light up at his words.
"Gimli, you moron! We thought you dead," Svior suddenly growled, his black-eyes flashing as the two Dwarves in front of him stepped back from one another and looked his way. Hearing this, Gimli only cocked a copper-eyebrow at him, turning to face the other expectantly. Another long minute ticked by before the larger black-haired Dwarf shrugged off his pack and stormed over to the other Dwarf, Nidi watching it all with wide-eyes, not saying a word as Gimli held his ground.
"Come here you addle-brained shit-head!" Svior suddenly laughed, gathering the other male into a crushing hug. Gimli laughed as well while the two fiercely held one another, heavily pounding on one another's back, both of them smiling as they stepped back, hands still on the other's shoulder. Nidi coming to loving lean on Svior's right side as the three of them stood their on the stone road before the open entrance of the Mountain, basking in their unexpected reunion, still a bit in shock.
After awhile though they fell silent and the air around them became heavy again, their smiles soon disappearing before Svior spoke up.
"The others?" Was the only thing said, though by sound of his deep voice and the look in his dark-eyes, there was little hope.
Nidi and Svior watched a terrible weariness settle over Gimli's broad shoulders as deep sorrow momentarily darkened his features before the copper-haired Dwarf closed his eyes and solemnly shook his head. Both Svior and Nidi dropped their eyes in grief as well before all three looked up again, it was then that Gimli motion for the them to follow him. As Gimli lead his two friends past the heavily armed guards and through the massive entrance and into the first outer hall, he told them how, for the price of two gold coins, he had asked two Ravens called Tay and Ray to keep an eye out for them and let him know when they where to arrive.
As Svior and Nidi followed Gimli through the first long hall they watched their friend wave and give his thanks to two male Ravens perched outside one of the decorated nest holes that honeycombed the walls. The two sleek black birds, croaked a greeting back before they went back to bickering over the quality of their nesting material. Ray apparently hated it, finding the coarse hay his brother had brought home and lined their nest with unacceptable, especially when they had a fresh bundle of newly fleeced wool they could use! While Tay, apparently having simpler tastes then his brother, thought the hay perfectly fine. The three Dwarves walked past the arguing brothers and the many other Raven nests and through the second set of massive doors into the Mountain, for the rest of that day Gimli happily wandered around with his friends as they excitedly explored their new home.
Later with Gloin's help, Svior and Nidi enquired a comfortable residence near Gimli's family in a modest dwellings on the third level of the Mountain by the clear underground lake. This section of the Mountain was where most of the regular workers, warriors and various smiths lived, many luminescent plants and mosses to be seen in small gardens or here and there, left to grow on their own.
Nyrad and Bruni's large family had also moved into one of the larger homes of the third level, in fact all the Dwarves Gimli had camped with had taken up residence on the same level. And with the exception of a few, most of the remaining members of Thorin's company had also moved into this modest section of the city. Only Bombur, Bofur and Bifur and the rest of their large family had moved into one of the larger mansion in the more opulent area on the fourth level, favored by the upper-classes and those of noble-blood. The snow-haired Balin and his elder brother Dwalin also live in the nicer section near King Dain's massive mansion, but it was more out of convenience then anything else since the two scholars where now advisors in Dain's court and counsil.
Though Gloin and Oin were now Lords and heroes with much wealth, being head of their small family, Gloin had decided on a fairly modest dwelling, with only four bedroom, a study and several smaller rooms that they used for their workshop and storage, including a small forge and a large living room with a great stone hearth that acted as their combined dinning room and kitchen. The months would pass as the reconstruction continued, with many of the newly arrived Dwarves getting use to their new lives as they forged new relationships and schedules as newer Dwarves arrived every week.
Most nights found the raven-haired Gloin sitting before their large stone hearth with Huo, the brown dog laying contently curled at his feet on the thick bearskin rug. Some times Oin or Gimli would quietly sit with him, but for the most part Gloin wished to be alone with his thoughts, idly smoking his pipe as he watched the dancing flames in the hearth, lost in memories of the past, loved ones long gone. Amongst the black of his hair and beard, strands of white were beginning to appear and no doubt his thick raven-hair would soon be the color of snow, even though he was quiet hale and had many more long years to go. A stark testament at how badly his heart had suffered when he had thought his only remaining child dead. Oin being more outgoing could be found most nights with Dori, Nori, Ori and Bifur and Bofur, in the main upper halls or in the local pub on the third level. As for Gimli, the copper-haired Dwarf could be anywhere on any given night, which included Dale or Lake Town, usually with the mute Draupnir and Kaya, as well as some of his newer friends along .
Yet this very night as the Men of Dale and Lake Town slept under a dark moonless sky, the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain reveled deep within their Mountain halls, for this was a special night.
In a massive chamber lined with towering murals that disappeared up into the darkness of the ceiling above, many of the Dwarves of the Mountain had gathered. The chamber was uses mainly as a trading area and market place, the damage wrought by the Dragon had long ago cleaned and repaired, now the many booths and vendors stalls that had been there the day before hawking their wares, had been cleared away to make space for the celebration. Many massive barrels of fine ale had been brought in, lined up against one wall, many of those celebrating already well into their cups, being loud and blusterous. Enjoyed one another's company, raising heavy mugs of dark ale as they toasted one another for any silly reason, their spirits high as they laughed and talked. Yet most there danced around the many large roaring bonfires set up around the dark chamber, with the exception of the five large fires, the chamber had no light, the walls covered in many undulating and leaping shadows.
In four areas of the cavern above the moving crowd on specially made platforms, sat massive drums, on each drum was a powerfully built Dwarf, their tightly muscled bodies dripping with sweat, wearing nothing but loincloths as they furiously beat on the massive drums. Their thickly-corded arms drumming out a thundering rhythm in perfect sync with the other drums in the cavern as heavy muscles rippled across their broad backs with each movement, their long hair held back from their faces with thick bands of leather. It was also on these platforms that smaller drums and other instruments where played in time with the pounding tempo, several Dwarves dressed similarly to the others waited nearby by a large bucket of cool water, ready to take over when one of the drummers tired, taking turns. For some songs a singer would stand up and belt out a song, their booming voices able to carry over the crowd below with the rest of the blasting instruments as they sang.
Unlike the famous Dwarven festivals and celebrations held every year outside under the open sky, no outsiders were welcomed here, with the exceptions of a few foundlings (1.). For on this night, the night of the New Moon, they celebrated Durin's Day.
On the wall above the large doors that lead out of the hall, was a towering serine green-marble depiction of Yavanna, who the Dwarves held in high reverence. After all, was she not Mahal's mate? Her hair was made of thousands of carved stone leaves, her body seeming that of a great tree, her gown was that of flowers and green living things, the Two Trees of Valiner to be seen behind her as she held a handful of seeds in her long fingered stone hands.
On the facing wall opposite her, in stark white marble run through with thick veins of mithril and gold, watching over them all, was a huge depiction of the powerfully built Mahal. His great bearded visage seeming distant as he watched from above, one great hand open, palm up, his massive hammer clutched in his other. Always a chilling reminder of how their creator had almost become their destroyer. Since Durin the Deathless awakening, all depictions of Alue had him holding his great hammer. In the flickering red and orange firelight, the many dark shadows leaping, he looked almost sinister above them, like a displeased God that watched it's creations below in boredom as they tried to appease him.
In other areas of the Mountain various depictions of the other Valor could also be found, Iluvatar however was never depicted by sculpture or paintings, if he was depicted he was only shown as a blinding light. The Dwarves recognized he as the ultimate creator of all, even of their own creator and so was given the greatest of respect and gratitude. Yet to the Dwarves he was a being to be feared, one to grovel and prostrate themselves to. For the Seven Fathers never forgot their creation, nor when Iluvatar breathed life into them. For instead of their first moments of life being that of love and wonder, they where of hurt confusion and terror as they watched Aule, their beloved father and creator suddenly raise his great hammer to them, preparing to destroy them under Iluvatar's watching eyes. The Dwarves had wisely taken this as a sign from Iluvatar himself, the ultimate God was letting them know their lowly place and how little they truly meant. Merely Aule's worthless puppets, toys that he was willing to instantly destroy rather then displease Iluvatar.
Ever would the Dwarven race feel apart, to forever be on the outside looking in. Unwanted children left to miserably stand outside in the cold as they looked longing through the widow at those wanted children inside, basking in the light and love of the Valor. In the end perhaps that was the true cause behind the long and bitter conflict between the Eldar and Aule's children, maybe in the end it was jealousy. The Elves where loved and wanted, while the Dwarves where not.
It is said that after Iluvatar stayed his hand, Aule cast aside his hammer and was glad, giving Iluvatar his deepest thanks, kissing his hand, but it was only after he was again alone with his seven children that Aule saw the true price he had paid for his impudence. For when he joyfully reached out to Durin, his most beloved child and greatest creation, Durin shrank in fear from his hand as his other children fell once again to their knees and cringed. In the end the final lesson Aule taught his seven children before he cast them out, alone, to sleep until Iluvatar's favored children had awoken, was fear.
If Aule still watched over his children or had simply forgotten about them, if he loved them or did not, it could not be said. But many of the Dwarves of Erebor and other Dwarf colonies still put their trust and faith in him as they reveled below the great stone visage of their creator. The air in the huge chamber was sweltering, the deep thrum and beat of the many drums seeming to have cast a spell over the many dancers below. Their dancing was not delicate nor elegant like the Eldar, it was hard, primal, like fire and stone, solid and fast. No doubt the Elves would think it crude, uncouth and alien, while Men and Hobbits would probably think it strange, wild and tribal-like.
Both male and female went topless, clad in only tight fitting leather or hose, their many muscular bodies shone wetly in the firelight, their furiously dancing forms slick and dripping with sweat. Their long hair loose and unbraided, whipping about them with their thrashing movements, lashing one another and slapping against their bare backs, the sting of it seeming to urge them on. Their bare feet stomped and slapped against the cool stone of the floor as they moved their arms about and above them, their large hands open, creating patters in the humid air. Some danced in groups, some danced with each other, males danced with females, some females danced with other females and some males danced with other males, but many simply lost themselves in the heat of the drums. Some wore gold or silver rings in their ears, some with more elaborate piercing that flashed in the firelight, while many more had painted themselves with strange pigments that glowed an eerie blue or green in the darkness as they 'Fire-Danced'. No flab or fat would be found here, only hard rippling physics and tightly muscled forms, and with the exception of a few, there was not much body hair to be seen either. Their hot blood sang, their hearts pounding in their chest as they danced in tempo with the driving beats, seeming to take no notice of the heat, their bodies moving with a strange primal grace.
They say Dwarves can't dance, but that is a lie. For Dwarves do dance and they dance like they make war, like they make love...
Near one of the roaring bonfires, dancing along with the rest was Gimli, covered in a shine of sweat, lost with the rest in the their furious dancing. The heavy beat of the drums driving him on as he moved, his long copper-hair heavy and wet, shinning like blood in the firelight, the new gold rings that pieced both lobes of his ears glowed red in the light. His large dark-eyes flashed, the dancing flames reflected in their glassy depths, his smooth handsome face open seeming in a trance. His toned body and tightly corded arms moved about him like he moved on the battlefield, only now he didn't hold any weapons, his hands and fingers moving in whimsical patterns. His flat muscular stomach rippled as he arched his back and threw his head back, his copper mane whipping about him, feeling it slap heavily against his broad back with a pleasurable sting as he rocked his hip to the all consuming beat. He wore only thin black leather leggings that laced up the front and hung low on his slim hips, the wet material clinging sinfully to his strong muscled legs and the firm globes of his ass, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.
The past year had been very good for Gimli, he had put on some weight and had filled out in all the right places, like his mother before him he had become truly stunning. Aside from his healthy weight, a couple of added inches in height and bigger muscle mass, he had long ago healed from his wounds and the many scars across his back, shoulders and forearms that had been raised and angry, had fully healed and now lay flat and pale across his warm tanned skin. His short-bearded face and bare upper-body was painted in glowing blue pigments, with intricate runes running down his form. As was with his name, their were also many stylized depictions of stars and flames on his back and arms.
Dancing just as furiously next to him was Kaya, also bare from the waist up, her small firm breasts bounced enticingly with her thrashing movement as she undulated and arched her slim body with the heavy pounding music. Her dark-hair was loose, long strands of it clinging to her hot damp skin as several silver bracelets flashed brightly on her wrists. Her rounded hips and legs clad in deep blue hose, a purple sash and a belt of thin silver coins chimed merrily from were it rested low on her rocking hips. She too was partly painted in glowing pigments of blue, with runes and swirling patterns of water and air. Sometimes they drift towards one another and dance with each other before slowly drifting apart again, sometimes dancing with others or by themselves, the pounding drums leading their movements and pace.
They and the other Dwarves would continue to dance long into the night before the bonfires finally died down and the last of the drums fell silent, leaving more then a few that haven't wandered away to simply sit or lay down on the cool stone floor in happy exhaustion. Many using this mellow time to talk or get to know a particular dance partner better, some had gathered into small groups, laughter rising every now and then from the various groups as they sat around the dark cavern lit only by the dieing embers of the fires. More then one individual was also dealing with the consequences of drinking too much alcohol mixed with hard paced dancing as they now lay moaning miserably on the floor or where hunched over a bucket or in a corner.
It was in one of these groups, in a small side chamber off from the main cavern that Gimli, Kaya, Nidi, Svior and a few others had gathered after the celebration. The small stone chamber was mostly bare, with a small fire pit built into in the center of the room, some tattered cushions scattered about to sit on, while two large tapestries hung from either wall, one depicting the White Mountains while the other depicted the three sacred peaks of Kazad-dum.
Sitting near the curtain draped exit by the fire was a young male by the name of Thurs, with thick curly brown-hair, of medium height and broad build. He was a very calm and intelligent Dwarf, always seeming to have his head in a book or scroll. He wore a brown leather leggings and a thick gold-incrusted belt about his hips which was his only adornment, he was from the one of the higher LongBeard clans and could trace his blood to Durin himself. His family lived in the nicer area on the fourth level of the Mountain with the other more wealthy and higher standing families. Though Thurs was a very fit and strong Dwarf, having a great skill at swinging a broad sword, he was more of an intellectual and was studying to become a scholar and teacher by trade, following in the footsteps of his bookish father.
Not far away, Gimli leaned lazily against the wall, one foot up, resting back against the rough stone behind him, the dark-haired Kaya standing next to him, unconsciously curling a lock of her dark-hair around her finger. Gimli was chewing on a piece of dried jerky as Kaya told him about her Mother's newest conquest, who happened to be a large soldier from Dain's army and how they kept her up the other night.
Meanwhile a young blond-haired Dwarrow-dam, who was a friend of Kaya's, was telling the others about a funny incident that happened to her on the way to the Mountain many months before. She stood before the fire weaving her tale, her shadow to be seen mirroring her movements on the stone wall behind her as her dark-green eyes glittering in the firelight, clad in black leggings with large flat discs of gold dangling from her ears and nothing else. Her face full of humor as she stood their uncaring of her partial nudity while she did an impression of a strange Man she had met, that had the others laughing uproariously.
The dark-haired and bare-chested Svior sat on some cushions with Nidi, who was clad in in light-green hose and a cheerful yellow tunic with green embroidery on the collar and sleeves, his long honey-brown curls held away from his smooth heart-shaped face in a simple knot. While Svior was only clad in dark green leggings with a brown leather belt, his long dark hair loose, he was much more powerfully built then Nidi, who was petit by Dwarf standards. About both their throats where simple collars of worked silver and copper which had caused a bit of a stir when they first arrived in the Mountain, for it was almost unheard of for a Dwarf to find their "one" and take them as their mate before they had reached their first one-hundred years. Svior and Nidi's union was shocking for neither young Dwarf was even seventy yet. They however didn't care and neither did Gimli, who known them well and was the only one who could truly understand their reasoning, eventually Nidi and Svior would exchange better tooled and gilded collars, but for now the simple ones they wore were just as effective.
Unfortunately at the moment though, Svior seem to take a drink from the bottle that had become a permanent fixture in his hand, the bottle he now held being his eleventh one that night. For the most part he sat morose, seeming to get quieter the more he drank, Nidi watching worriedly. He and the others trying several times to stop the bigger Dwarf from drinking as well as draw him out from his dark mood, without success.
Not far away the scarred Draupnir and his elder brother stood in front of the tapestry of Khazad-dum signing to one another, their hands moving fluidly in intricate patterns as they talked, both brothers had their long dark-hair braided with many small opalescent shell beads, both wore dark green hose with thick silver bracelets on their wrists. Dolgthrasir went shirtless like Gimli and most of the others, while Draupnir however wore a fetching long-sleeves cloud-gray tunic to cover up the massive disfiguring scars that ran along his body, but instead of his usual red scarf, he wore a light blue one wrapped around his horribly scarred face.
A small Dwarf with a very short beard, clearly trying to grow it out, sat nearby on his heels as he dug through an old woven satchel. He wore brown leather leggings, a leather harness with boots and belt, unlike most of the others he had not participated in the dancing, content to drink, eat and generally harass the more attractive females at the festivities. His long brown hair was held back from his angular face in four thick braids gathered at the nape of his neck.
"What is that, Knuckles?" Draupnir signed with his hands, watching the small male pull out a faded and cracked leather-bound book from the satchel he had been digging through.
Knuckles looked up, catching what the other Dwarf signed before flashing the mute Dwarf a consperatory grin. Knuckles was a very small by Dwarf standards, smaller then Nidi even, standing not that much bigger then a tall Hobbit. His build was rangy, bordering on skinny, but what he lacked in size and muscle mass, he made up for it speed and agility. He was the fastest runner in the Mountain and was a gifted tumbler, able to do some impressive feats of acrobatics, his only weapons being his sharp wits and several small hidden knives. Knuckles was not his actual name, which was Brofy, but a nickname he had earned for himself on the mean streets of the larger towns in the Blue Mountains area, for he was a skilled and notorious thief. He was also a very nasty fighter if cornered or caught, more then one being that had tried to catch or hurt him found a slender dagger through their ribs before they died.
Having been orphaned since he was twenty-four, his family killed in an ambush by robbers outside a town, he had been taken in by some wondering performers (who taught him how to tumble and do other such tricks). Unfortunately they had taken very bad advantage of him, treated him no better then a beast of burden, when they where not threatening to beat or starve him, after three miserable years he was able to escape them, striking out on his own able to making good use of his acquired skills. For much of the time after that he managed to survive by wandering from town to town as a pickpocket and thief, when he wasn't juggling and doing acrobatic feats on a street corner for change. During those many hard years and with Dwarves being unwanted and looked down on in so many places, he had hidden his Dwarven heritage from outsiders by disguising his deep voice, pitching it higher and wearing concealing cloaks, even so far a shaving his beard, which he had only just recently allowed to grow. With his small stature and thin build, he was able to fool quite a few into thinking him just an odd looking child or boot-wearing Hobbit. Like many other Exiles he had made his way to the Mountain after hearing of the Dragon's death to start new life, soon after to become friends with Gimli and the others.
"It's a book I barrowed from the library in Lake Town," the small Dwarf explained, getting up and flipping through it. "Can't read it though, its in Elvish," he explained, a frown momentarily marring his angular features as he squinted at the elegant script. "But its got interesting pictures!"
"Borrowed? Don't you mean stole?" Kaya snorted, all those gathered where quite familiar with Knuckles 'barrowing' things.
"Fine! The book I stole," Knuckles sniffed, glaring at her. "Some habits be hard to brake, alright," he grumbled in defense of himself.
"Svior! Please, you've already drunk enough!" Nidi pleaded from across the fire as he tried, unsuccessfully, to take Svior's bottle again. But the other Dwarf refused to relinquish the alcohol as he took another long pull from it, avoiding the other's attempt to stop him.
Gimli just shook his head from where he watched, knowing it was useless for Nidi to even try. If Svior wanted to get shit-faced, that was his prerogative. Though he could not blame Nidi, having watched the larger Dwarf do nothing but drink like a damn fish as soon as the festivities and dancing had started. Never had he seen his friend drink so much, back in Black Hollow he remembered how Svior would enjoy a good pint now and then at the tavern, but it wasn't until he had been reunited with his two friends that he saw a dramatic change in Svior. Apparently he was not the only one that had changed in the past year. Now whenever he saw his friend it was with a mug of mead or ale in hand, if Gimli didn't know better he would think his friend had developed the drinking-sickness (2.) that some Humans got.
"Here, let me be see'in it. I know some Elvish and can read it too," Thurs told them as he sat up and held out a hand for the book, which Knuckles handed over.
"Your Da still got you helping to translate those tomes in the lower vaults?"
"Aye, that he does. I might as well be making it me permanent job at this rate," Thurs snorted, not looking up from the book as he flipped through some of the pages.
"Its in early Sindarin, looks old… Probably some time from the early second age by the writing." He finally said before skipping to the front page of the old book again. "See this? It says that this here is a collection of information on plants, peoples and animals by an Elven Scholar names Altslasse. But looking through this I must say that this is a very poorly written book, his writing in some areas is atrocious! Many of his observations are also clearly not from his own experiences, most these descriptions are from other peoples observations. See?" he pointed out to them. "Some of these rivers are in the wrong area-- and here! He has Mount Gundabad east of the Withered Hearth, when it is west!" his tisked, shaking his head.
"Give it here! I want to find something," Dolgthrasir said in his scratchy voice, coming over and taking the book. The bracelets on his thick wrists chiming merrily with his movements as the shell beads in his hair swung about his broad shoulders.
As he flipped through the brittle pages, Nali strolled over to where Gimli and Kaya stood, Gimli watching her come over, a smile coming to his lips as he watched the pronounced swing in her rounded hips. Nali was a lovely female, with her rather pale skin tone, light hair coloring and her dark cat-like green eyes, she came from one of the wealthier clans from the Iron Hills. Born and raised into the privilege and safety of the Iron Hills, the only daughter born to her parents, she had been a friend of Kaya's for some years, the two Dwarrow-dams having been taught under the same Weapons Master.
"Those new earrings of yours look good, Star," she purred, looking at the thick gold rings that pierced the lobes of Gimli's ears. Coming to stand on his other side and non to subtlety brushing up against him as she batted her eye's, a answering smile coming to Gimli's lips, making no attempt to hide that he found her quite attractive.
"Thank you, my Lady Nali," he purred back as he inclined his head to her.
Kaya however looked less then pleased, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes before stepping up and giving Gimli a sharp shove as she gave Nali a long hard look.
Catching the meaning of that look, Nali stepped back, momentarily dropping her eyes, letting them know that she did not challenge Kaya's silent warning, yet her posture stayed open and did not drop, letting Kaya know that she was not angered or agitated either. Gimli meanwhile gave an internal sigh of disappointment before turning an annoyed gaze to the completely unapologetic dark-haired Dwarrow-dam next to him.
"Gloin's going to throw a fit when he see's em," warned Thurs, looking up from where he sat nearby. Both of Thurs' parent's where LongBeards so he braided his curly brown hair accordingly, later when his beard was longer he would braid that traditionally as well.
"Don't I know it," Gimli groaned, turning his head to the other male. "The way he be treating me, you'd think I was just weaned from breastfeeding!" Gimli grumbled sourly.
"That was yesterday wasn't it?" Asked Knuckles with a smirk before ducking the cushion Gimli then threw at him.
"He's LongBeard, they are all a bit… bland," observed Kaya, ignoring Thurs following glare as she let out a big yawn.
"That maybe so, but I am only half LongBeard," Gimli reminded her, unconsciously reaching up to touch the cool ring of metal on his ear. "Besides my mother was planning to pierce my ears before I was even twelve summers! I remember hearing her and my Da arguing about it a few times. I should have had them done when I reached fifty, but what with Da and us be so poor an all," he finished with shrugged.
"Regin did a good job," Nali said, studying the thick seamless rings. Dwarven rings and other such piercings where permanent and could only be removed by cutting or ripping them out. "Lady Ai will no doubt be vary pleased."
"Well, you look full IronFist," Thurs pointed out, looking the other male up and down. Like flame-red hair was for those of FireBeard descent or golden-colored hair for those of the StoneFoot clans, Gimli's straight dark copper-colored hair and almond-shaped eyes, where distinctive to those of the IronFist clans. Rings in the ears and other such piercing was a very common practice amongst the IronFist and FireBeard clans, pierced ears especially were a deep tradition in the various IronFist clans. However, piercings where frowned on by most of those of the LongBeards clans, which was odd since many LongBeards where known for their fine tattoos.
"Still, he needn't worry. I will part and braid my beard the traditional LongBeard way," Gimli explained, reaching up to rub the thick silky hair along his chin.
In Dwarven society it was the females who where dominant, and so when a couple married, it was the male who was expected to move in with his wife's clan. However, if a bonding was to take place between two females or two males, the one of lesser standing was expected to move into the other's clan. So if a simple stone mason where to wed a high warrior, he or she would be expected to move into the warrior's clan, or if a warrior was to take a Master smith as a mate, the warrior was expected to move in with the smith's clan. In turn any offspring they would sire would be raised with the Dominant partner's clan's traditions.
Nali gave Gimli a final wink and ran a teasing finger down his muscular arm before turning to walk back the way she came-- only to find Knuckles suddenly standing there in her personal space, making her momentarily jump in surprise. The small brown-haired Dwarf only coming up to her shoulder as he blocked her way.
"Why would you want some one like him, when you can have a stallion like me?" He purred, looking up at the blond female attempting to be suave as he wiggled a suggestive eyebrow at her. Nali however, having gotten over her surprise, only looked irritated before she put a hand on his face and promptly shoved him away, causing him to fall back on some cushions before she walked past. Knuckles meanwhile didn't seem fazed in the least, sitting up on his elbows and watching her walk away with a lecherous smile, taking advantage of his lowered vantage point to admire her shapely rump.
"Great technique you got there, Knuckles," Gimli observed before taking a sip of water from the water skin he now held as he looked down at the smaller male. Kaya just rolled her eyes at the male now sprawled on the cushions, looking far too pleased with himself before following after her friend.
"Not all of us can get by on our looks alone, Pretty-boy," he sniffed, giving the handsome copper-haired Dwarf a superior look. "Jealous?"
"Oh, Aye! I'm just burn'in up with rage," Gimli said sarcastically before tossing Draupnir nearby the water skin with a snort.
"Find what you where looking for, Dolgthrasir?" Asked Thurs, leaning over the other Dwarf's shoulder to look.
"No, but I did find something else. Look at this!" The dark-haired Dwarf cried, turning the book out for them all to see as the others gathered around in curiosity.
He held the book open to a page with a ink drawing on it, but he gave an irritated "Oy!", when Kaya walked over and snatched the book from him. With the exception of Gimli and Svior, the others had all come over for a look as well, now gathering around the dark-haired Dwarrow-dam.
"Harrumph! I didn't see that picture before," Knuckles growled when he saw it, scowling at the ink image. "I wouldn't have bothered to swipe it!" He grumbled indignantly as folding his arms over his chest.
"Well, let that be a lesson to you about stealing things that don't be belonging to you," signed Draupnir with a chuckle, his two-colored eyes turning to give the glaring thief a rye look.
"What shit! That Elf, Altsissy-- or whatever his name be, can shove this book right up his lily-white arse for all I care!" yelled Nali, her dark-green eyes narrowed, visibly bristling with anger.
"Valor! Is that the way they truly see us?" gasped Nidi, now looking over her shoulder in shock, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Dolgthrasir just barely managed to snatch the book out of Kayla's hands before the fuming Dwarrow-dam could throw it in the fire, causing her to growl and glare at him. He threw back his head with a scratchy laugh when he finally opened the book and looked at the illustration of a supposed 'Naugrim' again.
"Well this only proves that for all their supposed wondrous vision-- Elves are clearly blind!" He snorted good-naturedly, the many shell beads in his hair flashing in the firelight.
And though he couldn't see the drawing, Gimli chuckled with the others as he leaned against the wall, Draupnir coming over to sit next to him. It reminded him of an incident his uncle had told him about a year before.
It had been days after the battle, the final day before the Elves where to break camp and leave for Mirkwood, all of their wounded healed enough to be safely moved. As a token of good-will between their peoples, King Dain had invited King Thranduil and Bard to sup with him.
Balin and his uncle Oin just happened to have been part of the group that King Dain had personally escorted to the massive feasting hall, for a carefully laid out celebratory dinner of goodwill. As the Warrior King escorted his guests, he showed them some of the impressive sights of Erebor, pointing out architecture and various murals and sculpture. The areas he showed them had of course been stringently cleaned and brightly lit by many crystal lamps and torches, carefully avoiding the more damaged chambers and halls. It just so happened as Dain was about to turn and lead them down a final hall, that Thranduil's eldest son, the dark-haired Prince Caulndil had stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted a particular sculpture standing between two intersecting halls.
It so happened to be a massive statute of a noble Elf, clad in rich robes, a golden harp in one hand and a sword in the other, his stone eyes seeming to look far away as his hair and robes whipped in a invisible wind.
"Father! Look it is Finrod," the Prince had cried in wonder, causing the others of the group to pause and look as well.
"So it is," Thranduil said, looking up at the massive stone figure. Looking rather under-whelmed even though no statue of Finrod in any of the remaining Elven kingdoms could there be found this wonderfully done.
"But father, what is it doing here?" The Prince hissed to his father in a low voice, turning to look in confusion at his taller father, but before Thranduil could speak another spoke up.
"Such a being as Felagund deserves to be remembered, do you not agree?" The Dwarf King said with a nod, coming to stand with the group, all of who now looked up at the ancient stone Elf. The powerfully built Dwarf King happily ignoring Thranduil's irritated gaze.
"You should see some of the larger murals and sculptures," he said, looking up at the massive figure towering majestically above them before turning to Thranduil now standing beside him. "There is even a particularly large and impressive mural down in one of the lower halls that depicts the Last Alliance. Your great father Oropher is depicted with his warriors before his brave charge-- Even a depiction of you, Thranduil, still but a prince.
"Luckily your depiction was high enough that it avoided any defacing," Dain added with a wicked smile, that made one of Thranduil's elegant eyebrows raise as he looked back at the other King. Thranduil getting the impression that when Dain spoke of defacing, it was not by the Dragon, but by the Dwarves now residing in the Mountain.
"You should see it-- after my people have cleared and repaired that hall of course," Dain continued on pleasantly. "As it is here and other Dwarf kingdoms, you will find many honorable heroes of Arda, both Men and Elves. I'm sure you also have some wonderful sculpture or paintings of great Dwarven heroes in your halls as well?"
There was a very long silence that followed after that and Gandalf momentarily closed his grey-eyes, for he knew the answer and could only shake his head at the handsome Warrior King, knowing full well that Dain was no fool. Seeing the mischievous twinkle in Dain's dark eyes, he knew the Dwarf King was clearly having a little fun at Thranduil's expense.
Seeing the hard look on Thranduil's pale aristocratic face sent Dain into gales of deep rumbling laughter, which proved infectious, for Beorn, Bard and his Men where soon laughing as well, seeing the humor in it. Only the Elves had stood there looking far from amused.
"Forgive me my dear Thranduil! But I think I know just what kind of imagery, if any, I might find of my people in your halls," Dain finally chuckled after getting his laughter under control, wiping a tear from his the corner of his eye.
The Elf King bristled, his jewel-like eyes flashing, but had nothing to say.
Gimli internally shook his head as he remembered the night his uncle Oin had laughed until his stomach had hurt as he told them that story or later of poor Gandalf and Bard hurriedly defusing the situation by claiming to be famished and wishing to see more of the Mountain.
Oin and his father had later told him how dinner ended up being a very tense and very odd affair, for aside from Thranduil, his Eldest son and two of his top advisors, as well as Bard and three of his council. There had been Gandalf, the remaining members of Thorin's party and the skin-changer Beorn, who's manners and overall couth left much to be desired. The hulking wear-bear who apparently thought nothing of burping, snorting over the choices of food, insulting the other guests, breaking wind in the company of royalty and being altogether rude.
A loud pop of the fire and a shifting of the logs, brought Gimli's attention back to the present and he turned his attention to the others in the room still talking and stewing over the book Knuckles had stolen. Even Svior by now had stumbled up on unsteady feet to have a look at the book, bottle still in hand, now looking mad and flushed.
"It is their bigotry and ignorance that make the Elves and Men blind to the truth. Not their eyes. I suppose the same could be said for some of us," signed Draupnir level-headedly from where he sat, his mismatched eyes sparkling in the firelight.
"Let me see," Gimli finally asked, holding he's hand out to Dolgthrasir, his curiosity now peaked.
"Brace yourself," the dark-haired Dwarf snorted, handing him the book.
"That- that thing doesn't look anything like us," grumbled Kaya, sharply motioning to the book Gimli now held. "Someone should brake that artist's hands!"
Gimli dark almond-shaped eye narrowed as he finally beheld the ugly miserable, hunched creature depicted on the dry yellowed parchment that had his friends so angry. And though he tried to deny it, he felt a momentary pang of hurt as he looked at the creature with it's scraggly beard dragging the ground, with a large beak-like nose and small beady black eyes, a nasty sneer on it's wrinkled face. It wore a hood, with a blood-stained axe in one small stumpy-hand and held a bag of coins in the other, at it feet, no doubt having just been murdered by the stunted creature was depicted the bloody sprawled body of a lovely delicate Elven maid. At the top of the page, above the depiction was one word written in bold letters of Elvish scrip; Naugrim.
"It is the Victors of arda that get to re-write history," Gimli finally said, looking up from the crude ink image. Finding he no longer had the want, nor the stomach to look upon it, handing it off to Draupnir sitting next to him.
"Such a lies!" cried Kaya angrily, motioning to the book. "We may not like those arrogant--lying--self-centered-- twig-dicked-- tree-humpers! But we do not depict them with such lies! Mahal spit in their eyes!"
"Calm yourself, Kaya," Gimli soothed, speaking up as he leaned back against the stone wall again. "Trust me this is bad, but I have seen worse in Human towns and villages," he said with a shrug, Knuckles, Nidi and Svior also nodding their heads in grudging agreement.
"I know, I know! Yet it is just so--so…. maddening!" She said, tugging on her short beard in frustration before throwing up her hands at a loss for what else to say.
"Thats Elves for you," snorted Thurs with a helpless shrug. "It's like the tale of Turin slaying Glaurung. The Elves make it seem as if Turin did so single handedly, yet would the Man have been able to do so if not for King Azaghal's noble sacrifice in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears? The fact is that Turin would not have been able to get close if not that the Dragon was already wounded thanks to Azaghal's strike. But who cares about that!" He said sarcastically, making a dramatic show of waving off the facts with a roll his brown eyes.
"Aye. What do you expect from the Eldar, they probably can't understand why every mortal in arda ain't line'in up on their knees to be kiss'in their arses!" The light-haired Nali said in total disgust, breaking a thick log with her hands before throwing both pieces on the fire. Someone had painted many crawling snakes of green and brown wrapped and slithering around her strong arms and torso, one slender snake encircled one of her bared breasts, her long golden-hair sat in a long tail high on the back of her head, leaving her attractive and painted face bare.
"Hey now, maybe were looking at this all wrong," Dolgthrasir spoke up, waving a hand in the air to still their angry words as he walked over to his brother who still held the book open. "Look, see the bag of coins?" He pointed out, a thick calloused finger tapping on a section of the drawing. "Clearly the poor lass paid him to put her out of her misery of having to pose for this shitty drawing!" he joked.
"Well… I can't be blame'in her for that," Kaya said grudgingly, the corners of her lips threatening to curl into a smile.
"I still can't be getting over all the lies those addle-brained Elves and Men think," Nali said with a disbelieving shake of her head.
"You mean it's not true that we all be greedy-moles, raping the earth for our own selfish gain?" gasped Dolgthrasir, pretending mock astonishment as he turned to look at her with wide eyes, as if stunned by her words.
"But I though the Naugrim simply boorish unlovely creatures," he continued, pitching his scratchy voice into a high tenor, in a mocking attempt at a Elf-like voice as he girlishly flipped his hair.
"Yes! Forget not the Sack of Doriath! Never mind that we Elves murdered and massacred our own kind during the Kinslayings. Never mind that!" Thurs added, also pitching his voice high in a very bad imitation of an Elven voice, arrogantly holding his nose high in the air while making swishy motions with his hands.
"Yes, where be the hypocrisy in that?" Nali snorted with a roll of her green-eyes. "The Eldar be perfectly in their rights to treat us like lowly foul creatures, constantly rubbing our faces in our past mistakes, when their perfect white hands be covered in just as much-- if not more blood!"
"Well, we are all quite hairy and ugly," Gimli added in mock seriousness, motioning to his own handsome face as example.
"Don't forget stumpy and fat," Kaya purred, coming over to the cooper-haired Dwarf and running a teasing hand down Gimli flat muscular abdomen. Briefly tugging on the lacings of his leggings as Gimli gave her a suggestive grin and playfully reached out with a large calloused hand and gently tugged on her short beard.
"Or greedy and stupid!" Signed Draupnir, getting into the game.
"We don't bath or brush our hair and beards either," Dolgthrasir pointed out with a smirk, shaking his head and causing the many beads in his hair to swing and click together.
"We can't swim or jump either!" Knuckles said before taking a step-forward and doing a quick back-flip, followed by a perfect hand-stand, a wicked smile on his face as he balanced there upside down.
"Or that we are heartless and care only for gold and ale," Nidi added softly before leaning over and giving Svior's flushed cheek a kiss, causing the dark-haired Dwarf to momentarily smile and return the gesture.
"And that we eat our own babies!"
"Mahal! Tell me they are not saying that about us now," Kaya cried, looking aghast at the snickering Knuckles, who had just jumped back to his feet, dusting off his hands.
"Course not! We carve our children from stone, didn't you know?" Gimli asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her.
"We'll that explains Niping's ugly mug. His Da can't carve worth a shit!" cracked Thurs, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh.
"Soon it will be all our fault for the Battle of Fire Armies, I'm sure," someone said.
"Give it time! I'm sure in a year or two Thranduil's people will have all the Men in Dale and Lake Town convinced that my Da and the rest of Thorin's company purposefully invaded their foul forest and threw themselves in the dungeon!" Gimli snorted derisively as he ran his fingers through his long thick hair, combing it off his face.
"That's Wood-elves for ya, flighty as birds they all be. Even other Elven-kind consider them thus," Draupnir signed with a helpless shrug.
"Yes, but it must be admitted that none of us would take kindly to our feasting being unexpectedly interrupted," Thurs pointed out, ever the peacemaker and voice of reason of the group.
"True, and Bombur was part of that group," Nali conceded, a hand on her now cocked hip.
"I can only imagine the horror of a half-starved Bombur come barreling out of the bushes at a table full of food would frighten any one," giggled Nidi behind his hand.
"I'd be scared too! Especially if I was between him and that table!" Gimli said with a bark of laughter.
"I would not wish that fat Dwarf's hunger on anyone, even an Elf!" Svior snorted darkly from where he sat, speaking up for the first time that night.
"That greedy Elf King, like a Dragon on his hoard he be," Nali said a moment later, the fire highlighting her comely features. "Probably thought Thorin and them was after his gold." She finished with a shake of her long blond hair before taking a bite from a piece of dried beef she now held. Her strong white teeth having no problem with the tough meat, with a loud rip and a chiming of her disc earrings, she was eating a mouthful that would have been impossible for a Man's teeth to chew.
"Oy now! How where those poor addle-brained Wood-elves to know?" Thurs spoke up, coming to squat beside her, a smirk on his strong-featured face. "For all they knew Thorin and the others might have been wanting to move into their forest."
"Ai! Who wouldn't want to live in such a nice dark spider infested wood, with plenty of insects and orcs to be had?" snickered Dolgthrasir. "Perhaps build a nice mansion with a view of the Enchanted river."
"Maybe King Thranduil thought they be there to steal their squirrels!" Someone laughed, the others in the room now laughing as well, except for the strangely quiet Svior who continued to drink.
"To steal their spiders!" Knuckles suddenly cackled, tears of mirth in his eyes as the others continued to laugh uproariously.
"Well at least we know that not all of the Eldar are such ignorant savages, just look at the wise Lord Elrond and his good people," Said Thurs, finally getting his laughter under control as he took the ancient book from Draupnir and flipped through it again. Noting that the other depictions of Men and Periannath where not that flattering either, apparently the author and artist of this odd book had a low opinion of most peoples, except their own it seemed. With a derisive snort he snapped the book shut and tossed it back to Draupnir, who almost dropped it with a fumbling catch.
"I don't trust his folk either," grumbled Nali around a mouthful, her lip curling. "Half-elf or no. He still be a Elf!"
"Aye, but he still be better then that dark Elf Thranduil!"
"Have you ever seen him?" Dolgthrasir asked the others leaning conspiratorially forward with a grim look on his short-bearded face, the fire under lit his features, causing his shinning black-eye to glow an eerie bronze in the firelight. "A frightful being he be, he must be ten feet tall with hair the color of the sun! He has giant spiders for pets, keeping them as watch dogs, having them attack unsuspecting travelers in his wood! All white-skin and blazing eyes, he'll kill you as soon as look at you if ya stood between him and getting his pale hands on any gold or jewels!" He said with a shudder, remembering the brief glimpse he and his brother had caught of the frightening Elf King during the battle, swinging his great white sword.
From where he stood, Gimli just rolled his almond-shaped eyes at what was being said, giving an internal shake of his head.
"I don't rightly know how Thorin and Balin where able to stand their and confront such a beast, in his own kingdom no less," Draupnir signed with an admiring shake of his head. His gold and black eyes looking into the fire over the light-blue scarf wrapped around his face, the many shell beads shining in his dark hair.
"Well if I had been there before that greedy King Thranduil, I would have--" Knuckles began, his chest puffing up.
"You would have pissed yourself!" Gimli suddenly broke in with a laugh, the others promptly fell into laughter as well as poor Knuckles fumed.
"Shut your face, Star! You don't know nothing!" he growled irritably as the others continued to laugh, crossing his arms as he glared at the other Dwarf.
"Well not all the humans must believe those damned stories, judging by the good trade with Bard's people or those lovely lasses always fluttering around Gimli whenever we go to Dale," signed Draupnir, his miss-matched eyes full of humor.
"Or when he came back from that trip to Lake Town last week covered in lip-paint and his shirt on backwards!" laughed Draupnir, as Gimli fained innocence.
"I told you, I was taken advantage of!" he said dramatically, putting the back of his hand to his brow mimicking martyrdom before a sly grin broke over his face. Making the other males in the room chuckle, while the two females looked less then impressed, their eyes narrowed in irritation. Nidi meanwhile just knowingly shook his head, remembering Gimli's past relationships, especially with the wild raven-haired Myia, some things just never changed it seemed.
"I despise the way those damned Women hang on our males," Kaya leaned over and grumbled to Nali, who nodded in agreement.
"Aye! They got plenty males of their own," she said, her large gold disk earrings flashing in the firelight.
"Then again who would want a Man, no stamina!" Kaya sniffed, tossing her dark-hair as she crossed her arms over her bare chest. The swirling designs of water and air painted on her shapely form glowed an eerie blue in the darkness, her belt of silver coins chiming merrily on her hips.
"And they don't know their place! Have you seen the way those Men treat their females? I once saw a Man raise his hand to his mate, right in the middle of the street! You should have seen her! Covered in bruises, old and new, the way she cowered like a beaten dog. Barbaric, makes me sick!" Nali spat angrily, a scowl on her smooth face as she remembered the incident, her fists unconsciously clenching.
"Do not judge them to harshly, my Ladies. They are ignorant and know no better, beside they are different from us," Thurs said, not looking up as he stirred the fire with a iron rod.
"If a male dared raise his hand to me in such a manner, I would skin him alive! Then I would rip off his head and shit in it!" she snarled, glaring at the male next to her. Who wisely shrank away and moved a couple feet away as Kaya staunchly nodded her head in agreement.
"Oh! I wanted to show you all something!" Nidi suddenly chirped, as he jumped up to get something from a small knapsack resting at his feet amid the scattered cushions while the others looked on in interest. Even the quiet and morose Svior sat up, after taking another pull from his bottle, his curiosity sparked.
"I took some inspiration from our honorable Hobbit Burglar and decided to write our experiences down. Well… Svior and I-- and a little of you too Gimli, " Nidi hurriedly told them as he dug through the brown knitted sack.
"Is that what you've been doing these last three months in your room?" asked Gimli stepping away from the wall and coming over, the others also gathering for a closer look.
It was with a happy sound that Nidi finally found what he was looking for and they all watched the small heart-shaped faced Dwarf hold a up a thick bundle of tied up parchment. "It's almost done!" He explained as he got to his feet, briefly straitening his yellow tunic before he undid the twine and walked over to hand Gimli the first page, who saw that it was a list of names in Nidi's flowing script.
Gimli felt great sadness as he instantly recognized many of the names as familiar faces flashing behind his eyes as he read through the list. But some names more then others made a lump appear in his throat as a painful ache squeezed his heart as he read them; Noko, Lady Hilder, Ridi, Rint, Shala, Leon, Hanar, Ulfr…
"I wrote down everyone's name, see," Nidi said shyly, pointing at the carefully listed names. "When it's done I'll dedicate it to all of them." Gimli couldn't help but look back at the younger Dwarf and smile, touched by Nidi's simple sweetness even after so much hardship. Nidi then moved away and proudly presented the quiet Svior the rest, looking eager to see what his mate thought as he watched him slowly begin to flip through the pages. As he did so, Kaya, Dolgthrasir and Nali came over to look at the list, the fire letting out another pop as some of the wood shifted.
The momentary quiet was suddenly shattered by shouts and gasps of shock when Svior climbed to his remarkably steady feet with the collection of parchments in hand, moved past a confused Nidi and promptly threw the papers into the fire in the center of the room. Gimli let out a curse as he bolted forward, his eyes wide with shock, not believing what he had just seen, the list completely forgotten in his hand.
"What are you doing?" Nidi cried as he hurried forward and tried to snatch the bundle of parchment from the hungry flames, only to be brought up short and pulled back by the silent Svior.
"No! Let it burn," the black eye-Dwarf commanded, stopping the struggling Nidi and the others from trying to rescue the pages. Without a further word he moved back and flopped heavily back on his cushion then dragging a stunned and distressed Nidi onto his lap, wrapping a secure arm around the smaller Dwarf's waist, his other hand still holding his half-empty bottle.
"But…but why?" Nidi demanded softly, looking at his lover in complete confusion and hurt. Upset at seeing all his hard work destroyed for seeming no reason, the others in the room stood there in stunned silence. Gimli was stunned and confused as well at the black-eyed Dwarf's strange actions and impatiently waited for an explanation, Svior however said nothing as he brought the bottle he held to his lips for another long drink.
When no answer was forthcoming, Gimli stormed forward and made known his irritation, snatching the bottle out of the drunk Dwarf's hand. And in turn spilling some wine down Svior's front as the Dwarf yelled angrily in protest, but apparently could not find the will to get up and snatch it back.
"What in Mordor possessed you to do that?" Gimli demanded, holding the bottle out of reach, anger in his voice as he glared down at the black-haired Dwarf.
"Because no one will care. Who would read it?" Svior snapped angrily back, glaring up at the copper-haired Dwarf as he wiped uselessly at the stain now on his leggings. Giving up he looked back up at Gimli, "Who would want to read it, eh?" He prompted sarcastically before looking at everyone else in the room. "Elves? Men? Or how about some Hobbits maybe?"
"We will!" Nidi began, his eyes narrowed at his mate as he angrily unwrapped the larger Dwarf's arm from around his waist, his tone still more hurt then anything. "We Dwarves will--" but the honey-eyed Dwarf was interrupted with a derisive snort.
"Yes, another sorrowful tale to add to our libraries already full of it!" Svior snarled, though he allowed the smaller Dwarf to push away his hand. Even in his inebriated state Svior would never force Nidi to do anything against his will or strike him, though he might unintentionally hurt him in others ways.
"It is not your place to make such decisions! Who gave you the right?" Gimli snapped back before walking over and throwing the bottle into the fire. With a laud shattering of glass the fire momentarily flared high before returning to its regular size, the many deep shadows jumping.
"I agree! You do not know that for a fact, look at this book here," Draupnir signed with a shake of his head, picking up and waving the Elven book. "It has survived all these centuries and Knuckles found in a town of Men, now it is in a Dwarven kingdom."
"Yes, a book of lies! Is that book not proof enough, that none will care! We are alone, our own creator has thrown us aside. Valor be damned, what makes you think that any other race would care about what happened to any of us, they would probably laugh! Maybe even think we deserved what happened to us!" Svior hissed back, venom dripping as he glared back at Gimli with glassy eyes. Drink having loosened not only his tongue, but his hold on his darker thoughts, for clearly this wasn't just about Nidi's or the Elven book anymore. Nidi sat stiff and still on his lap looking at him with big shocked-eyes. The others had also fallen silent, many looking stunned at Svior's words.
"Ale has addled your brain, Svior!" Gimli finally growled, seeing Svior's harsh words as the ranting of a drunk. In his mind he suddenly got a flash of Ruby, drunk and snarling back in the kitchen in Ocendade, saying such hurtful things. Her final words ringing once again through his mind as he watched one of his close friends suddenly spew the same venom.
The easy comfort and cheer from just moments before had completely evaporated, now there was only an uncomfortable tension in the air as they all suddenly found themselves traveling on dark forbidden ground. Where before their postures had been open and carefree, now their stances where stiff, their movements weary, unconsciously defensive as Svior turned to Gimli once more.
"After all we have seen, surly you are not so blind Gimli? The Valor don't care, we are unwanted! WE ARE ALONE!" There was a long pause as Svior took a deep breath and rubbed a scarred and heavily callused hand over his glassy eyes, seeming to calm himself. He then turned and reached up to run the back of his fingers gently across Nidi's cheek as a way of silent apology before speaking again.
"The people that care or to whom it matters know, isn't that enough? Why bother to open a healing scar… why add one more salty tear to the ocean already there?" he softly demanded from his small mate.
"Because their stories-- Our stories should be heard!" Nidi said empathically as he caught and held one of Svior's hand, trying to make him under stand. But the dark-haired Svior could not be swayed as he just shook his head in denial, some of his long dark-hair falling in his face.
"Why do you say such things, we are not abandoned!" Kaya suddenly spoke up near Gimli, anger and confusion in her dark eyes, the fire casting half her face in deep shadow.
"Yes, we have much to thank Mahal for. The Valor have heard our prayers, look at our good fortune. Look around you! We are alive, we have a home, food--" Thurs began from where he sat opposite Nidi and his drunk mate across the fire.
"Yes! Look around us!" Svior interrupted, his head snapping up before making a sharp motion to the room around them as his temper again rose, his long dark-hair obscuring the sight of one of his flashing eyes. They then watched Svior dump a stiff Nidi off his lap and onto the cushions next to them as he got up. "We give such praise to the Valar, yet they have never done anything for us! Everyone prays and gives such praise to Mahal. Oh, Praise Mahal! Bless Mahal!
"Yet Mahal didn't make these halls, our people did! Mahal didn't fight the battle or defend us," he argued angrily. "Since our awakening we have walked Arda alone! The Valor are deaf, we are here because of our own hands! Our own strength! Not their good graces!" he continued heatedly, kicking a cushion out of his way.
"You speak things that will call the Valor down upon us!" Knuckles hissed from the other side of the room, his posture low, his manner suddenly nervous as if scared to speak to loudly.
"The Valor be rot! Where were the high Valar when half of our entire people where slaughtered in the Great War? Where were they when Smaug first came! Where were the great Valar when all the Women and Children of Black Hollow and the surrounding villages where being killed and eaten? Where were they as babies were ripped from their screaming mother's arms, to be eaten alive by the goblin's? Where were they when the Women were ripped apart by those damned bloody beasts? Where were they as all those people burned in the mine! WHERE WERE THEY?" Svior demanded of them, his broad fists white-knuckled, tears of rage falling unnoticed from his hollow looking eyes. His form visibly trembled and all were struck silent by the power of Svior's pain, the betrayal in his deep voice clear to all, especially to Nidi and Gimli who knew him best.
"It was not by Mahal's favor or will that we survived. It was I who killed those goblin's with my bare hands as we tried to escape," he continued in a calmer, yet no less bitter voice. Gimli finally hearing a bit of what had truly happened to his friends after Svior and Nidi had left Ulfr, Hanar and him behind, heading towards the quarry that terrible dark night.
"The Valor was not there when we where ambushed by a group of goblins! They where not there when I lost my sword… forcing me to snap and rip out their arms. They where not there when I ripped open that goblin's throat with my own teeth, they where not there when I shoved my thumbs through their eyes and crushed their sculls with my hands. They were not there when I climbed down the quarry with nothing but my bloody hands and feet, Nidi clinging to my back. Mahal was not there as we ran to Telgor. We made it not by divine intervention, but with our hands and our will to live!" Svior finished, his chest heaving, the small room seeming to ring with his last words as the flames continued to dance.
It was an odd and wrenching thing to truly question one's faith, to be forced to look upon one's uncertain place in the world and realize that there might be nothing for you.
"You speak as one lost, one who has lost his faith in Mahal!" Kaya finally hissed from across the fire, a desperate denial in her voice. She hung back behind Gimli with the still seated Draupnir, as if afraid to get any closer to the sudden stranger in their mists, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.
"I lost that long ago!" Svior laughed bitterly, turning to glare at her, the light of the fire casting dark shadows over his short-bearded face, his tortured eyes glowing eerily in the darkness. "When has Mahal ever been there when his children needed him? When has he ever come when his creations cried out and begged for help? Why does he not answer us, huh? Are we not his children, why does he leave us naked and alone in the dark?" He demanded with a sharp motion of his hand, causing him to momentarily wobble before regaining his balance.
Gimli and the others could only stand there, some watching in disbelief at what they were hearing, while other silently listened. Their faces blank, only their eyes betraying their dark and troubled thoughts as they all watched Svior suddenly turn and storm around the fire and over to Draupnir, ripping the Elvish book they had all been laughing at earlier from his hands. The mute Dwarf made a loud sound of protest, but did not get up, Dolgthrasir automatically coming over to stand protectively at his younger brother's side, his eyes watching Svior wearily.
"Those fucking Elves, they whine and moan about their fate, they wear their tears and sorrows like jewels. Yet they are the lucky ones! They are the favored children, they are the ones who have been handed everything! All the stories… The fucking Elves and those shit-for-brains Men, all they have but to do is cry out-- and the Valor come to them. The Valar codol and reach out to them, Iluvatar loves them-- not us!" He snarled, seeming to choke back a sob, his white teeth bared in hate as he turned and hurled the book into the flames, causing sparks to fly. Almost instantly the ancient book was consumed by fire, the dry brittle parchment curling and blackening, and none moved to save it.
"And what of our Great Creator?" Svior suddenly snorted, straightening up with a sneer and turning to look at them all again, angry tears still falling unnoticed from his pain-filled eyes.
"He is deaf to us-- yet he speaks to them, blesses them… Why not us? Why does Mahal no longer have room in his heart for we who love him as both father and mother?" He demanded softly, thumping a fist against his chest and none could bring themselves to speak.
Nali suddenly got up, roughly shoving past the black-haired Dwarf as she stormed out of the room, refused to hear more. Badly shaken, she all but ran from the room, Thurs got up and hurried after her a moment later. Knuckles however sat down and pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, his wide-eyed gaze never leaving Svior as if the drunk Dwarf was transforming into something else before their eyes. Gimli and Kaya still stood, unable to speak, the orange and red light of the flames illuminating their smooth watching faces, while tears now sparkled like diamonds in Nidi's large honey-brown eyes as he stared into the flames of the fire, harshly biting his bottom lip as he hugged himself.
"Be silent, Svior!" Gimli finally growled, stepping forward, his large almond-shaped eyes flashing in the firelight. But the other would not be silenced and continued on, venting his anger and ignoring the copper-haired Dwarf's warning as the others shifted uneasily.
"Mahal… Great Aule or beloved Creator has turned his back on us long ago… The Elves are probably right. There is no place for us in the Valor's love… when we die there is no great hearth waiting for us. Mahal did not make a space for us in their realm, he cares not for us! No doubt we will return to nothing but stone and dust…soulless and forgotten," Svior finally finished quietly, the anger and hate seeming to finally drain out of him.
From where he stood, Gimli could hear the bitterness and finality in his friend's voice and though he wished it weren't so… He couldn't deny the echoing bitterness in his own heart at Svior's harsh words, the sick and heavy feeling in his stomach as a small voice in the back of his mind completely agreed with his friend. The fact was that they all had thought the same thing at some time or other, but only Svior had dared speak them aloud. No doubt Svior would have been badly struck for daring to say such things in the presence of some of the Elders, especially one of the Wise Women, but Gimli knew that many other Dwarves would also agree. Long moments past and none of those still gathered around the fire had the conviction to dispute Svior's bitter and harsh words.
"And what if we are?" Gimli finally spoke up, letting some his own bitterness come out. "What would you have us do?" Gimli snarled, coming over until he stood next to his friend, confronting the other, his countenance stormy.
"I know of what you speak, I have seen things too…. Aye! The ugliness of this world is staggering!" he agreed, making a broad motion with his arm before turning back to the taller Dwarf that silently watched him. "But grow up, Svior! We are not the only ones to suffer in this world and bemoaning our fate leads to nothing! So what if Mahal does not love us, so what if others still pray to him? Do not begrudge them their simple comforts, for some it is the only thing they have left."
"Ai! If nothing else leave us something to curse to," Knuckles then spoke up, a forced smile on his angular bearded face as he let go of his knees and leaned back against the wall.
"Gimli is right, I learned long ago that all the tears in the world add up to nothing but mud. Mud that clings to everything--sullying everything. If allowed it will suck you down and smother you. Soon all you can do is but wallow in it," Knuckles said in all seriousness, his features darkening and for a few moments the others saw the hard steely thief that Knuckles had been to survive on the streets. "Save your tears, in the end they mean nothing," he finished quietly.
"I refused to be a victim a long time ago, Svior. Maybe you should consider doing the same," Gimli said in a hard voice, his fiery gaze turning to the fire, his fists clenched as he remembered his own terrible trials.
In the small chamber all remained quiet for a time, none able to breach the odd uncomfortable silence. Now that his rant was over, his anger vented, Svior seem to stand there in confusion, a frown on his face as he stood there before the cheerful fire. A few moments later Nidi finally got up and with Gimli's help they lead the bigger Dwarf back to his seat before getting him to flop down again. Gimli catching the water skin that Knuckles tossed over the fire at them before handing it to Nidi who gave him a soft thanks, still a bit shaken. Gimli then squatted down in front of Svior who looked lost as he rubbed a shaky hand over his flushed face, Gimli reaching out to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear, a small comforting gesture.
"Svior my friend, you drink too much." he said simply, his dark-eyes now full of worry as he looked at his friend. He then leaned forward and rested his forehead against Svior's, putting a comforting hand on the back of Svior's thick neck.
"You have vented your anger, now you must stop drinking so much. You hurt Nidi when you act this way, you do not want to worry him needlessly do you?" Gimli asked before he sat back and looked at his friend.
"No-No of course not. I'll- I will be better, no more drink," Svior promised earnestly, closing his weary eyes and shaking his head.
"Good," Gimli said with a tired smile. Giving Svior's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing again, leaving Nidi to fuss over his now mumbling and apologizing mate, getting him to drink some water.
As Gimli walk a few feet away, he again noticed the parchment he still held in his hand, pausing before the fire he look down at the list of names again, feeling his heart constrict once again in remembered sadness. Was this the real reason that others thought so little of Dwarves? Because in the end we think so little of ourselves? Have we begun to believe the many lies the Men and Elves say of us? Gimli thought to himself as he looked at the single piece of parchment in his hand.
With that he stepped forward and let the list fall from his hand and into the hot flames that licked teasingly at his finger tips. Stepping back to watch the parchment curled and blacked as the fire ate it, the names disappearing. It was with a keen pain in his chest that he watched Ulfr's name be consumed, he and the other's names once again lost in flames.
A long uncomfortable silence followed before Dolgthrasir finally broke the silence from where he stood. "Well, Svior your just a happy ray of sunshine this night, aren't you?" He snorted, shaking off the dark mood, the many shell beads in his dark-hair flashed as he sat down next to his miss-matched eyed brother, who nodded his head in agreement.
"Someone needs a nap," Knuckles snickered from across the fire, as he raised his arms above him for a long pleasurable stretch. It was after that, as if by magic, the dark mood was suddenly broken, the thick tension vanishing as if it had never been.
"Wha?" Svior mumbled in confusion, looking up from where he sat, Nidi kneeling next to him.
"Leave him be," the soft-spoken Dwarf pleaded of the others as he tried to get Svior to drink more water.
Kaya flopped heavily onto a cushion while Gimli posture relaxed and he leaned against the wall again, his arms loosely folded. The cool stone of the wall feeling good against his bare back, the runes, stars and stylized flames painted on his smooth tan skin glowed blue as he listened and laughed with the others again as Knuckles cracked a few jokes.
"Well, if we all be done with our pity-festival," Draupnir signed drolly, looking expectantly around the room with a cocked eyebrow before continuing. "Did any heard about what happened to Bild on his trip through Bree?" He asked conspiratorially in quick hand motions, mirth glittering in his gold and black eyes.
"Alright Draupnir, spit it out!" Kaya urged after a long pause, Gimli and Knuckles nodding their heads in agreement as they all waited for the mute Dwarf to continue. Next to him, Draupnir's older brother listened knowingly, having heard this story earlier, a hand clamped over his mouth least he brake out laughing as his younger brother began to tell them of poor Bild's misadventures in the back alleys of Bree.
An hour later found the small chamber quiet, the fire burning low, illuminating the young Dwarves scattered around the room, the many dark shadows jumping silently around the room.
In the quiet Gimli sat on a cushion before the fire with his knees drawn up, his arms resting over them as he gazed into the dancing flames, lost in thought. Kaya lay on her stomach next to him, drawing idol patterns in the ash of the fire with a small stick, also lost in thought, her dark eyes half-lidded as her bare feet slowly kicked in the air behind her. Across the fire, Gimli could hear Svior's faint snoring, the drunk Dwarf having past out earlier, Knuckles was sprawled face-down on a pillow, while Draupnir and his brother lay curled nearby, every now and then one would shift in his sleep.
"It's funny." Someone said, shaking him from his inward thoughts.
"What be?" Gimli asked, only moving his eyes to the source of the voice, Kaya also looked up from her idol drawing, but remained silent. His eyes found Nidi watching him from the other side of the fire, reclining on some piled cushions, the snoring Svior sprawled next to him. Gimli's eyebrows rose a bit, surprised since he had thought the petite Dwarf asleep like the others.
"For…for a moment your eyes… They looked like they were full of flames. Like there was nothing but fire inside you." Nidi continued, a thoughtful look in his large honey-brown eyes. Gimli said nothing to that as he turned his dark-brown gaze back to the fire, his mind still mulling over his internal thoughts.
"Gimli?" Came Nidi's soft voice again and he looked up, one eyebrow now cocked in question.
"Do you think what he said is true?" Nidi asked seriously as he gently brushed some of Svior's dark hair off his sleeping face, Svior shifted, but remained asleep. As Gimli watched the other Dwarf, he saw the same haunted look he had seen in his friend's eyes back in Black Hollow.
"I don't rightly know, Nidi. All I do know… is that to me it matters. We will never forget and in the end maybe that is all that matters."
"I know, yet it is just…," he trailed off for a moment, as if trying to find the proper words. "I just feel that all those gone deserve better, there are so few of us and…and… it just does not seem right."
"It is the way of Arda, many will go to their graves nameless and forgotten, good or bad. Legends and stories are for Elvish Lords, beautiful Ladies and noble Kings of Men. Those are the stories people remember, those are the stories people want to hear… to care about. Not about us…not Dwarves," Gimli said tiredly, giving an internal sigh, feeling suddenly so very old.
For many long moments it was silent with the exception of the occasional snap and hiss of the fire, the many dark shadows dancing to some unheard music. After awhile Gimli began to think Nidi had fallen asleep and got to his feet, he was about to turn and make his way to the curtained exit, when he heard Nidi's voice again.
"Gimli?"
"Aye?" He answered, turning to see the smaller Dwarf still awake, reclined next to Svior, still fast asleep. He was stroking the side of the larger Dwarf's face with the back of his fingers, his sad honey eyes gazing lovely upon his mate's sleeping profile, in the end Svior was the only thing Nidi had left, having lost everything in Black Hollow.
"I hope your wrong," Came the final soft reply. It was silent for a long moment before Gimli spoke.
"I hope I'm wrong too," he said simply before he turned and quietly left the room. Kaya getting up and following him out, leaving the sleeping Draupnir, Dolgthrasir, Knuckles and Svior, with the quiet Nidi to look over them and the low burning fire.
----------------------------------
"Do you believe that?" asked Kaya as the two made their way across the massive chamber where they had danced earlier that night. The smooth stone under their bare feet cold, only a few Dwarves to be seen loitering in the echoing space as others began the long cleanup process. "That we are alone, that there is nothing for us after this life?"
For long moments he didn't say anything while he thought about her question as they continued to walk.
"No," he finally said, turning to look at her as they both paused before heavy doors that lead out of the mostly empty chamber. Both of them turned to look back at the towering image of Mahal on the far opposite wall as they stood beneath the beautiful and ethereal image of Yavanna, who seem to smile down on them. With the many bonfires only smoldering embers now, the massive echoing chamber was almost completely dark with only a few crystal lamps for light.
In the soft light of these lamps Mahal's stone visage had transformed, where before in the red and orange light of the roaring fires, the many dark shadows leaping with their dance, his great image had seemed almost sinister and brooding as he glared down upon them as they reveled. Now his face seemed kind and serene, a loving parent fondly watching over his beloved children, seeming to rise up from out of the darkness over them, only his open hand to be seen, his great hammer in the other was hidden in the darkness.
"No," Gimli continued, looking back at her. "I still believe, not so much for my self but…" He momentarily faltered, not finding the proper words before continuing again.
"I have to believe that my family is someplace better, that there is something beyond this life. I have to believe that. But who knows… Perhaps Svior is right and we have been lying to ourselves, that we are just to scarred to admit that there is truly nothing for us," he said with a shrug, looking up at the Yavanna above them before turning again to Dwarrow-dam.
"But I'd gladly give up anything, even my very soul and happily return to nothing but stone and dust if it meant that Mahal and the Valar had a place where my family's souls could live on.
"Yet soul or not, loved or not, we are here. And I'm going to live the life I'm given to it's fullest-- no matter what anyone thinks!" He said fiercely, his eyes flashing with fire. With that the two Dwarves turned their backs to image of Mahal and walked through the grand doors, leaving the dark echoing chamber behind.
It was later that evening, in the last few hours before dawn that found Gimli and Kaya in one of the small high chambers in the upper portion of the Mountain. The medium sized room was bare, having once served as some eccentric Dwarf's observatory, aside from the entrance door there where two heavy stone doors leading out onto a balcony, that could be shut and sealed. The special balcony overlooked a shear side of the Mountain, giving a panoramic view of all the land below as far as the eye could see. Because the balcony was built on this section of the Mountain, it was protected from all invaders, for not even the most talented mountain goat or sneaky goblin could hope to climb the vertical drop. It was also invisible from those below, anyone looking up would no doubt think it only an odd overhang or outcrop of rocks.
Feeling strangely restless and unable to sleep, Gimli silently stood on the balcony, his eyes looking up at the stars, the wind causing his long lose copper-hair to fly and whip behind him like a proud flag. For a long time Gimli stood, uncaring of his nudity, looking out into the vast moonless sky, the stars twinkling in all there jeweled grandeur in their endless sea of night. Behind him in the dark chamber lay the sated form of Kaya on their rumple bed of blankets, sprawled on her back, her dark hair fanned around her, the three aching bite marks on his chest and shoulder from her sharp teeth as testament to her satisfaction.
As it was with most things in their society, a female's satisfaction came first, a male would soon find himself unable to attain a bed mate if he could not properly satisfy a female. Yet unlike most mating by humans and other species, female Dwarves where almost always the dominant when it came to mating, most preferring aggressive love-making, with lots of growls and nipping, injuries where not uncommon when in the throws of passion.
As Gimli's deep-brown eyes looked up towards the heavens, the distant stars seeming to call him as they always had, a faint tug in his chest that he could never figure out. His mind once again wandered back to his words to Kaya and their fate. Was nothingness really so bad? Was the thought of turning back to nothing but rock and dust so terrible… or was it really something else?
As he continued to stand their in the dark, the starlight painting his smooth skin a soft blue, the wind playing with his long thick hair, his troubled thoughts again lead him down a reluctant path that few wanted to look down. Unconsciously his broad hands tightened on the thick stone railing of the balcony, the air becoming uncomfortably chill, the wind seeming to whisper things.
For as he stood there, Gimli knew that was not what truly frightened many, after all nothingness would be the ultimate rest. No worries, no cares, just dreamless sleep and eternal darkness. No, that was not their true fear.
Maybe in the end it is not the darkness we fear…but to be forgotten. All of our great heroes… our accomplishments… lost.
Great Durin, the Deathless. The Great Father, mightiest of Kings, founder of Khazad-dum.
Gamil Zirak, famed smith and teacher. Master of Telchar and maker of many renowned works. Much of her wondrous works to have been found in Thingol's jealously guarded treasuries.
The legendary Telchar of Nogrod, one of the greatest Smith in the history of Middle-earth. Amongst his great works Angrist, the knife that freed the Silmaril from Morgoth's Iron Crown, the famed sword Narsil and the Dragon-helm of Dor-lomin
King Azaghal's noble sacrifice and his many valiant warriors in the battle of Unnumbered Tears. The only ones who could stand up against Glaurung and the terrible wrath of the Dragon-horde.
The wise Durin III, who Celebrimbor himself gave the greatest of the Seven Rings, Sauron unable to bend him to his will later. Who sent out many warriors to Eregion and the Elven-smith's aide when they where besieged by Sauron.
Durin the IV, who bravely perished tying to fight the newly awakened Balrog or of his honorable son, Nain I. Who courageously battled the Balrog through the halls of Khazad-dum, holding it off long enough for his son and what remained of their people to flee before he too was killed.
All those countless Dwarves that gave their lives in the Last Alliance and many other battles against the darkness of Morgoth and Sauron.
Narvi and all his many great accomplishments, like those of the gilded archway of Azgol and the great West-gate of Moria. His tragic and forbidden love with the equally doomed smith Celebrimbor.
Thrain I, who lead his surviving people out of the Grey Mountains, back to the kingdom of Erebor.
Dain the IronFoot, Smighter of Azog at the battle of Azanulbizar.
All those many valiant Warriors that gave their lives in the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs.
So many others, great Smiths and Master Artists, Heroes and good people…
All of them…. All would be forgotten. Instead, we who had walked under the stars of arda before the rising of the Great Lamps, we who had been living and dieing in this world, forging great cities and creating wonders before the Eldar had left the shores of Cuivienen before the first age. We would only be remembered through the bigoted and distorted eyes of the Elves, as nothing but greedy ugly creatures, as unlovely and dirty, dirt-rats, stunted-ones, Naughrim...
Only names like Mim, the murderous smiths who slew Thingol and the sack of Dorath to be told and remembered throughout the ages. To be forever remembered as only that ugly crude drawing in the Elven book Knuckles had stolen. The Elves would live on, safe in the Undying Lands, Men would spread and eventually inherit arda and the Khazad… They would disappear and non would care.
It made Gimli think about all the different people he saw in the cobble-stone streets of Ocendade, like the starving child, the wounded soldier who begged for spare change, the nameless street performers, the many Women of Lady D's brothel, even the many workers and towns folk of Black Hollow. All of them had their own unique stories, yet they would die and none would remember them, none to hear their stories, none to listen to their experiences. Instead they would become just more forgotten faces in a sea of anonymity.
We will become like them, the Lost and Unwanted People…
"What are you thinking about?" Came a smooth voice behind him, shaking Gimli from his dark thoughts. He turned to watch Kaya, now wrapped in a blanket come to stand beside him, her long dark-hair mused from their previous love-making.
"Nothing," He lied, brushing a hand through his long straight hair as he gave her a lopsided smile. The young Dwarrow-dam didn't look convinced, but let it go as she turned to look out over the balcony with him.
"It is too bad that Svior burned Nidi's book, I would have liked to have read it," she said with a big sigh, her dark-eyes taking in the landscape. "Maybe someone else will write about your story one day. The heroic story of Gimli, son of Gloin."
"Maybe through the years it would have found its way into some great library-- like the one I hear is hidden in valley of Imladris or some great kingdom of Men. Perhaps it would have eventually become a play, with lots of grand costumes, props and dramatic music," she mused, a smile on her lips as she give him a playful bump.
At her words Gimli remembered the last play he had seen, remembering when the exotic and dark-skinned Merry had dragged both he and Ursla to a performance of "The Mighty adventures of the Heroic Prince Mortensen and the Quest for the White Princess Livelda". Keenly remembering the image of the older actor with the booming voice who had walked around on his knees, portraying the Dwarf warrior, Rhys. Great mounds of padding stuffed in his tunic and chain mail so he looked fat with a heavy and cumbersome helmet on his head, his homely face carefully made up to look as ugly as possible with a big bulbous nose, warts and big scratchy red-dyed beard as he shuffled around on stage. Huffing and puffing as if greatly out of shape, even though in the original story Rhys was a skilled and healthy warrior. The actor and the strange fat Hobbit-like narrator portrayed him as if he was old, loud and very stupid, instead of the brave and skilled warrior from the original story. They had the supposed "Dwarf" clumsily rolling down hills, falling or floundering on his back like some great over-turned turtle, always having to have someone help him up or come rescue him from the enemy. Messily getting food and spilling his drink in his beard, even so far as whipping his mouth with his beard, which no Dwarf would ever dream of doing; taking far to much pride in the thick silky beards. Watching him act like a complete buffoon as everyone laughed at him, seeming to taking no notice as the other characters insulted him, all the jokes and gags were done at his expense.
In his mind, Gimli suddenly had the imagine of how he would be portrayed if his story was ever to be made into a play as Kaya had said. His face twisted into something ugly, his straight copper-hair suddenly course and unkempt, his fit form suddenly fat and stumpy, no doubt they would get an actor just like the one he had seen in Ocendade to portray him. Clumsily waddling here and there, eating like a complete swine, spilling food and drink into his beard when he was not making foolish declarations or falling down.
That's right, everyone laugh at the stupid Dwarf! Ha, ha, ha! Its just fat and ugly Gimli, son of Gloin!""By Mahal no!" Gimli cried aloud, violently reeling from the image in utter disgust. "Perhaps it was a good thing Svior burned Nidi's book after all," he said with a painful wince before turning to look at Kaya next to him.
"They would no doubt have me looking worse then Bombur on a bad day!" he joked with a weak smile.
"You don't know that!" Kaya admonished with a laugh, not knowing his dark thoughts.
"Oh yes I do!" Gimli argued good-naturedly before his smile disappeared to be replaced with a resigned expression. "I think I would rather be forgotten then be portrayed that way." He said in all seriousness as he leaned against the cold railing, his eyes troubled.
The smile disappeared from Kaya's face as well as she watched him, picking up that there was more going on in Gimli's mind then Nidi's book or how he would be portrayed in a play. Long moments passed as Kaya watched the attractive male standing next to her, contemplating the fiery being she had for a friend and lover, admiring his tightly muscled and trim form, taking in his distinctive scent, the smell of cinnamon and smoldering fires, with the underlying smell of hot metal.
"Fear not, for non who have truly known you could ever forget you, Gimli," she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching his smooth face. "I know not how…but there is something special about you."
"Well, I am glad you think so," Gimli said with a smile, leaning over and giving her cheek a kiss, his warm breath tickling her skin before he drew back. "Besides… Who would want to hear a story about me?"
"You never know," Kaya said, rewrapping the blanket around herself. After a few moments Gimli spoke again, watching her with a twinkle of something in his eye.
"It matters not, for the fact is… The story of my life, is the story of the people in it."
"Do not begrudge me my musings," she lightly scolded, covering up the fact that she was deeply touched by his sincere words before letting out a dramatic sigh. "I guess that old human saying is true after all; 'From whores, thieves and Dwarves look not for stories of adventure and love! Look to the rich Nobles and poets for whimsical tales of heroic feats! For they are the one's with the coin and time to buy the gilded silver pens to write such things, while the rest of us work our knuckles to the bone and fight for our supper!'" she laughed as she quoted the old saying, Gimli chuckled along with her as he ruefully shook his head.
"That may be so… But I have known whores more pure of heart and deserving of the title 'Noble Lady' then many of those born with the title." He said with a sad smile on his lips as he the thought again about Ursla, Gwen, Mary, Mavis, Draco and Lady D, along with some of the other residents of 'The House of the Red Blossoms'. "I have seen such things… So many people…. Men, both good and bad. A slip of a girl, horribly scarred her face- a mockery, yet still a vision of sweetness and sunlight. Beautiful Elves more lovely then moon-light on silver water, yet with hearts as foul as any goblin. Dwarf warriors who are no better then petty bullies…," He trailed off, looking out at the sleeping towns of Dale and Lake Town, a few lights to be seen in the distance, the dark forest of Mirkwood lay like a thick black carpet beyond.
"My mother has always told me, that the only thing one can truly count on in life is irony. When I was younger I didn't understand her words, now I understand them far to clearly the older I get," Kaya said as she turned to the dark sky above them, pulling the blanket more tightly about her. For many long moments the young Dwarves quietly watched the night sky, the wind playing with their long thick hair, their smooth faces turned up into the light of the stars, their eyes and thoughts far away.
After awhile Kaya finally looked again at the handsome copper-haired Dwarf beside her, her gaze thoughtful as tendrils of her dark hair fluttered over her face, a moment later Gimli turned as well and for awhile they simply gazed at one another. As she admired his strong tan face and his dazzling almond-shaped eyes that burned with such fire, Kaya silently slipped one of her hands out from her warm blanket and reached across the distance to touch his warm face. Ghosting her fingers over his beautiful features, his dark copper-hair whipping behind him in the wind, a few copper strands caressing his smooth face as those dark eye continued to silently watch her.
"No matter what happens, forget not your words," she said barely above a whisper. "So what if none care and we disappear into nothingness, it matters not. So long aswe live, we will care and in the end isn't that all that truly matters?" She asked before she stepped forward and touched her lips to his.
Gimli excepted the soft kiss, deepening it as he fully turned and wrapped his strong arms around her smaller form, drawing her close as she wrapped an arm around his waist, her other roaming along the wide expanse of his chest. His soft coppery mustache and short beard caressed her face, the dark-hair on her chin rubbing against his, their shared body heat driving away the chill as they basked in the other's presence, their warm mouths tasting one another. For long moments they stayed like that, lost in the heat of kiss, their eyes closed, their long hair mingling in the wind as they took comfort in one another, allowing their troubled thoughts to be momentarily soothed away.
When they finally broke apart, Kaya again reached up to caress his warm cheek, a wistful look fluttering over her face before she tucked her hand back into her blanket and stepped away from him. Gimli was not her 'one' and she knew that she was not his, yet that did not stop the stab of disappointment in her heart. Then without a single word she padded back into the darkness of the room, leaving Gimli still standing on the balcony alone. Gimli watched her walk away before laying back down in their improvised bed of blankets, her back to him. Yet she left plenty of room for him and had teasingly left part of her strong back bare to him, which was an obvious invitation.
He would join her, but not just yet. For now he once again turned his large brown eyes to the sea of stars above that cast the vast landscape below in a soothing blanket of peaceful blue. It was then that he gave a delighted gasp as he watched a star shoot across the heavens.
As he stood there, the world seeming to sleep around him, Gimli allowed his mind to wander once again, far away, the light of those distant stars soothing him. Having no idea of the clouds already gathering, a brewing storm on the distant horizon, a storm he would be a part of. Just one of many players, some not even born yet, while others had already live thousands of years. So it was that the Dwarf named for the fire in his heart and the stars above stood alone and waited the coming dawn.
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Oddly enough, in the dark depths of Mirkwood, safely hidden under their trees, the Elves also reveled this night. Though they celebrated not Durin's Day, but the New Moon and the bountiful year, the darkness for the moment seeming to have been driven back. Though many still mourned, the Battle of Five Armies still fresh, their many losses still keenly felt, yet for now they celebrated their good fortune in the past year, which had been better then it had been in many long years.
In large clearing below the dark boughs of the trees the air was filled with enchanted music and soft lights as the Wood-elves danced. Their long limbed bodies swayed and dipped with the lilting music of the wood-interments and lutes as many silvery voices sang along with the airy notes and chimes. Aside from the delicate lamps hung amongst the trees, their were also a few lit cairns to provide light, several long wooden tables where also set up around the glen with many delectable dishes of food and cool drink.
Yet on the borders of the celebration and other strategic positions, hidden within the trees where many armed guards, ever on the look out for threats. For though the year had been good, Dol Guldur in the south abandoned, their once bare armories now almost fully stocked, food and game plentiful again, there were still weary, the Wood-Elves remaining ever vigilant.
From his tall elaborate wooden throne, set in a elevated place of honor sat King Thranduil looking over his people, taking great delight in seeing his people enjoying themselves after so much hardship, a silver cloak draped around his shoulders. His three son, all wearing different crowns of flowers moved amongst the partygoers, clad in princely garb of blues and silver.
Amongst those gathered to enjoy the celebration, clad in a light silver embroidered tunic with a slender crown of purple morning-glories about his dark head, was Legolas. A silver goblet of wine in hand, occasionally stopping to mingle with others, bumping into his brothers every now and then, trying to pretend that he wasn't bored.
A smile broke over his delicate featured face as he past several dancing maidens, their merry laughter ringing like silver bells as they elegantly twirled in perfect sink with each other as the moved. Their graceful movements accentuated by their long uplifted limbs and the sway of their flowing hair as they danced on their toes. They pale bare feet not seeming to touch the ground, they almost seemed to float as they moved like slender reeds in the wind.
Legolas meanwhile had had his fill of dancing and celebrating this night, for some reason he felt oddly restless and wished for some solitude with his own thoughts. He turned and excused himself from his group of friend that stood near one of the cairns that help lite the clearing. Handing his empty goblet to a passing servant, Legolas moved off, catching the momentary sight of poor Galion, serving drinks to Caulndil and Valandil. His two older brothers ignoring the poor butler who was still working to redeem himself before Thranduil. With an internal sigh Legolas continued on, occasionally waving back at a call from his friends in the crowd, but he did not stop.
Earlier, he too had merrily danced, non able to match his grace as he leapt and twirled with the music, a graceful vision of black and flashing silver, drawing more then one admiring gaze from those that had watched, some brave enough to even dance with him. His three siblings had also danced, even Thranduil had allowed himself to be drawn into a few songs, the tall golden-haired King putting all to shame when he moved with the music. For the most part though the King was content to watch, sipping from a long silver goblet of his finest wine, a crown of flowers and berries about his shinning head, his eyes of dazzling sapphire missing nothing.
As the others continued to dance and revel, still merrily talking and laughing in the happy atmosphere, Legolas moved on. Making his way across the lush grass, his soft booted feet not making a sound as he made his way through the crowd, avoiding various obstacles, stopping momentarily to dance with his friend Eilindel. Who pulled him into a fast paced trot with some others couples before he gave her a wink and slipped from her grasp and continue on his way.
Finally coming to the edge of the glen before the dense tree line he made his way to a particular large oak tree that had stood guard over the hidden glen long before the Elves had ever called this forest home. The tree was ancient, its dark bark rough, dwarfing the many birch trees around it, it and the other larger trees created a leafy ceiling above with their interwoven branches, sheltering the Elves and their festivities below.
With effortless ease Legolas leapt to the first branch, some fifteen feet off the ground, his long slender legs propelling him with ease. The slender Wood-elf was just about to bound up to the next branch when one of Thranduil's special invited guests strolled over, looking up at Thranduil's youngest son about to escape.
"Had enough reveling this night have we?" came a familiar voice below. Cousing Legolas to paused and look down, a smile on his smooth face, instantly recognizing that voice.
"I fear so. The stars and the wind now call me this night," he said with a silvery laugh. Sure enough below him stood Gandalf.
"Off star gazing again. Your father would not be pleased," Mithrandir said a smile on his wizen face, a goblet of his father's finest wine in hand, his other holding his ever present staff. He did not wear his tall pointy hat though, his long white hair and beard freshly combed and clean, seeming to glow.
"This I know, but father will not be too cross. For I have fulfilled my duties this night, I even danced with a few of the maidens he's been pushing on me!" he laughed, even though his lilting voice held a note of weariness.
"Now if you'll excuse me Mithrandir," he said with a gracious bow to the Wizard below, but just as he was about to turn the Grey Istary called up again.
"Be careful young Legolas, one day you just might find that you have caught one of those stars you so love to watch. If you do, do not let it escape, for they are fleeting and precious indeed, coming once in even an Elf's lifetime. Yet while you must be sure it does not slip through your grasp, beware not to be burned, for no fire burns greater then that of the stars." The Wizard said mysteriously, a twinkle of something in his ancient storm-grey eyes as he watched to the lithe ebony-haired Prince poised on the branch above him, a look of confusion now on his delicate pale features.
"Fire and Stars, Legolas. Remember that, Fire and Stars!" the Wizard said mysteriously before walking away, a gray cloud amongst the many dancing lights of the Eldar.
Legolas could only watch the Istari move off to join his father, his parting words leaving the Prince confused. And to think people say we Elves talk in riddles! They clearly have not met this particular Wizard," he finally snorted to himself, with an elegant eyebrow arched before leaping up to the next branch above him.
With the grace possessed only by the Wood-elves, he began to climb the massive tree, leaping acrobatically from branch to branch, seeming to dance on the thinner branches that would have snapped under any other creature. Around Legolas the braches seem to sway in time with the music below, the trees seeming to happily hum along with the singing, Legolas couldn't help but smile as he paused for a moment to run his long fingered hand over the rough trunk of the tree he climbed. Feeling the answering thrum, the trees here where truly happy, the forest seeming to bask in the Elves happiness.
Giving the tree a final pat, Legolas continued up, leaving the ground far behind. It was after pushing his way through the final dense canopy of leaves that the young Prince broke through to the night sky above, coming to perch on a convenient bare branch that broke through the thick cover of dark leaves. His pale skin seeming to glow like moonlight in the light of the stars, his emerald-eyes glittering like wet jewels as his hair fell about him like a fall of shadows. With a great breath he let out a sigh of pleasure, the cool night air refreshing him. The many clouds of dark butterflies that would have been seen during the day where gone, leaving only the fireflies to dance above the tree tops. All around him there seem to be a rolling sea of leaves as a pleasant breeze played with his silken hair, every now and then he would reach up to tuck some stray strands behind a delicate leaf-shaped ear.
From his comfortable perch he could admire the dazzling stars above that sparkled in all their grandeur as the fireflies danced around him. It was the night of the new moon, so the night was darker then most, but Legolas could still see with his far-seeing eyes the Lonely Mountain in the distance and the far away lights from Lake Town and Dale. He wondered if anyone else was watching the stars as he did this night, no doubt other Elves else where were doing the same, but he wondered if any Mortal, if they now looked up as he did, could truly appreciate them. Where they capable of seeing the wondrous beauty of those distant stars as the Eldar did?
As he turned his emerald eyes to the heavens once more, a sudden gasp escaped his coral lips as he watched a star shoot across the heavens. It was then that an odd shiver suddenly ran up his spine while all the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up as he watched that star disappear. Around him, the playful breeze had strangely stopped as all the many fireflies suddenly glowed brightly all at once.
Then as fleeting as it had began, it was over, the breeze returning as the fireflies once again continued their dance around the silent and now quite confused Elf in their mists, leaving him wondering at what had just happened.
As Legolas perched there on that high branch, enchanted Elvish singing below and the rustling of the surrounding trees, he continued to peacefully watch the sky above. As he marveled at those distant stars that he so loved, Mithrandir's strange words again come to his mind and he unconsciously began to worry his bottom lip, his jewel-like eyes becoming confused once again.
Fire and stars… whatever could that mean? He thought to himself, a frown marring his lovely features as the leaves rustled around him. Yet no matter which way he thought about it, Mithrandir's final words remained a riddle, leaving him to wonder as he continued to watch the stars above that gave no answer.
One day he would understand Gandalf's odd words…
But that is a story for another time…
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The End!
That's it, its finally over! (jumps up and down in glee)
Sorry about the wait. I would have posted this sooner but, I just recently got back from London (long story ). Anyways! I would very much like to thank everyone who has so graciously and generously emailed me and left reviews! Thank you so very much (deep bow)
(1.) Foundlings: Those of other races that had been adopted and raised by Dwarves. (Which is an idea I got from reading "Shadow Lands" by Alma's Muse
(2.) Drinking-sickness: Alcoholism
Feel free to return to your regularly scheduled Gimli ignoring and Dwarf-bashing fics.
(stepping back into the shadows)
