Vili son of Peli, had been a 'guest' of Mordor for nearly seventy-eight years now. He had been taken from the gates of Moria after the battle of Azanulbizar with roughly three hundred other Dwarves, and marched to Nargun whilst his father and brother-in-law were trying to rally what was left of their armies.
They had been forced to work in the iron mines in the Shadow Mountains ever since, their ranks swelling with new Dwarrows that had been captured and even those born in the dark. Held by the point of a sword or the crack of a whip, they dug deep and mined iron, tin, and copper to be used in the weapons and armour of the Orcs. Over the years there had been several rebellions and escape attempts though none had been successful and had ended in much pain and suffering for all.
The newest arrival to the mines was a young Dwarrow, so young in fact that he only had a scruff of a beard and only two braids in his long dark hair. One of the braids was thick and fell behind his ear to be held securely by a large silver clasp, a braid of war. The other was slimmer and fell from his left temple with a bright blue bead at the end, a betrothal braid and the boy was bound to a member of his family if the placement was anything to go on. He was attractive in a youthful kind of way, as lithe as an elf and with an easy smile despite their situation. Whenever anyone asked his name and lineage he would just shake his head, dark eyes flicking to the Orcs holding them captive, and it didn't take long for Vili to realize that he didn't want those vile beasts to know his identity.
Someone important then, mused Vili, could be some son of a Lord from the Iron Hills afraid he would be used for ransom. Vili would have told him that it was useless, that the Orcs knew who each and every one of them was down to their lineage.
He found himself keeping a close eye on the boy, though never actually getting close enough to strike up a conversation with him or fall into his gaze. He watched though, watched as he held a pick axe uselessly in his hand for what was quite clearly the first time, and how it became more and more obvious as time went on that he had never even been in a mine before. Definitely the son of some two-bit Lord then, though he wasn't as full of airs and graces as those he had met before, and he had had his fair share of Royalty in the past.
Shaking his once golden hair, now black with soot and dust, from his eyes Vili continued to hack at the unforgiving stone in front of him, it was always best not to dwell on those particular memories if he could help it.
Suddenly a loud cry went up from further down the passageway, and Vili looked up to see that the boy had gotten into a fist fight with Brenia one of the older Dwarves down here in the mines. He wasn't sure what had been said or what had set them off at each other, but he did know that they didn't want the guards to see what was happening. Dropping his pick axe, he strode over to where they were fighting and without a single word grabbed the boy by the back of his tunic and began dragging him away from the old warrior.
"Shut up boy and come with me," he hissed, feeling the fight go out of the slender body immediately. "What in Mahal's name did you say to Brenia that got him in such a foul mood?"
"He called me an elf," came the sullen answer, and Vili pushed him into one of the sleeping alcoves and followed him in.
"He did what?" he demanded, ripping a piece of bedding off the pallet and holding it to the boys bleeding nose.
"Called me an elf."
Not this insanity again.
"Do you mean to tell me that that old fight is still going on?" he demanded. "I had hoped that in the past seven decades we Dwarves might have gotten over that old resentment."
The boy shook his head, dark strands of hair falling into his eyes. "In that respect nothing has changed. My Uncle would kill them all on sight if it wouldn't cause a diplomatic mess."
Vili snorted in amusement at that. "Yes well I know a few stubborn ones like that as well."
There was that smile again, the one which lit up his entire face and for some reason reminded him of his beloved Dis. Lifting the rag from the boy's face he was pleased to see the bleeding had stopped.
"Now git gone," he said, pointing over his shoulder back out to the mines. "And no more fight alright?"
The boy gave him another cheeky grin and then scuttled out of the alcove leaving Vili feeling like he had just come up against a force of nature itself.