Khuzdul words
Uzbad- lord (used in Erebor to denote a Metal-master. The level above Master smith. Hallvarðr is a Barakuzbad-Metal master- (lit- axe master but of course axes have tremendous significance both physically and spiritually to Dwarves)
Sindri- titles given to Jewellers who have attained a similar greatness. For this, they must have crafted significant gems.
Khabbûna- Erebor dialect word for my love, beloved.
Gunud-Aglâb- tattoos. These are secret signs that only the Dwarves know… of course Gimli had blabbed about this to Legolas who has his yaré-carmë.
Colfindelë- Lockbearer. Quenya. Galadriel's rather affectionate name for Gimli.
Original Characters
Gilthrûn Sindri- Jeweller.
Sigrúnda- Hallvarðr's journeyman
Gûthrim -Apprentice
Runí- Apprentice
Durathror- Master smith of Hallvarðr's guild and once apprentice and journeyman to Hallvarðr
Laersul- Thranduil's oldest son.
Rîgakha-mesh- The Lords of Fire.
*Events on Where the Shadows Lie. You don't need to know this in order to enjoy this story.
**Reference to the Iaun-Gynd, a barrow on the Barrow Downs, in Seven Stars. Again, you don't need to have read anything I've written previously to follow this fic.
Damascene steel is that lovely, patterned steel, for example the blade you see in Aragorn's sword in the films. If you google damascene you will find lots of patterns but this is an Erebor pattern and beyond the ability of present day smiths (no offence). Also the FÁINN invented in the Iron Hills is unobtainable now -it gives a deep dark almost blue pattern when the steel is etched (that is, when the metal is dipped in acid -or sometimes modern smiths use other things- to reveal the pattern. )
CHAPTER 5: Legolas and Gimli
Hallvarðr stroked the blue steel with tenderness. Its texture was immensely smooth; the bonds must be very fluid, he thought, and was already planning in his head how carefully he would use the fáinn so it would be like rivers of blue ran through the whole of the double blade and spread out into the bevel, the cutting edge, and the layers of fáinn and nickel steel with carbon steel would be like skeins of mist parting to reveal Durin's stars. He smiled.
When he had described to Gilthrûn Sindri his intention, she had smiled and nodded her approval. She hadn't leaned over and kissed him as he had hoped, but her smile had been warmer than he deserved. The supper they had shared the night she had sent the parcel of fáinn had been a meeting of old friends rather than lovers. But for now, that was enough and Hallvarðr was grateful for her generosity, not only for the fáinn but for her company.
But as he stroked the blue steel, he thought of that evening. He had sent Forvi, the newest apprentice only good for sweeping the floor, out for meat and beer good enough to entertain Gilthrûn, hoping beyond all hope the at she would come.
And she had.
Striding down the levels to stand in his hall liked she owned him and everything in it. Her presence was so overwhelming he could not speak. The light from the great copper inlaid fire bowls standing in his halls stroked her glossy chestnut hair and gleamed on her burnished bronze skin. The sleeveless dark blue tunic she wore left her strong, muscular arms bare and he could see thin gold bracelets about her wrists and thick gold armbands set with large, smooth, polished stones of deep blue and gold labradorite, encircled her biceps. He found the armbands unbearably erotic against her burnished bronze skin with the black scything lines of the Gunud-Aglâb of her House and Guild.
He had fumbled and stuttered a greeting and her dark eyes had danced with amusement for his clumsy, pathetic delight that she had come. But she was kind too and looked away when he did not know what to say.
He was as madly in love with her now and he had been at the start. What a fool he was.
Together they had pored over the designs for Rûk-Shtôl as if it were the excuse they needed, drinking the best beer in Erebor for he had sent Forvi to scour the wine and beer shops to find the sweet Rhovanion beer he knew she liked. They had
leaned their heads slightly towards each other as they talked in the firelight.
He had not dared to turn his head to kiss her, she would not have welcomed him. Not yet. He hoped it was 'not yet' rather than 'not ever again.'
After she had gone, he had floated dizzily for three days on the euphoria of her company.
He knew she made him a better Smith, and a kinder Master.
Because of those hours spent in her company, he allowed the apprentices to cut the nickel and mild steel into the thin laminate layers he wanted for the axe's double bit and bevel. But only he and Sigrúnda could touch the fáinn steel that would be layered between the rest and create the rivers of darker, blue steel that would run through the finished blade.
He pulled Sigrúnda to the workbench he was using for the fáinn steel. 'Look,' he said, stacking alternate bars of high carbon steel, some with nickel and others with vanadium. 'This is how we will make the billets. Have Runí and Gûthrim make the first billets of these steels.' He pushed ingots of high carbon steel, nickel steel and some of the Erebor steel towards Sigrúnda. 'I want it welded and folded to the first fifty layers. Then you and I will weld in the fáinn. I want that folded and welded again until we have layers of a hundred. When we have that, we will cut it and see if we have the makings of Durin's stars.' He looked at Sigrúnda.
The journeyman's face was intent and then he put his head on one side. 'Master, forgive me but you know I wish to learn. Why do you want the nickel steel from the Ered Luin, when we could use the Erebor steel throughout?'
Hallvarðr smiled pleased. 'The nickel steel from Ered Luin has a quality that keeps the cutting edge of an axe sharper for longer. It is the composition of the steel that does it. Erebor steel is easier to work and to heat-treat so we will use that for the blade and the bevel. This will challenge us both!' He slapped his journeyman on the shoulder cheerily. 'I know we will fail many times but in the end, we will have a cutting edge that can cut silk, a hair, glass.' He grinned and this time, Sigrúnda grinned back. 'Now. Let us make the blades themselves first.'
Hallvarðr did not underestimate the challenge. He always prided himself on no more than ten percent wastage but this intricate and complex pattern weld meant he had to experiment and wastage was more like thirty percent. Indeed, he weighed the gold coin from the Elven king in his hand and wondered if it would be enough.
But in truth, he did not care. Rûk-Shtôl was greater than gold. It would be a famous axe, he knew. His name would be elevated by it.
It took weeks to make the billets for the damascene. Runí and Gûthrim grew adept and then tired of making the same things over and over- precise billets of layered steel, which Hallvarðr and Sigrúnda drew out and the apprentices pounded with sledgehammers until the welds were tight and precise. These they cut into further billets, which they welded and then drew out, and cut again until they had a hundred layered billets of varied steel.
But Sigrúnda was as exacting a master as Hallvarðr and if the welds did not come up to his standard, he threw them back at the apprentices. Sometimes he threatened to take the cost of such waste out of their wages, which were not great.
At last however, he was satisfied with thirty billets of the hundreds they had made. These he laid out on the bench for Hallvarðr to inspect. If he was happy, they would begin to layer in the fáinn for the final billets which would then make the axe itself.
0o0o
Far away, beneath the eaves of the Golden Wood, Gimli Gloinsson was unaware of the great honour intended him by his own folk for he was enjoying the hospitality of his great friend, the blissful Lady Galadriel. While Sigrúnda was throwing back into the furnace the 'ruined' ingots made by the exhausted apprentices, Gimli was gazing rapturously at the Lady while he told of the Caves of Aglarond and his plans to explore them.
She listened with an indulgent smile for the gallantry and courtesy Gimli showed her was beyond compare. 'You describe such rare beauty, Colfindelë*. How my heart would delight to see such unseen treasures.'
Gimli nearly fell over himself in his agitated enthusiasm. 'But if my lady would but step over the threshold, it would bestow more honour to my House than all my….'
She held up a hand and laughed kindly to forestall him. 'Ah, dear friend. I fear that I will never see the greatness that will come to you.' She took a sharp breath. 'It is my intention that when Elrond and Mithrandir depart, I too will sail into the Uttermost West as I have been promised.' She glanced down at him with kindness for she understood him all too well. 'My daughter is there,' she said softly, hoping for understanding. 'And I hope to find her healed of all ills.'
A sharp stab of loss struck him hard then and he thought how empty his life would be and how colourless the world. 'Of course, Lady. I could not begrudge you such solace. But what of us poor souls who will be left to endure an empty world,' he added and he meant it. 'This will be a poor place indeed without the Elves!'
She gave him an oblique look and was very still. Then she extended her hand to him and said, 'Come, Gimli Glóinsson. There is something that I wish for you to see, that you might have hope.'
Galadriel led Gimli towards the southern slopes of the hill of Caras Galadhon and passed through a high green hedge and into an enclosed garden. No trees grew there and it was open to the sky. The evening star had risen that Legolas called Eärendil and the Dwarves called Gabilkheled. It shone with white fire above the western woods. Down a long flight of steps the Lady went into the deep green hollows through which ran a murmuring silver stream that issued from the fountain on the hill. At the bottom, upon a low pedestal carved like branching tree stood a basin, wide and shallow, and beside it stood a silver ewer.
But as he drew close, Gimli saw that the basin was obsidian, polished so highly it reflected the stars like glass and its frame was chased with bronze and mithril. Not a basin but a Mirror. He almost pulled back for it was an exact smaller copy of the great Mirror they had found in Minas Morgul and which had been the source of such evil.*
'Do not be afraid,' Galadriel spoke quietly into the darkness. 'It is a Mirror, yes and made by him you call Guhnâlzirâmuzbad. Celebrimbor to the Elves. But it has never been touched by the Nazgul or by Sauron. Come. Look.'
With water from the stream Galadriel filled the basin to the brim. The water shivered in a breeze that lifted Galadriel's long golden hair and stirred Gimli's beard. He looked up into her face and she stood crowned with stars, the light reflecting from the water lit her face with silver light. He thought her fell and fair and would have knelt at her feet and pledged his life if he thought it would serve her.
She moved her hand and sketched a mark across the Mirror, over its obsidian surface, and light scratched across the darkness. A light flashed through her fingers and at first Gimli thought it was Gabilkheled shining through her fingers but then he saw a Ring and knew it was Nenya and that she had permitted him to see.
'This is the Mirror of Galadriel,' she intoned solemnly. 'Will you look into it?'
Gimli looked up at her trustingly. 'If you bid it lady.'
She smiled. 'This is your choice, Gimli Gloinsson. If you look, you cannot unsee, cannot forget. What you will see, I cannot tell. It shows things that were, and things that are, and things that yet may be. But which is it that he sees, even the wisest cannot always tell. Do you still wish to look?'
He stepped up onto the pedestal and leaned over the mirror. The glass looked hard and dark. Stars seemed to reflect in it and then he saw his own face.
The glass rippled though he had not touched it and something changed.
'Do not touch the surface,' a voice from somewhere said but it seemed very far away.
The darkness in the glass shifted and suddenly golden light reflected up at him. He stared down into a golden hoard as great as Thraín's, of Smaug's. He saw himself walking through a treasury piled with gems and gold, silver and beautiful works of Craft lined shelves carefully sculpted from the rocks. And beyond were caverns lit by great flaming firebowls and lanterns. He knew without doubt that this was Aglarond as it would become. It gladdened him to know that this great work of delving the halls was before him.
Then the surface shimmered and the golden light and caves faded into darkness. Instead a long road unwound before him under the stars. Ahead of him, a tall, lean figure was trudging wearily along it, and now the road ran straight through an avenue of tall standing stones.
Then Gimli realised that it was Legolas who was ahead of him on the road, and the Elf was carrying a great burden cradled in his arms. Beyond and at the end of the road, a hill seemed to rise up out of the ground, its chalk face gleamed in the moonlight like teeth and he saw that it was a barrow such as Men in ancient times used to bury their dead. And now he followed Legolas into the barrow and down through darkness to a great chamber. A ship, limned in silver like moonlight, seemed to be moored there in the chamber and Gimli supposed a river must run underground through the caverns. Had he once heard that Men passed beyond the bounds of the World over a river?
Legolas glanced back over his shoulder and his eyes, exhausted and grief-stricken, met Gimli's without surprise, as if he expected Gimli to be there and then he turned back and walked up the gangplank onto the deck of the ship.
A wide bier was at the prow and here Legolas laid his burden gently. As he stepped back, Gimli saw that it was Aragorn, the handsome face now lined with age and his hair was white. He was very still and cold. Lifeless.
Gimli gasped and a voice above him said softly, 'Do not touch the glass.'
He blinked and realised that he had reached out as if he might touch Aragorn's still body.
Legolas stood at the bier, face in his hands and shoulders hunched. He was weeping.
The deck shifted beneath Gimli's feet and he wondered if the ship had been loosed and was sailing down to the Sea for now the wind blew and Gimli felt spray on his lips. Salt. The ship plunged suddenly and then rose like it crested a wave. The sound of the Sea washed and soughed and sighed about him and there were white gulls racing on the wind beside them.
Abruptly, the sensation of the Sea dropped away and now he gazed again into darkness. A light came from far away and he rushed towards it, pulled inexorably by a Song that he knew as well as his own. He came into a dimly lit chamber and knew it for his own, back in Erebor. His father, Gloín, sat in a chair. His head had fallen forward on his chest and Gimli thought he was asleep. In his hand was a sheaf of papers that he had clearly been reading.
He moved towards Gloín and saw how old his father had grown. White peppered the fiery red that had dimmed now to rust. And then as if his presence had disturbed Gloín, the old Dwarf stared and blinked and looked about and Gimli saw how his eyes were dim and his heart reached out to his old father.
'Úthaar?' Gloín called suddenly and the hope in his voice quavered.
At the sound of his own true name on his father's lips, Gimli cried out, 'I am here, Addad!'
But Gloín, looking around in bewilderment, fell back against his chair as if in grief and the sheaf of papers dropped from his hand. One drifted to Gimli's feet and he looked down.
In his own precise and elegant hand he saw written:
Legolas has agreed to explore the caverns with me and I know that he will see and understand for he has come to appreciate what is means to be Khazâd. And I have promised to return the favour and travel with him through Fangorn Forest for he is bound to meet with mishap if I should not. We will stop at Lothlorien of course to pay respect to the Lady and then travel up past the East Bight and part at Esgaroth most likely. It will still be some time therefore before I am home.
Your dutiful and loving son,
Gimli.
0o0o
When Gimli finally stumbled from the garden and returned to their lodgings, he saw that Legolas was there waiting, his face was serious.
The Elf looked at Gimli shrewdly. 'You looked into the Mirror.' It was not a question.
Gimli sank down beside him. He was silent for a while and then at last, he said, 'I did.'
A heavy sigh. Then Legolas reached out and gripped his hand. 'I will not ask what you saw. Remember though that it shows what might be'
'It also shows what IS,' said Gimli firmly. 'My father misses me.' But he did not say what else he had seen, the absolute inevitability that Aragorn would die and Legolas would sail.
'Time to go home.' Legolas said quietly.
Gimli held Legolas' gaze for a while and thought that Legolas too had looked into the Mirror. And then he thought that, Legolas might have seen not only Aragorn's death but Gimli's also, for that too was inevitable.
0o0o0
Next chapter: The forging of Rûk-Shtôl and the return of Legolas and Gimli.