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Axe and Bow

A Legolas and Gimli fan archive

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Of Fire and Stars

by Ro

Category: Drama
Rating: R
Warnings: Major Gimli Angst
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Feedback: Yes
Summary: Gandalf comes across Beorn on his way to the Lonely Mountain, and Beorn shows him something he’s found in the woods. Takes place during ‘The Hobbit’, a story about a certain Dwarf, that would later become one of the Nine Walkers. His past and the hardships that he’s had to endure.
A/N: I haven’t read the ‘Unfinished Tales’ yet, so if you’re a real ‘canon’ stickler think of this as AU. Also I’m stretching Tolkien’s whole Dwarves only love once thing. I do think Dwarves only fall in love once and once they find that someone they won’t settle for anyone else. But in tell then (like most guys) all bets are off. Sex is not Love, it can be a major part of it but the act its self is not love. Big thanks to my wonderful beta reader Morrighan and all her helpful nit-picking ~_^. More Notes: If you find yourself saying “I don’t think it happened that way!”. Well, then go do your own. This is only one version and there is a crying need for more Gimli centric fics ~_^.

It was early dawn as a tall figure with a staff made its way on a path through the trees of Mirkwood. He walked swiftly, for he still had a ways to go and his mission was important, and, more to the point, he was incredibly hungry.

If he hurried he would be able to spare a little time with the Elves to rest a while and get something for his gnawing stomach.

Pulling his dark cloak tighter about himself to ward against the early morning chill. Gandalf cursed not for the first time for his lack of a horse as he walk briskly towards the Lonely Mountain. And more specifically the camp of the Elves and Lake Men waiting to lay siege to the mountain.

He would have to hurry for he brought tidings from the north of the massing of a Goblin army that was already on its way. He also needed to check up on Thorin’s company.

Confound it! How that party got into such mischief with him not there!, he snorted to himself.

“If it’s not trolls, or getting lost, it’s instigating a war!” He grumbled aloud.

Not to mention watching out for little Bilbo in the coming battle.

He’d heard from some Elves (for Elves are always ones for gossip and the latest news) that the Elven King’s greed had gotten the better of him and he had taken an army to the Lonely Mountain for a share of the treasure. He had taken not only two of his older sons but also his youngest to this battle. Obviously thinking it would be a good experience for the young archer.

“As if I need more to worry about!” he groused to himself.

The young Elf’s part in the tapestry of Middle Earth did not come into play yet, and not for many years. Gandalf could not explain it but something tolled him, a feeling in his marrow, that Thranduil’s child would play a key role in a coming storm that grew, even now, unknown to all except a few such as himself. A dark storm that would change Middle Earth and shape its destiny.

And he had made it his prerogative to look out for these key players in that coming destiny, and hope they managed to stay alive to fulfill it. Luckily for Gandalf a few of those key players were not even born yet. But for now his main concern was to the coming battle and stopping those fool Men, Elves, and ‘soon-to-arrive’ Dwarves (from the Iron Hills, not Thorin and Company) from destroying each other, and to some how work together to fight the real enemy.

So lost in his thoughts was Gandalf that he almost walked right by an enormous man standing to the left of his path. He came to a halt at the man’s seeming sudden appearance. It was the skin-changer, Beorn. He chided himself for not sensing the man earlier.

“Beorn, I was not expecting to see you around here,” he said, mildly surprised. For truth was, he had thought he had seen the last of the skin-changer for some time, after he made sure Thorin and the others had returned the ponies they’d borrowed before entering Mirkwood.

Beorn let out a loud laugh and walked up to the tall wizard giving him a friendly whack on the back (nearly knocking Gandalf off his feet).

“Gandalf! I almost didn’t recognize you with that cloak. Luckily I recognized that wizard stink of yours!” He said with a grin on his big face with it’s bushy black beard, not seeing or caring about the Wizard’s insulted reaction to his comment about his ‘stink’.

“As for why I’m here, there’s the smell of a coming battle in the air. The birds are all singing about it. And I intend to be a part of it!” He boomed in his loud voice, crossing his large arms over his huge chest as if stating an obvious fact.

“Well, good for you. I too wish to take part, and I am on my way there now - with urgent tidings, in fact,” Gandalf said as he straightened his tall pointy hat, preparing to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I must be goi-” but he was interrupted by the were-bear.

“Hold up now! I stopped you for a reason, not because I wanted to say ‘good morning’ or a ‘hello’”, he said rudely. “I stopped you cause I have a question to ask. And I figured it might answer a little riddle I found in the woods yesterday.”

Gandalf was feeling decidedly put out by now, not to mention somewhat irritated (though you would never have guessed by looking at him, and even if he had Beorn would probably not have cared anyway). But being a Wizard, and a fairly wise one at that, he decided to see what Beorn wanted to know. And, with luck, answer it quickly and be on his way.

“Oh now? And what question is that?,” asked Gandalf as he leaned against his staff, peering up at the great bear of man that towered over him.

Unfolding his great arms Beorn put one hand on his hip while he stroked his thick beard in thought.

“Those dwarves, fourteen I believe it was, with that small rabbit one.”

“Yes, that was Thorin’s company and Mr. Baggins.”

“Yes, them! Now, did any of those Dwarves have cubs?”

Both of Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise at this. This was definitely not the question Gandalf was expecting from the hulking man. Cubs? It took him a moment to answer the large Man as he got his mind back on track.

“Well yes,” he started. “Fili and Kili are Thorin’s sisters-sons but he has non of his own, the same for the others. But Balin has two daughters and one boy. Dori had two boys but they were killed by plague. Then there’s Gloin‘s boy-” only to be rudely interrupted again.

“If I wanted to know about all of that I would have asked! All I wanted to know was if they had any cubs. And now I know.” Beorn snorted then turned and started to walk back into the forest.

Gandalf watched his retreating form until it disappeared into the trees. Shaking his head at the strange encounter he started walking once more, then stopped to glance again to where Beorn had disappeared.

He was a bit befuddled at such a queer question, and though he hated to admit it, he was quite intrigued as to what had made Beorn ask it.

I have no time for this!, he chided himself and started again down the path leading to the Lonely Mountain.

If I want to get something to eat and rest awhile before that fool Thranduil starts brandying threats about with Thorin . Then I must leave this strange business for another time, he told himself as he walked on.

The Mountain looming ahead was painted orange and pink from the rising sun, flocks of birds swirling and circling in the distance.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Beorn’s question out of his head. Did any of those Dwarves have cubs? Why would Beorn ask such a strange question? Beorn was not the kind of person to wonder, let alone care if someone he’d only met had children. Gandalf suddenly stopped eyes going wide. Unless…..

“Beorn!” he yelled as he ran back to where he had seen Beorn disappear into the woods.

~~~

It took much rushing and searching but Gandalf finally found Beorn again lumbering threw the wood. Gandalf matched his pace to Beorn’s, walking to his right and a little behind. Beorn had spared him a glance and then seemed to ignore the wizard’s presence.

“If I may ask?” Gandalf started.

“You may,” Beorn said, not even bothering to look at the wizard as he continued to lumber along.

“What was it, pray tail, that brought about your question?” he asked. Though he had a terrible feeling and an was quite anxious to find out. He made his question sound as trivial as if he was asking Beorn what he thought of the weather.

“If you follow me I’ll show you,” Beorn rumbled and began his story. “I was out yesterday afternoon making my way to the mountain, when I came upon some tracks and a strange scent - one I hadn’t smelled before, but there was something familiar about it. And since the tracks were headed in the same direction I was headed, I decided to follow it.” Beorn told him as they continued threw the trees and brush. Gandalf could now see a clearing up ahead, and it was obviously where the skin-changer was headed.

“I followed the tracks to this clearing. And what do I find? But a friend laying murdered!” he growled.

They then entered the clearing. It was fairly small but with enough room to accommodate an eight man camp with horses. A medium sized tree grew near the center of the clearing with what appeared to be a large sack tied to one of its branches. Occasionally Gandalf could see movement from the sack as something thrashed in it. There was some grass and a few weeds growing but the clearing’s floor was mainly of light gray sheet rock. There also appeared to be the start of a small fire with bits of wood scattered about the clearing. It looked as if a struggle had taken place, as if someone had been in the process of building a fire when they were suddenly attacked.

“Look! There she is, poor thing. I had talked to her just three days before.”

Gandalf turned his eyes to where Beorn pointing to one side of the clearing where the carcass of a deer was lying, its head at an odd angle. At this Gandalf raised an eyebrow. It was now clear that whoever had killed the deer had made the camp in the clearing with intentions of lighting a fire to cook it.

“I see,” he said. Before turning his attention back to the tree and the hanging sack, and more importantly its struggling contents. “I don’t suppose that sack over there contains this ‘riddle’ of yours?” Gandalf asked.

Beorn looked up from where he had been shaking his head sadly a the dead doe. “What?” he said in confusion before catching Gandalf’s meaning. “Oh, yes! That’s the riddle and a very mean one at that. The most ill tempered creature I’ve ever come across! If I didn’t know better I would say he was half badger!” and that must truly have been something for Beorn to say something like that. For Beorn was well know for his own ill temper. “I was wondering what to do with him when I spotted you,” he said.

Gandalf watched as the huge Man walked over to the tree and untied the large sack from the branch, then picked it up one handed as if it weighed nothing. Whatever was in the sack stopped struggling and went still.

On closer inspection of the tan-colored sack, Gandalf realized it was a goblin’s kidknapsack (a special type of sack that had a small spell it which muted anything in it. So as soon as the sack was closed no sound could escape from it, no matter how loud. Perfect for kidnapping people). Obviously Beorn had gotten it from one of his many Goblin victims.

He watched with anticipation as Beorn began to untie the sack, though you couldn’t tell by looking at him leaning casually on his staff.

Beorn finally opened the sack and they were both greeted by a truly menacing growl from its contents. Beorn reached into the sack with surprising speed and grabbed hold of it’s growling contents, for it started to thrash madly, and cursing that could peel the bark off trees could be heard. Having apparently gotten a firm grip on who or what ever it was, Beorn lifted his arm from the sack. What he pulled out was one of the scruffiest, downright wildest looking Dwarves you have ever seen.

Beorn’s large hand held the young Dwarf by his long thick hair near the back of his head as if he had tried to get hold of him by the scruff of the neck. He wore an old faded and ripped red shirt with no sleeves ,a pair of simple britches that had been mended many times by the look of them, and only one scuffed up brown boot on one of his kicking feet. He also wore a simple thick leather belt specially made so one could attach and carry heavy weapons and pouches, though none were attached just then. It was the only thing on the Dwarf that was not falling apart.

As for the Dwarf himself he was filthy with dust, dirt, and what looked to be the remains of some coal soot. His hair and short beard (because of his young age) were tangled with leaves and dirt, obviously having not had a proper grooming in some time. Beorn had also apparently managed to tie his hands behind his back with some thick rope. The Dwarf glared balefully at Beorn with deep glittering brown eyes, white teeth bared in a snarl, growling, all the while being held only by his hair many feet above the ground by the huge man.

Gandalf almost dropped his staff, he knew this Dwarf! He had known him since before he could crawl. And what happened next almost made the wizard’s heart stop.

“Well cub! What do ya have to say for your self! You little killer of innocent deer!” Beorn boomed. The Dwarf had stopped struggling and Beorn made the mistake of holding the young Dwarf closer to his face (to intimidate him).

“Cub! I am no cub! I’m probably older then you are! You Ass! And as for what I have to say. GO BOIL YOUR HEAD!” the Dwarf bellowed. And with that he kicked Beorn right in the face (with the foot that had the boot on it, of course).

Beorn let out a deafening roar that made him sound more like a bear then a man. He stumbled back, nearly dropping the Dwarf as he clutched at his now very broken nose with his other huge hand. He roared and cursed for a while, then he went quiet, and the air seem to become oppressively thick.

No one had ever dared talk to Beorn that way. Let alone break his nose. Beorn dropped his hand (the one holding his nose) to his side where it clenched into a fist. Then he looked at the glaring Dwarf, still dangling from his other fist, with a strange light in his eyes. Blood from his nose dribbled thickly over his mouth running into his beard staining the lower half of his face red. It made him look truly savage. Then Beorn spoke in a deep menacing voice that made a shiver run up even Gandalf’s spine, powerful wizard though he was.

“What would you say, Dwarf, If I told you that I’m going to rip you limb from limb, grind your bones into flour, and eat you?

“I hope you choke and die of poisoning!” spat the Dwarf seeming not the least bit frightened. ~~~

There was deathly silence as they glared at one another. Everything was quiet-even the air seemed to hold its breath. Gandalf was sure that in a moment he would be forced to watch as Beorn ripped the young Dwarf apart…he hurriedly searched his mind for a spell that he might use to rescue the Dwarf without having to kill the enraged skin-changer.

But Beorn suddenly threw back his head a let out a deep rolling laugh that seemed to echo all around. Then he turned to Gandalf still chuckling.

“What did I tell you! He’s a regular badger! Ha, ha, my opinion of Dwarves keeps getting higher and higher.” He laughed loudly, then turned back to the Dwarf who was now struggling again. “I like you cub!”

“Well I DON’T LIKE YOU! And who the hell are you talking to!? You witless, mangy-”

The Dwarf suddenly noticed the tall wizard out of the corner of his eye (since he could not turn his head with Beorn’s grip on his hair). “Gandalf?!”

“So you two know each other,” Beorn asked looking between the two. “Well, good.” And with that the huge man dropped the Dwarf, who landed with a thump and a colorful curse.

He managed with some difficultly (his hands still tied behind his back) to climb to his feet. Then throwing a withering glare at the still chuckling Man he stumbled over to the wizard, keeping a weary eye on the skin-changer before the wizard grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Without a word Gandalf unsheathed Glamdring and cut the ropes binding the Dwarf before re-sheathing it again.

The Dwarf gave a sigh of relief at having his hands free and began to rub his wrists to get the circulation back into them.

“My thanks Gandalf” he said. If he had been paying more attention to the strangely silent wizard and not glaring at Beorn (who was watching with amusement) he might have been able to avoid a painful bump on the head. *Whack*

But he did not.

“Ow!” he yelped rubbing his sore head giving the wizard a glare which earned him another one.

*Whack*

“Ow!!!” this time a few muttered curses followed, as he rubbed his now twice aching head.

“Gimli, Son Of Gloin, Grandson of Groin!! What in Aule’s name are you doing here?!” boomed Gandalf angrily as he loomed over the Dwarf.

“What I’m doing here is no business but my own!” He grumbled as he crossed his arms in defiance. Needless to say this was not the smartest thing for Gimli to say to the shocked, frustrated, and now quite angry wizard.

*WHACK!*

“Ow!!!!”

~~~

“Then that Bastared sat on me! And shoved my face into the dirt, twisted my arms behind my back and tied me up, then tossed me into that damned sack!” Gimli grumbled, as he finished tying his long dark copper colored hair into a lose pony tail, except for two long forelocks which were also unbraided. It had taken him a whole hour of grooming before his hair and beard were completely combed and free of tangles, twigs and other things with the use of Gandalfs borrowed comb. He had even managed to wash most of the dirt and grime off in a nearby stream that Beorn had showed them.

“Then you came along,” he said getting up, a bit embarrassed remembering his behavior that morning. “I thank you again Gandalf, I am at your service” he bowed low in proper Dwarf fashion to the wizard before sitting back down. Then he turned a troubled gaze to the flames and their cooking lunch. Gandalf sat quietly, listing thoughtfully and smoking his beloved pipe across the fire from the now silent Dwarf.

That was not the whole story. What was Gimli doing on his way to the Iron Hills? And where are his supplies? Gandalf asked himself, puzzled. All he seems to have are his axes and the clothes on his back. There’s something different about him as well, something in his eyes that I can‘t place.

Something was troubling Gimli- something that was weighing heavily on the Dwarf’s heart, but Gandalf decide to let Gimli keep his secret until after their meal. Gimli looked underweight as if he hadn’t been eating regularly, he also had a few new scars on his arms and shoulders that he did not have last Gandalf saw him. He would get to the bottom of this mystery, but for now he left Gimli alone.

Beorn had left them to their own devices earlier. Gandalf suspected it had to do with the two large cuts of meat roasting above the flames and the deer carcass Gimli had butchered lying not a yard away. Beorn did not eat meat for he could talk with animals and considered them his friends and he their guardian.

It had been quite the scene when Beorn had tried to take the deer carcass off to bury it. Needless to say, Gandalf’s hat now had a rip in it, Gimli had some new scrapes and bruises. Beorn had found out the hard way that not only are Dwarves immensely strong for their height, but that their beards hide powerful jaws and rather large sharp canine teeth. Beorn now sported some nasty bite wounds when he’d tried to grab the enraged Dwarf in the fight over the deer (never take a starving Dwarf’s food).

It was only after much yelling and bellowing that Gandalf managed to carefully explain to Beorn that Dwarves are primarily meat eaters and need to hunt for food occasionally. So with grudging assurances from Gimli (under glare and threat of Gandalf’s staff) that, yes, the deer’s death had been as swift and painless as possible, Beorn reluctantly left the carcass to them.

It was late morning, almost noon in the small clearing. The sun was out but the Fall air was still crisp, even in the light of the sun’s rays.

‘So much for rest and good Elvin food with the Elves and Lake Men’ He grumped to himself taking in his surroundings. ‘Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. Could be worse, food could be better though.’ eyeing the roasting venison. But the company’s good, even though they’re not suppose to be here’ he thought observing the young Dwarf sitting across the fire.

It was hard to imagine that the copper haired Dwarf thoughtfully cleaning the blade of one of his axes, was the same one that Beorn had pulled scruffy and snarling out of that sack- or who had later attacked the skin-changer “bare-hand” when he started to walk away with the deer carcass. Gandalf still could not figure out how Gimli had managed to knock the huge Man to the ground. Gandalf shook his head in amazement at the memory; Gimli truly was his mother’s child.

Gimli son and only remaining child of the late Lady Nei Burkdis of the Iron Fists and of Gloin son of Groin of the line of Durin. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the fond memories and old adventures that name brought up.

~~~

While females are rarely seen and rarely mentioned when above ground with outsiders, it was actually the Dwarrow-Dams that held true power in Dwarven society. The head of most families was the Matriarch rather then a male like most ‘other’ Middle Earth cultures, Dwarrow-Dams were fierce warriors as strong and sturdy as the males (if not more so). Most Dwarrow-Dams held high stations of power and many acted as enforcement in keeping the safety and peace of the various Dwarven communities. For even a King must bow before the wishes of a Matriarch. Truly one of the few female-dominant societies in Middle Earth.

The Great Lady Nei Burkdis or more commonly called Lady Nei the Axe Goddess! She was a veteran of many battles including the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs (in fact it was the last great battle, the Battle of Nanduhirion, that she and Gloin met). She was considered very beautiful, even with the jagged scar that ran threw her right eye and up into her hairline. While Gimli had inherited his father’s deep brown eyes, his ‘Fire touch’, and unfortunately his sharp tongue. He had inherited his mothers deep copper colored hair, her good looks, and her axe skill. It was now apparent to Gandalf that he had also inherited her terrible temper! Nei was know to be a true Hell Cat on and off the battle field.

Lady Nei was also one of the few Dwarf women to spend most of her life above ground (though not intentionally, owing mostly to the troubles Thorin’s people had suffered in recent years, as well as other factors beyond her control) though most non-Dwarves would most likely have mistook her for a young male.

Her weapons of choice had been twin single-blade axes called ‘Fire Ripper’ and ‘Star Smasher’ along with a heavy double-bladed battle axe called ’Blood Screamer’ (so called for the sound it would make if it was swung at high speeds). All three weapons had been past down from her father and he from his mother and so on. And they now belonged to Nei’s son Gimli.

It was actually the return of these three axes that had truly calmed the young Dwarf down earlier. Beorn having hidden them along with Gimli’s missing boot under a bush for safe keeping after he had “sacked” Gimli. It was incredibly lucky that Beorn had come upon the young Dwarf when he had. It had been the one time he had not been near any of his weapons, all of them leaning against the tree waiting to be cleaned. Otherwise their encounter would have definitely been much bloodier.

It is common knowledge that almost all Dwarves are excellent fighters with or without weapons. But there are some truly gifted Dwarves and Nei as well as her brother, Ni Vigfuss, were from a long line of gifted fighters. In fact Nei’s two favorite sayings were “Anyone can swing an axe! But it takes a Master to wheeled it!” and “An axe is cruel and speaks ugly. So it is up to us to make up for its crudeness and wheeled it with grace!”. It is said that Dwarves cannot dance, except in the heat battle. And woe to the being they choose to dance with! Lady Nei’s dancing was both truly wondrous and terrible.

She had started to teach her children as soon as they were old enough to hold an axe, but only one inherited her gift for ‘dancing‘.

Gandalf carefully tapped the old ash out of his pipe before packing a little more weed carefully into its bowl. He caught Gimli eyeing his pipe longingly.

“Would you like to take a few puffs?” he said, offering his pipe.

“My thanks Gandalf” Gimli said with no little disappointment. “But no, I’m still getting over black-lung” he said, waving off the offered pipe, and moving to start on the next axe to be cleaned. It was ‘Fire Ripper‘, the wizard could tell by the intricate flame design on both sides of the blade. Gandalf gave an approving nod at Gimli’s choice to not partake in a few puffs, while Dwarves are one of the few species that could recover from black-lung, an almost guarantied fatal affliction to other species, it could still kill them. So smoking was wisely avoided in tell the body had rid its self of the ‘black tare’ in the lungs. Gandalf took a few more puffs before all fell quiet again as they both returned to their own thoughts.

Nei had given birth to five children- a good number by Dwarf standards. Their first baby was a boy who had black hair like his father and eye‘s like his mother. They named him Daira. After Daira was five years old Nei gave birth to twin boys Nin and Gimli (twins being quite common for Dwarves), then two years later a much wished for daughter they named Minal, who took after her father in features and temperament. She was the apple of Gloin’s eye, many a day they would sing as Gloin went about his work, little Minal trotting behind, helping as much as she could, giggling and humming happily. Then finally three years after Minal came little Mano who had his father’s hair and shocking light gray eyes (very rare for Dwarves).

They lived simply, most would say poorly, no better then wandering peasants. Food was not always plentiful, their clothes worn and mended often, all of the clothes the children wore where hand-me -downs, the labor was hard, and they where always on the move from place to place. Being looked down upon by many, Men, Elves, and occasionally even well-to-do Dwarves as they tried to sell their meager wares.

But they were happy and even many, many years later when Gloin was wealthy, well fed, a lord and hero living in his nice comfortable home in the Lonely Mountain. He would quietly sit in front of his large stone fireplace gazing into the dancing flames, remembering back to simpler days. Back to days when he would sit with his Beloved Nei in his arms on sunny days, laughing and whispering sweet nothings into the shell of her ear. Giving and getting the occasional playful nip or tug on his beard as well as stealing a kiss when ever the opportunity arose. Watching his younger brother, Oin, swinging a giggling Minal around in his arms as her raven hair whipped about in the air. Daira giving little Mano a piggy-back ride as he pointed out the yellow and blue flutter-wings (butterflies), Mano watching with delight and fascination as they floated by. While Nin and Gimli raced around the flowered meadow playing a game of tag, their loose copper hair flying behind them as they dashed and dodged one another.

Gloin would gladly give up all his wealth, possessions, even his standing to go back to being poor and homeless. Just to simply be happy with all his loved ones again (but this is a story for a different time).

Alas, Fate had not been kind to Gloin and Nei. Their family lived in a caravan with several other families, eking out a living delivering goods, selling their skills and wares to local towns. In fact many Dwarves were homeless since the Worm Smaug stole and took up residence in Erebor. The few who survived were forced to become “the Wandering Folk”… and there were even fewer of them after the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs.

Gandalf could not help feel the sorrow in his heart at the thought of that terrible war. Half- half!- of an entire people gone! Trying to wipe out an evil that affected all the peoples of Middle Earth. And they almost did it, alone with no help from Elves or Men. He had been there and had paid witness to the mass slaughter.

As for Gloin and Nei, fate seemed especially cruel. Their caravan was attacked by Orcs and most of the other Dwarves in the caravan were killed, their possessions burned or destroyed. The family managed to get away, along with Gloin’s brother, Oin.

Later that year on a cold rainy day, Gimli’s twin Nin had been trampled to death by a horse where they had been playing by the road. He had been six years old. The rider’s excuse- before Gloin slit his throat- had been that the little “Dirt rat” had been in his way. Gandalf remembered how Gimli was mute for over a year from the horror of his twins death. He was also terrified of horses. He had no problems with ponies, but horses were another matter. Even after he was older and got over his fear of them he was never comfortable around them.

Two years later Little Mano died of fever sickness. Not even an Elven potion Gandalf had gotten from Elrond himself could save the little boy. Nei and Gloin were grateful to him anyway for trying to save him, even if it had been futile in the end. Thankfully the potion did ease the little one’s suffering, Mano passed peacefully in his sleep as Nei rocked and sung to him. Nei and the rest of the family were able to take comfort in the fact that Mano only knew love in his short life, he would never have to face the cruelties and hardships of Middle Earth.

Then the whole family almost starved to death years later when the Blue Mountain area suffered a massive drought causing famine to run rampant. Minal died of hunger even with Gloin and Nei’s shares of food. The loss of Minal was so hard for Gloin he took a vow never to sing again, and he never did. He loved all his children fiercely, but he always had a special place in his heart for his one daughter. She had taken after him in all things, looks, mannerisms, even skill (that was still developing), she adored her ’Da’ and would always help him set their fires (only she, Daira and Gimli inheriting Gloin’s Fire touch). One day she had tottered off to pick some light blue flowers that where growing in the small meadow they had set up camp in, she never came back. When they found her, she was laying peacefully in the grass as if she had just fallen asleep, except she never woke up.

Several years later Daira was killed by a raiding party of Orcs as they where delivering lumber to a town near Lindon. They literally tore him to pieces before Gimli and Nei could get to him. Daira and Gimli where close, after Nin’s death Daira had taken it upon himself to watch out for his younger siblings. It had been Daira who managed to get Gimli to start talking again after over a year of him being mute. Gimli looked up to Daira, even when they were older and his axe and fighting skills had advanced to where he could easily beat his taller bother (Daira being five foot one, Gimli being five feet even) he still adored him. Gimli was devastated at his brother’s loss and swore vengeance on any Orcs he would forever come across.

Then about three years ago came the family’s greatest loss: the loss of Lady Nei, she died in Gloin’s arms, yet another victim of the Red Plague that was sweeping the area. The Great Lady Nei Burkdis, a war hero, wife of Gloin son of Groin, and mother to Gimli, died, huddled in a cold rain-soaked alley between two inns with her husband, his brother and her son, because the inn owner’s didn’t want a bunch of greedy and dirty Dwarves in there establishment.

‘An ignorant shame’ Gandalf thought disgustedly to himself. ‘Is it any small wonder Dwarves are so secretive and suspicious‘? Then with a final long puff on his pipe Gandalf blew a large smoke ring which both he and Gimli watched as it floated up turning a deep blue then a dazzling bright white before fading into nothing.

~~~

“I still can’t believe they did it,” said Gimli looking at the mountain that stood proudly in the distance in the noon sun. “I never doubted they would make it. But I was sure Bombur would have died of a stroke or at least Fili the Fool and Kili the Slow would have killed themselves with their own lack of wit!” snorted Gimli.

“Never?” said Gandalf, regarding Gimli with a cocked eyebrow.

“Of course I knew they would make it! My Da and Uncle Oin are with them!” said Gimli with pride in his voice. “Not to mention good old Balin and this Hobbit, Bilbo to keep the others out of trouble” he said as he got up and took the two ‘now cooked’ chunks of meat from the fire. He gave a curse when one slipped off the stick, falling to the ground. He carefully handed Gandalf the other stick with the meat still on it before gingerly picked up the fallen piece, brushing off of the ash and dirt as best he could before sitting back down. “I still wish I could have gone” he sighed quietly, more to himself then to the wizard, before taking a big bite off of his chunk of meat.

And Gandalf noticed a troubled look come back to the young Dwarf’s eyes once again. Something had happen while Gloin and the others were out on their quest. Gandalf wondered not for the first time if he should have let Gimli come along. They could have used him several times, for he was a very fit and active Dwarf (and would always remain so, threw out his life). He also had a better head then most, though by his behavior earlier one would not have thought so. But it had been up to him, and his and Gloin’s final decision on a dark night a year ago had been no. For like young Estel in Rivendale, and Legolas, Gandalf had a feeling in his bones that Gimli had a key roll to play in a coming storm.

“You’re too young!” said Gloin, firmly.

“I’m sixty-two! I’m not a child!” yelled Gimli.

“You’re still too young, Gimli” said Gandalf calmly as he tried without success to find a more comfortable position on his chair, if a upside-down bucket can be called a chair.

A small fire provided the only light in the dark, old barn that Gloin, Oin, and Gimli called home. They shared the barn with seven other Dwarves, some of whom were sleeping in the un occupied stalls or were on their shifts in the mines. They as well as Gloin, Oin, and Gimli were almost completely black from head-to-toe from the coal soot, having come off their shifts an hour ago and not having had a wash yet. The barn’s other residence were two ponies, one cow and an old sway-back nag, as well as a few barn cats (one of which was purring, undisturbed by the noise, on Gandalf’s lap).

A few of the Dwarves who were going on the quest were also present in the barn for this meeting huddled around the small fire in the center of the barn (carefully made so it would not catch the barn on fire).

“Fili and Kili get to go!”

“They’re twenty years older then you,” sighed Gandalf, absent mindedly petting the contented cat on his lap.

“So? I’m still faster, and stronger then those two spoiled sods! And except for Thorin I’m the best fighter here! You know it!” Gimli argued heatedly.

“Oy!” yelled both Fili and Kili in unison from where they were sitting a few feet away. But a glare from Thorin silenced any insult they might have thrown back.

“No!” said Gloin crossing his arms.

“Da! You know I could help! Gandalf, Thorin, come on! You’re taking that useless glob of lard Bombur! What good is he? What are you going to do? Feed him to the Dragon and hope Smaug dies of constipation?” Gimli asked flippantly.

To this almost all the others broke out laughing except of course for the red-faced Bombur. Gandalf, Thorin, and Gloin just barely managed to keep a straight face.

“Why, you little peck! I’m twice the Dwarf you’ll ever be!” said Bombur, puffing out his chest angrily.

“I’d say more like three times” said Gimli eyeing the fat Dwarf’s ample gut, not the least bit intimidated.

That had every one howling, and not even Gandalf, Thorin, or Gloin could hold back the smirks and chuckles after that.

“You…you!” Bombur was livid.

“Sit down Bombur.” said Thorin now getting his chuckling under control.

“But Thorin-!” grumbled Bombur.

But Thorin only shook his head and pointed to where Bifur and Bofur were sitting trying to stifle their laughing. With one last glare at Gimli (who ignored him) he stomped off mumbling under his breath about ‘flyweights and their loose tongues‘.

“We know your skill, Gimli, and I would take you along if it were my choice. But it is your father’s and Gandalf’s decision that you stay. Besides, if we fail, someone will have to tell the tale of our folly,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. Thorin sympathized with Gimli, for he thought Gimli would make a fine addition to their quest. What with having his father’s ‘Fire Touch’ and a remarkable skill with weapons, that far surpass Gloin’s and the others, maybe even himself (though he would never admit it, not even to himself. Being too well aware of his own importance to even consider the possibility). He could understand why the young Dwarf was upset after all he himself had marched to war at the age of 53. Thorin gave Gimli’s shoulder a fond pat, then moved off, collecting the others before exiting the barn, leaving only Gandalf, Gloin, Oin, and Gimli in the now quiet-barn (except for the occasional snore).

“But-” Gimli started.

“No buts, boy! The decision is final! You’re staying!” said Gloin with his arms crossed over his chest daring Gimli to say more. Gimli held his tongue but it was clear to all that he hated their decision.

“I’m going to check and make sure all our flint supply is good for the trip” Oin said to Gloin, who nodded in reply. He gave Gimli’s shoulder a comforting squeeze and an apologetic look before leaving the barn as well.

Then Gloin softened. “I know it’s hard to stay behind Gimli. I would like it if you were with us as well,” Gloin said with a softer tone now, unfolding his arms and pulling Gimli into an embrace. Gimli retuned the show of affection but with a confused and hurt look on his face. Gloin stepped back, and looked at Gimli, studying his face.

“There’s a good chance your uncle and I won’t be coming back“, he said. Gimli opened his mouth to say something but Gloin shushed him. “That’s why I want you to stay here, so that if something does happen you will still be here to go on and to remember us. You’re the only child I have left, Gimli. My heart cracked every time I lost one of you, and when I lost your mother my heart turned to coal. If I lose you my heart would surely crumble to dust!” Gloin said with a sorrowful look in his deep brown eyes.

At one time Gloin had been know for his light-hearted and optimistic attitude, but after suffering grief after grief, it darkened his light, and now he was known only for his sharp tongue and gloomy disposition. All the anger and confusion drained out of Gimli, and he reluctantly nodded his acceptance of their decision.

“I still don’t like it,” he grumped.

“You don’t have to,” smiled Gloin giving Gimli’s cheek a fond pat before stepping away from him. “Now, if all goes well, I’ll send back a message for you to come to Erebor some time next Spring. If not Gandalf will come and tell you of our demise. You know what to do then. But until then I want you to save up your earnings. I’ve cut a deal with Brayak about you staying here so don’t worry about the rent as long as you help him out with a few chores. No DRINKING and No FIGHTING! I don’t want to hear from Hanar that you and that loud mouth Ulfr have been running wild while were gone. And I don’t want to hear about you messing around with that black haired filly working at the inn!

“You mean Myia? We’re just friends,” Gimli said innocently, though the lecherous gleam in his eye at the mention of her name said otherwise.

“Yes, her!” Gloin said, swatting the now smirking Gimli upside the head. Gloin did not approve of fornicating outside one’s own race. He was still quite miffed at finding his son and the human wench on several occasion “hammering the anvil“ when said son was suppose to be on break, or worse, working! Must be from his mothers side, he thought sourly remembering all of Nei‘s suitors and the fights that followed. Gimli, taking after his mother, was quit the Dwarven ‘looker’, and could be considered comely even by human standards. So there was no shortage of Gimli‘s ‘friends‘ about. “Think of your mother! She’s probably rolling in her tomb as we speak! I swear one day you’ll find your self between some Elf’s legs!” groused Gloin.

Just at that moment Gandalf seemed to suddenly suffer a coughing fit. He waved off their questioning looks, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “you have no idea”, before returning to his pipe with a humorous twinkle in his gray eyes, as if he knew some humorous secret. Considering that he was a wizard it was probably the truth. The striped cat on his lap only opened one eye, annoyed that they would ruin such a perfect nap, before going back to sleep.

Strange…

Gloin shook his head at the wizard and the cat before he returned to lecturing his son.

“Since those Orc raids on the coal shipments stopped, the mine work should be constant. But if something does happen, make for Turquoise Hill (Turquoise Hill was a small permanent dwarf camp to the west, past a small town called Shiprock, yet still in the Blue Mountain region, it was set up in front of a small hill that was actually the mouth of a turquoise mine.), Master Drow owes me a favor so he can give you work. If I don’t find you here I’ll check there,” said Gloin as he started to walk in the direction of the barn door. “Remember to keep your axes sharp and clean, do your Forms, don’t forget to keep your wages hidden, and watch out for Rowell! There’s a something dark to that Man, not to mention he’s up to something.

“Yes, yes, I know!” said Gimli impatiently, rolling his eyes, annoyed that his father would think he needed reminding. He followed Gloin out of the barn, leaving the watching Gandalf, ‘still smoking his pipe’ and the snoozing cat behind.

Gandalf ate about half of his bit of venison before he gave the rest to Gimli, who gladly finished it for him having finished his portion of meat in four large bites. After that, Gimli busied himself by stocking the fire and smoking the rest of the venison (so he could have something to eat later), while he listened as Gandalf told him about his rescue of his father and the others from three trolls, stopping Gandalf every once in awhile to make a comment or ask a question.

It was now a little past noon, by the angle of the sun.

The two had lapsed back into comfortable silence and the only sounds that broke the silence was the cracking and pop of the fire, the creak of leather and the occasional clink of the axes now attached to Gimli’s belt as he moved around their small camp.

Gandalf decided that now was a good a time as any to get to the bottom to why the young Dwarf was here and not where he should be, and to find the cause for the unexplained scars, some of which were still an angry red. He was beginning to become greatly concerned about what had happened to the young Dwarf in the past year.

“Gimli, come over here and sit down,” said Gandalf, waving to a space beside him. Gimli finished stoking the fire, then reluctantly came over and sat down as he was told. By the uncomfortable look on his face and the way he looked every where but at the wizard, he knew what was coming.

“Gimli, what are you doing here?” asked Gandalf calmly.

“I told you. I was on my way to the Iron Hills when a Raven called Vok stopped me and told me about Smaug’s death and the Elf King-” but Gandalf interrupted him.

“Gimli, I have known you since before your honorable mother birthed you- and I know when you are not telling me the whole truth!” Gandalf said sternly. His tone causing Gimli to flinch.

“What were you doing going to the Iron Hills, anyway? You are not dressed properly for traveling, not even the proper time of year,“ continued Gandalf motioning to Gimli’s thin sleeveless red shirt. “You have no supplies with you,” he continued, but Gimli kept his face turned to the fire, silent. “Gimli, why are you not at Black Hollow like your father told you? And how in Aule’s name did you get those scars? What happened?” he said softly.

At first Gandalf thought Gimli would say nothing, for the Dwarf sat stiffly, staring into the flames of their fire not looking at the Wizard. The silence stretched as Gandalf studied the silent Dwarf, patiently waiting for Gimli to speak.

Dwarves expressed emotion and feeling mainly through body language and their eyes. In fact Dwarves had an entire language of just body language alone (extremely helpful when one found themselves in a situation that called for silence yet still needing a way to communicate). At the moment Gimli sat beside him with his knees up with his arms resting crossed over them, and his chin resting on his arms. His deep brown eyes were almost completely black, ringed by only a small band of rich brown from under thick eyelashes. The flames from the fire seemed to dance in the depths of their glassy surface. It was then that Gandalf finally recognized the strange look in those eyes that he had noticed but could not identify. He had seen that same look in Gimli’s eyes when he was six, mute from the loss of his twin; it was horror and anguish.

Just when Gandalf decided to break the silence, Gimli spoke quietly, hardly above a whisper..

“It started a month after you and father left“….

Endnote:
In case you were wondering about the strange names for Gimli’s family here’s what their mannish names mean. Mother=Lady Nei Burkdis=Lady Nei Axe Goddess Older brother=Daira=Earth Gimli’s Twin brother=Nin=Water Gimli=Fire/Stars Gimli’s sister=Minal=Heaven/Sky Baby brother=Mano=Spirit

CHAPTER 2

“It started a month after you and father left…

Old Bara, the mine owner, finally died. Everyone knew his health had been deteriorating over the last year. I was amazed that he’d lasted as long as he had. If you ask me, I think someone was slipping poison into his nightly ale.

Well... that meant Rowell, that snake son of his, was now in charge of the mine. We all knew nothing good would come of it, but we needed the work, so what could we do?” said Gimli, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Strangely, it seemed that our fears had been for nothing. He didn’t change the hours or cut our wages, he even closed the mine for two whole days during the Sickle Moon festival. Except for his unexplained trips away from town, nothing seemed amiss. Everything was running as smooth glass.

Since Da and Uncle Oin had left, Ulfr moved into the barn with me to keep me company. Shala finally had her third baby, and Brayak finally finished that ugly sword he’s been making for the last year. Some people left and Nidi’s father was finally able to buy that old shack behind the bakery, but otherwise everything was just the same as it always was,” he sighed, still staring into the flames of their fire.

Gandalf listened quietly from his seat next to the young Dwarf his staff lying next to him as he watched two birds some distance away swoop and glide in the clear afternoon sky. Any who knew Gandalf knew he was an excellent storyteller (and he never passed up the opportunity to tell a story ‘properly’) but he was also an excellent listener, absorbing everything that was said, as he was doing now.

“Then we got word that the coal mine to the south of us, Green Ridge, had been shut down because of a sudden outbreak of plague. So now the demand for Black Hollow coal had doubled. We thought nothing of it, outbreaks of plague being so common and all. Their loss would be our gain, the work was now constant, the Orcs seemed to have disappeared, and the profit was up.

One thing though… a week before we got news of Green Ridge, Rowell replaced all the coal wagon drivers with some Men he’d hired on one of his ’absence‘. Strange lot- always kept to themselves, never had anything to do with us working the mine or even the towns folk.

But aside from that, everything seemed fine. Some of the town elders even started thinking that maybe the responsibility of running the mine had mellowed him. But we Dwarves kept to our suspicions. A snake can change its skin, but it’s still a snake.”

“I really wish that we had been wrong, Gandalf,” Gimli said quietly, turning his troubled gaze to the silently listening wizard at his side. Gandalf only nodded, urging Gimli to go on with his tale. Taking a deep breath, the Dwarf turn his gaze back to the fire and continued his story.

“For weeks things were quiet as usual, but then that all changed…

I was on the day shift in the mines that week. We had only a couple more hours to go before the shift was over and the next shift took over. Me and Ulfr were talking about doing some sparring after we got off, maybe see if Svior wanted to join us, when Morris, one of the Men, yelled down the shaft that the town’s meeting bell was ringing. These town meeting had become all too common since Rowell inherited the mine, and they were almost always a waste of time. So we all stopped our work and made our way back up the shafts…”

~~~

“I wonder what this ones’ going to be about?”, asked Ulfr, with a yawn, as he and Gimli trudged side by side up the maze of dark tunnels with all the other mine workers, the tunnels echoing with their voices and footsteps.

“My guess is that there was a raid on one of the coal wagons. Either that, or Rowell just wants to make another speech on how to mine coal ‘properly’ again,” snorted Gimli, shifting the heavy pickaxe he was holding to his shoulder.

“Telling Dwarves how to mine coal ‘properly! Can you imagine!?” grumbled a short Dwarf walking behind the two.

“Has that spoiled brat ever even set foot in this mine?”, asked a Man walking in front of them, looking over his shoulder.

“And get all dirty?! Are you mad?!,” snorted Ulfr, in a snobbish high-pitched voice. Walking with his head held high, nose in the air (as if there was a bad smell), and a swagger in his step, while he held his shovel at his hip like a sword in its scabbard. This had the other workers walking around them laughing as they watched Ulfr do a very good impression of the snobbish mine owner.

Ulfr was Gimli’s best friend, a rambunctious Dwarf and a bit of a clown, (or as Gloin would say, a loud-mouthed, smart-ass) Ulfr was always up for some fun and adventure, with Gimli usually along for the ride (which thrilled the longsuffering Gloin no end).

Some of the duo’s more interesting stunts included getting drunk and having a fistfight on the roof of the town’s tavern, being chased by an angry pack of traveling monks (something Ulfr apparently said upset them), having occasional games of ‘drunk tossing’ at the local tavern. And their most infamous incident, when the duo tied a local pimp to the back of a large pig (after spotting said pimp beating one of his hookers, then they proceeded to ‘teach him some manners’ as they put it). It took six Men almost an entire day of chasing the squealing pig through the streets of Black Hallow before they were able to corner it and free the rather ’worse for wear’ pimp. It was still a local mystery as to how the two done it.

When they finally reached the entrance to the mine, the large sweaty and soot-covered group of Dwarves and Men stopped for a few moments to let their eyes adjust. Even on an overcast day such as that one, the light still stung their eyes after so long in the black of the mines. Following that came the usual spitting, picking, and hacking in the vain attempt to dislodge the day’s accumulated dust from their eyes, ears and noses. When their eyes had finally adjusted they continued on down the incline to the road, laughing and joking with one another. Gimli and Ulfr throwing the occasional dirt clod and friendly insult at one another, enjoying their shortened work day.

But as they reached Black Hollow they began to notice a strange quiet. Everything looked deserted. Even with a town meeting going on their should have some activity- people running errands and such, children playing, something, but there was nothing. Only the occasional gust of wind stirred in the empty street as the now quiet group made its way threw the small town.

Then they smelled them…

Gimli knew that reek only too well.

“Orcs!” he and several other Dwarves shouted in warning to the Men of their group, who’s poorer sense of smell would have noticed nothing amiss. They couldn’t see them, just the empty dirt road and the shabby gray cobble stone buildings of the town, but their stench was thick in the air.

Gimli supposed there must have been an attack on the town while they had been down in the mines. Yet strangely nothing looked destroyed, no burning buildings, no bodies, everything was just empty.

All was tense as they prepared for the Orcs to spring upon them at any moment as they crept through town. Gimli wished for his axes as he tightened his grip on the pickaxe he held, scanning the town for any movement. A quick glance to his left showed Ulfr doing much the same, his shovel at the ready as he looked about with narrowed eyes. Luckily most of the mine workers still had their picks and shovels. They weren’t proper weapons but they would do. Gimli could see the determination in his companions: they would not go down without a fight.

Several of the Men and Dwarves who had families wanted to go to their homes to check on them, but the shift leader ordered them all to stay together and not split up.

All was deathly silent as they reached the town center in front of the Blacksmith’s shop. The town bell hung near the open shop, still lightly swinging from its earlier ringing.

“Who rung the bell? I still see noone”, said a large Man by the name of Erick, in a whisper as he looked warily about.

“Maybe it was an Orc”, said Buri, a Dwarf to Gimli’s right.

“Hush!” Ordered Hanar, the shift leader. Hanar Fastgeirr was the oldest Dwarf in Black Hollow and well- respected by Dwarves and Men alike.

He was heavily scarred from old battles, including a massive disfiguring scar along the whole left side of his face, from when a troll had cut off part of his face (it was still a mystery as to how he lived to tell the tale). Those who worked the mine looked to him for leadership, even the Men (which displeased the town elders to no end). He reminded Gimli a lot of his relative, old Balin, except Hanar was actually older and more of an old warrior then Balin ever was.

All seemed completely silent… when a sound came from the dark depths of the open shop. It was the solitary tread of boots and what sounded like the hiccupping whimpers of a crying child coming their way.

Hanar motioned for the group to hold and stay silent. They all tensed, ready to attack as a tall figure made its way out of the shadows and into the light just outside of the open doors of the shop, yet well away from the stunned, confused, and agitated group of mine workers.

The man was tall with a slim build, dressed in fine, well-made clothes. He wore long black boots, black breeches with a deep blue tunic, and a finely made white cloak over his shoulders. He also wore several gold chains about his neck and rings on his uncallussed hands, a gold handled sword in a intricate scabbard at his hip. Clean shaven with long wheat colored hair, and a straight nose, he would have been quite handsome if not for the ugly sneer that seemed forever etched on his face.

In his arms he carried a small curly-haired toddler, she was crying as she pushed and hit the man with all her might. But she was so small the man holding her hardly took notice, instead he looked over their group as one would a pack of mangy, begging dogs.

“NeNe! What are you doing with my child!” cried a heavy set man by the name of Farin, as he pushed his way to the front of the group to stand by Hanar. The child recognizing her father’s voice turned, then held out her short chubby arms to him in a futile attempt to reach him, whimpering.

“What is the meaning of this, Rowell?!” demanded Farin angrily as he moved to take his daughter from the Man holding her. Yet all Rowell did was smile and move the struggling tot to his hip, then snapped his fingers with his free hand. At the snap Orcs suddenly boiled out of everywhere, yelling and shrieking.

“Stay together! Back to back!” ordered Hanar, as the Orcs swarmed around them blocking any escape. They were surrounded, yet the Orcs did not attack. Instead they shrieked and cursed at them in their foul tongue, shaking their scimitars. The ones with bows had them bent at the ready. The motley group of Dwarves and Men roared their own challenges, daring the Orcs to come within striking distance of their picks and shovels.

“Enough!” came an order in a deep hissing voice, and all the Orcs immediately quieted, still keeping their weapons trained on the soot-covered group.

Some of the orcs moved to make room for the smugly swaggering Rowell and a large powerfully-built Goblin that towered at his side. The Goblin wore dark ill-repaired, mismatched armor. It was clear that this must have been the Goblins chief, as well as the one to give the order for silence. NeNe, whom Rowell still carried, had stopped crying, her small form shaking in fright, her large blue eye wide as she stared in terror at the monsters around her.

“Traitor!”

“Deceiver!”

“Son of a whore!”

“Orc licker!”

“ Murder!”, several of the group bellowed in rage, at the bored-looking mine owner.

“Now, now! Such language in front of one so young! What do you think about that, child? Very rude, don’t you think?” He asked the terrified toddler sweetly as if he were some kindly uncle. When she didn’t acknowledge him he took hold of her face and forced her to look at him, causing her to cry out.

“Don’t you touch her, you bastard! I‘ll kill you!”, shouted the enraged Farin. Only the swords and spear points of the Orcs kept him from charging the mine owner.

“What is the meaning of this, Rowell? You worm! Have you no honor!? You have betrayed us all to the Goblins- is that not enough? Now you must terrorize an innocent babe? Leave her be!” demanded Hanar, his feet planted firmly, head held high in challenge. If there is one thing that most Dwarves can not tolerate is the harming of a child or a woman.

Rowell let go of NeNe’s face and turned to glare at the old Dwarf, ignoring the enraged Farin.

“Hanar” he spat the name as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “If you wish to keep that hideous head of yours on your shoulders, you will watch your wagging tongue! I am in control, I give the orders! Not Father! Not you! Not those senile old fools that think they rule this town! I rule!!” He shouted angrily at Hanar and the others, and little NeNe started whimpering again. Then seeming to realize his outburst he calmed and the sneer returned to his flushed face.

“As for the ‘why’, its very simple; profit. Now that the Green Ridge mine is out of the way and the Gillnine mine in the east very soon, Black Hollow will be the only reliable source of coal for the whole region. With coal being in such high demand, and me not having to share the earnings…well you get the idea.”

“You’re a fool! Who will mine the coal- you? These Goblins?”, asked Ulfr sarcastically, standing next to Gimli holding his shovel at the ready.

“O’ course not. You will!”, laughed the chief Goblin, at Rowell’s side.

“I’d rather be dead!” growled Gimli, eyes flashing with a barely controlled fire. Ulfr and many of the others echoing his sentiments.

“He speaks for all of us! We will not work for traitorous filth like you!” said Hanar, glaring angrily.

“Oh, you’ll be very good workers… won’t they child?” he said turning to the silently shivering tot on his hip. “If they don’t, I’ll just have to let the orcs have their sport with your mother and all the other women and children, won’t we?” It was clear to all what he meant to hang over them to get them to work.

“How-w do we know if you-u haven’t k-k-killed them all r-ready?” stuttered one of the Men.

To this Rowell let out a longsuffering sigh, then he gave the Goblin chief a nod of his chin. Seeing this, he bellow out a few orders in the grating Black speech.

There came a sudden commotion from further down the street to their left, in the direction leading out of town. They could not see what was happening (the Orcs around them blocking their view) but they could hear the sound of many running feet and the snapping of whips with the occasional grunt. A few Orcs to their left moved out of the way to let another group of battered Men and Dwarves to be driven in to join their surrounded group, the Orcs closing the gap as soon as the last Man was through.

It was the workers from the night shift as well as a few Men in town that didn’t work the mines. Most were beaten and bruised, and some Men and Dwarves from the night shift were missing as well. No doubt there had been a struggle when the Goblins took over.

“We couldn’t stop them, they came upon us so fast! He has all the women and children in the tavern under heavy guard”, said the night shift leader as the Man limped over to the old Dwarf.

He was only about a foot taller then Hanar and much more wiry in build compared to the broad-shouldered Dwarf. He was a dark-skinned Man with deep black eyes and short brown hair by the name of Noko. He was usually good-humored in nature, slow to anger, and a bit stuck in his ways.

“They’re alive?”

“Where are the others?”

“My wife, is she okay?”

“My children are they all there?”

“Where’s my brother?”

There was a flurry of questions as many of the day shift workers bombarded the newcomers for news of their loved ones. But Rowell broke in, silencing them.

“They’re safe… for the time being. But we unfortunately had some casualties, Orcs can get a bit carried away, but that was to be expected,” he said with a shrug, as if it was no great loss.

“Traitorous pig!” Noko spat at him, hate shining in his dark eyes, the others shouting their own insults. Rowell’s blue eyes narrowed in irritation at the glaring group.

“If you wish them to stay safe, you’ll do as your told!” he snapped, then a big grin stretched over his face. “Won’t you…?”

~~~

“And that’s just what we did,” Gimli said quietly to the flames of their small fire.

Gandalf listened beside him, picturing the small gloomy mining town nestled between two small eroding mountain that seemed nothing more then two huge piles of cracked and broken stones. Only a few gnarled black trees lived there, their bent forms seeming to weep from their gray surroundings.

Altogether a miserable place, the wizard thought to himself.

Gimli’s broad hands were clenched into fists, their thick knuckles white from the strain. But aside from that and the haunted look in his eyes, their was no outward sign of the turbulent emotions that Gandalf knew must have been rolling just under the Dwarf’s quietly brooding surface.

“The Orcs clapped us in chains, and we were forced to go back and mine the coal for that black-hearted worm. Most of us would have gladly chosen death rather then be a slave, maybe try and take out as many of those foul creatures as we could before being cut down. But we couldn’t- he’d kill the women and little ones. Almost all of them were Humans but they did have Lady Hildr, and her three little ones as well as Nidi’s mother and baby brother. So we could do nothing but do as we were told. I don’t know how long they kept us down there, felt like years, not letting us see open sky or get fresh air.

“They beat us for anything they liked, we weren’t working fast enough, we were talking, or just cause they felt like it. They only gave us their leftover scraps to eat- I don’t even want to imagine what half of it was. For our water they brought down a horse trough. Most of the time it was brackish from the coal dust, and they delighted in us seeing them spitting or pissing in it. Thankfully we had jugs and canisters of food hidden throughout the mine, in case of cave-ins that they didn’t know about. Probably the only thing that kept us all alive,” said Gimli, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing his story.

“Rowell would visit occasionally to gloat, telling us about all the fabulous amounts of gold he was making because us, and to ‘keep up the good work‘. Always reminding us what he held over our heads, some times he’d even bring news of the others, or a message from someone’s wife or child.

At the same time everyday the Goblins would let us all rest for three hours, but that was it. I only suppose we were allowed that was because they still needed us to mine the coal for them. By the first week we all took to only using Iglishmek ( 1.) to talk with one other. Those stupid filth eaters had no idea that we were insulting them and plotting our revenge.

After the first couple of weeks it then became clear why Rowell had replaced all the wagon drivers, the Men he hired where in league with him,” Gimli snorted in disgust, still gazing at the fire. They’d continue delivering the coal and bring back the supplies and food (that we never got), like everything was normal in Black Hollow.”

As you know, not many people go to the Hollow, bypassing it for Shiprock in the valley, and those that do come are mostly looking for work. The few poor souls that did come were ether killed by the Orcs or thrown in with the rest of us.

After about the first two weeks most of the Men had started to drop, the soot and work was too much for them. So Rowell made them shovel and carry the coal down to the storage sheds in town- under strict guard, of course- so’s they’d last longer. They kept us Dwarves chained in the lower shafts, mining, most of the time in complete darkness. I was chained at first with seven other Dwarves and Men but after several weeks, it could have been months for all I knew, but by the end of that time only Ulfr, Svior, Nidi, and me where left shackled together. The others had dropped from exhaustion to be dragged away by the Orcs or moved and chained to another group.”

“That day they had my group in shaft six, the two Orcs watching us had set up a table with two stools, on the other side of the tunnel. Those two lazy scavengers sat there talking and arguing, drinking ale (stolen out of the town tavern) out of good pewter mugs, as we labored, hungry and thirsty.”

~~~

The ceiling of shaft six was low, low enough that a tall Man would have to duck his head, but it was also one of the wider tunnels. The orc’s table was set up against the far wall of the black tunnel, across from the prisoners. This allowed the two Orcs watching the chain-gang of four to sit and drink without worrying about flying debris from the workers.

The only light in the tunnels were from small clumps of luminous lichen growing in a small glass cups specially fitted to the sides of the walls throughout the mine. It cast the tunnel in a soft milky light, giving just enough light to work by. The lichen or what the mine workers called “Pixy-hair”, was what they used for light instead of torches for fear of setting off the coal dust and the rest of the mine.

The group of four Dwarves worked steadily at the wall, three using picks and the fourth shoveling the coal bits into a large coal cart. The four were bare from the waist up and completely black, looking almost identical if not for their varying heights and eye color. They each wore a large, thick collar of heavy iron about their necks to which a length of chain connected them to the other three’s collars. The sound of chains clinking and the ring of pickaxes on stone with the occasional crack of a whip was a constant noise throughout the tunnels and shafts of the mine.

A sudden commotion started down one of the other tunnels, shaft three, if the echoes told true, drawing the Dwarves and the orc’s attention. As the commotion continued they could start to make out what sounded to be a fight going on- yelling, cursing and the clash of weapons.

The two Orcs got up from their stools and ran quickly down the tunnel and around the bend leading to the other mine shafts, leaving their unfinished ale and the unguarded Dwarves behind. The Orcs had no fear of the them escaping, the end of their long connecting chain being locked to one of the tunnels thick wooden support beams, that were placed strategically throughout the mine shafts to keep the tunnels stable.

“ What’s going on ?,” signed Svior in Iglishmek to the other three, motioning with his shovel. All of them had stopped working to take advantage of the unexpected break from the back-breaking labor.

“ Sounds like a fight to me. What do you think Gimli ?” signed Ulfr, dropping his pickaxe in relief before looking to the listening, black figure beside him.

“ It’s a fight all right, “ Gimli signed back with a nod, tossing down his own pickaxe as well.

“ Maybe its an uprising and the others are trying to overthrow Rowell ”, suggested Nidi, still holding on to his pick with uncertainty. He was a soft-spoken Dwarf by nature, and was generally considered a bit of a soft touch.

He was also the youngest of their group at fifty-eight though they were all young, the oldest being the sixty-four year old Svior, Gimli and Ulfr being the same age at sixty-two. It was strange luck that the four found themselves chained together now, when they had friend long before Rowell’s treachery. Being young and of similar ages, the older Dwarves not giving them much notice, they hung around together getting into all kinds of mischief. Or more precisely, Ulfr and Gimli got into trouble and dragging the other two along.

“ No, listen to the ring of the strikes. That’s orc blades on orc blades ,” Gimli signed in answer, though his attention was no longer on that of the commotion but on something across the tunnel from them.

“ He’s right, you can tell by that creaking twang of their scimitars. Shoddy work, ” sighed Ulfr, shaking his head.

“ But why ?”, sighed Nidi back, finally dropping his pickaxe.

“ Maybe they realized they’ve been wiping their asses with fire leaves. How the hump should I know ?”, signed Ulfr back exasperatedly (if one can ‘sign’ exasperation) and in turn getting a warning glare from Svior.

All three of their shoulders slumped in disappointment, Nidi let out a disappointed sigh, but a tug on their collars distracted them from their disappointment. Turning their attention in the direction of the tugging they saw Gimli making his way to the small table the Orcs had abandoned, chain dragging behind him.

“ Gimli ! What are you doing !” signed Nidi frantically.

“ Getting some ale ”, he signed back with a roll of his eyes. Reaching the table he bypassed the two pewter mugs and picked up the large half full pitcher. Then with great flourish he took a large swig out of it, closing his eyes to savor the taste. With a toothy smirk, his teeth seeming a brilliant white, he offered the pitcher to the stunned three.

“ Want some ?” he asked, his deep brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

“ Are you daft!? The guards could be back any moment! What if they catch you? They’ll beat you again for sure, Gimli! Maybe all of us !”, signed Nidi frantically, working himself up into a panic. “They’ll shave off our beards, maybe all our hair! Cut off all our fingers and toes, bite off our noses and ears, hang us up by our testicles, boil us in oil, stick hot pokers in are eyes, peal off all our skin while we’re still alive!” He gave a yelp as Ulfr smacked him upside the head, cutting off his tirade.

“ Damn, Nit! I don’t know what’s worse- you or the Orcs ,” he signed as he glared at Nidi, who was rubbing the back of his smarting head, looking embarrassed under the miffed scrutiny of the others (except Svior who was glaring holes through Ulfr). Then Ulfr turned and swaggered over to Gimli with a wide smile, chain clinking behind him.

“ I think I could use a drink too. Hand it over ”, he signed taking the dirty pitcher from Gimli. Then he took a long swig of his own before handing it to Svior who also took a drink before moving off in the direction of the commotion down the tunnels, still in full swing, to keep watch in case their guards came back. Gimli and Ulfr even managed to get the nervous Nidi to take a few sips of the ale as well.

Nidi being the youngest the other three, the others always tended to look out for him like a little brother (much to his great annoyance). But what the Orcs and Men didn’t know was that Nidi was also a hermaphrodite, though it was quite obvious to all his fellow Dwarves, what with his scent and softer facial features.

“ Oye, remember when we stole Bombur’s clothes while he was in the smoke house at the Bronzing festival last summer, and he had to run naked through the crowed to get to the supply tents to find some new clothes? ” signed Ulfr in an attempt to lighten the mood and take their thoughts for a little while away from their dark circumstances. Gimli put the pitcher back on the table so as not to drop it, the memory of that sunny day sending them all chuckling, even in their oppressive surroundings.

“ I still have nightmares !” signed Gimli, grimacing and giving a shutter at the memory.

“ Or when he stopped at the honeyed meat stand on his way, ” signed Nidi, shoulders shaking in suppressed mirth.

“ I thought for sure Old Fjalar was going have a stroke!” signed Ulf, slapping his knee.

“ What I want to know, is why he took off his clothes to begin with ! What was he doing in the smoke house?” signed Svior from where he was still keeping watch.

“ I think some thing’s should be left a mystery !” signed Gimli, and the other nodded their heads in agreement.

That was when Nidi noticed the pitcher again. The four of them had drunk a noticeable amount of the ale, and the sight of it sent all his fears rushing back again.

“ What will we do?! The Orcs will come back and notice we drank their ale for sure !” he signed hurriedly.

“ He’s right. It was horribly rude of us, wasn’t it ?” signed Gimli with mischief in his eye, catching Ulfr’s eye. There seemed to be a silent communication taking place between the two… then wide toothy grins split both of their faces.

“ Very rude ”, Ulfr signed back, picking up the pitcher again.

“ Hurry up with whatever you’re going to do! The fights dying down and those two ‘snot-for-brains’ guards will be back soon. ” signed Svior from his lookout position. Nidi came over to him and looked nervously over the older Dwarf’s shoulder, ignoring the occasional clinking of chain and tug at his collar as the other two behind him did, whatever it was that they were doing. His hand on Svior’s bare shoulder trembled ever so slightly, and he jumped slightly when he felt Svior put a hand on top of his and give it a reassuring squeeze. Just a simple touch that yet conveyed so much.

With a clinking of chains Gimli and Ulfr suddenly appeared behind the two, crowding them to look down the tunnel as well. As the four listened they could hear the fighting stop altogether and the cursing and shouting die down to the usual constant, the sounds of mining returning, then came the sound of the returning guards. As soon as they heard that, they quickly scrambled back to their places, picking up their dropped tools again.

Nidi took one last fearful look at the table and the almost empty pitcher of ale and did a double-take. The pitcher was half full again.

“ How did …?” he signed, looking at Ulfr and Gimli in confusion, only to be greeted with looks of complete innocence. Svior slapped his hand over his face shaking his head with a groan. That’s when it sunk in.

“ Oh …”

“What’s this?! Back ta‘ work!!” bellowed one of the orcs, as the two came into view, one carrying a club, the other a whip. The one with the whip then proceeded to give each of them a few harsh lashes, causing them to grunt and yelp in pain, while the other orc yawned sleepily as he sat back down on one of the stools by the table. After the other orc was done lashing the four, satisfied that the pained and glaring Dwarves were working at a proper pace, he joined the other at the small table.

“Stupid dirt-diggers! They‘ll taste the lash again if they don‘t keep working!” he snarled to the other orc, who was pouring himself a mug-full from the pitcher, before it was snatched from him. Some of it splashing on the table as the second orc pouring some into his own mug. The first orc took a long draft from his mug soon followed by the second orc, before slamming his mug down.

“I’ve had piss that taste better then this here beer!”, complained the one with the club, glaring at his mug.

“That be the last of the beer in town, so if ya’ don’t like it, tuff tit!” said the orc with the whip, taking another swig of his mug.

“Ah, shut your yap!” snarled the other orc before gulping down the rest of it, then refilling his mug and having the pitcher snatched away again. Neither orc noticed the Dwarves that watched them with pleased looks in their eyes as they continued working, watching them as they finish the last of the ‘ale’ as they argued and talked.

~~~

Later that day the four were resting, along with all the other prisoners. The Goblins had crowded them all into a large chamber on the second level of the mine, most were sleeping in complete exhaustion on the floor. The workers had originally used the large chamber to keep the coal carts and coal ponies (the ponies long since eaten by the Orcs) while they worked. The chamber allowed the Goblins to watch all the prisoners and only have worry about guarding one entrance and exit during the prisoners one rest period.

Gimli lay on his side in the dark, arms crossed, trying to ignore the steel collar digging into his neck, as he listen to the snores and coughing of his fellow prisoners in the dark. Exhausted as he was, he couldn’t sleep for some reason, so he let his mind wonder to other things.

What would Daira, his brother, do if he was here? Had his father and the others made it to the Mountain yet? How would they kill Smaug? Where was Myia now? (And how glad he was that she had run off with a young man by the name of Dreak only a week prior to the Orc’s take over.)

He had been there along with Ulfr, and Myia’s sister Shala to wish them luck and to warn Dreak to take good care of her and to always make her happy. Or ‘Gimli son of Gloin’ would track him down and rip off his arms, to which Myia laughed (and gave him a playful swat) but Dreak looked quite pale. Then with a final hug for Shala and kiss on the cheek for Gimli, they watched the couple ride away leaving them and the gray town behind.

Gimli lay back to back with Svior, who in turn was spooned up with Nidi. The occasional soft moan and small rustle of movement from behind Gimli spoke that at least two of his fellow prisoners were trying to taking some small measure of comfort in one another, despite their bleak surroundings. Being as cold, tired, and wary as everyone was, no one begrudged those that found comfort in another’s arms. Ulfr, who lay with his back to him, kept fidgeting before finally turning around to face Gimli.

“ Can’t sleep either ?” he signed, Gimli gave an affirmative nod. Ulfr lifted his head and looked over Gimli’s shoulder to the couple behind him before rolling his amber colored eyes and laying back down, his collar making a muffed clink as it made contact with the stone floor.

“ Those two at it again! I don’t know how they find the energy ”, he signed with a tired yawn, Gimli gave another nod and a yawn of his own.

“ I don’t know about Nidi, but Svior told me a while back that Nidi might be ‘the one‘, so leave them be ”, he signed back. Both of Ulfr’s eyebrows shot up in a look of surprise.

“ Really ?” Then he frowned and gave a sad shake of his head thinking of their circumstances, knowing that they’d probably be dead soon. They both fell still, the quiet stretched out, broken only by the occasional grunt or cough from one of the other prisoners around them.

They could hear Hanar, the old shift leader, arguing heatedly with one of the higher-ranking Goblins about something, right out side of the chamber they were all crowded in. Hanar and Noko both wore iron collars like the other prisoners, but unlike the rest they were not chained so they could move around. Even the orcs were aware of how dangerous the mine was, so there was still a need for someone with experience and an intimate knowledge of the mine to keep a look out for potential disasters. After all, the orcs were in the mine too, and would share their prisoners’ fate if the mine collapsed. So the two shift leaders, Hanar and Noko, were allowed to roam free in the mine. Doing what they had done before Rowell’s betrayal, supervising and keeping an eye out for potential dangers. But after Noko had been beaten to death two weeks prior, for stepping in to defend a fellow prisoner from two drunk Orcs, Hanar had been forced to do the job of two.

“ Where are you ?” Ulfr asked, shaking Gimli from his thoughts.

“ Thinking, ” he answered, turning his focus back to Ulfr’s amused amber-colored eyes and soot-covered face.

“ What about ?”

“ Da, Erebor, Myia, ” signed Gimli with a shrug.

Ulfr thought about Thorin’s company and their quest, with their wizard guide Tharkun (Staff-man or better known as Gandalf), to take back the Lonely Mountain. It seemed like it had been another lifetime ago that he had stood by Gimli watching his grumpy father Gloin and the others walk away down the dusty gray road and finally out of sight. Watching them disappear over the horizon anything had seemed possible, and both he and Gimli had been full of certainty that the quest would succeed. It all seemed so futile now, he thought to himself as he studied the brown-eyed Dwarf lying just a few inches in front of him, knowing he must look similar. Tired, hungry, tan skin now completely pitch from the coal soot. Long, dark copper colored hair was now tangled and black from filth. The whites of his eyes, startling in the black, strong-featured face, surrounded deep brown pools flecked with gold. They blazed with a fire that burned undiminished, maybe even hotter then before.

“ We could sure use some of Tharkun’s magic about now” , Ulfr sighed, Gimli gave a grunt in agreement. The oppressive reality started to creep back again before Ulfr broke the silence (except for the background noise of the argument still in full swing) again. “ As for Myia, she’s probably doing better then us. Probably causing a ruckus some where with Dreak along for the ride,“ he smiled . “Remember when you two first met ?” he signed, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“ How could I forget? This shapely raven-hair woman gives me a free ale with a wink. Then when I’m not looking, she grabs my bum, making me spit my ale on uncle Oin,” Gimli signed back with a wiggle of his eyebrows, chuckling softly .

“The look on Oin’s face alone was worth a bag of gold!” Ulfr signed barely suppressing his laughter at the memory. “ Or how about when she punched that drunk right in th -”

But whatever he was going to say was lost as the large Orc that Hanar was arguing with suddenly stomped into the chamber, kicking any of the exhausted prisoners not fast enough to get out of his way. He was followed by several smaller Goblins and a red-faced Hanar, who was growing even more angered by the large Orc’s callous treatment of his fellow prisoners. Many to tired to even wake at the ruckus that was happening around them.

“You can’t have six! Two, I told ya! Ya can have two! Ya stupid dirt grubber!” The hulking Orc stopped in the middle of the chamber, and turned to yell at the Dwarf. His ugly face with its black and twisted rotting teeth was only centimeters from the furious Hanar’s face, who was only barely restraining himself from beating the sneering orc’s face in.

“ This is a job for six, at the very least five Dwarves!“ he ground out threw clenched teeth, glaring daggers.

“I told ya! Ya can onl-,”

“If you don’t want to be buried alive in the next hour, you will let me have the workers I need, before this mine collapses around us all, NOW!!” Hanar bellowed back at the massive orc, fists clenched.

The orc seemed a bit taken aback by this, the danger perhaps finally sinking in, before his ugly rubbery lips twisted back into their frown. Then the orc straightened to his full, looking imperiously down his long scaly nose at the glowering old Dwarf. There was a long pregnant pause, then the orc spoke.

“Fine- ya can have four”, he said, then he turned to one of the Goblins standing behind him. “Hey you! Go get four prisoners, now!” he ordered. Then he turned back to Hanar, his voice dripping with menace and threat.

“If yous’ ever speak to me like that again, I’ll fix the other side of ya face to match the left one! And don’t think about tryin nuthin!“ the orc hissed, as Hanar glared right back. Then with an impervious turn the orc stomped out of the crowded chamber, prisoners and Goblins alike scrambling to getting out of his way.

“ What’s going on ? “ asked Svoir, who had sat up like Gimli and Ulfr at the large Orc’s loud entrance into the chamber. Nidi sat wide-eyed next to him as they tried to make out what was going on in the darkness of the chamber.

“ I don’t know, but Hanar said something about a colla -” Ulfr’s words were cut off with a strangled yelp.

A large Goblin they hadn’t noticed slinking about in the dark had grabbed the chain connected to Ulfr’s collar and given it a sudden yank. The Goblin then began dragging him away. The other three being connected on the same chain were dragged along by their necks as well.

“Here’s four of these here Dwarves over here!” yelled the Goblin, giving their chain another yank.

“They’ll do, bring um’ over,” answered one of the orcs at the chamber’s entrance

Gimli held on to his collar, trying not be choked as he tried to get to his feet, but he kept tripping as he and the other three were dragged over their fellow prisoners in the dark by the uncaring Goblin. The large Goblin dragged them out of the crowded chamber and into the main tunnel leading to all the intersecting mine shafts as well as the two tunnels that led to the first level and the surface. The four finally come to a stop in front of two bored looking Orcs and Hanar, who was glaring holes through the Goblin dragging them.

“There you are- four. Now get ta work!” the Goblin sneered at the old Dwarf, dropping their chain, before walking, followed by the other two Orcs, back to a rowdy group of Goblins in the entrance of one of the intersecting tunnels. It looked like they were playing a game of some sort with stones and what appeared to be rats (alive and biting rats).

“ You lads alright ?” asked Hanar.

With a few groans and growls Gimli and the others climbed tiredly to their aching feet, Hanar having to help up a wobbly legged Nidi to his feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Svior noticed some movement as he got to his feet. He turned just in time to watch a man walk quickly down one of the intersecting tunnels that led up to the north entrance to the mine, before disappearing into the dark.

That was odd , he thought to himself, for the Man couldn’t have been a prisoner, he was too clean and wore good quality work clothes. For a second he thought it was Rowell, but he remembered that Rowell had long wheat colored hair, and the Man he had just seen had short, dark hair. Then it struck him, the Man had to have been one of the Men working for ‘the’ traitor, one of the wagon drivers, perhaps. But what’s he doing down here, delivering a message or such ? he thought. He decided not to ask the others about it, figuring that it was nothing important, and let the train of thought drop as he made sure Nidi was okay after being dragged from their shortened rest.

“ Come on, lads. I know you’re tired but this is a task of the utmost importance, ” Hanar sighed tiredly to them, giving them an understanding look. “ Come on, we must hurry, ” he urged, before starting at crisp pace down the main tunnel leading to the upper level and the east exit of the mine.

The four shot each other questioning looks, getting only shrugs in reply. Then with a few last murderous glares at the uncaring Orcs still playing their game, the four trotted (single file) tiredly after Hanar, their chains clinking like bells in the tunnels.

~~~

“ So now I need you four to help me haul down one of the extra support beams we keep just inside the east entrance, down to shaft four, ” Hanar explained to them as they made their way steadily through the maze of shafts and tunnels.

They only past only a few orcs in the tunnels, most of them being in the lower level playing their strange and cruel games as the prisoners rested. The orcs knew they would not try anything in fear of endangering the hostages, so the five were generally left alone as they walked uncontested up the mine.

“ Who would want to damage one of the mine’s support beams?” Nidi asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ Who would want to collapse the mine? If it’s not one of one of the prisoners or the Orcs, maybe it’s Rowell? ” signed Nidi, as he twisted his earlobe in thought. The tunnel had widened enough so that the four no longer walked single file- Hanar leading, Gimli and Ulfr followed by Svior and Nidi.

“ I don’t know…Rowell is making a ton of gold with this mine. Why would he want to destroy it? Where‘s the profit in that?” Gimli said.

Hanar was now a little farther up the tunnel as the four lagged behind. It was then that Nidi, who was deep in thought, stumbled over something that used to be part of a pony’s spine in the dark, causing him to accidentally shove Ulfr from behind, almost knocking him down.

“ Oye! Watch it, Nit! Clumsy fool ! Svior, can‘t you keep a leash on your wench ?” Ulfr quipped sarcastically, before shoving Nidi away from him then quickly ducking Svior’s swing that was aimed for the back of his head- this in turn caused Gimli’s collar to be yanked sharply, who in turn shoved Ulfr, who shoved him into Svior. Nidi barely managing to stay out of the now escalating three-way shoving and insult war.

“ Watch your mouth, yo- oof!”

“ Eat dirt!”

*thud*

“Stop it!”

“Ouch! Ulfr you ass-face!”

* thump*

“ This, coming from the son of dragon dung! ”

*smack*

“ Go hump a troll!!”

* thud, thump *

Hanar waded into them, boxing ears and yanking the three growling and cursing combatants apart, stopping the sudden fight. The three now stood quietly, shooting one another glares as they nursed sore ears and smarting heads, except Nidi who stood next to Svior looking nervous.

“ What is this? I find you four fighting ! Fighting like chil -”

“ Nidi wasn’t fighting , Hanar, ” pointed out Svior helpfully, the other two nodding their heads in agreement, their spat just a moment before seeming completely forgotten. This was probably not far from the truth, considering that the four, especially Gimli and Ulfr were constantly getting into fights about something or another.

“Shut up! We have no time for this foolishness- now get going- before I tan ALL your hides!“ Hanar bellowed angrily at them, switching to Common. The four wisely hurried up the tunnel, trying to avoid a swift kick in the bum from the old Dwarf now bringing up the rear.

They walked in silence for a while as they made the final turn into the main tunnel. They could now see the mouth of the east entrance. The light at the end of the tunnel was almost blinding even at their distance from it, but as they came closer the light became less glaring as their eyes slowly adjusted, and they could now see two sleepy Orcs guarding the door.

They finally got to where five large solid wood beams were stacked against the side wall of the tunnel, about seventeen yards away from the entrance. The two guards only gave them a bored glance before they went back to talking in the black speech. The five Dwarves could now see that it was some time late afternoon outside by the length of the shadows, and they gazed out with longing into that world of sunlight.

“ Come on my lads ” said Hanar, bringing the four young Dwarves’ attention from the outside world just beyond the entrance, and back to the task at hand.

With sighs of disappointment and groans at seeing what they would have to carry back down, they went to work. The five shuffled into a line and prepared to pick up one of the heavy beams and carry it over their broad shoulders. The beam was so thick and heavy it would have taken nine to ten Men to lift it, but it only took five Dwarves. They had just gotten their thick hands under it, braced to lift it at Hanar’s command, when they were all almost knocked off their feet by a sudden blast of gale force wind coming from the entrance.

They, along with the two surprised Orcs, gave varying yelps and curses of surprise as they just barely managed to stay upright in the force of the air suddenly being sucked into the mine like a vacuum. The five Dwarves instinctively lowered their compact forms into crouch, bracing against the wind as best they could, the chain connecting the four whipped around like a ribbon in a sharp gust. They huddled together, trying to protect their eyes and faces against the stinging hits of small rocks and dirt from the seeming hurricane-force winds as they tore at their hair and what was left of their clothes down the tunnel.

“WHAT’S GOING ON!!!?” shouted Gimli to Hanar, trying to be heard over the wind as he shielded his face with his thick muscular forearms.

But before Hanar could yell back an answer, the wind stopped as suddenly as it had started, just as if it had never been. They slowly lowered their arms and straightened from the brace positions, looking around in bewilderment. They could now see that the force of the mysterious wind had sucked the two guards more then ten feet into the tunnel.

“What in Mordor was that!?” yelled Nidi, eyes wild, speaking out loud and not in Iglishmek.

The four young Dwarves turned to Hanar for answers, but he wasn’t paying attention to them, or to the two now arguing guards. Instead he stood stock-still, staring hard down the tunnel the way they had come.

“By Mahal’s hammer… protect us,” Hanar said in a hoarse whisper.

“What’s wrong, Hanar?” asked Svior.

“Do you know what that was?” asked Nidi, as Ulf gave Hanar’s shoulder a shake.

The four fell into confused silence around the silent old Dwarf, waiting for him to answer as they peered down the tunnel as well, trying to see what had Hanar‘s rapt attention.

Then they heard it, and it sent icy fingers of fear threw their hearts and bone-chilling shivers up their spines. Something was coming. It sounded like a strange wailing cry from down in the tunnels, growing louder as if more strange voices were joining it. Whatever it was, it was coming.

Hanar then turned and look at them, fear and dread in his dark eyes as the wailing grew to a scream. He bellowed the one word that would freeze the heart of any mine worker.

“FIRE!!!”

He shoved them towards the entrance, breaking them out of their fear-induced paralysis. He didn’t need to tell them what to do- it was pure instinct. They ran as fast as their legs would allow towards their only chance for escape. The two arguing guards were long gone, having turned tail and run at Hanar’s bellow.

The screaming wail was now a roar, seeming to shake the very floor beneath their running feet. With a flood of adrenalin now pumping, all pain and weariness was forgotten as they ran towards the rapidly approaching entrance and the outside world. The sound of their rapid heartbeats pounded in their ears as they raced for their lives. The walls of the tunnel began to illuminate around them with an ominous orange glow. Yet the five didn’t dare look back, they knew what was now chasing them, hot death itself.

Svior had a crushing grip on a stumbling Nidi’s wrist, and Gimli and Ulfr were right behind followed by Hanar, chains clinking as they ran. They were within six feet of the entrance, when a massive force from behind blew them right off their feet, hurling the five Dwarves those last few feet out of the tunnel and into the blinding light of the surface world. They landed hard, roughly nine feet outside the mine entrance, before tumbling down the incline leading to the road.

A jagged gray stone that stood out of the ground of the incline, like some long dead dragon‘s tooth, caught the chain still connecting the four as they tumbled past. With a vicious yank on their necks it halted the four to a sudden bone-jarring stop, Hanar continuing to tumble until coming to a stop at the end of the incline on the gray road.

There they all lay sprawled, smoking and still, like discarded toys. The fire seem to scream in rage at their escape, as great dancing pillars of flames spewed from the mine entrance to lick at the sky.

(1) Iglishmek=A non-spoken Dwarven language, made up of body language and sigh language.

CHAPTER 3

It was several long moments before any of the five bodies began to stir.

Gimli lay sprawled on his back, just trying to get his wind back after having it knocked out of him on impact. Slowly he became aware of a painful compression around his neck and the feeling of sharp stones digging into the tender skin of his back.

As his breath returned he carefully blinked open his eyes, the light at first making them water and squint but slowly they adjusted and he found himself eventually staring into a beautiful blue sky. For a few moments he let himself drift in that cloudless afternoon sky, blues, light-blues, deep-blues, a veritable feast of color for one who had been living in a world of darkness.

With a groan Gimli finally forced himself to look away from that sky and roll over onto his stomach before levering himself slowly up onto his knees. The thick collar cut painfully into the side of his neck as well as the underside of his jaw. He could now see that the chain connecting the four was taut, still hooked on the jagged rock sticking out of the incline.

But just as he was going to crawl over and unhook it, Svior to his right, crawled over and did it, causing instant relief as the chain went slack. With Gimli’s neck now free to move he looked to the others, seeing that they too were all alive and in relatively one piece, slowly getting up.

“Feels like Dori tried to pull off my head,” grumbled Ulfr, as he crawled slowly up to kneel next to Gimli. “You okay?” He asked, rubbing the skin under his collar.

“No,” Gimli grumbled tiredly, rubbing his own neck. “You?” He asked back, looking at the soot-covered figure now sitting beside him, Ulfr just gave a shrug.

“The others! What about the others!?” cried Nidi, snapping their attention back to mine entrance they had escaped from.

Their dire situation came crashing back down on them like a heavy rockslide, the four could only watch in silent shock as the flames continued to spew angrily from the mine’s blackened entrance. The faces of friends and enemies, alike, flashed in rapid successions in their minds. Their stomachs twisted in dread at the thought of those faces. Knowing they were still down there, in the mine…burning.

“By Mahal! They were all down there, Anar, Buri, Veig- everyone,” said Ulfr in a hoarse whisper. Kneeling frozen beside him, Gimli couldn’t even bring himself to speak as he watched the dancing fire, instead he felt numb.

None of the four heard or noticed as Hanar climb slowly up the incline behind them.

“Do you think any…“ Ulfr let his question trail quietly off, realizing the futility of it.

“They’re dead,” Hanar said simply from behind them. The four slowly tore their gazes from the roaring flames to look at the grizzled old Dwarf standing behind them.

“No! My father! The others! May- maybe some escaped, like us! Right…right?” Nidi pleaded to Hanar, before looking desperately at the others for some hope. Ulfr looked down unable to bear the desperate pleading in Nidi’s glassy honey-brown eyes, Gimli sadly shook his head, and Svior just looked sad.

“Nidi, they were all in the pony alcove, they couldn’t have gotten out,” Svior said softly.

“No! There’s a chance, the north entrance!

“They’re dead! Poor bastards, never knew what hit them. Incinerated they were.” Hanar said gravely, glaring at the mine entrance with his dark eyes. He looked down at the four young Dwarves sitting in front of him, watching him with wide eyes. “Take comfort in the that! It was probably instantaneous,” Hanar said, snapping his thick fingers for emphasis.

“What are we to do now?” Ulfr asked, voicing the question on all their minds.

“We can be of no assistance to the dead, but we may still be of some use to the living!“ Hanar barked, sharply to the four. Before turning his main focus on Nidi, who had his face now buried in Svior’s neck, the black-eyed Dwarf rubbed his back trying to comfort him. Nidi was the only one out of the five that still had family. Hanar had no children and his mate had been dead for eight winters now, Svior still had some family, but they all lived in Ered Luin. Ulfr had been an orphan since he was thirty-two, and Gimli’s only remaining family were on the quest to take back Erebor.

“Nidi, nothing can be done for your father, but think of your mother and brother, there may still be a chance to save them.” Hanar continued, sympathy shining in his dark eyes. Aside from that, he made no move to comfort the shaking Dwarf in Svior’s arms.

The old Dwarf then looked to the other three, Ulfr, Gimli, and Svior were watching him, being the oldest they were looking to him for guidance and leadership. Taking a deep breath, Hanar gave them one piece of advice that had seen him through hardships in the past.

“Remember you must be alive to grieve. Grieve later, for now we must fight and survive!” and with that he turned and climbed down the incline again, stopping to wait for them on the gray road.

Gimli, followed by Ulfr, quickly got to their feet. Svior slowly tugged a now quiet Nidi up before they both climbed down the incline with the others to join Hanar on the road, their chains clinking merrily as they moved.

“Hanar’s right, we have to help Lady Hildr, Shala, and the others!” Gimli urged, a new determination coming into his eyes.

“What about the rest of the orcs?” Svior said, eager to make their escape.

“With luck, most of the beasts where down in in the mine when it blew. But that still leaves the ones guarding the town and the others,” Gimli said as he tried (unsuccessfully) to rub off some of the black soot on his muscular arms. Ulfr, next to him, was doing the same but also without success, The five dwarves had been down in the mine so long, the coal soot had worked it’s self in to their skin. Only a long soak and a rough scrubbing could get rid of it, so until then the five would have to remain pitch black.

“Not to mention, those two guards must already be at the Hollow by now, sounding the alarm,” Ulfr pointed out, resting his elbow casually on Gimli’s shoulder.

“Which means, we should be long-gone before they come and check it out for themselves.” Svior said. Nidi stood quietly beside him chewing on his thumb nail, not paying attention.

“We just have to get out of this whole area. With all the coal veins running threw here and the fire going, this whole area is unstable,” Ulfr said, as he scanned the gray rocky landscape around them.

“Okay, so we free the hostages, kill all the goblins we can find. Then grab some supplies, and make for Shiprock,” Gimli said confidently, looking at the other four, eager to get going. Ulfr nodded his agreement with Gimli‘s plan, Hanar was busy thinking, not really paying attention to what was being said, Nidi was still chewing on his nail, and Svior looked at Gimli as if he had suddenly sprouted a new head.

“Did something jar loose in your head?!” Svior said in disbelief, Gimli raised an irritated eyebrow.

“There are only five of us!” Svior continued.

Gimli was now glaring at Svior. “So?”

“So!? We are still chained together!” Svior snapped back, picking up a length of their connecting chain and shaking it in Gimli’s face. Gimli knocked his hand away with a warning growl before Svior dropped it in disgust.

“We’ll find something to break the chai-” But Svior cut Gimli off, the black-eyed Dwarf looked on the verge of attacking him.

“We don’t even have weapons! Not even our tools! What in Mordor are we suppose to use?!” Svior yelled in frustration.

“I don’t know, a rock or something!” Ulfr snapped back at Svior, the yelling finally getting to him. All their already frayed nerves, were dangerously close to snapping. Svior gave a growl of frustration. Neither Hanar or Nidi seemed to notice the dangerously rising tempers as the three squared off.

“We have to get out of here! There’s nothing we can do! We’ll go to Shiprock, get help-”

“The others will be dead by then!” Gimli snapped, shaking off Ulfr’s hand.

“If we go into that town it will be suicide!” Svior growled back, going into a fighting stance.

“We can’t abandon them! And only a coward would run off without trying to save them!” Gimli growled right back, fists clenched, he too was in a fighting stance now.

“It is only stupidity from a empty headed fool, that kills themselves for a useless cause!!

“Svior? Do you think Nidi’s going to walk away with you, when there’s still a chance to save his mother and brother?” Ulfr asked in Svior in a surprisingly calm voice. Ulfr glared back at the black-eyed Dwarf from beside Gimli, he motioned to the silent figure at Svior’s side with a jerk of his chin.

Svior slowly looked at the quiet, light brown-eyed Dwarf next to him for several long moments. Then with a tired sigh, he dropped his stance and rubbed at his eyes with the one broad hand. Svior knew the answer. For long moments none said anything, the silence stretched then was broken as Hanar finally looked up and spoke.

“Gimli, where are your axes?” Hanar asked, Gimli looked up from watching Nidi chew on his now bleeding nail.

“I hid them along with my earnings on the old barn’s roof, where no one can see them,” he answered before reaching out and knocking Nidi’s hand away. “Stop it.” he ordered, Nidi only giving him a blank look.

“Leave him alone,” Svior hissed at Gimli. Stepping protectively closer to Nidi who had started to chew on his nail again, before Svior gently took hold of it and pulled it away, this time he kept Nidi’s hand firmly clasped in his own.

“What about you Ulfr, Svior? Where are your swords?” Hanar asked, stroking his beard in thought as he tried to devise a plan of rescue and escape.

“My sword is with Gimli’s axes,” answered Ulfr, as he tried (unsuccessfully) to finger-comb his tangled and filthy hair. Unable to do anything with his own he started to mess with Gimli’s hair, before Gimli smacked his hands away in annoyance.

“Mine’s under the floorboards in the store house, behind the tavern, along with my travel pack.” Svior said.

“Nidi, what about your knife? Nidi? Nidi!” Not getting a response Hanar reached over and gave the young Dwarf’s shoulder a hard shake. This seemed to work, for Nidi blinked a few time and seem to ‘wake-up’ and become aware of his surroundings again.

“Wha-what?” He asked, first looking at Svior who still held his hand, blinking in confusion before realizing it was Hanar who spoke.

“Your knife, where’s your knife?” Demanded Hanar, short tempered.

“Th- the orcs took it before they put me and Father in chains,” he answered, unconsciously reaching up to touch the collar still around his neck. Nidi was surprisingly good with a knife even with his lack of ‘warrior-spirit’. Nidi’s father was a ‘tanner’ by trade, specializing in leather goods from belts and wrist-guards to saddles and tack, Nidi was learning the trade, so he and his family where one of the few Dwarves that didn’t work in the mine, instead they worked in town.

“Damn, you’ll just have to use one of mine,” the old Dwarf grumbled to himself, as he glared at the chain still connecting the four soot-covered Dwarves. Still stroking his beard in deep thought, he looked over the entire length of chain before stopping and looking at a particular link in the chain between Svior and Gimli. The four fidgeted silently as they waited for Hanar to tell them his plans, the fire still roaring behind them. Finally Ulfr just couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Come! What is your plan Ancient One? We are just a bit pressed for time!” He urged flippantly.

Hanar looked up and speared the amber-eyed Dwarf with a withering glare, to which Ulfr only rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that caused Gimli to give a snort of amusement (being the only one to hear it).

“Shut up, whelp! Both of you,” Hanar snapped, now glaring at both Ulfr and Gimli. “First thing, we have to do is get rid of this, before we can do anything else,” he said, picking up the length of chain between Gimli and Svior. He then bent down and took a small metal file out of his boot, the four watched in surprise, each wondering how the old Dwarf had managed to hide it. For the goblins had been incredibly thorough, to the point of embarrassingly so, when they checked the prisoners for weapons and such. Hanar said nothing (one did not live as long as he had with out learning some slight of hand) and quickly filed at one particular link in the chain, when he finished he looked up and motioned to the others.

“Gimli, Svior, twist the chain until you can’t anymore. Twist it hard!” he ordered, Gimli and Svior quickly did as they where told twisting the chain, each in a different direction until it would it wouldn’t twist any farther. “Nidi, Ulfr, grab hold. Now, pull!” He ordered, stepping back as they pulled with all their might.

“Put your backs into it!”

For several long moments it looked like a strange game of tug-of-war as the four strained and grunted as their feet scrapped the gravel under their booted feet as they tried to gain traction. Gimli and Ulfr at one side, Svior and Nidi at the other, groaning with effort as the rough metal chain dug into their bare hands.

“Pull! That’s it lads, pull!”

Then with a squeal of metal and a resonating ‘clink’, the thick chain broke, causing the four to stumble back before regaining their balance. Now they understood why Hanar had been glaring so intently at the chain before, he was looking for weak spots. The four were now free, they still unfortunately wore the heavy iron collars but at least they could now move independently of one another.

“Finally free of that damned chain!” Svior said in relief. Giving the now broken chain a kick for good measure, Nidi next to him giving a nod of agreement as he rubbed his sore hands.

“Agreed, now I can finally get away from your stink!” Gimli joked, as he gave Ulfr a playful push away from him.

Ulfr only laughed and chucked a few pieces of gravel at Gimli, who only threw some back at him. Before they both finally wandered over to and gave the broken chain a hard look.

“Maybe we should keep it- (seeing the other’s incredulous looks) so we can shove it up Rowell’s arse when we see him.” Said Ulfr with a wicked grin.

“Maybe shove a couple of orcs up there as well,” suggested Gimli with a smirk of his own, as he scratched under his thick collar.

“I-I say we gut him like the traitorous swine he is!”

“That’s the spirit Nidi!” Ulfr crowed, giving Nidi a friendly whack on the back (who looked a bit shocked at his own outburst), the others nodded and voiced their whole-hearted agreement with Nidi’s idea.
Hanar just shook his head at what was being said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth on the good side of his face. He said nothing, slipping the small file back in his boot as he watched pitch-black figures in front of him. The whites around their eyes and their flashing teeth was startling, making them look a touch demonic.

“Alright lads!” Hanar said getting their attention again, motioning for them to come closer, they formed a small circle as they listened intently to Hanar’s plan.

“Here’s the plan, lads. We sneak into town, when we get to the coal sheds we split up. Gimli, Ulfr, get your weapons and any traveling supplies you got. Meet us behind the tavern as soon as you can, avoid any skirmishes with the goblins. We need to keep the element of surprise as long as we can.” He ordered, watching as Gimli and Ulfr each gave a sharp nod that they understood, before he turned his attention to the other two. “Svior, you and Nidi will come with me. Now come, we must hurry! Rowell could be killing the hostages as we speak!”

With that last dreadful sentence they broke the circle and hurried back towards Black Hollow, Hanar leading with the other four right at his heels.

~~~

Staying off the main road and ducking behind any cover they found along the way, the five cautiously made their way back to town.

As they got closer to the Hollow they began to see more evidence of the town’s orc infestation, broken dishes and bottles, torn clothes, destroyed carts, even two dead goblins (killed by their fellow goblins in a petty squabble). But worst of all was the occasional carcass, mangled usually to the point of being unidentifiable, most crawling in maggots. Like the carcasses littering the floor of the upper tunnels in the mine, Gimli noticed (and wished he hadn’t) that most of the rotting carcasses looked as if they had been fed on.

When they finally reached the Hollow the sun had started to make it’s descent, Gimli guessed they only had about two ours of light left. Strangely enough they hadn‘t run into any orcs on the road (except for the dead ones), and even now as they hid in the shadow of one of the coal sheds they still hadn’t seen any orcs or any of Rowell’s Men yet. If they didn’t know better they would have thought the town was abandoned.

But as Gimli’s mother used to say ‘ Just because you can’t see a goblin, doesn’t mean it’s not there‘.

Gimli also figured that most of the goblins were probably holed up in some dark hole, waiting for the sun to go down. It was common knowledge that goblins don’t like the day light, preferring the cover of darkness.

Hanar motioned that it was time to split up. Gimli gave a nod, then getting the ‘all clear’ sign from Ulfr (who was looking around the corner of the shed) both he and Gimli darted off in the direction of the old barn, Hanar and the others went the opposite way towards the tavern.

As Gimli and Ulfr made their way cautiously to the barn, they could see the damage the Goblins had done to the town. All the gray stone buildings were damaged in some way, most with gaping holes, doors hanging of their hinges (many times completely gone), window smashed. Some showed signs of having been burned, and they even passed a building that was completely collapsed, nothing but a pile of rubble. The two also had to be careful where they stepped, refuse and other debris littered the ground, from broken bottles to bodily wastes (needless to say orcs and goblins aren’t cleanest of creatures). But still they saw no orcs, even though the creature’s foul reek hung heavy in the still air and the evidence of their destructive occupation was everywhere.

“I don’t understand, this place should be swarming with orcs,” Ulfr signed next to Gimli as the two squatted behind a half knocked-down wall. They had switched back to Iglishmek deciding not to take any chances.

“I agree, something’s wrong,“ Gimli signed, scanning the empty street with narrowed eyes, looking for any movement. Seeing none the two quickly darted to another hiding spot, all the while suspiciously looking about.

They finally reached the barn that they once called home, without incident. Silently they slunk (or as silently as two Dwarves can ‘slink‘) to the side of the barn where the empty rain-barrels where usually stacked. Having used the barrels in the past to climb up to the roof. But as they got to where the barrels were kept, they saw that they had all been broken into and smashed. Lucky for them, they had other means of getting onto the roof.

Jabbing his thumb upwards, Gimli signed for Ulfr to give him a boost up. Ulfr gave a nod, putting his back to the barn wall then he held his broad laced hands out for Gimli to step into. With a hop and a push, Gimli pulled himself onto the roof. He then held out an arm to the amber-eyed Dwarf below, with a jump Ulfr grabbed hold and pulled himself up with Gimli’s help.

And none to soon, for just as Ulfr pulled himself over, a goblin walked around the corner below them. The two on the roof froze, watching the goblin sniff around suspiciously, where just moments before they had been. Another goblin soon appeared and walked up to the other one.

“What?” It snapped in a scratchy voice to the first one.

“Heard somethin *sniff, sniff* but can’t smell nothin’- ‘cept coal *sniff*,” the first goblin hissed, looking around in suspicion while the second one started to sniff around as well.

Only moving their eyes, the two Dwarves on the roof looked at one another, both coming to the same realization. Not only did the coal-dust cover them from head to toe, staining them completely black, it was apparently masking their scent as well.

The two goblins continued to sniff around, when suddenly a large gray skinned orc stomped around the corner. Snarling something under it’s breath as it yanked a dirty ringed shirt of chain mail over its scalely head, a large rusty (and probably very dull) scimitar hung on a belt at it’s side. The two goblins below froze and began to cower at the sight of the orc.

Catching sight of the new comer, Gimli’s jaw dropped as the large orc yank the chain mail over its large bare chest and pair of breasts.

‘ It‘s a female?! By Gandalf‘s beard! A female orc!! He thought in absolute shock, still not quite grasping the concept of what was right in front of his eyes. He had always believed the stories that said all orcs where male and that orcs and goblins where ‘formed’ from disgusting and rotting things brought to life by dark magic weelded by some evil hand.

She was hideous just like all the other orcs and goblins he had ever seen, just as ugly and twisted like the rest. Unlike the obvious differences between male and female Dwarves or male and female Humans, Gimli could see no difference between the sexes of the three creatures below him, now that the chain mail hid the female’s chest.

Gimli felt queasy, the thought of male and female orcs and more importantly, orc children, very disturbing. Orc and goblin families. He didn’t like those thoughts. The thought of orcs and goblins as a people rather then a bunch of faceless monsters. Gimli didn’t want to think of them as a people, not after all he had suffered at their clawed hands, his vengeance wouldn’t allow it. The image of his family’s old caravan, the wagons burning as orcs leapt about in glee, destroying everything they could, killing any they caught trying to escape.

Daira’s bloodied and mangled body, his limbs scattered about the forest floor. The hollow feeling in his gut as he and his mother searched and picked up those heavy limbs and bits of flesh, so the crows and other scavengers wouldn’t get them.

No, they weren’t people! Just monsters…monsters that should be exterminated!! His turbulent thoughts were interrupted as the new arrival below, spoke in a loud grating voice.

“What ya’ doin’ ere!? I toll alls youz ta’ get over to the mine!” The female orc bellowed, spittle flying as she stomped over and punched the first cowering goblin right in the face. With a shriek and a crunch, the goblin went flying back, landing heavily several feet away, unmoving. She then turned her attention to the second one, who was now cowering submissively at her feet.

“Weze eard’ somethin! Weze just cheackin, then weze go to the mine like youz say!” The second Goblin whined, groveling at her clawed feet.

Seeing this her thin rubbery lips pulled back form her rotting black and yellowed teeth, into a nasty smile of pleaser. Deciding that she liked the way the goblin looked cowering at her feet, she decided not to rip off his face, just yet. Grabbing the second goblin by it’s greasy hair she started to drag him away, the goblin squealing the entire way as it scrambled on its hands and knees to keep up.

“Tolled youz, puss face! I’mz in charge while Illzogs gone!” She screeched, giving the goblin a couple of hard shakes for emphasis as she stormed away in the direction of the mine. Gimli and Ulfr could now see other orcs and goblins appear out of various shadowed hiding spaces to trail groggily behind the large female as she continued to rant (all of them keeping well out of grabbing distance, in case she decided to grab one of them) .

“I stuck with all youz shit-for-brainz, toads! Can’t waits for Illzog back, back with lots of loot and meat! Then we eats white-cloak and take all his gold! Wherez he at anyway? Not seenz im or other meat. Wherez he at?!” She demanded, giving the goblin she was still dragging a vicious shaking, who only squealed louder.

What ever else she said, the two on the roof weren’t able to hear or understand as she and the goblin she dragged, disappeared out of sight and their hearing range. The other goblins and orcs trailing quietly behind her before they too disappeared.

The two on the roof waited a few more moments before they both relaxed with a sigh. Looking out in the direction the orcs went, Gimli could see a large column of black smoke in the distance where he knew the mine was. From their vantage point Gimli could also see that a large sink hole had opened up on the north side of the destroyed town, and he knew it was only a matter of time before more sink holes appeared (he hoped they’d all be long gone by then). The two eroded mountains, like two huge piles of rocks stood guard to the north and south on ether side of the town. The Blue mountain range watching in the distance as a red sun was slowly sinking in the east, painting everything orange and red.

“Damn, now that was one ugly bitch! Hold up now… Gimli! I think I found you a new women! Once you get past the smell and the rotting teeth I’m sure she’s a lovely girl!” Ulfr snickered, laughing at the completely disgusted look on the brown-eyed Dwarf’s face, next to him.

“Shut your face, Ulfr!” Gimli hissed, punching the laughing amber-eyed Dwarf in the shoulder. “I’d rather burn off my beard and stab out my own eyes!” He said, with a grimace of disgust. The very thought of it made him want to vomit. Ulfr only laughed harder as he rubbed his sore shoulder.

Giving the still laughing Ulfr a ‘glare of death’ Gimli got up an walked carefully over to a locked wooden chest. It was sitting towards the center of the roof, well out of sight from anyone on the ground.

Both he and Ulfr had decide that the roof was a perfect place to hide their valuables, after all no on