You know where you are with ore. One look and it give you and honest account of itself - copper, tin, rich iron... mithril! Not so with Men.
My head still spins after spending weeks in the Breelands. Enough Men to fill 40 hill forts, at least! But as divided as elusive gold flakes in bedrock! I did my best to fulfill my task and find allies against the darkness, but to little avail. The people are afraid of each other and preying on each other. There is little trust. All this must be the work of the Dark One.
I’ve come across a few men, called Rangers, who seem to be trying to fight the darkness where it can be found, but they are even fewer than the Dwarves I’ve met. So very few.
It’s good to be out here in the Lone Lands for a while, digging in the earth. It helps me clear my thoughts. You know where you are with ore…
Still, I have a direction now. It was quite a remarkable encounter. I was helping an old innkeeper in a dusty old place called the Forsaken Inn, cleaning my equipment on the porch, when I noticed a cloud of dust being stirred up by approaching horsemen.
My first reaction was to run in and warn the people inside, as I have rarely seen a great number of Men approaching if they did not have ill intentions. Something made me stop, however. There is a certain character even in the way evil Men ride. This formation did not exhibit that.
The group approached and at the command of a group leader, the dismounted and began tying their horses to the rest post. Clearly, these people were not anticipating trouble. Still, I kept my axe close.
Then I heard a burp. Now, Men burp to some degree, but no true Dwarf can mistake the sound of an honest Dwarven burp. There were some of Durin’s folk riding with these people! Spellbound, I watched them proceed into the inn. Several of the riders nodded respectfully in my directions, manners rare in a land fraught with distrust.
My curiosity piqued, I followed them inside. They seemed only to be resting there, on their way towards some great adventure. I made my way to the Dwarf, whose name turned out to be Bule, to inquire about them. Eager to hear tidings from the Iron Hills, Bule invited me to share a drink with him and tell me the latest news.
I did, and Bule repaid me by telling about the group he was riding with. They are a band called the Knights of Eriador, and from what Bule told me, they seem to be exactly what I was sent out to try to create. Before I knew what happened, Bule went to tell the leader of the group about me and suddenly, tired from the day, and comfortable from the strong ale of the Forsaken Inn, I was introduced to Arangilas Bloodrage, leader of the Knights of Eriador.
Now, I have seen many leaders of Men. I met Bard and several prominent Men of Dale. The mayor of Bree is an amiable enough fellow. Arangilas was not like any of them. He saluted me in the manner of Dwarves, which, combined with the strong drink and the months of suspicious distrust that I had faced completely threw me off guard.
I remember with horror how my words stumbled over each other. How I nearly lost my balance getting up and bowing.
Still, he put me at ease. I don’t know why, but I not only related my lord’s wish that I gather allies from all the Free Peoples against the darkness, but also my personal concern over the growing darkness.
To my great surprise, I was invited to ride with them that very day. I was not able to go, however, seeing as I had promised to help the innkeeper.
As their group leader called all knights to finish their rest and mount up again, Arangilas bid me find their headquarters in Bree.
I shall go, surely. So many months of looking for allies. So little hope to unite people. And then I find myself face to face with the Knights of Eriador.
Sometimes this life is too much for a dwarf. Thank goodness for ore!
