Slow does time seem to pass once one wanders beneath the surface of the earth. And to those unexperienced, it may feel uncomfortable as hours and days seem to melt, creating a severe craving for sunlight and a glance at the sky as the walls seem to shrink and the air feels thickened by the darkness. The dwarves nonetheless do not suffer such, some never even seeing the sun at all in their long lives.
There are the tales of brave heroes, who fought desperate battles within deep caverns and dark halls, away under the cold mountains. There are still many more untold heroics however, done by dwarven warriors, who wage battles unsong or unheard of by man or elf.
This unlike so many others however, shall be a tale shared.
-- Prologue: A painfull matter.
"My dwarrows, please calm yourselves!", Asudrom gestured with his hands at the large crowd of dwarves that stood in the entering hall of Sarnûr. Brows furrowing, arms folded over thick and long beards, all the while elves klad in silver hauberks marched along the throng, some looking up, but a few only kept their alertness up. "True, we have won a great victory here today, yet we shall enforce the encampment here first! Now be at ease and return to the tasks given to you!", the dwarven lord spoke with a voice of authority and though much respect he got from his fellow dwarves, murmuring broke out in the crowd until voices were raised.
"My lord, we shouldn't allow the foe to lick their wounds and prepare traps!", an elder yelled insistently.
"We do not need the wisdom of preparing retreat as we broke their backbone!", another spoke loudly.
Countering retorts were yelled with equal volume and the yelling broke out among the crowd as groups of dwarves of different lords or different ages stubbornly persisted in their opinions.
Asudrom grumbled and looked at his friends, there stood Khlosi, a fair beard, he leaned on a thick bow which bended a little under his weight, then there was Thorlaen next to him, a beard colored like the setting sun, quietly overseeing the crowd, further more there stood Thogen, the guard of Asudrom's household, standing ever broad and slightly taller then the others. They pinched their eyes shut as the reflected light of the gems in Asudrom's beard was casted and danced over their faces, "Byl shall live?" The others did not respond, then a voice as clear as thunder ripping through a rumbling sky came from behind him. "He does indeed, my lord.", so the voice spoke, he turned about and there stood Byl, clutching his chest in pain, "It will take more then mere goblins to be the end of me!"
Asudrom nodded pleased to see the aged dwarf still live, many other faces lightened up as they saw him. Perhaps a little smug in his endurance, but enduring nonetheless so the warlord (or one of them atleast) of Durin's folk stood there. Armor rent in several places, and large bandages wrapped around his head and chest, where it was visible under the remnants of his armor and torn tabard. He looked the worse for wear indeed.
"We shall head back to Duinn's hall, while more dwarves come out of the mountains to reinforce our encampment here. There's more for us to do there then here, rather then chopping trees and releasing arrows at shadows." "Ah fine that, I shall have some time to rest and heal up!"
--
Many a week had passed since, Byl had been coughing and wheezing still, something that hadn't faded away since the last battle. His son Byli, rather oblivious to it, set on his daily tasks. On occasion Kveltrild and Turmaja would visit him, much to his appriciation, not that he would admit anything else then to be a fine health! Then on one day, he decided to go for a walk, he strolled through the snowcovered streets as he met up with one of his friends, master Hanfur! An aged dwarf, claimed as lord of the hearth at the time, "My friend Hanfur, I'm glad to see you're well." The elder dwarf bowed, his white beard covered in melting flakes that flowed from the sky. "Well met Byl, are you well?" "As good as ever!", he supressed a cough or two and snorted, "I hope you shall have the market set up real soon, I wouldn't mind to get my hands on some elven cheese or perhaps some wine, that'll settle some warmth in my bones atleast." Hanfur pondered as they both walked onwards to the great stairs that led up to Thorin's gate, mighty Icicles hanging from the ceiling and the noses of the dwarven statues and great fires lightened in braziers next to the road so one may have some light in the weather. Eventually Hanfur nodded to Byl, clearly the elder dwarf had something to say, which he kept to himself. Byl looked up at that, for it was not Hanfur's way to be as so! "I should be wiser then to pry a secret from a dwarf such as yourself, yet I can't help but wonder what you are not saying!", Byl glanced at Hanfur, but as expected the dwarf's face went from mysterious to stubborn, though not in the petulant way of a child speaking of a supposed secret and then hiding behind arrogance when asked upon it, this was dwarven stuborness, which means a polite yet insisting silence, with eyes demanding for another subject to discuss.
Byl grinned a little and nodded, "Very well, so where are you going to then? I had not exactly pondered about it myself what I'd do once I got here.", he scratches his cheeck as Hanfur's expression lightened once more. "Master Asudrom has come back from his travels to the elves of Celondim. Perhaps you are most lucky, he could've brought a cheesewheel of his own." Byl laughed, through the cough that rose up from his chest, he held a meaty fist in front of his face as they went on to the last place of the hall.
There he stood with a few of the others, they must've arrived not long before, because their uniforms and particulary their boots were dripping and pools had formed where they stood near a fire. "Ah, master Byl and Hanfur, well met!", Asudrom bowed before them as they approached, "I hope you both are well?" They both nodded quietly, Byl searching for the cheese and Hanfur glancing at Duinn's heir with expectation. "We shall have to descend into Sarnûr once again I fear.", Thogen seemed to be anticipating the march, most others seemed to accept it rather then relish the thought. "Has the traderoute fallen into the hands of goblins once more then?", so Hanfur asked Asudrom shook his head, "It's not that, but the elves would think it wise to close the route from the south, unfortunately this means that we are also cut off from any dealings with anyone. They insist that goblins have come from high in the mountains again, as skirmishes threaten to break out, the coward creatures run back up, where only dwarves could follow them." "Simply put, they've found a way around the garrison in Sarnûr itself.", Hanfur agreed. "Indeed, I assume we shall have to venture in once more and put an end to the vileness within. I have already request the aid of lord Kandral aswell, for his dwarves would soon go hungry indeed if they can not bring their wares around."
They all looked up as an elder dwarf approached them, they all bowed and though not lord Dwalin himself, there was one of his stewards, a dwarf of much renown for his skill in the trading business. "Master Firi, at your service!" The considerably thin looking dwarf adjusted his glasses of gold and bowed before the company. The others replied as one in the old dwarven fashion.
For hours the discussions went on about the stockpiling of wood for the pyres in the halls and at the roads and not the mention the forges or the grainstores and the wares that could be sold! Luckily though, they had the chance to do so around a table filled with many delicacies.
Byl sat there with Thogen on his left and Alfnar to his right, he watched the debate turn somewhat ugly as Asudrom's face turned red at the demands of the steward despite his leveled voice. Hanfur nonetheless remained the epitome of politeness. It was not uncommon for this to happen, most shrugged and focused on the feast, the one good thing that came from marching out to see how trade was faring.
Byl sat there, he ate slowly and not with the usual enthusiasm his belly would suggest, Alfnar a quiet and humble dwarf on all accounts looked at him with wondering eyes. Byl looked back and sat up straighter, "Suppose I'm not that hungry today." Thogen glanced from the corner of his eyes at Byl, just as he stuck a slice of caverat in his mouth and munched it mightily behind his closed lips. Alfnar spoke, "Still those aches since the battle? My poor father also wasn't such a big eater after his accident.. " Byl grumbled, Thogen placed a mighty paw on Byl's shoulder and spoke assured and polite, "A fine battle, that is what lord Byl here requires! Something to get the bloodflow running, no finer beer is sipped or a finer cheese tasted after life and limb had been laid on the line."
All three of them had experienced the euphory after battle, when one felt more alive after surviving a great struggle. The very air would taste sweeter, every step was a joy to take.. The meaning of one's life still able to be fullfilled. A feeling unlike any other. Alfnar grimaced for he was not fond of battle, though Thogen and Byl sighed, for they were great warriors indeed, Thogen was by far one of the broadest and tallest of the company of Duinn, he would be the first to come in a battle and the last to leave as he had done many a time.
Byl himself though, was also very powerfull, veins like thick iron wire ran through his arms and as goblins screamed in a panic, the lord had more then once broke the line of battle and set off on his own berserking pace. More then once others had called out to him to come back, yet as he set on, the world seemed to shrink to him and his target. His vision flared back to all those times, goblins on the run, trolls' legs wounded.. Then the scream of a dwarf could be heard, higher then most dwarves' voices, high above the whooping yells of goblins as their crude arrows and spears were hurled all around. His son was running to a cart, a pack of dead dwarves and goblins lay about it... He ran up to this cart along with his child, .. They had fought their way with feverish strength, through the remaining creatures, wildly and half-distracted had the battle been. In front of them both lay another dead goblin over someone, they quickly dragged the thing off and .. then he opened his eyes and saw the table, already being emptied by the servants.
Hanfur's hand lay resting on Byl's shoulder with some sympathy, "Finally awake again?"
((to be continued))
