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Dwarf of Many Journeys
by Adina
He grew up with tales and songs of the Lonely Mountain ringing in his
ears, louder at times than the dull thunk of pickaxes into the coal they
mined instead of their rightful gold. The dragon came and killed many
of their people and left the rest wandering poor and homeless through
the wilds.
In Erebor they crafted gold, his father told him when he was a small
child, as his father shaped silver rings, thin but beautiful. His first
journeys were to local fairs, where they sold his father's rings to
hobbit lads to give to their lasses. Dwarf-work sold to peasants, his
father grumbled.
We had gems, his father added when he was a little older and they could
afford to work in gold. Rubies and emeralds as big as your thumb! He
went with his father to sell those rings to the elves--tall, fair
creatures who looked down on them, dwarves stained with dust from the
coal they still mined to afford gold for more rings.
He was sixty when his father and uncle went with Thorin to retake the
Lonely Mountain, too young, his mother said, to go along. Kili, his
distant cousin, was only fifteen years older, yet he was allowed to go.
Nine months later news came back to them that the dragon was dead, but
so were Thorin and Kili and two others.
They were bidden to travel as quickly as possible to help hold the
mountain. That trip was long and not without troubles, despite the
safety of numbers. There were still orcs and bandits, ice and cold in
the mountains, and the long, drear trek through Mirkwood. But it
mattered not, because they were going home!
Except....
None of them had ever been there. The dragon came years before his
parents were born. Home was a foul lair, reeking of dragon smoke and
littered with bones, not all of which belonged to mountain sheep. The
halls under the Lonely Mountain were cold and comfortless, despite their
new-found wealth of gold and gems. Home was an illusion, a lie.
He journeyed then, traveling back to the Blue Mountains carrying
messages for those left behind. He visited the Iron Hills, carrying
messages and trade goods. He took gold and gems and weapons to the Long
Lake and brought back food and wine and wood. He even went to Mirkwood,
trading emeralds that the elven king loved so well for venison and such
wood as the forest elves would cut.
He journeyed, and if any wondered at his eagerness to leave home only
his mother commented.
-End-
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