Of Life Amongst The Sindar by LadySternchen  

Dwarf

“Fell creatures, you say?”

The King, who had stood with his head bowed and his back turned towards them, looked up, his tone sharp all of a sudden. Ziriz flinched. What had he been thinking of asking his lord to accompany him to Eglador? He had been so curious about the Elves, had wanted to see for himself if they were really as tall as everyone said, if their ears were really pointy and if it was true that they sang and danced day-in, day-out. He had even asked some of the more seasoned travellers to teach him the Elvish tongue, to be prepared.

Only what nobody had told him was how terrifying these creatures were. They were just so… sparkly, awakening a very uncomfortable desire in Ziriz to touch them, to take them with him to their fortress, to take them apart and craft them into something beautiful. That thought, while slightly disturbing, was nothing to be terrified about, of course. But looking at them was terrifying, especially at their eyes. Every time Ziriz chanced a look at one of their faces, he could not shake off the feeling that those ancient eyes could look right into his head, and reveal the hideous thoughts that he had. And the King was worst of all. He was just too bright all over. Not to speak of the Queen. It was said that she was not from this earth, and Ziriz had no doubt whatsoever that these rumours were true.

“Aye, my King” Ziriz’s lord answered “We have heard rumour say that there were attacks east of the mountains, but we did not know if it was the Longbeards’ favour for storytelling, or the truth. We thought, maybe a bear with an extra set of ears had attacked one Dwarf once, and they made it into an army of monsters besieging Khazad-dûm for a fortnight. But alas, I fear it is not so. Creatures have been seen creeping in the shadows near our city, and in the realm of the Firebeards, the great fortress that you name in your tongue Nogrod, a smith was killed by a black arrow. They said it reeked of death and decay.”

The Elvenking did not answer at once, but exchanged a dark look with his Queen that she answered with a sorrowful sigh and a nod. It almost seemed like they were talking, though their mouths were not moving. This was another rather unsettling feature of the Elves.

“I know of these creatures” he said at long last, the faintest trace of pain in his voice “To my great regret.”

“But how?” Ziriz blurted out, immediately regretting his outburst.

But it was too late, both the King’s and his lord’s attention were now turned to him.

“Be quiet unless you are bidden to speak, Goldilocks”

Ziriz scowled. Translated into Elvish, his name sounded ridiculous, which certainly his lord had intended. The King, however, showed no dismay, and nor did the Queen. They both eyed Ziriz with a keen interest, their eyes piercing into his. He could not avert his gaze, could not look away from such dazzling beauty.

“I… I beg your pardon for my impertinence. I merely wondered… we thought we had all the passes into Beleriand watched and defended. But if you know of the creatures, then some must have escaped our notice.”

His expression hardening, the King nodded.

“They find many loopholes no decent being thinks about. But it was indeed not in these lands that I made their ghastly acquaintance. My people call them Orcs. It is said that in the most ancient days of our people, the Dark Lord captured Elves who strayed too far from the shores of Cuiviénen, and tortured and mutilated them until their minds and bodies were broken beyond saving or repair. Thus maimed, the thoughts of these Elves turned black, and became subjects to the Dark Lord’s will. I know not if these tales are true, yet I fear that they might be.”

He buried his face in his hands for a moment, then went on:

“For long Ages, they were not seen nor heard of, and we hoped to be rid of them for good. But alas, it seems it is not so. It is no surprise, of course. My Queen has warned me of Evil stirring once more, and this is merely confirmation that the blissful peace we have lived in has indeed drawn to a close.”

The Queen pressed her husband’s arm consolingly, a gesture so unexpected that it made Ziriz momentarily forget about the Orcs. No Dwarven couple would ever outwardly express affection, least of all if they were lord and lady. Such behaviour was downright scandalous.

Weird Elves.

“And yet it is ill news. Most of my people live and wander freely, without any permanent settlement. They would stand defenceless against the Orcs should they pass into Beleriand, and even our forest has little to set against an attack. We must make for ourselves a stronghold, like Círdan did with Eglarest and Brithombar. I see no other way.”

The last words the King spoke more to his Queen than them, Ziriz noticed, and indeed to him, they made little sense. He had never heard of a Círdan, nor of Eglarest and Brithombar, whatever they were.

“With your leave, lord, I would like to offer my help. Our people are unfazed by the Orcs, for our cities are strong, and our tunnels run deep. In such a fortress, you and your people would be safe. We could aid you in building for you such a place. In exchange for payment.”

Ziriz doubted that those singing, dancing creatures would want to live underground, and therefore was very surprised that the King seemed to seriously ponder the idea.

“That is a gracious offer. I do not doubt your accounts, and less even my wife’s foresight, and we would indeed be hard-pressed to defend ourselves otherwise. I also think… there might be a place well suited for such an underground city, I should be eager to hear your opinion on it. But first tell me, what payment do you ask? I deem there is little in my possession that would count as adequate payment for so great a deed. Much of the riches of my kingdom lies in song and wisdom.”

He would make a good Dwarf, that Elvenking. It seemed that he had mastered the art of haggling well. Ziriz glanced at his lord, and saw the longing glinting in his eyes.

“I can think of one thing or another. You wear marvellous pearls, lord. I have long craved those, for our silver- and goldsmiths to work into jewellery. Yet where they come from, my people and I do not go. We Dwarves are wary of the sea.”

And he scolded me for being impertinent, Ziriz thought indignantly, frowning at his lord. Surely asking the Elvenking outright for the ornaments he wore was far more outrageous than blurting out a question? To his surprise, the King showed no sign of anger, rather of astonishment.

“These? You… if the likes of these is what you name as price for helping my people build a stronghold, I shall gladly give them to you. I have seen what outstanding artworks the hands of your people make out of gem and ore, and I can well imagine to what use you would put the pearls that come from the sea.”

Once again, Ziriz glanced at his lord. This had gone much smoother than he would have though. Among Dwarves, haggling seldom took less than a day, more often than not included a fight, and almost always a lot of drinking, ere the parties agreed on something. He could not shake off the suspicion that the Elvenking did not know the full value of these pearls, and thought himself lucky that the Dwarves asked for so little. Fool. These were an invaluable treasure, and Ziriz’s fingers itched with longing to start crafting new fabulous jewellery.

“We have an agreement, then” he heard his lord say, and the Elvenking bowed.