In his youth Hilfar was often found alongside his father digging in the deep tunnels of the mines of Ered Luin. There was that particular day that ended in an unexpected confrontation. A party of a dozen miners were cutting their way through the hard rocks, searching for ores and gems. Among the mining group were Hilfar and his father Ullfar and also his uncle Bregnar. One of the dwarves startled, as his pickaxe hit the wall it crumbled down and everyone was scared for a cave-in. Instead it seemed they delved their way into another tunnel, which happened to be full of goblins. Both dwarves and goblins were awe-struck by the unexpected meeting, and there was an awkward silence. Right after battle cries erupted as both arch-enemies were hacking into eachother. Hilfar never liked to fight but for goblins he made an exception, he hated the vile critters that much. He took his axe and hacked away through the emerging goblins. Dark blood and gore sprayed all over his precious red beard as he plunged the axe into the little snaga. Hilfar was so disgusted by all the gore sticking at his beard, he thought he’d never be clean again. Then he saw his uncle Bregnar who wielded a mighty two-handed club, knocking in their heads with such ease. After the fight Bregnars beard was sweaty but free of blood. Hilfar looked with disgust from his own blood-sticky beard to Bregnars clean beard. Hilfar dropped the axe to the ground never to touch an axe again. A club was what he needed.
Years passed, at one day Hilfar found himself on a market in Buckland where he and his father were selling their wares. Their stall was rather close to a forest that was commonly known as the “old forest”, and tales of a man with great power that dwelled there known by the dwarves as Fórn. Hilfar needed to take a piss and walked away from the stall needlessly strolling in the eaves of the old forest. As he was littering against a rather large tree humming a merry song, something moved. A thick root delved his left foot under it leaving the poor dwarf stuck in pain screaming for help. It must have been an odd sight, a dwarf with his pants on his ankles with one foot stuck under a heavy root, sitting and screaming in his own littering. Ullfar ran towards the screams “By Durins beard! What are ye doing?!”, he shouted. It took Ullfar multiple swings with his axe to cut the root, and releasing Hilfar’s broken foot. The forest shuttered and groaned at every swing of the axe. A cold shiver passed over Hilfars neck at the sound. Hilfar saw the cut-off root that broke his foot and couldn’t help to take it along with him as a strange trophy, as he limped back to the market stall.
Weeks passed as the broken foot slowly recovered. He was looking at the cut off root that lay on the table. It was an odd piece of wood, it did not wither through time and was rather light weighted but hard as stone. He took it to a woodworker in Thorins hall. The woodworker rubbed his beard and examined it thoroughly “Now where did ye find it again? The old forest? Odd, I thought I’d seen any type of wood by now, but this piece is not familiar to me.” The woodworker furrowed his brows “a weapon? Ah why not, I’ll try ter make something out of it, I like a challenge”. And so after a few days the woodworker actually managed to make a fine one handed cudgel out of the strange tree-root that Hilfar brought him. It was properly waxed and oiled into a smooth one-handed club with leather strappings at the hilt. The woodworker pointed “Aight, give it a swing, test if ye can break that wooden plank over there.” Hilfar loved his new weapon, it was light and easy to carry. He smacked the new gudgel at the plank that snapped immediately in two pieces. The woodworker looked as content as Hilfar staring at the newly crafted weapon. Hilfar proudly showed the club to his father who was not really as enthusiastic as him “It seem ter lack somethin’ my boy. Allow me to add something to it”. A day later Ullfar carefully made ruby inlays in the head of the Gudgel, making it even more prettier than before. Hilfar named his new weapon “kurdâlhkhulb” which is the Khuzdul word for Beaters-root.
Hilfar wielding his kurdâlhkhulb
