Nobody had expected what would happen next, least of all advisor Glunri himself.
He had been exactly right in his assumption that Lord Naíf would not want to punish him publicly for treason if he could help it. It would have been too much of an embarrassment to both himself personally and to House Landorrim as a whole. When the old champion Deli had returned from Amon Hen, he had gone to see Naíf immediately and accused Glunri of treason and conspiring with Sauron, relating to Naíf everything he had heard from Krarli at Amon Hen. Naíf had summoned Glunri to the audience chamber for a private meeting between himself and Deli, and Deli had repeated his accusations with Glunri present. Lord Naíf had listened with a deep frown on his lined forehead. Before Deli had gotten to the end of his accusations Naíf had interrupted him and beseeched him to never speak to anyone else about Glunri’s treason.
Deli had been appalled by the Lord’s request and protested vehemently, but Naíf had reminded Deli of the oath he had given to Naíf when he had come to live in Zigil-jâbal four years earlier. Naíf did not ask Deli to remain silent about Glunri, he commanded it, and Deli was bound by oath to obey. Glunri would get his punishment by other means, Naíf had tried to assure. Deli had stormed out of the audience chamber in disbelief and disgust, but he had no other choice but to obey his Lord.
When Deli had left the audience chamber, Naíf had been pure ice towards Glunri. Without ever even glancing at his former chief advisor again Naíf had informed Glunri in a freezing tone of voice that he was to retire from his duties as the chief advisor and all other duties in Zigil-jâbal immediately and never come to see Naíf again. Glunri had bowed with feigned humility and left the audience chamber without a word. There was nothing more he could have said.
It was too bad, but he had expected nothing else. In truth it did not matter to Glunri anymore. He was an old dwarf now, and he did not expect to live more than a decade or two more at most. He had a long career in politics behind him, he had seen everything and grown bored with all of it a long time ago and he had managed to accumulate a considerable amount of wealth to live comfortably for the rest of his days on. The loss of his only son Flogi stung a bit because now he could not leave behind a legacy of any kind, but Glunri had long ago come to the conclusion that everything in life was futile and pointless anyway. Eventually even the great empires turned to dust, and no legacy was truly lasting. There was only here and now, and Glunri would dedicate his remaining years to his little hobbies, living in comfort and content with the way things were. Glunri did not really mourn the loss of his son, nor did he miss Flogi. Such sentiments were alien to him.
Deli had taken it badly. Bitter and disgusted, he had decided to move on and leave Zigil-jâbal behind. He would head north to the Lonely Mountain and seek residence there. Deli had already packed up and was expected to leave in a few days. Glunri expected Lord Naíf to be relieved to see him go.
Which is why Glunri was the last person to expect what would happen only six days after Deli’s return from Amon Hen. It was a windy and wet evening outside Zigil-jâbal, but most of the residents of the secluded dwarven fortress carved into the mountains of Ered Nimrais were sheltered from the elements, the rain and the stinging breeze. Glunri walked up the granite stairs of his luxurious home in the uppermost level of Zigil-jâbal. On the top of the stairs he stopped for a while to admire the reddish firmament one could admire from the uppermost level. A lightning flashed menacingly above the snowy mountain peaks. Glunri thought that the mood of the evening was enough to banish his boredom – at least for a little while. Glunri was downright smiling when the sky ripped open with new lightnings, followed by occasional, faint rumbling.
”Glunri!”
He looked down and saw a figure huddled on the foot of a stone banister down the street. He blinked to see better who it was. Right then a lightning pierced the sky like a flash of a cut gem.
”But… is it Wirlun? What in the world do you want?” Glunri asked with a mild curiosity. He had not seen the former garrison-commander since that day in the winter when he had forced Wirlun to resign from his duties. Poor Wirlun. He looked awful.
”Glunri, I had to see you, but the guards would not allow me to get past…”
”Of course not, Wirlun. You do not know the correct passwords. You are too unimportant to be granted a permission to visit this level.”
”But I managed to get here anyway”, Wirlun said with a strange smile upon his lips beneath an unkempt beard.
Glunri stood still. He was not afraid, but Wirlun had obviously lost his mind. His eyes gleamed in the strange light of the strange evening and he smiled too much.
”You framed me, Glunri. You have destroyed my life for no reason whatsoever.” Wirlun gave a sniff but did not make a move to climb the granite stairs to Glunri. He just stood there and watched Glunri as if mesmerized.
”I thought you had no reason”, Wirlun continued with an altered voice far too calm in relation to his words. ”Glunri, you are not what you seem to be!”
”Unfortunately I do not follow your train of thought, Wirlun. Unfortunately I do not want to carry on this conversation…”
Glunri turned on the platform.
”No, Glunri”, Wirlun said. He had something in his right hand. Glunri had not seen it earlier because Wirlun was partially hidden in the shadows. Now that the light of a lightning flashed from a blade, Glunri was suddenly stirred. He turned to look at the dwarf standing on the bottom of the stairs.
”Is that an axe, Wirlun?”
”It is.”
”Why have you brought an axe here?” Glunri asked, suddenly curious. What a strange question, he thought immediately after asking it.
”Never mind that, Glunri. I want my life back.”
”I think it would be best if you went home to sleep it off…”
”I cannot go home anymore. My wife has disowned me! Do you not see what you have done to me?”
There was no concept of ”divorce” in a dwarven society, because a marriage between two dwarves was considered sacred and eternal. But sometimes, if the husband of the dwarven couple had brought great shame upon the family, the wife could disown the husband, barring him from their home and essentially declaring him dead to her. Such a state of affairs was very rare in a dwarven society and it was considered extremely shameful for the husband and wife alike.
”I have not done anything to you”, Glunri said. ”But I will soon, unless you leave immediately. You are threatening…”
”Shut up, Glunri. I do not care.” A single sob replaced Wirlun’s calmness. ”I do not care about anything anymore.”
”Stop acting like a stripling, Wirlun”, Glunri said coarsely. He began descending the stairs and saw that Wirlun did not react. He came to the bottom step and saw that Wirlun was now sobbing for real.
No guts, Glunri thought with contempt. Nobody ever has any guts whatsoever.
He reached his hand gently towards the shaft of the axe to take it away from Wirlun.
There was a crunching sound as the blade of the axe sunk into Glunri’s skull. His final earthly image was of Wirlun standing right in front of him, hands still clenched around the shaft of the axe, eyes gleaming maniacally and teeth flashing from beneath his straggly, unkempt beard.
Glunri was dead before he had time to appreciate the irony in the pointlessness of the way his life had ended.
