By now these letters are, with hope, on their way to Duillond now that I have arrived at a settlement capable of sending word home. Once my task at Thorin’s former home is completed I should be able to convey whether the confusion caused by my apparent disappearance at Gondamon was necessity or folly.
I had heard that the halls of Thorin were restored these days but I was not expecting to see so many dwarves out in the open. It was almost as if every inhabitant of the Ered Luin had come south to visit the small valley. The courtyard was filled with travelers, who usually ignored it in favor of the Halls themselves. Gangs of aspiring singers clambered for positions around the statue of Frerin, drinking ale obtained from the newly erected stalls by the edge of the court. More than once, I saw them make way for a merchant caravan to be led across what must be tremendously overcrowded stables.
To my disappointment the stalls did not stock any casks of vintage Celondim wine, but after the exhausting climb through the vale I was willing to settle for dwarven mead. Thus satisfied, I began to circle around the crowd to look for a guard to whom I could impart the message from Gondamon. At the stairs to the gates I noticed a group of four dwarves carry a large keg. They steadfastly carried it up the stairs together, stopped for a minute at the summit, and then began to carry it back down again.
‘They are training for the shield-ceremony’ explained a dwarf as I watched them repeat the process. Seeing my lack of comprehension, he continued. ‘At the end of the day’s celebrations, a great shield shall be raised up the steps into the Halls to commemorate Oakenshield’s final return to the Mountain’.
‘But surely Durin’s Day is not for several weeks’ I exclaimed. This event has always been celebrated among the dwarves, but in recent days it has gained new significance among those of Erebor as the anniversary of the retaking of the Lonely Mountain.
‘Oh, it will take as long to prepare. Dwalin feels that the previous stewards have neglected Thorin’s memory in his own halls for far too long, and so beginning this year the festivities will be much larger to compensate. He wishes all the dwarves of the Ered Luin to remember that this is where he and the rest of the Company began their journey to Erebor.’ He paused and then looked at me again. ‘But if you did not come for Durin’s Day then might I ask what your purpose is here?’
I realized that this was indeed one of the guards. Somehow, I had expected them to wear distinctive helmets and armor like the wardens of the Havens. ‘I am Tegilboron of Farathlorn. I have come from the delegations at Gondamon regarding some of the recent discoveries at Edheliond. We believe that among them are remains of contracts between Dwarf and Elf carved in stone. The master of Gondamon has sent me to see if any of these may shed light on the agreements being negotiated’.
‘Oh Mathi sent you?’ was all he asked. He nodded and led me up the stair. ‘That’s good if the business at Gondamon is being finished, we’ll need their help when this place becomes crowded.’
I was asked to repeat my name and story to two other dwarves – the relics I sought were not of course recent discoveries, the ruins of our city having been picked clean a century ago, but the dwarves do not take well to demands of reparations of artifacts stolen during war. I was then made to wait in front of the great doors for a few hours. Looking down upon the valley, I could see the festival preparations more clearly, with tent-posts set up further away from the road and lamps set up by the roofs of buildings. Eventually the guards returned and I was informed that stone fragments matching my description had in fact been found at Edhelion and I was assured they would be sent for storage at Gondamon promptly.
That was, to be honest, not the outcome I was intending. I knew that was unlikely for the dwarves to allow me to view their treasures directly. However, I had thought the word of the master of Gondamon would be enough for me to convey the remains of the tablet back with me. The chance to compare ancient Angerthas script of both elf and dwarf together is one no lover of runes will pass up. Instead, it was clear I was not would not be welcome even to enter the halls.
I wandered back to the markets, to see if I had been wrong before in my measure of the dwarves’ animosity to elves. The merchants seemed accommodating enough, and one even sold me a shard of bone taken from the tooth of Smaug the Golden himself. I could not think of any use for it but was so impressed with his story of its journey from Dale all the way to the Ered Luin that I felt obligated to compensate him.
By the shores of the nearly frozen lake, I was surprised to see a number of workers engaged in the construction of what might be a rare example of a dwarven ship. They appeared to be loading planks and shields from the nearby wagons. Approaching closer, I saw it was a large wooden effigy of a dragon, its half-carved wings making up what I had taken to be its sides. The face, while not finished, was still a remarkably realistic portrayal of the dread worm. No doubt, Dwalin himself had a hand in its design. The dwarves were affixing the small shields to it in an impressive attempt to replicate the creature’s scales.
At this, he gestured to a painted mark on the effigy’s chest. ‘On the night of the festival, archers will take turns in trying to avoid the scales and light the wood aflame. Once they do, it will release the rockets on the dragon’s back. The fireworks are all the way from Dale, or so Dwalin tells me.’
The dwarf’s name was Lorin, a ‘venturing entrepreneur’ by trade, which I took be a dwarven term for a travelling merchant. He had come south, apparently, to answer the needs of the struggling Longbeards in adapting to the harsh conditions of the Ered Luin. I told him of my intention to rediscover the old foresting contracts between my people and his. For his part, Lorin was happy to give an imprecise summary of the relations of his clan with the other inhabitants of the Ered Luin. Both his people and the Firebeards were descendants of the peoples of Nogrost and Belegost in elder days, and continued to thrive in prosperity throughout the Second Age – or at least the Broadbeams did. I have a feeling he was embellishing the wealth of the Ered Luin – I knew many of both clans emigrated to Khazad-dum in that time. In any case, Lorin’s opinion was that the true end of the Broadbeam’s fortunes was when the royal ring was lost to a drake that had slithered out of the North.
‘Not that monster’ he said, pointing at the wooden statue, ‘but a greedy wingless worm that ate the treasure out of a dwarf’s hall and moved on to the next’
At that point the royal line of the Broadbeams had moved the southern mountains to escape the creature but it did little good. It simply followed them south and gobbled up the ring of the Firebeards for good measure. The royalty of the Ered Luin did not last long afterwards, losing power to petty-kingdoms in a tragic series of disputes and grudges which I would truly be interested in exploring further if a consistent account could be found of them. Lorin did not think much of the leaders that followed, referring to them as ‘Landlords and lenders who could never appreciate an honest day’s work’. However, he admitted respect for Thorin and the other Longbeards, and thought it was a great injustice that they were swindled into purchasing ‘this dragon-withered valley were not much grows or can be mined’.
Despite this, he was eager to relate it to me, and I shall be sure to include this obscure account of dwarven lore in the next letter I write. For the day is coming to a close and I should have these letters posted before any misperceptions at Gondamon become outrage.
