Iron Garrison

-Chapter First-

Through the River-Dale of the elves and the hobbit-shire.

-Preamble-

The Dwarrowdelf was founded by Durin 'the Deathless' in the far distant past, long before the creation of the Sun and Moon. Durin had awoken at Mount Gundabad not long after the Elves first awoke, and as eldest amongst the Fathers of the Dwarves was acknowledged as preeminent amongst them, a status subsequently inherited by his descendants, the Kings of the Longbeards.

           The battle in the caverns of Tith-Maudhûl has been fought and won. Seregrían and the Iron Garrison rout the merrevail, bolts of energy flying from the tip of her staff, nipping at their retreating heels, pursuing them through the halls, the Elf-scholar fast outrunning her allies.

           As Seregrían becomes more accustomed to the company of the Dwarves of Durin’s Folk, and enamored of their hoarded lore and knowledge, the Dwarves in turn share a growing respect for the enigmatic Elf-scholar who wields arcane weapons at their side in battle. Hall by hall, deep by deep, the Iron Garrison plunges into the dark of the mansions of Durin, with the Blood-queen in the vanguard blazing their trail.

           Each passage leads to – one more passage…

The Mines of Moria reveal their secrets slowly, and not without a sore trial, so Seregrían learns…

           News has reached Rivendell of the exploits of a new colony of Dwarves, styling themselves the Iron Garrison, seeking to reoccupy the Mines of Moria. Following hard on the success of her embassy to Durin’s Folk in the Blue Mountains, Seregrían is now tasked to approach the Dwarf leaders and join their company, and provide what assistance she can.

            Farohir has been called out by Bragin as they wait for the caravan departing the Crossroads headed for the Twenty-First Hall of Moria.  The young half-elf squirms under Bragin’s eye, who is now appraising him as he would a rough-cut gem.

            Bragin and Farohir have ample time to watch as their caravan slowly traverses the corridors and high-roads of Moria.  Farohir’s head swishes to and fro as he tries to catch every sight he can, overwhelmed by the vastness of the halls of Durin.  Bragin, however, is beside himself – he is desperately resisting the urge to stop at every intersection and crossroads, a