Post by Torvaen Firehand on Sept 29, 2012 19:19:50 GMT -5
I was born in the Iron Hills. I never saw much of my mother; she was -- is -- a jeweler, and as devoted a crafter as any Dwarf alive. How she found time or inclination to marry my father is something neither he nor I ever quite understood. I think he just got too stubborn to take no for an answer. In any case, as soon as I was on two legs she had her nose back in her work.
My father, Shofur son of Kranur, is a mining engineer, a tunnelling specialist if you will. Not that most Dwarves don't know a thing or two about the subject, but him more than most. If you had a tough vein of rock to drill through, or were going espescially deep, or needed to shore up a place with shifting soil, he was the Dwarf you went to. He also was part of King Dain's militia, and would go on patrol from time to time with a huge two-handed axe handed down from his grandfather, who was a burned Dwarf. He'd hoped to hand it down to me someday, but I'm afraid my inclinations ran in another direction.
What with my father so busy, I spent a lot of time with my Uncle Shafur. He's the scholar in the family, always poring over books, scrolls, carvings, whatever he can find. He didn't much care for being interrupted, but if I could get him started telling a story, he could talk all day, filling me in on the history and lore of the Longbeards. He even talked about the history of Elves and Men, which is not something most Dwarves pay much mind to. I'm no scholar, but I loved hearing the stories. Better still were the songs -- I didn't get those from my Uncle, who is not much of a singer, but they sounded through the tunnels all day long as the Dwarves worked, and would fill the halls at night around the fireplaces. I started learning to play music when I could, first picking up the drum and horn, sneaking off to practice every time I could get away from the usual chores.
Then came the call from the Lonely Mountain, that Thorin Oakensheild and his Company had reclaimed the Mountain from the mighty dragon Smaug, and were now besieged by Elves and Men demanding a share of the treasure. King Dain lost no time in putting together a company to bring to his aid. Many, such as my father, came from loyalty to Dain Ironfoot and our people. Many others were driven by the visions of the wealth that lay under the Mountain. My uncle Shafur didn't care much about either, but he was sure that many records and tomes must have been left behind when the Mountain was lost, and hoped some would have escaped the devastation.
And I? Well, I came along as what Men would call a drummer boy. I beat out a cadence for the marchers, and used my horn to sound calls to relay orders from our captains to their men.
Well, at the end of that march lay not only the Lonely Mountain but the Battle of Five Armies. As is well known, Dwarves, Elves, and Men set aside their differences to meet the goblins and wargs pouring out of the Misty Mountains. I'm afraid I can't add much to the accounts of others, as when I wasn't focused on trying to keep a beat, I was ducking a lot. But when it was over, the day was won.
(To be continued)
My father, Shofur son of Kranur, is a mining engineer, a tunnelling specialist if you will. Not that most Dwarves don't know a thing or two about the subject, but him more than most. If you had a tough vein of rock to drill through, or were going espescially deep, or needed to shore up a place with shifting soil, he was the Dwarf you went to. He also was part of King Dain's militia, and would go on patrol from time to time with a huge two-handed axe handed down from his grandfather, who was a burned Dwarf. He'd hoped to hand it down to me someday, but I'm afraid my inclinations ran in another direction.
What with my father so busy, I spent a lot of time with my Uncle Shafur. He's the scholar in the family, always poring over books, scrolls, carvings, whatever he can find. He didn't much care for being interrupted, but if I could get him started telling a story, he could talk all day, filling me in on the history and lore of the Longbeards. He even talked about the history of Elves and Men, which is not something most Dwarves pay much mind to. I'm no scholar, but I loved hearing the stories. Better still were the songs -- I didn't get those from my Uncle, who is not much of a singer, but they sounded through the tunnels all day long as the Dwarves worked, and would fill the halls at night around the fireplaces. I started learning to play music when I could, first picking up the drum and horn, sneaking off to practice every time I could get away from the usual chores.
Then came the call from the Lonely Mountain, that Thorin Oakensheild and his Company had reclaimed the Mountain from the mighty dragon Smaug, and were now besieged by Elves and Men demanding a share of the treasure. King Dain lost no time in putting together a company to bring to his aid. Many, such as my father, came from loyalty to Dain Ironfoot and our people. Many others were driven by the visions of the wealth that lay under the Mountain. My uncle Shafur didn't care much about either, but he was sure that many records and tomes must have been left behind when the Mountain was lost, and hoped some would have escaped the devastation.
And I? Well, I came along as what Men would call a drummer boy. I beat out a cadence for the marchers, and used my horn to sound calls to relay orders from our captains to their men.
Well, at the end of that march lay not only the Lonely Mountain but the Battle of Five Armies. As is well known, Dwarves, Elves, and Men set aside their differences to meet the goblins and wargs pouring out of the Misty Mountains. I'm afraid I can't add much to the accounts of others, as when I wasn't focused on trying to keep a beat, I was ducking a lot. But when it was over, the day was won.
(To be continued)