[piosenniel]

Dwarves of Moria


Arry's character

NAME: Skald Stonecut (Riv’s younger brother)

AGE: 104 (5 years younger than Riv; born 1 year after the Three Rings were made by the Elven smiths)

RACE: Dwarf – one of Durin’s Folk/Longbeard clan

GENDER: male

WEAPONS: Mattock; for battles in larger, more open spaces, he bears an oak hafted pole axe with a razor sharp edged steel head. Iron helm embossed with runes; long chain mail; thick boiled leather vest; plated arm and leg guards, like his brother.

APPEARANCE: 5’1”; 145 lbs. A little shorter than his brother and of a more wiry build. Thick, brown hair worn in two plaits down his back; they are bound together at their end with a leather thong. Thick beard, worn in two braids on either side of his chin. Dark brown breeches, tan tunic. thick brown leather belt with loops hanging from it – he carries some of his hammers and other tools in it. Black leather knee high boots, well worn, thick soled. Granite grey, hooded cape,

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Like his older brother, he is a patient man – both in his work and in his relationships with friends and family. He is an excellent smith; working with large stones used for columns, doors, staircases, walls. He enjoys figuring out how to make the blocks fit seamlessly together. His artistic needs are met in the carvings he does to decorate stonework. He is especially fond of working with runes and embellishing them. He is an adequate metal worker, but really would like to leave that sort of work to other Dwarves with more skill.

Like his brothers, Riv and Bror, he is loyal to his family and kin. He has not had much dealing with the Elves of Eregion, save for the trips he has made with his brother to sell the gems and ore their family mines, but he is willing to accept his brother’s favorable assessment of them.

He is even less fond of change than Riv. Anything that disturbs his routine can make him peevish. Having said that, he is more quick to anger than his brother.

Skald is not married, though he is at the right age to do so. A lack of available Dwarven maidens is the reason, plus the fact that these are times of great unrest and the thought of bringing a child into such troubles is undesirable.

He is very fond of his nephew, Leifr, and will often take time from his work to teach or entertain the lad. He has some banked pride that the boy is interested in runes and how they spell out words. Skald has made a small set of chisels and a little hammer for his nephew, and often Leifr will be found banging happily away on a small stone scrap as his uncle works. Unna, Riv’s wife, is fond of her brother-in-law and he has a room in their apartments and takes their meals at her table.

One of his talents apart from the arts of stonemasonry and carving is the composition of poems to celebrate their clan’s history.

HISTORY: Much the same as Riv’s, except he was apprenticed to one of the Dwarven stone masons of their family and then to another who specialized in the carving of runes on stone.

Between carving and building projects, Skald still travels with his father to the Vales of the Anduin, trading with those settlements of men there.

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Arry's post

Skald leaned forward in his chair, his chin planted firmly on his fist. The fingers of his right hand drummed quietly on the table top as the others spoke of war and killing. His dark eyes were troubled with news he’d heard earlier that day. Not wanting to frighten Unna and Leifr he’d waited to share what he had learned until they were safely away in their quarters.

Before Riv could answer Bror's question, Skald spoke up.

‘Want to know the interesting . . . no, make that disturbing . . . morsel I picked up from the King’s guard today? . . . And from Father, too.’ Riv and the others looked at him expectantly.

‘Father was speaking to the King. About some special delivery of stones . . . no, not now but way back . . . before we were twinkles in his eye I think. Anyway, they were for the head of the Jewelsmiths’ Guild, Celebrimbor . . . and a shipment of mithril, too . . . some very high grade stuff.’ He leaned even further across the table, his voice dropping low. ‘Apparently the Elves used them in some big secret project, according to one of the guards. He said Durin opened his locked iron chest and took out some small carven box. He and Father had their heads together whispering about the object in it. Whatever it was it gleamed brightly when the light caught it for a moment. Then the King locked it away . . .’

Before they could hiss ‘And . . .?’ at him. Skald went on.

‘Well, I asked Father about it. At first, all the old man would do was shake his head, his fists clenched. They were fools, he muttered, looking into the distance past me. Damned, silly fools! he said angrily. Father said there was someone whom the Jewelsmiths placed their trust in . . . someone who taught them some special skills in the art of smithing.’ Skald’s throat was dry from talking and he paused, taking a long pull at his mug.

‘And now the Elves, the King had told Father, had done something to displease this teacher of theirs. They have something that he wants badly and he’s bent on getting it. And what’s worse apparently he’s not the kindly, gracious fellow they thought him. He’s got the force to back up his words. That’s what the Orcs are doing all stirred up and starting to cause troubles.

‘When I asked Father who this fellow was, he grew red in the face and spat on the floor. Mahal take the deceiver! he growled. Calling himself Aulendil! . . . Why, he left Mahal’s service long ago . . . taking after that black-hearted Master . . .’

Skald took another sip, the alefoam glistened on the tips of his thick mustache. ‘The old man ranted and raved for a bit . . . you know how he can go on. I was trying desperately to piece together the dribs and drabbles of information I’d eked out from him. Finally, in desperation, I shouted “Hey!” at him as loudly as I could. Got his attention, it did. Quiet little Skald yelling!’

‘Look, I told him, Riv and Bror and Orin and me along with a few of others of us have been asked to escort some Elves from the Lady of the Wood, under the mountain and out to Ost-in-Edhil. Armed Elves. And there may be more coming through. Sounds like it’s more than just some polite visit from one land to another. What are we getting into? Who’s this person you keep cursing at?’

‘Well, I have to tell you what he said next nearly unbraided my beard!’ Skald rubbed his chin hard with his hand, a familiar nervous habit on his part.

‘The Dark Lord! Father whispered, not wanting to name him out loud.’

‘The Dark Lord! I squeaked . . . yes, I’m not ashamed, I squeaked . . . you all remember the horror stories of the great battles against him and his Orcs and worse . . . before Beleriand fell under the waves. Anyway, I managed to stutter out the question that was now burning in my mind. The Dark Lord had escaped from where The Great Ones put him and was back?’

‘Not him, Father said. . . . but just as foul . . . his bootlicking, black-hearted-as-his-Master, servant . . . Sauron . . .’

‘ “Sauron!” I managed to say in a mangled yelp. I remember dreadful stories about him’

‘Yes, Sauron. He’s got himself a dark place between the Ash Mountains and the Shadow Mountains, the King’s told me. And he’s stirring up the foul spawn his Master made. Orcs and who knows what other fearsome beasts. He’s coming for something the Elves have hidden away . . .’

Skald’s voice drifted off into the silence of the room. His hands were clasped tightly about his mug and he stared into it as if it held the secret to keeping his sense of dread at bay. He looked up at his brothers and uncle . . .