Tears of Mirrormere RPG

[Folwren]

Kénan leaned forward and words burst from his mouth be fore he meant them to be spoken. “The element of surprise?” The dwarves of the council looked at him. He didn’t mind in the least. He had had something to say ever since arriving and he had kept quiet too long. So he got to his feet and faced Trór, giving poor Gror no chance to answer.

“The element of surprise? Do you know nothing? The orcs themselves have already had the element of surprise! They took from us our leader! The one dwarf who could possibly lead us well into battle is now dead. What you saw was a mere scouting party of the orcs. They meant to show themselves. They don’t care now what we do. They’ve already surprised us.” He snorted, disgusted, and looked around at the other dwarves.

“I would like to know just why we are in this predicament. Are we sure, I mean, that we want Trór as our leader? Was it not him who allowed Balin to go down alone and look into Mirrormere? And now he speaks of the element of surprise?” He looked again at Trór and shook his head like a reproving father. “Foolishness.” He allowed the word to hang in almost mutinous silence for a moment. “Tell me, how do you intend to use this supposed surprise against the orcs, when we are so few and they are so many?”

[Durelin]

Kórin raised an eyebrow at Trór upon hearing Kénan’s words. She was glad to find another reason for her distaste of him. Though this went beyond distaste – that he would leave the Lord Balin’s side for any reason was disturbing. Continuing to watch Trór closely she wondered if their lord’s death weighed on him heavily enough.

Kórin was very tempted to echo Kénan’s concerns, but she knew he had said enough, and that certainly his voice carried far more weight than hers ever would. Instead she returned to her feelings of impatience with all those present – not just their supposed leader.

The fiery-haired dwarf snorted a laugh of exasperation. It seemed that the blind were leading the blind, using the counsel of the blind!

“And how many is ‘so many’?” Kórin asked – then added, “exactly,” for clarity. She did not bother to rise from her seat, and readied herself to ignore any quiet admonishment from Nali beside her. He apparently thought he could restrain her somehow should she decide to take part in the council to which she was invited.

[Groin Redbeard]

The sudden outburst from Kenan surprised Tror. There was a deep flame of passion burning in the old Dwarf’s eyes as he angerly sprang to his feet. Tror’s insticts caused him to react and face Kenan suddenly, leaving the timid Gror looking about as if he were an insignifican memeber, and indeed he was as soon as Kenan started to speak.

What Tror had expected from Kenan was the reassurance in their certain victory against the orc invaders, but what the old Dwarf said was of an entirely different matter. Tror couldn’t believe his ears. He was always under the impression that he and Kenan were friends but it was evident that Kenan held him as one who had never seen war: no more than an amature soldier! However, what Kenan said next drove Tror to a state of fury. Was he suggesting that Tror played a part in the death of Balin?

“Tell me, how do you intend to use this spposed surprise against the orcs, when we are so many?”

The first thing to do is to breadk your neck old Dwarf! Perhaps I could surprise the orcs by mounting your head on my spear!

“And how many is ‘so many’?” A women asked – then added, “exactly?” Tror snapped his gaze towards the next speaker, who chimed in with Kenan. Who was this lady who spoke as haughtily as a member of nobility?

“Do not interrupt,” barked Tror, “but seeing as Kenan has already set the example for cutting people off I shall set things right by addressing you personally, Kenan.”

Tror clenched his fist and took a step towards Kenan, some broken teeth might remind him that he was not even present whe Balin had died. His angry footfall was checked by Ori, who sprang infront of the angry warrior.

“This is not the time.” Ori whispered through his pressed lips.

Taken back by this gesture, Tror paused. Ori’s words saw their affect almost instantly as Tror’s expression softened and a look of intense agony enveloped his features. Hadn’t he, by his own words, admitted to Kenan that he had failled his lord? Kenan was right on that account: Tror had failled Balin, but Tror would not address that matter. It was a mistake to let his emotions get the better of him this situation. If you want to get these people through this act like a dwarf who know what to expect.

“You lose hope quickly, Kenan.” he said in a rugged yet subdued voice. “I always thought of you as a fighter.”

“What hope is there? Show me the hope in you plans.”

“There is no guaranty of hope in any of our plans!” Tror responded vehemently,regaining some of his pride and slamming his fist on the stone table. There was a short pause, the council had not lasted five minutes and already he was at his wits end. Tror sighed and rubbed his clenched hand in his other.

“Very well then, what would you have me do, most venerable Kenan.” Tror said this last part with an air of mockery. “If we are not to fight, then what? Flee as fast as our legs can carry us to the Hollin Gate? Even if such an attempt were possible, I would not stand for the shame that it would bring upon our heads?” Tror’s voice had risen in the last sentence. Try as he might he could not contain his fighting spirit.

“If you will not fight for me fight for the women, the children, and the honor that is ours as long as Khazad-dum stands. What is this foul rhetoric that I hear from you, Kenan? You speak of Balin with pride and honor, as you rightly should, but did he conquor and restore the great kingdom of our ancestors to live in fear? Speak no more of hope to us if you have none; do not infest our kin with the lies of the enemy. If I am deemed unworthy in your sight then leave me pressence and in a way fitting to yourself dispose of yourself, but if not, then shall I proudly fight by your side as one who is willing to scrafice his all for the glory that belongs to this great city.

“I am no Balin, but who among us can ascend his lofty mountain of leadership? Already I have made faults, but I also have faith in our survival. I know your qualities, and they are many, but if we are to survive I need Dwarves who are ready to fight with me.” Tror paused to see if Kenan was going to respond. He wondered if any of the council had noticed that he had evaded the topic of what his plan was, in truth he had only vague outlines on what to do. Instead, Tror hoped to rouse some of the old spirit that had died with Balin. Tror looked back at Gror he was anxious to get back to the actual planning of the battle. Such outbursts wearried him or than any fight ever would.

[Boromir88]

Gror acted as if he paid no heed to the outburst and simply continued. Although he did take note of this dwarf, Kenan. Gror was always taught if you have a problem with your leaders, you discuss it in private, and to publicly speak out against Tror at this time is unwarranted.

"Well, sir, I had spotted the army not a day ago, following up the Silverlode, as I headed towards the mountains. My hope was an army as large as this one would be slow moving and I could get here in good time to give sufficient warning. However, with the advance party already reaching the gates, my guess is we have one hour, two at the most, before they're on your doorstep."

He felt like adding, that means we can't sit here and squabble with eachother, we must act fast, but Gror didn't feel like it was his place.

"I met a dwarf, Oin he said his name was, not long before reaching the East gate. He went ahead to get a closer look at this rabble. However, since he is not back, I fear whatever Oin has found out won't be much good now.

Oh...well I...erm...mean no offense to Master Oin. That is, I'm sure he has already found tons of information that would be useful knowing. I, well, just met...that it won't be good to wait around for his information. We have to make preparations immediately."

You were doing so good, until that trash spewed out your mouth! Way to go Gror! Now Tror will have to send you away. I certainly would, if I were him!

[Kitanna]

Kénan had been gone for sometime. The orcs had come up quickly and unexpectedly upon Balin and slain him. What was to stop them from doing so in a dwarf house? Kéni rose from his seat and went to Iari's room. He opened the door a crack to see that his sister was asleep and safe. Satisfied he returned to his seat.

He hated sitting around waiting for news. Especially when he knew his grandfather probably wouldn't share much with him. Kéni felt like pulling his hair out from this stress. If the dwarf colony was in serious danger he needed to know. He needed to protect little Iari from harm.

"If Grandfather won't tell me what's happening, I may as well learn it on my own." Kéni spoke aloud. Even as the words left his mouth and drifted to his ears he knew he was being irrational. He had no proof Kénan wouldn't share the information fro, his council. Yet, Kéni didn't want to wait around to find out what Kénan planned to do.

He checked once more on Iari before leaving. He had every intention of spying on the council his grandfather was part of. As an able bodied dwarf he deserved to know the truth.

~*~*~

Somewhere in dreams Iari heard a door close. She twitched a little, fighting off her sleepy haze. The house was quiet. She couldn't hear the angered mutterings of Kéni or Kénan. Afraid that they had been attacked in the night, Iari got out of bed and wrapped herself in her blanket. She had to make sure her relations weren't hurt in the next room.

Empty. Kéni was gone and he had left his half finished tea out. "Kéni?" No answer. There was no sign of a struggle, so her brother had left by his own will, but where under earth could he have gone?

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

As he and Nîsa were walking towards the gates, Onli fell back into his thoughts and could not pay enough attention to the young Dwarven lass. He was thinking how to best initiate a dialogue with Trór as soon as they reach their destination. Trór was a warrior, like Dáin, but Dáin was still far more kingly figure. Trór was a completely different sort of person to talk to. Unlike Dáin, and unlike Balin, who was even further from being a soldier. But Onli hardly ever had to talk to the likes of Trór. He tried to remember any situation where he had to interact with any of these numerous generals, officers, military advisors, but he could not recall anything that might be of help to him right now. It was not the soldiers with whom Onli had his business. For him, all these fighters were good just for one thing: to clear the way for the merchants so that the trade may run smoothly and undisturbed. To clear the way for the explorers, so that they may find new deposits of iron, gold or silver and found new colonies. But it was completely unnecessary to deal with them - mainly because they also usually knew nothing of any importance. This had to change, though.

At one point, Onli's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sound from behind. Vriti! Onli smiled, pleased to hear that his pet had returned. Surely she had had enough of sneaking through the empty halls and came back again in search for Onli. But now, unfortunately, he had no time for her. There were pressing matters at hand. Nevertheless, it pleased him to know that she is around. Soon, he thought. Wait for me there. As if the ferret could hear him, the sound of her scuttling stopped. Getting away from his thoughts for a short while, Onli registered Nîsa standing still in the middle of the bridge, as if listening. He smiled once again. "Go!" he said, but before he himself started to walk, he tried to listen once again, too, if he could not hear Vriti scurrying behind them. But there was only silence.

They went on until they reached the gates. There, all of a sudden, the girl grasped his arm. Onli was about to shake her off, but at the same moment an orange flash flew out of the darkness and Vriti started to run in circles close around her master's legs. Onli almost started to laugh, but prevented himself from doing that, bearing in mind that there may be the guards and the new Lord of Moria nearby. He certainly would not like to bring himself in like that. Seeing however that Nîsa was still a bit frightened - he could almost feel her heart beating, as she still clutched his arm - he turned to her and smiled gently. For the first time, Nîsa could actually say that this was a genuine friendly smile.

"Do not be afraid," he said, smiling wide. "This is just my friend Vriti. Seems like she has been following us. Say hi, Vriti!"

The ferret was now sitting still by Onli's feet, looking up at the two Dwarves. She was turning her head left and right, inspecting them. Onli reached down and picked her up.

"Come on, you can palm her," he said, turning to Nîsa. "She is nice, are you, Vriti?" The ferret looked up at him, and turning her head to Nîsa, she sniffed. Onli smiled.

[Thinlómien]

"Na, ma'am, it's only me here now. I haven't seen Vyra since, well, since the festivities began. Is there aught I can do for you?"

"No," Vigdis replied bluntly and turned to go.

At that exact moment, she heard a lone high note in the air. It was followed by another, and yet another and many others. Together they wove a tapestry of sorrow, loss and remembrance, a force so strong Vigdis felt her legs go weak with it.

"Wait," she said, turning. Her voice came out as a whisper. "You can help me, if you will. Vyra - she's my friend - she keeps a bottle of rum in one of the knife lockers. If you could fetch it?" The girl nodded and disappeared.

Vigdis found a chair to sit on and wiped the corners of her eyes. Her sleeve was now moist. The music was still there, distant but still powerful enough that Vigdis had to keep her guard to stay calm. There was a soft thud of a cupboard being closed. Vigdis turned to the girl. She did not fake a smile, but her voice was uncharacteristically kind. "Oh, and hey, you may take some of the rum too. I'm sure Vyra wouldn't mind, on a day like this."

She paused and forced her tone to sound lighter. "And I have to add, you have a nice troubadour here to entertain you."

[Folwren]

“Who else would I have,” Kénan repeated to himself. “Someone with a less fiery notion of honor, or with more realistic view of what needs to be done.” He looked at Ori. “Yes, perhaps it was stroke of stupidity that caused me to stand up and say what I did, but maybe it will make people think. We can not have the element of surprise - that is too late.”

He lowered his voice even farther to a rasping whisper as the two dwarves’ heads drew closer together. “We must know where our enemies stand and what their number is, and we have to take true calculations of the risks involved. Trór is young and hot headed, aye, like me,” he admitted, “but I at least have more experience under my belt.”

Ori sat up abruptly and looked at him with a distrustful glimmer in his eye. “No,” Kénan said, shaking his head. “I do not suggest that I take command. That would be more folly than having Trór take it. But I suggest that Trór is careful.”

Kénan would then have gone on with what he thought should be done, but Trór raised his voice to address the whole council again, apparently to give his thoughts on the plan of battle.

[Groin Redbeard]

His eyes darted across the map, for the most part the ground was rocky and treacherous but not easily defended if outnumbered. He sighed in frustration and rubbed his beard above his lip. Where was there an opportune spot? The Goblins held their own many years ago in the great battle of Azanulbizar, but they had something he did not: a regular army. Every Dwarf in Khazad-dum could wield a weapon, and did so five years ago in the storming of the Dwarrowdelf, but most of them had gone back to a trade or went to seek riches in the mines and the army that he and Balin had commanded had shrunken to less than one hundred and fifty Dwarves. The soldiers that he had, were eager for military life and had been shaped into a force that would be formidable fighting force, but still nowhere near the skill of the elite group of Dwarves that he commanded at the Batte of the Five Armies.

The elite warriors in Khazad-dum consisted of a force less than twenty, most of them being a part of his old regiment. A few of the council members were among the few who could be considered up to his standard, one of these was Frar: a grand middle-aged warrior with a knack for getting the impossible done. Trór considered him a great friend, one of the few Dwarves who he could relate to, and in return he earned the loyalty of Frar. Even now Frar, who Trór affectionately referred to as "my old war hound", was quietly standing by. Trór could expect little to be said by his friend while the council lasted, Frar had no gift for tactics or strategy or diplomacy but when the blast of war was sounded he wanted this Dwarf by his side.

Hand still pressed to his upper lip, Trór's eyes lifted from the map to the Dwarves gathered. Ori was speaking to Kénan, both seeming very cross at one another. Although he could only hear the whistle of their breath and the deep tone of a syllable or two, he guessed that they were talking of him. He was about to rebuke them both for their quarreling, especially since when a commander did not give you leave to speak you remained silent, however, Trór gave one glance at the map and stopped still. There it was! The ground was perfect for holding against great odds, but it was far away and speed was everything now!

"Gaurd!" Trór blurted abruptly at one of the eight soldiers standing around the council. "Quick! summon the regular soldiers, not a moment is to be lost!" Have the Dwarves in battle attire and ready to march. Bring out the thickest hauberks and the sharpest swords. Muster them in them in the First Hall when all is ready. Do not stop for question or errand, save the one that you are on. Go!" The doors of Khazad-dum were swung ajar and the startled, but not stunned, the guard took off with two others through the great doors at the top of their speed.

Trór had spoken firmly and fast, though his posture assumed that he was at perfect ease. He turned back to the map and placed his two forfingers on it as if measuring a distance. Trór was now muttering words outloud, he tilted this and that way to make sure that his eyes had not deceaved him in his descision. Silently nodding his head in agreement with his conscience, Trór rapped his fingers on the table, folded his hands behind his back, and started to pace up and down.

“Gror, go to the map and tell me which way the Orcs are coming by. I realize that you are not familiar with the ground around here but I need to have an exact description of the Orc Army's march. Do you think you can do that?”

Nîsa

The scurrying noise had disturbed Nîsa and left her shaking even after the appearence of the stoat creature. Thank heavens it wasn’t a rat! Nîsa let go of Onli’s arm and stepped back. Somehow the Dwarf seemed changed, his expressions no longer seemed a facade of cheerfulness but genuine.

Onli gently picked the pet, which he named Vriti, up into his arms. What a curious creature. Why on earth does Onli suffer to keep that thing, unless... of course! He doesn’t have to argue with it, it doesn’t have to respond to his discussions; what a perfect companion for such a lonely wretch.

"Come on, you can palm her. She is nice, are you, Vriti?"

Nîsa smiled at this offer, and slowly extended her hand to do so. She flinched at the touch of its wiskers but hestitantly brought her palm across its neck and down the back. What a sad and lonely thing for a man to live with. Nîsa began to understand this grumpy Dwarf, who had to put up a wall of courtesies to keep anyone from getting too close to him: he was lonely, that was all there was too it (or so she thought). I wonder if he has any true friends in the colony?

Just then, there was a rushing of feet outside the door and a grinding of stone against stone as the doors were pulled open. Onli and her rushed to the side, hidden from the view of the oncoming guards. When they passed, however, the doors where left open. Vriti nuzzled Onli’s neck in his protective embrace as the three companions slowly peered around the stone doors to see what was happening.

[Durelin]

Kórin scowled heavily at Trór and did not listen to the rest of his words. The way he had snapped at her, as if she was the one wasting time! He was quick to anger and apparently slow to getting anything done. That did not sound like a leader to Kórin.

Trór’s sudden barking of orders broke Kórin out of her brooding. Just the regulars, eh? The redhead wondered how many dwarves made up their regular army. Still they did not know the size of the force they would be facing…

After giving his orders, Trór turned back to Gror and asked him for more information, apparently about where the orcs were coming from. Kórin wondered why he had bothered to summon anyone other than the military leaders, as this was more a briefing than a council.

At least the army was being prepared, and Kórin felt there was more work to be done in those preparations than here at this silly meeting. Much more. The dwarf rose to her feet, slipped out from the table and turned to leave while the doors were still open.

~*~

Kór had dozed off outside the kitchens, and at some point had slipped off his stool. He clutched his harp to his chest like a favorite toy or blanket. He was dragged back into consciousness when he heard footsteps approaching. Kór hurried back onto his stool and did his best to look less haggard than he felt. He nodded absently to the dwarf who strode by, entering the kitchens, though he was not even sure if they had noticed him off to the side.

Kór’s heart, along with his entire body, felt heavier than ever. He again began playing on his harp the melody to the song about the Lonely Mountain. Slowly and sadly, though it perhaps should have been a song to bring fire to dwarves’ hearts to protect what was their own. It was already a lament, maybe, that they would again lose their home to an evil force.

Kór absently listened to the voices in the kitchen, thinking it surprisingly quiet. Remembering that he was playing for an audience – at least he considered them an audience – he listened for any responses or acknowledgement of his music.

“…you have a nice troubadour here to entertain you."

Kór paused in his playing to peek around the door of the kitchens. He was surprised to see only two dwarf-women. Then, a little awkwardly, he rose and stood in the doorway, bowing a bit clumsily.

“A troubadour? Thank you, my lady. I have never received a better compliment.” Kór smiled slightly, nervousness tainting the pleasure he felt at being granted such a title.

[Groin Redbeard]

Loni was at his side as they drew closer to the table, and together they studied the map while waiting for Gror's response. Nali's mind was racing with the facts of the past. Texts from the chronicles of Erebor, many of which he helped write, were coming back to him now. Nali was reminded of how the Goblins held the high ground of Azanulbizar in the Great War near the very spot that they were standing on. The Goblins, however, were superior in numbers in that battle, and the place that they had held could easily be defended by an army that allowed itself to outstretch the lines of the enemy. Now Trór, as Nali guessed, had found a spot that could be defended by their small army. Oh the excitement of it all! No matter the peril, Nali was excited about the forthcoming battle. The historic significance of it all, it would be the final battle to keep the Orcs from ever recapturing Khazad-dum, he was sure of it.

Kórin had so silently crept away from the others that Nali barely noticed her leave. The old Dwarf caught a glimpse of her stealing away to the gates but made no immediate attempt to stop her until she could not see him follow.

“Fill me in on the council,” Nali whispered over to Loni. “It appears that my reluctant companion has left us. I’ll be back soon.”

Slowly, cautiously, Nali inched his way away from the table to where he would not be noticed, and stealthily sprinted after Kórin. Nali stopped trying to be silent after he had entered through the gates, it would be better if she knew he was following. The dull thump of his boots echoed off the walls of the First Hall and alerted Kórin.

“What is this?” Nali asked Kórin as she turned to faced him. There were still many steps between him and her, Nali stopped twenty paces away. He crossed his arms and firmly planted his feet evenly apart from each other, Nali had already shown humility in chasing after this rash girl. Nali, a noble of kingdom of Khazad-dum, was not going to be subjected any further to the whim of this women. Yet he did not scowl or speak haughtily to her, it was not in his power to force Kórin to stay and if she was going to stay, as he hoped, it would be of her own will. She would have to come to him.

“Thou hast not even heard the strategy of which I intended you to hear,” Nali continued. “If thou does not want to listen to the important matters that the council has finally come to, why did thou consent to come in the first place?”

[Groin Redbeard]

His words did not have the spiteful hatred that was expected. Kenan’s words were cleverly chosen, offering criticism while giving explanations for why Trór was mislead. Kenan really knew how to play his cards at the council; however, they were not the empty words of a diplomat. The old man had a point about the danger of taking the battle away from the gates. It was a risk that Tror was willing to accept, but was it his decision to make?

Trór took a good look at Kenan. He was old and experienced, and that meant knowledge in Trór’s book. The aged Dwarf also had grandchildren to take care of; that was a burden that Trór was thankful not to have. Perhaps Kenan was growing soft in his old age, thinking more of the children than on the outcome of the battle. Was the certainty of their defeat as inevitable as Kenan believed? To win, or to lose, would seal the fates of the unborn; even Ori who had been exposed to the worst battles of the age could not deny that the outcome of this battle would have far reaching consequences for Durin’s entire house. To lose meant the destruction of Balin’s dream. If so, Khazad-dum would never again be occupied by a Dwarf. Trór frowned and looked away. It was terrible to think of the uncertainty of war, much less the consequences of it on those who were shielded from its terror.

Trór’s gaze was focused on the ground. It could not true that he was seeking glory on the battlefield! His fingers itched to pick up his spear, to strain his muscles and feel the crash of his axe on an Orc’s shield, yes, he was anxious. Everything was so simple in war: kill or be killed; there was no need to think, only to do. He did not believe, however, in what Frar often said about death on the battlefield being the most honorable way to die. Trór believed that only the truly great would ever be remembered when they die; therefore, why go seeking glory in death? Everyone must accept death, but be diligent in holding on to life. To live for his people, to cheat death where it was so commonly found: that was the key, and Trór enjoyed doing it. He was not seeking glory in battle: death was calling him to do battle.

Death was his lifelong enemy, and Trór enjoyed the challenge of beating him again and again. Perhaps he couldn’t help it, but it made no difference. Fighting the shade of Death and his precursor, Fear, Trór was always strong enough to conquer the pair and to deal them out to the enemy. To be like a god –there was nothing like it in the world. Nothing on earth or in sea is so like a god on earth as a commander in battle.

“You make some excellent points Kenan,” Trór turned to face him. “Doing nothing is an excellent strategy. No my friend I am not mocking you. Winter is coming swiftly from the mountains and the Goblins will soon wish for the warmth of their caves. However, their dwellings are hundreds of leagues to the north and they will be hasty to gain our halls. Old Man Winter will be a great ally for us!

“I must disagree with you, however, on the matter of open warfare. The Orcs have held Khazad-dum before, and they know its weaknesses. We cannot rely on the secrecy as we did in the Second Age when the evil in Mordor swept across the lands. They might expect us to use this again as our strategy. The Goblins of Gundabad can be very cunning and they are not without their siege weapons. No doubt they will bring them to subdue us.

These gates are defensible, but it takes time to erect defenses, time that the Orcs will not give us if we let them hasten hither unopposed. No sir, I will not allow that! Balin’s death has hit the soldiers hard in particular and they need revenge. A fire burns in the heart of every one of my soldiers. Having the soldiers put on the defensive is very bad for morale, it might even be dangerous. Instead of slowly letting their flame die we should use this to our advantage, strike while their spirits are hot. No victory will be gained from my plans, but I can guarantee that it will be no defeat either. It will buy us valuable time.”

[Folwren]

“Revenge?” Kénan’s eyes flashed. His ire was woken again. He edged up to the table, drawing as close to Trór as he could. “Revenge? Is that all you hot headed stripling can think about? Act while their blood is hot? When they’re foolish and prone to stupidity, like you?

“By the great beard of Mahal!” he shouted, throwing his clenched fists in the air. “You say vague things like ‘no victory will be gained but we won’t lose either’ - what’s that supposed to mean? What good does it do to buy time if all our dwarves are off fighting while their blood is up! By my beard, you blockheaded numbskull - my blood is up, but at least I can think clearly! You’ll get us all killed!”

Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him back to his seat and a bubbling murmur of angry voices rose around the table. He sat fuming for a couple seconds and then he leaped back up to his feet. “No, I have something further to say! If we send dwarves out to fight the orcs, they’ll crush them like a nut in a nutcracker! Our diversion will be turned into a routing sport for the goblins, and we will be left with that many less dwarves to help prepare the gates!”

[Durelin]

Kórin

“ Our strength is in our home - within our city.”

Kórin reentered the council room as the old dwarf Kenan spoke again, his tone less harsh but no less passionate than before. She allowed her brooding over Nali to pass away as she took her seat again, and listened to the remainder of Kenan’s words. To go on the defensive was sensible, and certainly they would soon be forced into that position, but a part of Kórin felt shamed at the idea of hunkering down at word of the enemy.

Trór spoke next, at length, sharing his “plan”. Obviously Trór felt strongly that they should stand and fight with pride, but that was the problem: it was all about pride. He even admitted himself that going out to meet the goblins would not result in victory. Kórin could not believe what she was hearing.

Kenan, unsurprisingly, was quick to respond, his anger fully rekindled. Kórin’s eyes flashed with amusement when the old dwarf called Trór a “blockheaded numbskull”, but she could not bring herself to smile. Kenan was right.

Kórin prepared to speak, only to have Kenan continue with a final elaboration. But then she quickly cut in, also hoping to take some of the wrath Trór undoubtedly would feel toward Kenan onto herself. She had no desire to remain in this dwarf’s favor than anyone else’s.

“Kenan is right,” she began without rising from her seat. “You speak of your men as if they are children, as if you must allow them to do what they want or they will get upset! I think you speak only for your own desire for revenge, and this is hardly the time to only be thinking of yourself.”

Kórin’s heart beat a little faster as she awaited retaliation. She wanted to add, “but we’re wasting too much time with this nonsense,” but did not want to belittle what she and Kenan had just said.

[Groin Redbeard]

Yet again Kénan spoke out against Trór, this time with greater fervor than before. Trór did not understand. He had acknowledged that Kénan was right in his strategy and that it would be an excellent plan to be used after the Orcs have been put at arm’s length. Trór had thought that the temperance of the council was finally grasped by him. Why this outright hatred from Kénan? Kénan’s words cut Trór deeply. This was unprovoked hatred, and if this is how Kénan really thought of him than Trór knew what to do with him. The hounds of opposition were at full cry. That woman again raised her voice when she had no right to.

Must I always be denied my satisfaction after insults! These two are just saying it and the rest are thinking it. They say that I have sold my nation and my people to the hordes of the orcs if I go through with my plan; that I have sided with the mad dictates of my conscience over the sound wisdom of this council. My plans have no proper place in a council of fools.

“What is your name?” Trór asked in as calm a voice as possible.

“Kórin,” she stated proudly.

“Then tell me Kórin, why do you chastise me for speaking of my men as if they were my children? Are they not under my command? Are they not the very men who I have reared in the arts of warfare? Are they not the very men who I have fought alongside and watch them die? They are my sons as far as I am concerned, and do not speak so proudly to me, O naïve Kórin! What do you know of war?

“Have you ever seen a people that are so proud of destruction that they would ignore the advice of officers, and defy the enemy to do its worst? Therefore men of Khazad-dum, take pity of this city and of its people whiles yet the orcs are far away. Whiles yet the cool and tempered wind of grace blows over your faces, closer comes the filthy clouds of heavy murder, spoil and villainy. The orcs will be here at our doors before too long and then you will know what it means to fear. But if not, why for a moment would you risk to see the crazed and bloody orc with foul hands defile the locks of your shrill shrieking daughters, and your fathers taken by their silver beards and their most reverent heads dashed to the walls? The naked infants will be fitted upon their pikes, while the mad mothers, with their howls confused, do break the clouds! Is this what you hope to achieve? Do not take me in contempt, as if I were an ignoramus in warfare!” Trór was fuming mad. His breaths came in blasts threw his clenched teeth as he turned his hatred towards Kénan.

“I was willing to forgive your first rant against me, but seeing as you have not learned the art of tolerance, or grace, I will no longer tolerate your presence here or anywhere as a noble. Therefore, for the insults that you have bestowed upon me, the position of military commander and upon the most esteemed, and lofty, position of lord protector of Khazad-dum, I hereby strip you of your rank as a noble among my council. However, I will grant you the knowledge of my having decided to do what you have asked and keep the army close to our gates. This is not for your sake but for the sake of unity and to offer a sense of protection to the people, no matter how false that it may prove. Perhaps this will teach you to show more toleration for a peer’s opinion. I have nothing further to say, and neither do you. Go.” Trór pointed the out, and with a stooping head and crossed arms turned away from Kénan and walked back to the table.

His withheld tears blinded him completely so that he could not see were the table was placed, so that Trór gently bumped into it. The council had tired him more than he knew, he was exasperated, angry and yet sad. If Trór would have known that this was the foreseeable outcome of his summoning of Kénan to the council he would have rather gone to war blindly than to have risked that outcome.

Balin’s wishes for me to succeed him have been in vain! All it has done is to drive a wedge between his subjects. Dwarves should not fight when they were born to be brothers. Yet, it is already done.

“This council has solved little, go and summon the irregulars, as well as the miners. Defenses will be erected. I shall go with fifty of my men, and whoever else chooses to come, to find the approaching orcs, and to find Oin.”

You should not let your council under such circumstances, but time has been wasted enough. You have done much damage, Trór, and have hurt a once dear friend. Still, you may yet put things right with him. At the present you can put things right with her.

“Kórin, stay with me for a moment.”

~~~~~~

Nisa

She stood next to Onli as they listened to the angry words. Vriti was scurrying around in her pocket, no doubt scared by the commotion. How brave Onli must be to want to walk boldly into the midst of these dwarves. The very thought of Trór finding her here sent shivers up her spine. Onli certainly was much braver than she.

“That one speaking is Kénan,” Nisa said this in a whisper, pointing at the old Dwarf. “He is very proud and terrible when he is roused or challenged; though, he is decent enough when matters of state are not on his mind. Best be safe and stay clear of him.

“There is Nali’s brother Loni. I am afraid I can’t tell you much about him. Unlike his brother, he stays quite most of the time and is not too high in the opinion of the council. However, Ori was Balin’s great friend. Both were very close to one another.” Suddenly the speaking paused and a new voice was heard.

“That’s him!” Nisa gasped, “That is my cousin, Trór!” She was surprised at how different he looked. Nisa was always used to seeing him always mild mannered, and even though he occasionally frightened her with his temper, he was never as bad as this. It seemed to Nisa that Trór spoke persuasively, but she could sense a deeper emotion of hatred, of pure black hearted bitterness: there was no love in his speech. He dismissed Kénan from service. His anger must have been indeed great or blind for him to do something like that. A chill ran up Nisa’s spine, she didn’t like to see him like this, and definitely did not want him to see her.

“I must go,” her voiced cracked and shook, her tan face growing white. “I cannot stay here; I must leave now, Onli!”

[Groin Redbeard]

The old Dwarf winced as Tror rebuked Korin's question, he was just glad that Kenan was on his mind. Nali agreed with the first part of Kenan's questions, even if he did think that they were out of place, but the last part was almost an outward act of treason. Nevertheless, he felt split when Tror began to speak hotly against Kenan, Tror seemed like a youngster defying a father, yet Nali knew that his loyalty was with the new lord.

Thankfully, Gror had continued with talking instead of holding back from the argument. Nali could feel the majority of the council beginning to bristle at Kenan and Tror, the quicker that they got back on track the better.

Two hours is a very short time for a crisis so dire as this. Nali looked up at the stone faces of the gates and wondered if they could hold off, or possibly hide their great city as they they had done before when the Dark Lord enveloped the surrounding lands. He shook his head in silence, nothing happens twice, this meant war. He wished that Gror would be more precise in his explanation of the enemies host. A round about number would give the council a grasp of how to position their own soldiers.

[Folwren]

Kénan bristled with wrath as Trór’s words switched from furious accusation into words smoothed with honey. He spoke of honor in the same breath as he spoke of Kénan’s cowardice, or his disloyalty to the clan. Such speech left Kénan feeling cold and hot at once. What made it infinitely worse was that he had no chance to answer. The young ambassador, Gror, answered Trór’s original question of how soon the orc army would be upon them. As his answer went on, Kénan slowly sank back in his seat. His questions had no been answered, and a sense of doom was settling slowly but surely on him.

As he settled into his seat, he reflected upon what had passed. He had spoken out against the new leader before an entire council. It was an act upon which he could be called later to explain and apologize, and perhaps worse. His thick eyebrows lifted as he cast a swift glance at Trór, gauging the likelihood of such an occasion, and he doubted it. Trór was busy with the weight of war, and unless he intended to use him as an example now, he would probably not dig up the trouble again, if he could help it.

It was true, such a responsibility would not be an easy thing for any dwarf to bear, and Kénan knew that Trór was young and inexperienced and it would therefore hang all the heavier on his shoulders. This was a reason to both blame and pity the dwarf. If he were wise, he would listen to others, but whether or not he would was yet to be discovered. Kénan began to pay attention to what was said.

[Groin Redbeard]

There no response for a long time. Onli just scowled and turned his gaze to looking around the vast hall hoping to catch a glimpse of Trór. Nisa knew that her answer was not the one that Onli had wished to hear, but what could she do? She felt that causing this Dwarf to leave would make her burst into tears all over again, if Trór or Adela would not be with her than she better make do with what she had. Nisa plucked up the scattered remnants of her spunk and addressed Onli again, this time with a smile on her face.

"I'm sure Trór won't be gone long, but he might have gone to the East-Gate to wait for Oin or Ori, neither of whom have come back as I'm concerned." She had caught Onli's attention again but he gave nothing more than a blank stair. Standing, Nisa looked towards the end of the hall and back at Onli as if suggesting something.

"If you would like, I could introduce you to him. I'm sure that he wouldn't mind."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

"Why don't you try Kénan? I know that they are good friends and I'm sure he could grant you a better answer than I."

Onli scowled and turned his gaze to seek for the old warrior, whom, now thinking about it, he recalled to notice before in the hall. So careless, Onli thought to himself now, again with a burst of inner anger, though on the outside he tried to hold the immovable mask. So careless, it should have occured to him to ask that old Dwarf, these soldiers have always been one hand, whichever personality they have, they are all of the same sort; but Onli hardly ever paid attention to Kénan, there was nothing to gain from him. Perhaps these kids with him, perhaps, once they grew up a bit more, but Kénan himself was a quiet guy, aside from the big things and important happenings in the colony. Onli wondered if he actually ever spoke to him once during these five years. Nevertheless, he was certain Kénan does not have a silver piece of worth with himself. But now perhaps he could be of use.

However, after barely overlooking the hall, he realised he was mistaken; or then Kénan had already disappeared. Curse it, Onli thought, but at the same moment Nîsa spoke again. Onli looked at her, still perplexed, and it took him a moment to realise what she has been saying.

"I'm sure Trór won't be gone long, but he might have gone to the East-Gate to wait for Óin or Ori, neither of whom have come back as I'm concerned."

The first reaction of Onli's to her words was a bit of hope that he, after all, is not condemned to wander the empty halls aimlessly. The second thought was something like "as if you could not have told me earlier, you elvish eggs-laying hen". But he controlled himself enough not to make any move.

"If you would like, I could introduce you to him. I'm sure that he wouldn't mind."

The wheels of Onli's thoughts set on spin for a while again. He was not so keen on the idea of this young and naive girl bothering around, when he is to speak of important matters to the new Lord of Moria. On the other hand, Onli thought it might be useful to have her there after all: especially as his own relations to Trór were quite unprobed. Perhaps having his lovely little cousin around will make the arrogant warmonger a little bit more open.

He decided. Putting on his most comfortable and pleasant smile, he bowed and spoke to Nîsa.

"Of course, my dear lady. I will most appreciate it. If it does not bother you now, I will be most happy if you decided to accompany me. Perhaps seeing your cousin will cheer you up a little bit at this grave time, too," he added in an encouraging tone and beckoned towards the exit from the hall.

[Thinlómien]

The world must have had turned into mist, Vigdis concluded. It was all so hazy. But no, mist was not sharp and hard like this. This was a world of steel. A world of smudged steel, like the blades of unwashed kitchen knives...

Vigdis buried her fingers deep in her hair and pulled, not very gently. What on earth I'm thinking about? Have I lost my wits? But kitchen knives? I know, Vyra keeps a certain good rum in her knife locker there... That's surely something I need.

She headed to the kitchens, calmly rejecting thoughts of everything else than rum. Thoughts of sorrow, horror and vengeful hatred. No time to mourn now, no time to unleash my anger, she told herself.

When she entered the kitchens, she couldn't see anybody except one of the younger cooks, a lean girl with a distraught look. "Excuse me, but is Vyra here?" Vigdis asked, in an unnecessarily loud voice.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

When Lóni arrived at the council, he was at first glad that he did not come late. However, soon he had to face a shock: the dire news of the threat approaching them, and the most unsettling manner of the council's attendants. When Grór was speaking, Lóni looked at him with understanding and tried to look attentively to encourage him, just if the messenger looked at him. But when Kénan spoke, Lóni's mind became troubled. No, this is certainly no time to fall into arguing, he thought. Although he had to confess that Kénan's words contained truth as well. It was obvious that the Orcs have already struck a severe blow to them, and there was hardly anything worse that the approaching enemy could do to them.

Lóni rubbed his one undamaged eye. He did not believe that the enemies will be so many as to bring complete destruction to the colony. No, but it meant war. Again. Had it not been for long enough, Lóni thought, that I have lived in peace? For the last fifty years, he had not set out his foot into a large-scale battle. Since the Battle of the Five Armies, there were only the goblins when they arrived here, but they were not too many and could not stand a chance against the fiery Dwarves who, after all, were not as many either. But Lóni felt that something bigger is coming. Perhaps another full-scale war between the Dwarves and Orcs? Half a century is a long time, and Lóni thought he was lucky, so lucky to live in peaceful times for the time being. At some times in the past fifty years since the Battle of the Five Armies, Lóni thought he might live the rest of his life in peace. But he knew well that peace never lasts for long. He suspected that enemy will come, goblins again, or Easterlings. When Lóni was young and naive still, after the Battle of Azanulbizar, when the war against goblins was won, he and many others foolishly thought that it is over. Some had thought that it is over once and for all. The old ones knew better, and Lóni was to learn that too, when the news came about the death of the Dragon and Thorin Oakenshield facing grave danger at his very door.

Lóni glanced sideways at Ori. Curious, isn't it, he thought. It was Thrór and later his grandson Thorin who were the ones playing the main part in sparkling the flame of the greatest battles of our lifetime. And now, it was Balin again who has fallen; and war is upon us. And here, he thought, examining Ori's face and his eyes, now deep and dark, but as if with a glow of green light shining inside them; here stands somebody who is close to that lineage too, and also somebody who had been there. Like with many others he knew well, Lóni could remember vividly seeing Ori in the battle. And now, he will probably have the chance to see him again...

The young lass, Kórin, interrupted the discussion. Lóni was surprised to hear her talk. He knew her, but now he was unsure whether it was wise to bring her to the council after all. The air between Trór and Kénan seemed filled with tension already as it was, and there certainly was no need to bring more trouble to the council. When Trór stepped forth towards Kénan, Lóni was about to open his mouth, but Ori interfered, before the leader could do anything.

Lóni sighed quietly. There were Orcs approaching, and the matters needed to be settled. The topic, however, seemed to turn back to the important part. Lóni listened to Grór's words, and was reminded of Óin. Indeed, the all-time scout was missing. Lóni wondered, what was he doing?