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piosenniel · 04-05-2004, 11:23 AM

Fordim Hedgethistle’s post

Haenir awoke early that day, like a child on the morning of a party. For weeks he had awaited their departure but now that the time had come for him to leave his room he found himself reluctant to prepare. For forty years this one small room had been all the home he knew, and it had been enough to him. High up the mountain, not fifty feet from the Royal Bed-Chamber, he had served the King Under the Mountain loyally and with love, but his heart now longed to see the world beyond the shadow cast by the Mountain, and to seek his fortune in no-one’s service but his own.

It did not take him long to get ready, as he had been following the same routine for most of his life. He dashed some cold water on his face and quickly plaited his beard before donning his armour. It was heavy

upon him, but he hardly noticed the weight. He put the few possessions he wished to accompany him on the journey into a small pack that he slung on his back. The last thing he did was take down the long, richly engraved axe that hung on two pegs just above the head of his bed. He moved to his door and took one last look back into his room before turning his back on it.

He moved through the long corridors and wide halls of the Mountain without paying heed to his route, for he knew every inch of this place as though it were an extension of his own body. Indeed, in the last few years he had begun to feel as though he were himself made of the stone of the Mountain, so used was he to living within it. It was this, he decided, that had finally prompted him to ask the King to be released from his service to the Royal Family and be allowed to accompany Durin and the others on this mad journey into the unknown. Haenir had heard the wild stories of riches in the East, but he did not fully believe them; he was not undertaking this journey for wealth – with which he was already well-provided – but for the possibility of gaining what had ever eluded him: honour. Of all the long generations in his family that had borne the axe that he now held in his hand, he was the only who had yet to do a thing of renown that would make him worth to engrave his name into the steel of the axe’s head. He saw this journey as his last chance at such honour.

When he reached the Great Hall the others were gathering to bid farewell to their friends and family. He stood by himself off to one side, impatient to get underway.

04-05-2004, 11:23 AM	#7
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Fordim Hedgethistle’s post Haenir awoke early that day, like a child on the morning of a party. For weeks he had awaited their departure but now that the time had come for him to leave his room he found himself reluctant to prepare. For forty years this one small room had been all the home he knew, and it had been enough to him. High up the mountain, not fifty feet from the Royal Bed-Chamber, he had served the King Under the Mountain loyally and with love, but his heart now longed to see the world beyond the shadow cast by the Mountain, and to seek his fortune in no-one’s service but his own. It did not take him long to get ready, as he had been following the same routine for most of his life. He dashed some cold water on his face and quickly plaited his beard before donning his armour. It was heavy upon him, but he hardly noticed the weight. He put the few possessions he wished to accompany him on the journey into a small pack that he slung on his back. The last thing he did was take down the long, richly engraved axe that hung on two pegs just above the head of his bed. He moved to his door and took one last look back into his room before turning his back on it. He moved through the long corridors and wide halls of the Mountain without paying heed to his route, for he knew every inch of this place as though it were an extension of his own body. Indeed, in the last few years he had begun to feel as though he were himself made of the stone of the Mountain, so used was he to living within it. It was this, he decided, that had finally prompted him to ask the King to be released from his service to the Royal Family and be allowed to accompany Durin and the others on this mad journey into the unknown. Haenir had heard the wild stories of riches in the East, but he did not fully believe them; he was not undertaking this journey for wealth – with which he was already well-provided – but for the possibility of gaining what had ever eluded him: honour. Of all the long generations in his family that had borne the axe that he now held in his hand, he was the only who had yet to do a thing of renown that would make him worth to engrave his name into the steel of the axe’s head. He saw this journey as his last chance at such honour. When he reached the Great Hall the others were gathering to bid farewell to their friends and family. He stood by himself off to one side, impatient to get underway.