eachdraidh | Voice, Open

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Voice, Open

[ Grief, as deep as the sea, as endless as the sky. Pain, like sheeting ice, in the voice that speaks... and for those with ears to hear, a tiny, quiet envy and relief. ]

For those who knew them, the list of those freed from this world now includes the Lady Galadriel and her husband, the Lord Celeborn, their daughter, the Lady Celebrian, the Lady Idril, and Maedhros my brother. Also, the Lady Sif, who counted us as family in lieu of those left in her own world.

Their things are with me, but they left no letters behind.

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We have both lost kin eh? [ a soft sad huff ] To time, as well as to this place. Thank you, Gimli. You ground me.

I am a Dwarf. What else am I supposed to do?

[ A wet sounding laugh ]

My brother always liked your folk. He said they kept his feet firmly on the ground. It is good for us, I think. I am glad... that the fences between kindreds are mending. We need each other, I think. The Eruhin were made to work together.

...the what?

[Look, he knows you Elves. You need your time to be melodramatic but then it's time to move on.

And you lot use weird words and leave him wondering why Mahal didn't grace them with an Elf-to-Westron dictionary.]

Sorry. I should... remember that you are not Azaghâl, who was familiar with our tongue. Eruhin means... Children of the One. Of Eru, eh? Even if... you are children of His adoption, I... wonder sometimes... if he knew... because we have always accomplished great things together.

Hmph, I wouldn't go around saying that we are his children, adopted or otherwise. If you knew Azaghâl, then I imagine you also know of Mahal--in fact I believe your mother and the Lady Galadriel both implied that you knew him directly. The one who created us is a...touchy subject, for most Dwarves.

[ Another soft amused sound, a little firmer ]

And who else is Lord Aule, sorry, Mahal, but a child of the One as well? We all are, in our ways.

And I wouldn't go 'round preachin' that where my cousins can hear! Especially not if Thorin should ever return or Durin forbid my father.

Mm, the Lord Thorin did seem to ... eh... have very firm opinions on such things. I will remember.

Probably for the best. I would not want to see that fight.

[ A soft amused chuff ]

I fear it would not be much of a fight - I rather think the Lord Thorin would win handily.

[ maglor no ]

I have seen Elves fight. It would be much closer than that.

Perhaps, and perhaps not. It would depend on a lot of things, I think. But the dwarves are a strong and doughty race. I remember how Azaghâl and his kin were the only ones who could stand against Glaurung!

Who? That is not part of the Longbeard history, this Glaurung.

No, I suppose it would not be! Azaghâl was Lord of Belegost in the Blue Mountains in the first Age - I think they were... Broadbeams, or Firebeards, I forget. Glaurung... was the Father of Dragons. Morgoth's greatest creation. He was wingless, and not so great in size as Ancalagon the black, but his flame and armor we had no defense against. And he was cunning, and very cruel.

[Well, he knew the name of the Dwarf, but not the dragon. He makes a soft noise]

I see. I am assuming the Dwarves defeated him, or at least helped?

[ Maglor's voice has gone sing-song, the lilting tones of the storyteller (his eyes are blank as he walks in memory Ah the fires of Lothlann!) ]

None could stand against him when he came, for we had no knowledge of dragonfire until then, and he burnt the fields and plains before him, and scattered beast and soldier alike. In the Nirnaeth Azaghâl's folk were prepared, and they wore armor that could take his flame, and they ringed him about and drove him from the field, but Azaghâl he crushed beneath him as he went.

Ah.

[He remembered learning that Azaghâl had died in battle but not doing what. He fell asleep a lot in that class]

Always the king must fall to the dragon.

To dragon claws or the whips of Balrogs... tis true, that the Kings of the peoples of Arda have often fallen afoul of the Enemy's soldiers. But not all.

Far too many, all the same.

Even so. It seems a dangerous profession, eh? Why I suppose only the great lay claim to it.

The great or the foolish. It depends on the teller of the tale.

Perhaps there is not much difference between them in the end. Foolishness might bring greatness also, in its wake. And who can say if what seemed foolish is not, at the time?

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