Strange Kinships
The leagues of Eriador were long under the shadow of dark pines, but the legs of the dawi were hardy and filled with the vigor of ones who had just won a mighty battle.
Or a battle at least, thought Snori, son of Balor and ranger of Clan Siverhammer. It did not hold a candle to the Great War against the servants of the Four, the mighty battles of the age. In truth this land seemed strangely peaceful and unwary under the distant stars and the single moon like a sickle in the sky.
"Bah it's a wonder we do not fall over at the watch from sheer boredom of it all," he grumbled, not very well granted, he was still a young enough dwarf to have more gold than silver in his beard. It was plenty loud enough to be heard by the manling nearest to him, a stout fellow, as manlings counted such things at least, fel handed in battle and short with words at least until now, Barandir was his name.
"Well now master dwarf would you rather be having the perils of elder days than the nights or Eriador?" the dunedain asked, though there was smile to his challenge. "For myself I would rather live in this one a lesser son of greater sires than to risk the terrors of wars before the Great Enemy was chained."
"Great Enemy?" Snori perked up. He had never heard of one of Them being bound, not by any god or power, this must be some daemon or lesser thing.
The ranger opened his mouth, closed it and finally said. "Of Morgoth I will not speak in the wild lonely places with no more light than this," he motioned to the sputtering fire that seemed to be gasping on the still wet wood from yesterday's rains. "When we have a hearth between us and mayhap a pipe and a fine ale then perhaps it would be wiser to speak of such things without risking to call upon us some echo of his malice come down from the haunted hills..."
Manling foolishness, Snori was about to say, but before he could do to a older voice than his called out from the dark to his left. "Wiser than most umgi you are thn, don't call trouble by its name least you have a stout door to close in its face lad." Uncle Gumri must have had quite the night around the ale barrel to the handing out advice with only a little roll of a grumble to it
"Alright then tell me some other story of your Elder Days one that does not concern him whose name you fear to say," Snori said to Barandir.
"That is not so easy as you imagine, as the tale of the First Age is that of that the Elves call the Long Defeat, a war without hope an without quarter that only the Armies of the Utmost West could end onto the ruin of all Belariand that was once west of the Blue Mountains where you make your home." For a long moment he looked into the fire and Snori thought that would be all that he would say. Then he added, but we are in Eregion, that men now call Holin. Perhaps a tale of the House of Feanor would not go amiss, to the memories of those history so oft recalls unkindly, but whom by their lights served a noble cause? Them than started it all as my mother put it when she taught me the songs. The Edain would have found no Eldar on the western shores and only the slaves of darkness and for us there would have been no blessing of years or might or of wisdom were it not for the folly of Feanor..."
"This Feanor, he was a man then?" Snori asked already lost among strange names like a man like one floating upon a sea at night far from shore.
At this Barandir laughed. "No indeed, he was an elf, the greatest elf smith that ever lived, to his glory and to his sorrow."
"An elf was he?" Asked the dawi with an edge of familiar disdain "Figures that such a one would be thought poorly of. What was this 'noble cause' they served?"
"Feanor sought to retrieve the Silmarils, the Great Jewels which he had forged, they held the light that was before the Sun and Moon, the light untouched by evil, of all the works of the Children of the One these were the fairest and for myself I have not the tongue to speak of their beauty."
At that Snori was drawn short as one who seeking a familiar staircase finds a step to have vanished entirely and is left with a lurch in his stomach. "What did he do then when he found out that he was robbed this elf smith? Cried and wept and gnashed his teeth fiercely? Mayhap he made a verse about it?"
"No," the man replied darkly. "Song and verse were writ aplenty about the wars that Feanor and his seven sons faught to regain the treasure of their House, for good and for ill. There on sacred Taniquetil under the eyes of the Valar the Sons of Feanor swore besides their father thus as near as I can tranalte it into the Common Tongue." His voice seemed to change as she spoke the next words and a shadow to pass over the face of the moon and the stars:
"Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean
Brood of Morgoth or bright Vala,
Elda or Maia or Aftercomer,
Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth,
Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,
Dread nor danger, not Doom itself
Shall defend him from Fëanáro, and Fëanáro's kin,
Whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh,
Finding keepeth or afar casteth
A Silmaril. This swear we all…
Death we will deal him ere Day's ending,
Woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou,
Eru Allfather! To the everlasting
Darkness doom us if our deed faileth…
On the holy mountain hear in witness
and our vow remember,
Manwë and Varda!"
"You said the name..." Snori could find nothing else to say, shaken the souls of his feet by the words. He did not doubt whose name 'Morgoth' was.
World's Black Enemy, he knew it meant though he knew not where, it was as though the very syllables bled darkness
"It was Feanor who named him such and ever after so he was called," came the reply from Barandir, not in his normal tones upon the wold. "It seemed appropriate to speak it thence."
Snori nodded and did not speak for the remainder of the watch, but in the stilness of his heart he could not deny that was a grudge to remember. As pale dawn reached out its fingers over the sky he asked. "Did they live by it?"
"Lived by it and died by it to the end," the words were soft and sad.
OOC: Well here we are, just a snippet because I could not give a reaction to all the Tales of the First Age, but that seemed the part that would resonate the most with a dawi.