The Dawi in Arda (Hiatus)

[Skitzyfrenic]

Crack inbound.

XxXxX

Finrod's blissful life in the West was about to come to an end.

And, honestly, he couldn't be happier.

Sure, he had his lovely (finally) wife, Amarie. But no children, because he... was dead. Technically. Perhaps more importantly for Finrod, no dwarven friends.

The other Elves had good relations with the adopted children of Eru Illuvatar, but Finrod? Finrod considered himself to be their friend, and had long in his life made many friends amongst the Masters of Stone.

It was why they called him Felak-gundu, the Hewer of Caves, when he carved Nargothrond out of the earth.

But! Finrod Felagund was about to be resurrected to serve in a similar capacity as to Glorfindel. Further, as an enticement Amarie would be going with him. They could finally have children.

His charge?

To make known to the Valar the strange dwarves, not of the make of Aule, but of others.

Finrod couldn't be happier. More dwarf friends!

XxXxX

Finrod couldn't be angrier!

He gripped the stone table they were seated at so hard it cracked.

"They what? His beard?!"

"Aye, and so the Dawi went to war against the perfidious Elgi, so insulted we were," King Gatrim of Karak Drekfut pronounced with severity.

"Good," Finrod seethed, "I'm surprised the war ever ended, to shave what must have been a spectacularly mighty beard off like that? Unforgivable."

The dawi around him laughed and cheered him, having finally grown used to the fact that he was Noldorin, not... Elgi, and quite liked dwarves.

Felagund stroked his chin in lament. A small part of him was always jealous of the magnificent beards of the stout folk. To destroy such natural magnificence? Truly a sin.

He looked over at his wife. Amarie was bouncing their first child on her knee while conversing with the plaitling Princess Karstah.

The ancient elf wondered if his wife would like him with a beard.

"What's the matter, Noldor?" the Elder Bogrur asked him in a gruff manner.

Finrod told him.

XxXxX

This was the greatest gift he'd ever received, decided Felagund. It was too his luck that it was given in private, because an ancient (former) king like himself blubbering in happiness and gratitude was unseemly. Gatrim, the lovely dwarf, patted the bawling elf lord awkwardly on the back as he was hugged.

What a wonderful peoples.

XxXxX

Finrod Felagund, King of lost Nargothrond, wearing his best finery, did not walk to his wife. No, he strutted.

Princess Karstah had been most eager to babysit when he'd asked her to watch over his child when he revealed the reason.

Amarie was soon to be with child again, and Finrod needed to help her with that.

His wife turned, she gasped. She blushed. Finrod could tell she was weak in the knees.

She reached out and grabbed him. by. the. beard.

"Take me now, you pinnacle of manhood you."

The Re-living Ancestor Elf was very glad Rhunrikki Gutfroy had the foresight to place a Rune of Stone upon the main ring of his 'Make Hair into Beard' jewelry set. Going by how hard his wife was tugging, he'd need that extra toughness.

XxXxX

Finrod couldn't be happier.

His wife was pregnant again, and he'd started a fashion trend amongst the dawi women.

Life was so much better on Middle-Earth.

 

[thefoolswriter]

Master rune of mithril

Strike the first line of the rune with a hammer and chisel blessed seven times in the name of Thungni under the brightest moon in spring.

Invoke the name and deeds of Smednir with each blow of the hammer twelve times sing the glory of the warrior Noranduli Amberstone the unbreaking.

Temper with an old sturdy hammer inscribed with runes of fire and cleaving strike if the rune is undamaged add the powdered Mithril mixed with the blood of a rightly crowned king upon the final tempering recite the story of Grimnir battle against Glammendriing

Upon the final hammer strike, the rune shall burn for one thousand years and a night



thoughts on this guys

 

[thefoolswriter]

Rune of sundering

Break the works of the enemy thirty times over the rune with a hammer while reciting the grudges of the hold.

Destroy a finely cut ruby for each grudge incurred upon the dawi imbue the dust into the rune with three drops of a runesmiths blood.

Invoke the name of those who would wield the work of the runesmith melt the copper tablet Oath written in the invokeds blood pour into the rune with seven strikes the rune ignites

 

[Skitzyfrenic]

Potential Future crossover thingie titled 'DRENG' owing to a lotr chat for the Rings of Power trailer debut. Probably missed a few generations but Dawi lifespans are what they are:

The warriors of Minas Tirith rained arrows down upon the Orcs of Mordor ramming their gate. Yet the foul servants of Sauron didn't flinch from what was their duty, more than that, it was their purpose from the days when Melkor Himself walked the World.

To see the works of the 'Good' brought to utter ruin.

Yet the Men of Gondor were long descended from the Tall Men of the West and would not go easily.

And so the frustration mounted in Gothmog. He was so close.

"What are you doing, you useless scum," he hurled at his lessers.

One of his more useful subordinates came up to him.

"The door won't give. It's too strong."

Yes, thank you for the obvious, Gothmog thought viciously.

"Get back there and smash it down!"

"But nothing can breach it!" the lesser one countered.

Oh, yes, something could.

A whisper of a name, reverent, in his mind. What passed for a smile came across his face.

"Grond will breach it."

Gothmog turned back to another subordinate.

"Bring up the Wolf's Head."

XxXxX

"Great engines crawled across the field; and in the midst was a huge ram, great as a forest-tree a hundred feet in length, swinging on mighty chains. Long had it been forging in the dark smithies of Mordor, and its hideous head, founded of black steel, was shaped in the likeness of a ravening wolf; on it spells of ruin lay. Grond they named it, in memory of the Hammer of the Underworld of old. Great beasts drew it, orcs surrounded it, and behind walked mountain-trolls to wield it."

"Grond!" the orcs howled.

"Grond!" the trolls bellowed.

"GROND!" the army roared.

"GROND!"

Gothmog's elation, the warm zeal in his chest blossomed. The Hammer of their Black God brought to the world once again, carved in the likeness of His Wolf.

Yet.

"GROND!"
"DRENG!"

And yet.

Something was wrong.

"GROND!"
"DRENG!"

His army was full of cruel and stupid simpletons, but even they could carry a beat. A large portion somewhere was chanting on the off beat.

It was near maddening.

"GROND!"
"DRENG!"

That was when Gothmog heard the horrid horns and knew what was being chanted.

"GROND!"
"DRENG!"

The not dwarves. The so-called Dawi whose crafts came closest to the Master's.

"DRENG!"
"GROND!"

Gothmog began screaming orders. Where had his scouts been that he was blindsided by the Dawi Throng? Slain by their rangers, no doubt, while his scouts were too assured of their victory today.

"DRENG!"
"Grond!"

If Grond could just strike the gate, the day would belong to the Lidless Eye! Blast the Dawi for pushing into their lines, driving to the gate! They would interrupt the ramming!

"Grond!" *Boom*
"DRENG!"

Orange crested mad-dawi burst into the lines in an almost haphazard way, but Gothmog could see Warg tactics. Black smoke erupted from cannons and thundersticks, cutting deep into orc ranks. Mithril and Stone-metal clad Dawi crushed their way to the Wolf's Head with mighty swings of their hammers.

"Grond!" *Boom*
"DRENG!"

Then the foul magic-not-magic of the Dawi lashed out, and it was all Gothmog could do to not scream at the blasphemy as the holy magics of destruction were leeched out of the mighty ram.

Grond was no more.

"DRENG!"

And a mighty swing of an axe later, neither was Gothmog.

XxXxX

Queen Snerra, Daughter of Gotrik, Son of Snorri, Son of Karstah, Daughter of Gatrim of Clan Greatmantle sneered at the particularly ugly Urk head that rolled at her feet.

Did the Dumi try to make things that ugly or was it just happenstance?

 

[Skitzyfrenic]

Many Futures Theory: The Founding of Rohan

The Eorlingas descended out of the lands held by the Eotheod, not in anger, or grief, or fear. But rather with love for the many, many, many kinsmen they left behind and a desire to fight the Enemy.

Gondor had been struggling with Easterlings out of Rhun, and desperately needed help. So desperately that they dispatched messengers to the Eotheod.

Eorl the Young came with a full Eored, some seven thousand riders and a few hundred mounted archers. Behind them came wives, children, and families.

These riders rode forth with many gifts from ancestors and the stalwart Dawi, for the Drekfut Ankor and the Eotheod had long been friends. Fine Dawi mail, and sturdy weapons to split the foemen in twain. Scattered amongst them were a few trinkets that bore the magical runes of the Dawi. Eorl, himself, brought runed items of power numbering three, to mark him as kingsson.

A saddle known as the Gift of the Lord of Horses, bearing Runes of Warding, Fortitude, and the Master Rune of Passage. Granting the typically much loved horse that bore it protection, endless stamina, and the ability to not be barred by any terrain.

His half-plate suit of armor was the Friendship of the Dawi. It bore what the Dawi considered to be simple Runes of Stone, Iron, and finally Fortitude. It granted Eorl the strength of the mountain, and it's enduring nature. Allowing him to fight far longer than he had any right to.

Of the major items he bore the last was the most significant. A gift of an Oath upheld. A true gift, from King to King. From Honored Uncle to Favoured Nephew. A tradition kept within the royal line weaving out and back. A priceless weapon with few if any peers. The Son of Fram Dragonslayer, Gisilhári Dawongr was gifted the precious Gromril spear Fram's Resolve. The hide and bone of the dragon Scatha that had been recovered in the retaking of Framsburg had gone into it's construction. When it struck, it billowed fire, and all allies who looked at the story upon it's banner shared in the conviction of the Son of Frumgar who hunted a dragon for two years and then slew it by himself.

Eorl looked forward to gifting it to his brother-son, who would be king after Eorl's brother. The kings of the Eotheod who bore it were the greatest.

Finally, a trinket that he had personally earned. A spyglass marked with the single Rune of Farseeing. A turn of his spyglass to activate it and Eorl could increase the magnification of his device seven-fold. A mighty thing to have in war, yet one he desired that he may peer from Vale to Mountain and back, receiving childish messages from his friends upon the slope.

When the Eored came upon the Field of Celebrant, the forces of Gondor were struggling against two foes. Stopping only long enough to take a proper war formation, the Eorlingas drove into the Easterlings and Urki assailing the Men of the White Tree.

The foe was crushed underhoof and routed, slain and cut down as they tried to flee.

The leadership of Gondor asked Eorl for the Eored to protect the area for three months, whence the men of Gondor would return. Eorl agreed.

Three turns of the moon later, upon the hidden Tomb of Elendil, Eorl was fully granted wide lands to be king over, thus was sworn the Oath of Eorl in turn. The Kingdom of Gondor and the new Kingdom of Rohan would forever be friends and allies, so long as the line of Eorl persisted.

With great enthusiasm, Rohan was truly founded. Atop many hills, Dawi contractors built a series of sturdy forts in the style of the Eotheod, including golden Edoras in the time just after Eorl.

And to those Clans that aided his new kingdom, Breggo, son of Eorl, granted them lands in his mountains judged far above the cost of the work. Those Dawi are the Clans of the Kazid Ungor Bryn, greater friends than even Gondor, for it was there they found a wonder in the stone, and declared a Debt.

This was the story told to Theodred, Eomer, and Eowyn about the start of the Founding of Rohan. (And why calling the Dawi 'little people' was disrespectful, even if they were forgiven for being gazari)

This was the story told by Eowyn to the dwarf Gimli Gloinsson as to why there were so many Dawi in these lands on the way to the fortress Town of the Glittering Caves, who were more than willing to protect the people of Rohan against the forces of Isengard.

(Later Gimli would be one of the few non-dawi to live full time in the Glittering Caves proper, for he truly appreciated their beauty to the approving sniffs of the Longbeards. Even going so far as to drag his companion and friend (the elf) Legolas to look upon the beauty under the earth.)

A/N: Barely any Dawi, but iunno, it caught me.

Really just to show how close the Eotheod are to the Dawi in the future, because of Gatrim and co. It goes back and forth constantly. The Dawi are awesome to the Eotheod, so the Eotheod are awesome to the Dawi in this cycle of debts.