The Halls of Erebor

Acceptance

The crowded barracks were filled with armour clad dwarves, some in heavy metal armour, others in boiled leather. All were rushing around, grabbing hammers, axes, swords, and bows, which all hung around the room on various racks. It was so crowded, Frin had to stand in between two racks of weapons to be out of the way of the individuals making their way to the front gates.

Eventually, the majority of the dwarves had left, leaving only an older greying dwarf, who's beard split into a fork at its end. Not knowing who else to talk to she approached him.

"Excuse me?" She said politely. "Who do I speak with about joining the guard?"

The dwarf stopped adjusting his leathers, turning to face her. He gave her a quick look over before speaking. "I'm sorry las, but you are too young to join us."

"Good sir, I can assure you I am of age." Frin spoke firmly.

"You don't even have hair on your face yet." The dwarf cocked an eyebrow, not believing her.

Frin felt herself grow slightly annoyed. It wasn't because he thought she was you but because she needed to explain herself. "Sir, I am Frin, daughter of Farin." She tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing the pointed tip. "I am confident I will never grow hair on my face."

The dwarf stood, gawking at her for a moment before collecting himself. "Forgive me." He said with a small bow. "Balin, at your service. It appears you will need to speak to me." He lifted his head. "First, I will put you up against someone of your size to assess your skills. I assume you have some skill with that blade." He gestured towards the sword on her hip. She responded with a confident nod.

Before leaving Erebor she'd been trained by various dwarven masters with axe, hammer and sword. When she was with the Elves of the Greenwood, she honed her skill with a sword. She was exceedingly confident.

"Good," he turned, sheathing a nearby sword. "Follow me." He led her out of the barracks and out onto the battlements which overlooked the valley between Erebor and Dale. He continued to the left of the gate to where the wall met with the mountainside. Just beyond the dark opening, was a massive room. At the center was a pit filled with sand and dirt, Frin immediately recognized it's purpose. In the space were a few racks of weapons, some made of wood, all for sparing. Inside there were only a few people. At the centre, a pair of warriors made their way towards the pit with real weapons in hand.

Balin led her down into the room, toward a couple of benches lining the pit. Sitting down on one of the stone seats, he gestured for her to join him. Situating herself beside the older dwarf, she watched as the two sparing dwarves circled each other, taunting one another.

"Do you actually know how to use that axe?" One said. His heavily braided beard swung as he shifted from foot to foot, a large hammer gripped between both hands.

The second dwarf, axe in hand, growled. His back was to Frin but the line of hair down the centre of his mostly bald head stood out. With a sudden burst of ferocity he lunged at the dwarf who spoke, bringing the axe down towards his opposition. The hammer caught the axe in mid air and they began to dance in a flurry of attacks and parries. Their movements were swift and difficult to follow. Frin decided to watch their feet. It didn't take long for her to anticipate the actions of each dwarf as they shifted their weight to strike or block.

"Don't worry las, you won't be fighting either of them." Balin's voice brought her attention away from the action. "That is my brother Dwalin." He pointed toward the axe wielding dwarf. "That's Kern. He is rough around the edges, best you avoid any altercations with him."

"Noted." She replied. "So who will I be fighting."

"Dova," he pointed to a female dwarf who was quite burly. Her blond hair was tied into a knot behind her head with two braids interlocking with her long sideburns with matching beads hanging on either side of her face. On her hips were two short swords, where she rested her hands.