Lady Red Cloak

Silenced By Gold

A few days later

"I'm afraid, my dear, that our king's hatred has stretched to the entertainment business. He has banned all half races from, well- performing" the guilt in Balin's eyes shone brightly, almost as if he was about to cry. None of this was his doing, he'd kept this burden of a secret for 80 odd years, and knowing him – he'd keep it for 80 more! Someone must've told him of my work back home or else he wouldn't notify me of the change...I'd never voiced my desires to join the court because I was never sure how it would settle in a family of swords and axes

"I see. So the bigotry begins " I nodded slowly letting my hopes slip down my throat swallowing away the agony – I'd never be a true bard in the court of Durin, something that I'd always been told was in my reach. It was doubtful that I would've been more accepted in the elven courts due to my height, but this stung a little due to being the kin I was raised amongst. Growing up, originally there had been quite a few issues with my appearance in comparison to other dwarrowdam, but I never had to compete for my voice nor my imagination

It was around my teenage years that I fully took in that I'd never meet the beauty standards of my race...either of them. On one hand, I was not stout or strongly built with a magnificent beard to match, on the other, I was short in stature and my ears resembled a spoon rather than a knife...Balin would spent hours comforting my tears spouting that I was one of the most beautiful maidens he'd ever laid eyes upon, and that it was the inside that mattered. To him, it mattered none that I was a actually a dwelf rather than a dwarf and part of that was instilled in me - except now it felt like it mattered more than in the blue mountains

My body seated itself on the stool by the fire as my hands plucked up a small dwarven axe that had been leaning against the fireplace, the wetstone grinder at the ready for when the blade was place gently against the surface. That horrible sound of metal scraping away hummed throughout the main room which Balin took as his signal to leave, usually it was a bad sign when I turned to the forge for comfort - it confirmed that whatever was lost, meant something very dear to me

"So, how'd she take the news?" The sound of my father's gruff but unsure voice sounded from just outside the door, never daring to enter the vicinity not knowing how to properly comfort the situation - his brother had been the one who'd always coddled my downfalls when Dwalin wasn't around. He could manage the easier things like simple holding but when it came to deep felt inner wounds that had been built up overtime...no words came to him, or at least none in his mind that would be worth trying to console me. It was the fear of worsening the situation that kept his silence present although Balin could occasionally coax him to face the beast that was his woeful kin

"...She has begun grinding axes" Balin's tone had dropped to one of understanding yet still holding that hint of guilt, I loathed that my mood caused the entire family to fall into a shadowy place. Dwalin and Balin could continue their professions and would've done so without a moment's hesitation if I'd just hid my reaction a little better but even though.. I fear they would've known. Dwarves always know when something is being hidden, maybe its how our taste for gold had adapted over time?

Now and then, my fingertips would catch the edge of the grinder causing my hands to pull back in pain and the axe would fall to my feet narrowly missing my toes. That's how I knew it was time to stop and find something else to do with my time here in our great homeland...but everything just felt so uncertain now, like one wrong move would cause my existence to cease completely even though that wasn't true. Once I cleaned the wounds and bandaged my fingers, I picked up a random book from one of the many piles by the rocking chair to notice just how many of them weren't of fables or stories of old; majority of what I could see were that of languages from all over middle earth

Someone had mentioned in the halls that there was currently an open position for court language expert, or as I liked to call it - 'linguistic'. All that was required was to write a long scripture in each one I was fluent or near enough so that I could understand most of what someone said when they visited - although I was done for if the person spoke only black speech. Books on such a language were almost forbidden throughout middle earth...almost.

I doubt such liturature existed within Erebor, I bet there was a merchant that roamed middle earth that sold more forsaken objects. It wasn't ideal, nor was it like the good little girl Baliln had raised in me - but let's face it, she wasn't making a whole lot of progress here. My kin wouldn't approve in the slightest but that could wait for another day, the remains of my present knowledge had to be demonstrated! For all I knew, there could've been a dozen other dwarrowdams thinking the exact same thing I was...

so it had to be tonight...