Of Dwarves and Men {Boromir/LOTR}

Chapter 5: Kingly Gift or Courting Gift?

Chapter 5:

Kingly Gift or Courting Gift?

The Mines of Moria are what you can expect: dingy, dirty, and musty. On top of that, the occasional scenes of previous battle litter the ground in shapes of ivory bones and crushed iron. It is a scene unbecoming of a growing relationship between the Fellowship, but most significantly, Boromir and myself. Indeed, our short stints of conversation hold none of the hostility of before, but cordiality, as if we are newly acquainted, not old enemies.

In response of the recent action, Boromir seems determined to watch my progression over a precarious bridge within the bowels of the mining town. And what I mean by "watch" is silently gaze upon my back, hands open so as to catch me at any moment. All of this, I take notice of and reprimand Boromir for. I am a woman of great skill, not one to fall over the side of a mine's stoneworking. That would be the hobbits.

"Quietly, now. It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence will go unnoticed," Gandalf informs us in his typically wary tone, nodding our heads in response. Seeing as we've been traveling for some time, I do believe a multiplicity of hours have passed since our entrance to Moria. But as mines work, I have no ability to tell the time at the moment. It could be midnight and I'd think it's elevensies.

From the mines, our worn path of great iron workers and Mithril miners travels into a cemetery of dwarven heritage. And though any race of slight morality would leave the dead to their eternal peace, goblins are far from humane, having strewn the skeletons from cavern end to the other. In addition, the more recent deaths of dwarven warriors seemingly led to the graffiting of the graves with thick red blood. It is a sorosome sight, indeed, but one that truly illuminates why we fight Sauron.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold...or jewels..." Gandalf remarks from his role as line-leader, ahead of our bunched grouping in the cemetery and resting his hand upon a black rock of silver veinage. To his left, and with the wizard's bidding, I throw a ball of flame into a deep pit of great riches, yet terrorizing monsters. But at the same time, this pit is lined with ladders, an attempt to harvest the fruititous material of white silver. "...but Mithril."

"Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril rings that Thorin gave him," Gandalf mentions, following Pippin's save of Merry as he leaned too far over the cavern. Gazing past the others and towards a startled Frodo, I take notice of his state of unease, yet wonder at such a material. The hobbit is hiding something of greater importance than this storytime.

"Oh, that was a kingly gift," Gimli exclaims in pride of our king. His reaction is curious, seeing as he has little to have such arrogance in, as he is not of Thorin's kin nor part of his Company. But then again, dwarves are known to take pride in the most cumbersome and menial of things. Thus, I do not question his intentions.

"Yes! I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire," Gandalf remarks, prompting me to raise my eyebrows in surprise. Given that I read little in exchange for my warrior training, I have little knowledge of commodity prices within the realm of Mirkwood, the Shire, Gondor, etc. Indeed, I know far too much about weapons and far too little about monetary worth.

"That's your father?" Boromir questions earnestly, whispering his every word into my ear. I peek up at him from under my dark eyelashes, seeing his crouched figure that moves slightly behind my shoulders so as to travel gracefully and converse freely. In response to what may be my father's mention or the presence of a new found friendship, I smile heartily towards the man, who seems simply shocked that I have such happiness, nevertheless, that I can express it.