She dreams of Golden Hope

She follows and treads on my dreams

„HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths, enwrought with golden and silver light, the blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams." He wishes for the clothes of Heaven- William Butler Yeats

The young dwarf did not raise his head. He was so absorbed by the tale the book, that lay before him on the law wooden table, detailed that he did not perceive the sonorous 'thud' of the door, as it was shut after the entry of an elder looking dwarf. The young, dark-haired, focused dwarf only looked up with his features, that were still round with the softness of youth, when a dark, heavy shadow settled upon him. Disconcerted, with his heavy brows furrowed and his aquiline nose scrunched almost comically, the young dwarf looked up from the story that had ensnared and captured his infantile interest and looked upon the new arrival who had stationed himself between the chair the young dwarf was perched upon and the tall, imposing archway leading to a balcony that overlooked the vast, rocky plains below the Lonely Mountain; in its midst, from this distance miniscule in appearance was the city of Dale, which's bright and colorful markets would have to be bustling with activity at this time of day.

As the young dwarf looked up and saw the impossing and sturdy silhouette of the individual stood before him, his grey-blue eyes widened momentarily with surprise, before he proceeded to rise, as quickly and with as much grace as he could muster to stand before the elder dwarf, a sight of solemnity and respect befitting the station his elder occupied.

Eventhough he tried to keep his features cordially neutral the young dwarf could not conceal the glint of infantile delight that had sparked in his eyes the moment he had looked upon the sturdy, majestic form of the elder dwarf, clad befittingly in a heavy, flowing overcoat of white fur, making the man appear wider, bulkier and more imposing. His armour glinted golden beneath the heavy, unmarredly white layer. His features were weathered and hard, almost appearing to be made of stone in its severity. His eyes were of a pale blue that seemed faded, worn away with the long decades this dwarf had spent of this world. Eyes, hard and indifferent, that told of all he had experienced, the sights he had seen, a vast range of different landscapes. Sights that ranged from lush green, rolling downs to barren, deserteous wastelands. Landscapes of ethereal idyllicness to ones that almost seemed haunted in their desolation. His eyes told of diplomatic discussions, of fierce battles, of fields aglow with fire and bustling with a mass of writhing bodies of warriors, as they thrust and parried their weapons, moving in an intricate, almost synchronized choreography of violence, brutality, and of bloodshed. His pale, hard eyes spoke of the bloodshed he'd had to witness, of his loss of friends, loved ones and comrades.

The young dwarf bowed lowly, in a gesture of respect, before righting himself and silently awaiting his elder to adress him. "What are you doing, Thorin?", the elder dwarf, who held himself in an intimidating and proud posture, befitting that of a mighty dwarf lord, asked.

"I have been reading about the Cuivienyarna, the awakening of the elves, Gamul Khagam. The first three pairs of elves were awakened by Eru Illuvatar near the bay of Cuivienen during the year of the tree in the First Age.", said Thorin with a childlike pride, wishing to impress the man before him, whom he had a reverence to which only resembled the reverence held towards idols.

Yet, the elder dwarf seemed just as indifferent, as he had looked previously, unaffected by his grandson's antics, which would have brightened the darkened demeanour of any grandfather with the affection generally Held for their legacy. With his dark, raspy voice, the elder dwarf asked Thorin, as he looked upon him, with slight disapproval, which was not missed by Thorin, who cringed in response to his grandfather's expression: "Do you believe this is a wise use of your time, Thorin? Reading about elves and daydreaming? Do you believe that this is what is expected of the crown prince?"