Son's of Dûrin

Chapter 1 - The Dancing Pony

The war of wrath, the battle for the silmarils was over. Morgoth the first dark lord of Middle-earth was defeated, he was vanished to the timeless void for all eternity, leaving behind the destruction of his war. The silmarils, that the battle had been fought for, were lost in the Sea, Earth and Air, and of which none could so far be retrieved.

This battle had devastated not only the free peoples of Ardà and Aman, and was nonetheless reluctant on the land, destroying the northwestern side of Middle-earth and the great land bridge connecting the two great continents, Helcaraxë. With this battle, both elves and men lost many of their kin but that was not so for the dwarfs. They, being selfish and greedy, did not fight in the war of wrath and from that action the Valar and High Elves of Aman made with them a deal. The dwarfs sent one of their most trusted and beloved craftsmen, of whom was named Garondil Axë, across the great sea to Valinor, were Garondil was to meet with Edwandir, the High Kind of the Ñoldor Elves.

"Ah, Garondil you have been long expected my friend." said Edwandir.

Ever since Garondil had stepped foot on the white shores of Valinor, he had been amazed by what he had witnessed. All the elves that he had seen were clad in spectacular robs of shining silver and gold, but Edwandir, High King Of the ... Elves was wearing silken cloth, the like of which Garondil had never set eyes on before. In fact, no dwarf had even stepped foot in the undying lands.

"Greetings laddie." replied Garondil. Trying to think of the most polite manner to speak in.

"The hour is late, and now you have arrived. Welcome to my halls, Garondil, for you are the first dwarf to step foot in my house, may your stay be plentiful and gracious. You are free for today, you may explore to your heart's content, Dinner is at seven, I trust you'll be there. Farewell." explained Edwandir.

"Thank you." Garondil said as he bowed low.

***

'Twas about mid-Day, the sun was shining over the far green country. As Garondil looked out through the white marble pillars he saw Edwandir's great city, blinding in the sunlight it was, blinding but nonetheless beautiful. This city was surrounded by the Mountains of Manwë, Valar of the air, his great eagles could be seen far and wide, sweeping over the land in majesty. For the time being, Garondil roamed around, seeing what he could and speaking to who he may, yet he was also very cautious with his whereabouts, if he took one wrong move, things would end in not such a pleasant manner with the elves.

Since it was lunch time and knowing dwarfs, they tend to like eating. Garondil dawdled along, hoping to find himself an inn or tavern in which he could sit back and enjoy what time he had in the lands of the west. The Great Clock had just passed one and he was still in the desperate search of somewhere to eat, and just by his luck he stumbled upon an inn called The Dancing pony. As he entered the inn, many eyes were lain upon him in interest and curiosity, as none in the west had set eyes upon a dwarf before. They were somewhat interested by what he was but nonetheless frightened of his stature and presents. Garondil trotted over to take a seat, which he struggled to reach, being as short as he was compared to the elves, and was thinking of what he would delight in eating. He finally thought that he would try what ever they had to offer and at once called for service.

"Oi, could I get some assistance over here" exclaimed Garondil.

"I'll be right over, won't be a minute." said an overly enthusiastic voice.