Everlong

10

And prosper they did, the halls in which were constructed housed them all and travelled further into the woodland around it, but also downwards too; vaulted almost, the staircases being made of sandy coloured stone, some straight others slightly curving downwards depending on where they led to. The corridors were much like those in Amon Lanc, stretching and long, high ceilinged and the pillars which were keeping the roof up were as beautifully carved out of stone as the rest of the palace. Unlike their previous home, the trees around them were very much part of the establishment too. Roots and boughs were nearly everywhere, the seasonal changes which travelled through nature, also travelled through here. In summer and spring the leaves and trees were a healthy array of colours; sharp greens and rough brown bark. In autumn and winter it was a different matter; orange and browns and eventually bare branches, even the bark itself darkened a little with the seasons. The new home in which the elves found themselves in, was a constant change in moods, atmosphere and abundance.

The river that ran through their new home, or at least underneath and connected by a trapdoor, led downwards to a mortal establishment. Esgaroth, the town built on the lake, beyond this town was Dale. Both were connected by the river, but the latter was basically neighbours to a mountain. Erebor.

Admittedly, Oropher may have had ulterior motives for moving, and it wasn't to put space between his kin and those which dwelt in Lórinand. Khazad-dûm and the dwarves which inhabited the mines were too close, seemingly. Escaped one dwarfish settlement only to be near to another. Back in Ered Luin the elves which were under Oropher's guidance didn't exactly interact with the dwarves from there.

Apart from Liruliniel, and often it had been wondered what bad habits she could've picked up from them. For the most part, she hadn't. Her manners were the same as ever, she didn't use foul language and she definitely didn't use any of their language or terminology; the former would be a huge taboo considering how private dwarves were over Khazdul. But, she had spent time with a smith, Bodur, the smith had naturally been well equipped with using the weapons he made and, well, he had no qualms about humouring at the time, a very young and impressionable elf-child.

From memory recalls, Bodur had a brother, Ralgor, and their father was called Rudír. Why Liruliniel was taught who the rest of his family were, she never understood. But she had told him of her brother and her father. But, anyway, the weapons which the dwarfish smith made were of course, for dwarves, far too heavy and big for her, even if she could lift them. Elves were strong, perhaps not as strong as dwarves, but stronger than mortal men. He may have not allowed her to physically get her hands on a weapon, but considering he saw how much she wanted to know how to fight, he had made her a training sword.

And it was this simple little wooden sword that Liruliniel now sat looking down at. She had progressed from those days, she had a real weapon now, an actual weapon; but it was strange to see the thing which had spurred her on. Admittedly her fighting style, and it was clear the more she was trained, had more voracity than tactful skill...not that dwarves and how they fought didn't have tactics, but they could use their stocky builds and strength against an opponent, and they were very resourceful. This wasn't to say elves weren't, but the fighting styles were as different as night and day.

So it came to be, and became quite clear, just what Liruliniel had picked up from the dwarves of Ered Luin, but it was something that didn't sit well. Liruliniel was used to not agreeing with those around her, it had become the norm, even as she grew up and said she could see oncoming things; no one particularly listened to her. She had such terrible dreams at times, so vivid she could've sworn she was there.

She kept quiet, she kept everything to herself. Training and fighting however, something that she clearly did in her own way, in her own style. The dwarves had never done anything to her, so why it was frowned upon whenever she spoke kindly about them, or even evidently fought like them, was beyond her. They all lived in the same world, surely they should all be friends and not enemies?