Bearded

Bearded - Chapter 1

Tiny sparks flew about and pierced the gloom. Gudrun paused in her rhythm and smoothed her beard, making sure it was fully tucked into her leather apron and ensuring that her dark hair was packed under her leather hat. The workshop reverberated with hammers striking iron, such that she did not at first notice the commotion outside. Then one by one, the hammers of her companions fell silent as all thought of work was cast aside. She too ventured out to join the throng of people on the pathway outside. The snippets of conversation soon knitted together; a raven had arrived for the King under the Mountain. Word was that Gimli, son of Gloin was to return soon and there would be a feast day.

Well, that's useless. When is 'soon'? Today? This week? This month? Obviously, those who needed to know, knew but by the time rumours filtered down to the likes of her they were all but useless noise.

"Gudrun, you two were friends, find out what's happening."

"Yes, that's right 'Oh Gloin, you might not remember me, I sucked off your son a few times about twenty years ago, what's the word at the forge?' I should say that, should I?"

Trug never hesitated to tell Gudrun when she was wrong, so their silence spoke to the truth of the objection.

Close to a year and a half ago Gimli and Gloin had been sent out to seek counsel from the Elves. The matter was fiercely debated at length, but all who had seen the Black Rider at the gates of Erebor and heard his demands had been extremely shaken and eventually conceded it was now the time for such desperate measures.

Of course, it was out of the question to consult with the Elves of Mirkwood. That forest lay so much under Shadow it was rumoured that the Elves there were now under dark control themselves. Not that it would make much difference. They had always been dark creatures. Dwarrow were not fooled by the singing and laughter like bells. Her uncle had been friends with one of those imprisoned by the Elvenking and there was not a single Dwarf under the mountain who did not know of the treachery of the Elves. True, the Elves had fought alongside them, but it was to save their own smooth skins, not for honour, for if Erebor had fallen, the Enemy would have been at both flanks, with Dol Guldur to the South a source of pestilence.

Gloin had returned alone and the meddler Tharkûn had apparently led Gimli on some sort of journey together with Men, Children of Men and Elves. Gimli was the only Dwarf. She hadn't really understood what was happening but when war reached Erebor she had done her duty. Then news came that the whole war was ended, and Gimli yet lived. News came that the reclamation of Khazad-dûm had failed, and that settlement had been lost to the last Dwarf. Thorin Stonehelm had been crowned King Under the Mountain in a sombre ceremony which had served as much as a mass memorial as a coronation. They were saying it was now 'a New Age' and that there was a new king of Men. Emissaries had been sent to the coronation and returned. Apparently Mirkwood was now 'Eryn Lasgalen' and no longer filled with evil. It would take more than just a change of name to purge the evil of those woods.

Life settled back into its usual routines. There was talk that in Gondor Dwarrow were to be called to repair the damage the city had sustained during the war. Gudrun was not the travelling sort and being in a Mannish city did not appeal. She had heard foul tales of how Men dealt with women. All dwarves knew that those with the gift of Mahal, those who could bear young, were always to be referred to as 'he' when dealing with Men. She did not feel kindly inclined towards keeping up that pretence for months or even years while working in close contact with them. In fact, Gudrun had been thinking about children. She was not craft-wed and had not found her One, but the thought of bearing children was becoming more and more appealing. Since they were so few, as a Dwarrowdam she could have her pick of partner, really, with whom to bear young. The ideal would be a love-match, but all understood that it could also be a practical arrangement.

She had thought about approaching Gimli when the news came that he had survived. Not that she had been keeping her forge lit for him for all these years but because it was a sensible arrangement for them both. He did not have a One and even if he had met a Dwarf on the journey, it would be years before the courtship ended. Often, they did not mind sharing. They had got along well enough. Don't lie, Gudrun, you were very compatible, and he was a generous and attentive lover. His clever tongue. Gimli was the life of the ale hall and he had enjoyed her company too. He was well past the age Dwarrow normally found their One, perhaps he was craft-wed as a warrior, in any case he was not the type to be overly sentimental about the matter. He would be thinking about children also. He was a 'Hero of Erebor' now too, like his father, so he did not need to worry about making political connections or raising his status but if he wished to wed another he could do so. She just wanted a few children with him. That was not too much to ask.