[Amanaduial the archer]

"We have news, your Majesty!"

The great double doors at the far end of Dain's stone hall flew open dramatically as a flustered courtier burst in, a scroll crumpled in one upheld fist. Dain, seated on his throne at the other end of the hall, surrounded by three advisors, rose immediately, his bushy brows lowering and meeting in the middle like a malevolent caterpillar. His hands gripped the arms of his throne as he glared icily at this intruder upon the ceremony of his courtroom.

"What is the meaning of this impudence?!" he bellowed. Courtiers quailed.The advisors each made the well informed choice to discreetly take a few steps backwards. Nearly one hundred disapproving glares settled on the dishevelled individual at the end of the hall, framed stoutly in the arch of the huge doors. But the dwarf didn't seem put down; he gave the scroll another wave as he continued.

"But your majesty - this news is from the company of Balin!"

Immediately Dain's countenance changed as his eyebrows shot up, azure eyes wide in surprise. Around the courtoom, a murmur rippled like wildfire, and even the advisors exchanged shocked looks; it had been over two months since the last word from Ori. Dain had to raise his voice over the rest as he beckoned the dwarf hastily, clearing his throat which at first had not yielded any words.

"Well, come on then, man! Tell me - no, tell all of us what they say!" he implored, settling back in his seat. The courtier paused nervously, then faced the courtroom, half turned to the king but allowing all to hear, before he cleared his throat and smoothed the scroll, holding it ceremoniously in front of him. As he began to speak, his deep voice reverberated solemnly around the stone walls, the nervousness swallowed in the accoustics.

29 Ormenel 2989

From the company of Lord Balin son of Fundin to King Dain Ironfoot of Erebor.

"Yes, yes, get on with it..." Dain muttered impatiently. The courtier gave him a nervous glance, then continued. Dain settled back and let the words flow over him, closing his eyes, his fingertips pressed together in front of his bearded face.

My Lord and King Dain,

We have made it to the gates of Moria! The great kingdom, and all the treasures within now lie within our grasp, the grasp of our company and hence of Erebor, for this kingdom will once again be reigned over by the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain.

Ori keeps track of all of this in his diary - a large, leather bound journal. He is the one to chronicle our progress and when we return, you can see all that we achieved, for he seems to write in the minutest detail. Until then, my King, I shall not report every detail to you, for other things must take presidence at the moment: in the morning, we intend to cross through the Great Gates, resplendid in their ancient glory, and the image of what they will become under our rule!

May your anvils resound and your fields be plentiful.

Ever your servant,

Balin, son of Fundin.

Dain smiled to himself, opening his eyes as the narrator finished with a slight flourish on Balin's name. A sigh rippled around the room and once more the murmuring of the courtiers swelled up as each imagined what they would tell their grandchildren - imagine, that they were there when the arrival of the great Balin to Moria was announced! But the reader was not finished yet, it seemed, for he cleared his throat and began to speak again, over the rest.

"No, that is not all - your majesty," he added, hastily, with a nervous glance at Dain. "There is more, although it is in a different hand-"

Dain sat up slightly. "A different hand?" he inquired sharply. "Flowing, elegant?"

"Indeed, majesty," the dwarven courtier replied, surprised, as he glanced down at the scroll, then he cast a more appraising look at it. "My, it is fine indeed - and if it doesn't seem to be written in elvish runes!" He cleared his throat, peering at the letter as he opened his mouth to interpret the runes to the room in general, but Dain stopped him, rising sharply again with speed far beyond his age.

"No. No, I think that this part may be for myself," the King replied, stepping forward slightly. The courtier looked slightly put out, but covered it quickly as he nodded, slightly puzzled, and handed the scroll over to his King, bowing. Swelling visibly with pride, he sauntered back through the hall to his place, standing beside the rest. The dwarves tried to cover their excitement, but those closest began whispering to him excitedly, and others joined in, while the narrator bathed in their attention as others even began to leave their places to come closer.

But Dain didn't even seem to notice as he scanned Ori's smooth elvish script. He had expected the whole letter to be from his young friend and correspondant, but now he saw why Ori had chosen to write afterwards, and in a more secretive form. The young dwarf had always written well in elvish runes as well as dwarven, and even seemed to prefer them, whilst Dain had taken an interest in languages when younger, finding them useful for both politics and trading with other nations, as well as being something to occupy his sharp mind. These things went together well and made for a perfect way for the pair to communicate more mysteriously without the aid of anything as obviously secretive as an actual created code or cipher. As Dain scanned the letter, he realised why Ori had chosen to write like this, latching onto odd words and phrases.

Decrepit....

...the Great Gates are crumbling and worn...

I know not how we will manage to breach the gates if anything does indeed reside within, for the high walls (unusually high for a kingdom of our people) are dotted with holes....and I fear something...does reside within...

...I fear Khazad-dum may already be crumbled beyong repair...

Dain sighed slightly and turned quickly to face his chaotic courtroom. "Fetch me that raven!" he bellowed. "And clear this room!"