Tears of Mirrormere RPG

[Thinlómien]

"Where is Óin? Has he not come back yet?"

Ori had been so deep in thought that he had not heard the others coming. He turned quickly to Trór.

"Óin has not come yet," he replied. Following a sudden impulse, he knelt down and bowed his head low. "My lord," he added.

There was murmuring and someone exhaled loudly. Ori rose up and eyed the Dwarves gathered at the gates. "For that is what he is now," he said steadily, "there is no doubt Trór is now our lord and we will follow him."

No one said anything. Ori realised they were waiting for him to continue. He resisted the urge to give the wry smile so characteristic to himself. "Of course, we will have no official ceremony to name him the Lord of Moria until we have let Balin to his rest and mourned him properly. For no one should think we do not honour him, or that we did not love him."

His voice broke a little by the last words but he held his expression calm. There was still a silence. Ori could feel a tear running down his cheek. He wiped it to his sleeve. The time for mourning a dear friend would come later, he promised himself.

He turned to Tror and gave him the wry smile. "I hope I did not overstep my boundaries, my lord," he said in a low voice.

[Gwathagor]

"You did not," rumbled Frar. He turned from Ori to the whole council. "Tror is now our chief, by position and merit. He will lead us to the best of his craft, and we must serve him in return, our hammers and axes at his beck." He glanced around the chamber, eyeing every dwarf in turn. "We must serve him as we served Balin - Balin, who has never yet lead us astray and whose trust in Tror was as iron."

Frar turned to Tror and bowed low. "Speak, Lord Tror. Your dwarves heed you."

[Groin Redbeard]

What was this? Óin had not arrived! This shocked and frustrated Trór, he clenched his fist and drove it down to his side as if was striking an imaginary foe. All things depended on good intelligence on the enemies whereabouts and numbers, all of which he lacked with Óin's absence. Trór would have had soon dismiss the unpleasant thought of his lack of intelligence for the moment and proceed with the council and seek a way to counter this problem, but no sooner had Óri finished relaying this news to him he dropped to one knee. What in the world was he doing?! Never before had Trór felt so helpless as when Óri uttered those two words: my lord.

His old friend continued his explanation as some of the host gasped, Trór found himself among those who did. It hurt Trór to see his friends acting in such a way as would beget all their years of friendship. Frar even joined in with Óri in proclaiming to serve him as they did Balin, the only problem was Trór was not Balin, no one could be as wise or as deserving of honor as that now dead venerable Dwarf.

"Speak, Lord Tror. Your dwarves heed you."

“Enough!” Trór boomed with upraised hands. This was not to be, never had Trór been treated so formally by those he held so close to his heart. Oh how the ceremony has already tainted the sweet nectar of friendship!

“Friends,” he implored, “why all this formality. Have I not known you and worked with you these five years? Have we not served our lord with equal ardor and loyalty? Therefore why should I be your choice as king if the service of mine has not been any more than you gathered here?

“Óri, you are the trusted friend of Balin, closer to him and his mind than anyone her. You have more right to carry on his will than I have. What about Óin, who has worked unceasingly to carry out Balin’s wishes and who not three weeks past returned with a mighty horde of arms from the thrid-deep? Why should I... I don’t know how...”

Trór paused for a second, he had not noticed that he had been yelling. Now who is the one, being ridiculous? Is this how you are to treat your loyal friends?

“I am sorry,” Trór said somewhat hesitantly. He helped Óri who was still on his knees. “I should not scold you for your feelings, nor you Frar for your devotion. I am not use to such formality amongst friends.

“I am not deserving of the rank of ruler amongst you, but I am no fool in seeing that it is my duty to lead at present: being second command to Balin, and chief of soldiers. I would feign have a more learned Dwarf rule you, a military ruler would only bring you strife and war, that is what I am. When this crisis has abated I will relinquish my power to this council to decide on a better choice, but for the present let us speak no more of this, my heart is very much split in the matter and I would have more time to think before we go on.” Trór faced Óri, “thank you for your kind words, my friend, they touch me deeply. Do not think that I take you for granted.

“Now let us turn matters to the reason I summoned you. Gror, come forward and tell us of what you have seen.”

[Himaran]

The heavy latch fell into place and Dalin breathed a long sigh. Was it relief? He felt somewhat safe, at least. Or perhaps it was merely an expression of his troubled spirit. Since recovering from his grief long enough to leave the hall and return to his quarters, the dwarf had watched countless others drift off into the caverns in grief, despair and bewilderment. He was strangely fascinated by how their differing emotions manifested in physical ways, particularly subtle hand gestures. Those with families clutched one another, reassuring young and old alike that their situations were far from dire while comforting the distraught. Others walked with a new determination and purpose, hands kept noticably closer to visible weaponry, as if prepared to strike out against an unseen foe.

But a third group troubled Dalin; these individuals walked alone, hands nervously clenched, fidgeting and glancing furtively left and right. The atmosphere among these dwarves was tense and smelled of panic and fear. Hushed voices whispered back forth as rumors began to spread; some said that an orc army had already invaded the upper levels. Others swore that outsiders weren't involved at all, but that Balin has been murdered by one of his own. A fringe gathering were even rambling about a dragon's involvement in the affair. Dalin didn't know what to believe, but found the rammifications of the collective possibilities to be terrifying. Safe at last in his home, he re-examined the lock to make sure it was secure. "Not a day to be taking chances," he muttered.

[Boromir88]

Gror had not often been in a company as mighty as the one he was in now, and he didn't like it much. The eyes of all the noble dwarves, of the council, staring back at him; waiting on his report.

Gror! Get a hold of yourself! You were never this way around Dain, and King Dain was a mighty dwarf; it was an honour to be in his company too! Then again, Gror got used to being around King Dain. This was an entirely new and uncomfortable situation for him.

"What I've seen? Oh...right...uh - what I've seen. Yes, what I've seen." Get it together you bumbling fool! Act like you would around Dain, or even your father's friends. It isn't much different.

Yet, it was different. Gror couldn't describe it. King Dain was a noble dwarf in his own right, but being in the presense of Balin's dwarves - there was a different air of nobility. One that made Gror feel like he didn't deserve to be here; he should be washing these dwarves' helmets, not addressing them at the council.

But you are here, Gror, because you were asked to be here. That's got to mean something. Tror could have sent you away and told the Council the news himself, but he didn't. Do not disappoint now.

Gror cleared his throat and spoke with much greater strength and authority:

"I have seen a large Orc army heading up the Silverlode. Nothing more than that, I felt it of dire importance to warn you of this threat that approaches. A force of this size can only mean one thing, they're looking for a fight, and I say we give them one!"

Gror turned to Tror, and bowed low; "My bow and sword are yours, lord, and I offer you my service. It may not be much at all, but it is yours for as long as you decide to have it."

[Groin Redbeard]

The manner of Gror was what Tror expected, gathering from his first conversation with him: nervous and uncertain. Though Gror stuttered often in the first few utterances he made the end product of his short speech effective. Needless to say, this was not what many of the members had expected from the messenger, any rumor of an orc army anywhere near their beloved city had not been heard or suspected by anyone. Even Tror half wished that he had misheard Gror, an army of orcs was not a pleasant thought even for a veteran soldier to think about. His army was small but bore many of the veterans from kingdom of the Iron Hills, but goblins never came in small groups, and an orc army capable of swarming the great halls of Khazad-dum could be expected to be as large as five thousand strong.

Frar grinned at Tror’s side, a chance to avenge Balin would certainly a factor in this battle. Nali gave no expression of shock or surprise, seeing as Tror had already told him before the council what the crisis was, but his brother gave a short cry of surprise.

"My bow and sword are yours, lord, and I offer you my service. It may not be much at all, but it is yours for as long as you decide to have it.”

It appeared that Tror’s rant about calling him lord had little effect on Gror, he bowed low to Tror causing his beard to sweep the ground. However, Tror did not feel as disgusted with this messenger offering him honor, in fact the same situation would probably had occurred even if Balin were there. He smiled and stood looked into Gror’s eyes.

“Most readily do I accept it then. You are a messenger of king Dain and I will give you all the honor and respect that is yours. Your fealty will not be forgotten by me when this is over.” Tror now turned to face the council. “You heard why I have called you together. The odds against us are extreme but not impossible, we have strong walls to withstand any siege that might be brought to the foot of these mountains, the uncertainty of our enemy is almost certain: they don’t know our numbers or our strength in the field. Most importantly of all: we have the element of surprise, an army that can move undetected by our scouts is definitely relying speed and surprise, they have had to be marching hard today and will be worn out when we take the field. This may give us an edge in battle.” Tror paused for a moment and turned back to Gror. “How long do we have before the orcs are upon us?”

[Durelin]

Kórin could not form words in response to Nali’s chiding. She expected the old dwarf could tell that her body only tensed further following his reminder. Remember her place? She had been summoned to this council along with the rest! But no, she was simply a “guest” here, while the others – the males here, who prided themselves their lineage and experience – they were the actual members of this council. Why under earth did they drag her here if she had no real place in the proceedings?

She also remained silent as the others hailed Trór as their lord, starting with Ori. “For that is what he is now…” Kórin brooded on these words, keeping her eyes often on her new ‘lord’. She twisted her mouth in distaste more, though, when Trór addressed the dwarves gathered around him as friends. Yes, friends. This group of “friends” chose the leader of the entire colony from amongst themselves. Each and every dwarf in the colony had chosen to follow the Lord Balin when they left their homes to retake their ancient home of Khazad-dûm. Yes, Trór had been Balin’s choice as his right hand while he ruled, but this was no clear succession.

The messenger’s words came as little surprise to Kórin, and in her current state she felt little in response. Besides the intense anger and hatred talk of orcs brought about, she was confused as to why Trór and all the dwarves summoned seemed to be settling in for a nice discussion. How much was there to discuss? If this messenger could tell them no more than that there was a “large orc army” headed their way, they were wasting their time. They needed to send more reliable scouts out immediately, and begin preparing to set out and meet these orcs in battle.

Kórin prepared to speak her mind, even though she still felt a little too muddled to voice her thoughts, but she waited at least to hear the messenger’s response to Trór’s question. Hopefully this Gror was observant enough to provide a couple more details.