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(Archive) An audience with Dain [Gundabad Quest]

Tags: Dain,  Broddur,  Alagnen,  Nauthcel,  Elladan,  Elrohir,  Ulfred,  Grimbeorn,  Seregithil,  Graim,  Oskar

Short Summary: The Dwarves of Ered-Luin and a most interesting array of hangers-on tell the King Under the Mountain of a meeting with Gandalf and the mission that has ensued
Date (real-life): 2011-02-24
Scene Location: Erebor, Greathall of Thror
Date (in-game): April 3052
Time of Day: Night?

Greathall of Thror

The splendour of this chamber is profound. The floors, walls, and ceiling are sheathed in solid silver, every square inch of it damascened in exotic scrolling patterns. Every aspect of this chamber is designed to make one feel small and humble before the might of the dwarven lords; the scrollwork, the very angles of the place center on the dais at the end of the chamber, upon which is a throne formed from a single immense amethyst. From the great onyx door to the south runs a walkway of a smokey crystal, through which a bright light shines, iluminating the columns of alternating obsidian and jade that march through the chamber alongside. Behind the throne, embossed with gold on the silver wall is a scene depicting Eru sparing the Seven Fathers as the Valar Aule prepares to Smite them. Members of the Baruk Narag line the walkway and watch the exits, as well as any visitors to the chamber.

Obvious exits:
 Narrow Stairs (Down) leads to Halls of the Second Deep.
 South (Out) leads to Upper Dain's Way (Hall of Kings).
Silver Door

[Arkenstone(#17999)->Broddur] ***** Erebor Time & Weather Service ******************************************
** Real time is: Thu Feb 24 14:55:16 2011, GMT -8 **
Elendor time is: Midnight (2400) on Monday, Day 10 of April 3052.
In the outer world's clear Spring sky, The waning gibbous moon drifts among the sky like a shimmering ship.
****************************************** Erebor Time & Weather Service *****

[Dain(#31050)] Evening descends over the Lonely Mountain and the cloying touch of spring brings with it a damp drizzle to the slopes of the rock and stone. Yet, within, Erebor is as it ever is. No drizzle dampens the spirits of those dwarves who have taken their after-supper leisure in the pubs and taverns of the mountain, and no impending darkness impedes the meeting that is already gathering within the Greathall of Thror. Every lantern and wall sconce of the humbling greathall has been lit, throwing a soft light upon the silver walls of the great chamber that banishes some of the impenetrable darkness. Still, the towering columns of obsidian and jade make their imposing march down the center of the hall, and light, however bright, can diminish that sense of granduer.

At the far end of the chamber is the throne of the King Under the Mountain, but it is presently empty. Instead, the double doors leading in from the Hall of Kings stand open, watched on either side by a row of the Baruk Narag, the king's own guard. And through these doors comes now a strange company of visitors, lead by a number of the elite guard of Erebor.

The twinkling points of light filling the Greathall glint fit to rival the stars in the sky above. The small party of Ered Luin Dwarves making their way through the halls is not unmoved by the sight; many gaze around them in awe, and one murmurs wistfully, "Would that Kheled-Dun knew such splendour." He is quelled by a single glance from his companion, for are not the Dwarf-kind proud folk?

These visitors have travelled far, but each of them is clad in his best garments, with hair and beard neatly combed, and each bears with him a gift of some kind - a carven casket, a bolt of cloth - for tonight they hope for audience with Dain. Broddur, for his part, bears a small, soft leathern bag; he is lost in thought and deep strides soon bring him to the forefront of the group. The miner's seamed and scarred face seems grimy even when freshly laved, but his beard is carefully braided and there are jewels on his belt. Only his pick is missing. He harrumphs uncomfortably to himself and looks round, finding himself as unwilling spokesman. "We seek the King Under the Mountain," he intones in a gritty voice.

One visitor has traveled nearly as far as the dwarves of the West, but he has neither gift nor finery. This Man is dressed in the cloak and garb of a ranger of the wilderness. He is clean though and his clothes look as if they've been cleaned recently. Standing behind the dwarves with the other taller people present, he keeps quiet for the moment.

    Among the company of foreigners walks the Ranger Nauthcel. His ashen gaze scans the hall, every detail absorbed and retained. Like the dwarves, the Man has cleaned up and appears more presentable to a king compared to his usual appearance. Quietly does he walk next to his kinsman, the two of them seeming as giants to the local citizens.

[Elladan(#27059)] And even taller is the pair of elves that walks right after the rangers. Their garments are grey like the rocks of Erebor but made of the finest cloth and silvery belts adorn them. What is most striking though is that these two are the likeness of each other. Like the men of the west they remain quiet so far.

Into the grand chamber comes another fellow of the Menfolk, but what he lacks in travels he indeed makes up for in finery. Ulfred of Brand's city of Dale is also in attendance; dressed regally and flanked by a pair of courtiers. The elder fellow smiles warmly as he gazes about; eyes settling upon he party from Ered-Luin, and he comes to take a place along one side of the Hall, ere his gaze turns with interest to the Rangers that stand with them.

Here in the chamber already is another tall one, this one with a head of hair brown and eyes to match. Grimbeorn is plainly dressed--notably not in leather--and he silently watches all those entering. It is only when the two elves walk in that he gives a sudden start and pushes away from the wall that he is casually leaning upon to approach them both.

Following the pair of elves is a figure similar in appearance, though slightly shorter and garbed in raiment foreign to these halls. He appears more youthful than the hardened men, yet equally as reserved in his silence as he enters the hall behind the Dwarves. Seregithils countenance remains impassive despite the wonder of the greathall, and a slight lack of comfort is apparent in his body language.

[Graim(#20753)]     There is one Dwarf here that is neither visitor nor king's guard. Standing before the dias and throne is a Dwarf, clad in silver, gold and indigo; the gems in his beard glitter in the light of the Hall. Dark eyes flick over the approaching visitors, lingering a moment upon the taller folk before they turn to Broddur after he speaks.

    "Welcome to the halls of Dain, cousins," rumbles this Dwarf, Graim of the Warders, with a brief bow of the head. "Who are the chiefs of your party?" He speaks finally as it seems the party is all finally in. "And the names of your... companions? For what purpose do you seek the King Under the Mountain?"

The eyes of Ulfred are struck then by the sight of the Laird of the Beornings, and a hint of recognition enters his gaze. Glancing about, as though checking to see if events are about to begin, the Barding representative stirs to likewise approach the Elves, and Grimbeorn.

Broddur's dark eyes shift to the veteran warder, and he nods in turn. "Good to be among kin again," he manages. "My cousins and I," he steadfastly ignores those of the group who are not of his own kind, however hard their height and presence may make that feat, "have come here to seek the King's blessing and aid in an important venture."

"A mighty endeavour indeed," another of the Dwarves puts in eagerly. "We were set on this path by Gandalf the Grey, no less. And these-"

He is interrupted by a growl in the throat from Broddur. "They can speak for themselves," he says in surly fashion.

[Dain(#31050)] As the last of this most unusual party enters the Greathall of Thror, several of the grim faced Baruk Narag set hand and shoulder to the great double doors. On oiled hinges, the doors swing so silently that it is easier to feel the air disturbed in their wake than to hear a groan from their immense hinges. Only as the doors close do they emit a muffled thump. Immense as the Greathall of Thror is, it seems that this is to be a private meeting.

[<#22365>] 'Me? I came to hear the news, for things were too quiet for comfort, and found that there was this audience before the King here...but know nothing of it.' Grimbeorn, approaches the pair of half-elven ones, attempting to speak in a whisper to them, though his deep voice rumbles across the chamber. 'So now I want to know what has drawn this crowd here.'

And then the Laird does drop his voice, but only a bit, and only because he attempts a halting greeting in Sindarin, looking wtih confusion between Elladan and Elrohir. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Elrohir shifts, glancing to the approaching Grimbeorn, then to his twin. For the question of the dwarven Warder, Graim, the peredhel answers in a quiet, clear voice, "We have come with them as companions and escort across the Misty Mountains and Greenwood."

Choosing this moment to approach, Ulfred arrives by the side og Grimbeorn and bows with ceremony to those gathered. "Hail, good sirs," says he. "If I do not interrupt, please allow me to introduce myself on behalf of the kingdom of Dale. I am Ulfred, of my King's House of Girion."

He chuckles then, turning to Grimbeorn himself. "<Eothrik> And I could hardly fail to recognize one of the famous EBijabar of the Carrock. Well met, friend of Dale."

[<#27059>] Elladan returns his brother's glance with amusement ere he speaks in the language of the Beornings: "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Then he switches to the common tongue, declaring: ''But let us now use a language that our hosts do speak as well. We have no secrets before the King under the Mountain.''

Grimbeorn gives a little huff of surprise at what Elladan has replied to him, looking between the pair. "Well...of this we will have to talk at some point. Not now, of course," he says, answering in the common tongue, and then looking amused to Ulfred. "Pleased to meet you, of course. Grimbeorn," is all he answers, then glances toward Dain. "But why are all these folk here?"

[Nob(#16122)] Oskar, having shinied himself up for the occasion - of having been shinied up by his apprentices - stands near to Broddur, glowering (pleasantly!). His beard is combed tidily and a plethora of gold is braided into it. Even his eyepatch is traded out for one that is trimmed by diamonds. He is carrying a small, but heavy box, intricately carved.

    As the Beorning man approaches and speaks to the peredhil, Nauthcel tilts his ear slightly toward them. Yet, when he turn comes, he turns his gaze to set on the king and his emissary and answers, "We also come as escorts for your kinsmen." No name nor motherland are given.

The ellon Seregithil remains silent and stands still behind the Peredhil, acknowleding no one. He eyes appear glassy and slightly out of focus, but perhaps it is just a trick of the light and shimmering silver.

Still awaiting the arrival of Dain, Ulfred smiles to Grimbeorn, impressed, and he bows anew. "The son of Beorn himself? My lord, it is an honour. We have never met, but I have served long within the King's Men of Dale, and there are many legends of your might."

The closing of the doors does not appear to worry him, though it is a vaugely wary eye that traces up and down the figure of Elrohir.

[Graim(#20753)]     Graim slowly arches an eyebrow as the various parties speak; if it is in curiosity, disbelief, or something else entirely is difficult to tell, however. The Chief Master Veteran's face is akin to stone, revealing nothing else. "I see..." Rumbles the Dwarf after a brief pause. "An... interesting guard for your carvan, cousin," he continues, speaking to Broddur.

    "But, you did not come all this way to speak to me. Instead, I present to you the Son of Nain, the Slayer of Azog, Lord of the Line of Durin... Dain, King Under the Mountain." With a bow at the end of his words, Graim steps aside.

[Dain(#31050)] A door opens. At first it is difficult to discern, for it is silver just as the walls are silver, but its outline is marked by a border of gold and this swings out to reveal a smaller chamber beyond. Yet more than that is not seen, for the doorway is filled swiftly. A long white beard reaches nearly to the marble floor upon which the dwarf stands, and this is tied with gold, though not braided. A long maroon surcoat falls to his knees and he stands with both hands clasped behind him, but it is the golden crown that rests upon his head that most marks his person.

King Dain makes no greeting as he crosses the vast greathall. Only as he comes to stand before his throne does he turn to view the assembled company, and in his eyes there is at once an appraising inquisitiveness and, perhaps, a touch of amusement. As he stands before the throne, he lifts his hands. "Welcome, cousins. Welcome, friends of the dwarves. Come forth and be seen, and speak your piece. I am most interested to hear what brings such a company as this across the mountains to sit before me." As he speaks, Dain's eyes sweep across the assembly. They linger first on the elves, and the bear of a man who stares at them, and then the King's gaze passes over the tall men clad as for the road. And in his glance grows a look of curiosity, before finally it settles upon Broddur and Oskar at the fore of the company, and here now something of recognition creeps in Dain's lined face.

Some of the Ered Luin Dwarves wince at the booming voice of Grimbeorn, but Broddur ignores it as though the mighty Beijabar were no more than an annoying buzzing fly. The old miner mumbles into his beard at all these claimants to the role of escort. "Not like we haven't made the journey plenty of times before," he mutters to Oskar. "Even if some of these fellows were quite handy in the fi-" He falls abruptly silent as Graim speaks anew and his gaze, like those of his kin, turns toward the door.

As one, the Dwarves of Ered Luin bow, many of the wagging beards sweeping the cavern floor. Then each moves to set his burdens down in turn at the foot of the dais, murmuring softly, "Lord King," or proudly, "Dain! Dain Ironfoot!" Broddur sets down his own little bag then looks up as he feels the pull of Dain's regard. "My Lord King?" he queries gruffly. "We are come to ask your blessing and aid in a matter of .. ahem, property. These folk here," he waves a dismissive hand Elf- and Man-ward, "come of their own accord."

Elrohir bends at the waist to the presence of the King, the sparkle of soft laughter in his eyes hidden by a sweep of dark hair.

[Nob(#16122)] Oskar stumps forward after Broddur, bowing with great pomp and setting the small carven box. He looks over his shoulder at his fellow dwarf's wave and grunts in what must be agreement.

    The corners of Nauthcel's lips twitch in the form of a smile as his gaze studies the king's visage. Like the others, he too bows in reverence to Dain.

Turning then at the entrance of the King of Erebor, Ulfred bows formally to Dain and keeps his peace as he waits for the Ironfoot to address the chamber.

Alagnen offers a nod of respect, but not one of reverence. He remains silent as the dwarves give their gifts and state their purpose for being present.

[Graim(#20753)]     Silent now, Graim bows to Dain as he enters the Hall and approaches the throne. Then the Chief Master Veteran turns his eyes to the visitors, either watchful or curious.

Elladan bows gracefully in elven fashion. "Hail, king Ironfoot," he says softly. "We come with greetings of Elrond Halfelven and also of Bilbo Baggins, who is not unknown in these halls."

[Dain(#31050)] As the room abruptly seems to bow as one, Dain might be seen, by any whose eyes wander upwards, to smile but very softly. Yet it is brief, and when most rise again, his face is grave and appraising once more. "Indeed? It must be a very great matter, to draw such followers as have come here today. Hark there, elves accompany you, I see, and no common elves, if such a thing exists. Hail, my Lords of Rivendell, I am eager to hear what news you bring." His dark eyes sweep across the two men who stand by to the elves. "And men?" he continues. "No men of Dale, I think, or of the east, for we do not often see men so worn of face or cloth here.

"But," Dain says, once again allowing his gaze to settle on Broddur, Oskar, and the dwarves gathered at the fore, "I sense there are many events that have brought you here. Cousins of the Blue Mountains, I pray you speak your piece first. Master..." the king's eyes narrow for a second. "Broddock, is it not? Nay, Broddur, I think. You bear a few more scars, but your face is the same as last I saw it. Do you speak for your brethren?"

Broddur looks surprised at the recognition. "Broddur, son of Brandur, my King," he answers, bowing again. "And - uh," he shifts his weight uneasily as he realizes that yes, by chance or design, he has indeed been placed in position of spokesman here. "I can speak for our folk, though others lead the fighters these days." He looks round, spots Oskar and then inspiration strikes. "Along with Oskar here."

At the order to speak, he mutters, "Didn't ought to be all these foreigners around," sending the smiling Elves a dour glance.

One of his fellows digs him in the ribs. "Get on with it! Not every day you get an audience with the King under the Mountain."

Grimacing, Broddur nods and puts on his best 'formal' voice. "It was Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey, who sent us here, in a manner of speaking." A little softer, "Him we call Tharkun." Taking up the tale again, he continues, "He came to our fire one night, west of the Mountains, and told us that a mighty relic of Durin was held in Mount Gundabad. The goblins, he said, were grown weak and few. There were rumours of a new goblin king to the south, and their northern watch was lessened." He stops, nudging Oskar in the ribs to indicate that it is his turn to take up the thread now.

[Nob(#16122)] Oskar grunts again as he is elbowed in the ribs, and glares at his compatriot. "You didn't have to do that!" he hisses.

"Aherm. Yes. Well. So we came, to seek counsel of our cousins, not being backwards in our desire to see those sacred halls once more cleansed of Filth."

Several other dwarves are gaping at him open-mouthed, having never (apparently) heard him say anything more than 'STIR THAT' and 'CHOP FASTER' and 'When /I/ was a lad....'

At the mention of Gandalf the Grey, even the backwater Barding stirs, and his gaze falls upon Broddur and Oskar with grave interest.

Alagnen stands impassively. A small frown creeps onto his face as the talk goes on.

Elrohir listens in silence, crossing his arms and glancing once to Elladan.

[Dain(#31050)] "Gandalf?" Dain repeats, his silver brows drawing together. As Broddur continues, the lingering amusement slips from the elder king's expression and the lines of his face deepen into grave thought. When both dwarf "leaders" finish their piece, Dain is silent, staring at both of them for several moments. Finally, he leans forward. "He introduced himself as such, Gandalf the Grey? The world may know many old men with long beards and stern brows. Did he speak a reason for revealing this information to you?"

Broddur seems uncomfortable under the stare; he raises one hand to tug at his lopsided beard - neat the braiding may be, but it can't hide the fact that the hair is much sparser on one side of his chin than the other. "I was on watch that night," he admits. "But I heard most of it. He introduced himself that way, yes. Said he knew Thorin Oakenshield. And said he thought his news would be of interest to us. Oskar, you spoke to him?" This time he doesn't give a nudge, but the panic in his eyes is quite clear: help me out here! His willingness to act as speechmaker only goes so far.

[Graim(#20753)]     A thoughtful frown breaks the stone-visage of Graim as the Chief Master Veteran listens to the Dwarves of the Ered Luin. He remains silent, however, content to listen now rather than speak.

[Nob(#16122)] Oskar doesn't bow again - once was sufficient to show his respect. He stands with his legs wide apart, and his hands resting folded on the large stirring spoon in his belt. The eyepatch glitters. "He said it all, proper and right," he says gruffly. "Spoke his name to us, said he'd news for the kinsfolk of Thorin. Naught else than that we've told you, m'lord king. How he'd heard tell of an ancient ..." He looks around suspiciously and lowers his voice to a hoarse whisper, "..heirloom, and that the goblins were being called south and now might be a good and proper time to take back our own." He nods firmly once or twice.

Once more does Ulfred's gaze roam over the khazad as this news is given, and he seems discomforted by the tale.

[Dain(#31050)] "Even Thorin Oakenshield did not recognize Gandalf the Grey when he did not wish to be see," Dain says firmly to Oskar's gruff reply. "It is no slight upon a man's character if he mistakes one man out the thousand who wander this Middle Earth, Master Oskar. But no matter, I trust your word. And so you seek for my blessing and my aid in this quest that he known to us as Tharkun has set you." A frown darkens Dain's visage and he leans back on his throne.

Abruptly, his silent consideration is broken and his eyes lift, again sweeping the remainder of the company. "And do those who accompany you know this tale? Sons of Elrond, for I know your faces, though it is long since I last saw them, is this your reason for following these dwarves of the Blue Mountains? Men of the west, do you come for such a quest?"

Alagnen continues to frown slightly, but still he stands impassively, his eyes watching all.

Elladan listens quietly to the accounts of Broddur and Oskar but the hint of a frown appears on his brow.

"King," replies Elrohir, bowing his head slightly, "many are the ears and eyes that would know of such news, and it was not told to us. But we have guessed at it, at times -- the watch of Rivendell is upon the orcs of the mountains, and something is afoot beneath them."

When Dain's focus finally turns elsewhere, Broddur lets out a long breath of relief. "Well, that went about as well as could be expected," he whispers to Oskar. Then he steps back to allow the Men and Elves their turn at conversing with the King Under the Mountain. Relief, perhaps, is what holds him quiet. Or tiredness. Either way, he does not disturb the company.

(scene continues, Broddur had to fade)

Date added: 2011-03-28 04:23:33    Hits: 105
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