I have seen a great many things since I left the Shire, all those many years
ago. I have travelled into the Misties, I have seen the Last Homely House,
I have spoken to great men and great elves. But dwarves.. dwarves I have seen
little of, and I figure a dwarf and I would have plenty to talk about. We are
kindred spirits in height, at least.. it means a lot, seeing the world from a
low angle. So I set off from The Grey Havens towards the Blue Mountains, to
the fabled home of the dwarven people in the west.
The trip contained many perils. Fierce mountain lions, with teeth as large as
a hobbits arm, and packs of wild dogs hunted me through dark forests. In my
wandering, I discovered an abandoned mine of the dwarves, populated by naught
bar the spirits of the dead, and creatures of hell itself. I have heard the
dwarves had delved too deep into the earth.. was this another example of their
folly? Now don't you worry, young gentlehobbits, I have picked up enough
skills in my travels to deal with these threats. But it was with some
trepidation I headed towards the Blue Mountains, fear replacing eagerness
that I felt at the assumption of my journey.
As I neared the mighty gates, built ages past, I thought I heard the
twanging of a banjo.. much coarser and cruder music than one hears approaching
the Grey Havens, which is of the lute.. I wondered what kind of people these
dwarves were.
With all these things on my mind, after such an epic journey, surely one
could forgive a hobbit for being a bit forgetful.I am accepted freely into
towns and cities across Middle-Earth: some places took more convincing than
others of course, but the rules of visitors have been long forgotten by me.
So I wandered into the Dwarven Home with my blade unsheathed. Forget my head
if it weren't screwed on, as my old gaffer said..
I have experienced prisons all over Middle Earth too.. consider it a foible
of a curious young hobbit. The Blue Mountains prison was terrible.. a guard
stayed inside with me for the length of my incarceration, threatening and
cajoling me. An ugly chap he was too.. his beard all matted, his teeth poking
out in all directions. I thought perhaps the authorities had put him in here
as a kind of kind punishment for the poor inbreed.. allow him to think that he
was doing a valuable service to the community when they just wanted him locked
up.
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Upon my release, I found that the Blue Mountains was just one HUGE gaol for
inbreeds, much to my chagrin. I tried to explore, but a dwarf they had
entrusted with weaponry stopped me, blinking his third eye furiously at me
to cease my advance. I stopped, only because I could not look at his deformed
little face any longer. Having some jewellery to sell, I visited a shop
of some renown, I hear, for its magnificent work. Upon politely offering my
rings for sale, the nasty shopkeeper blasted me with his foul breath as he
boomed "We don't serve yer kind here, boy.. NO HOBBITS!!". I have rarely
experienced this kind of racism before. SOme discrimination I find inevitable,
like in the bar at Fornost, where I can barely see over it to order my ale.
But this was downright rude. I experienced similar treatment at several other
shops.
So it was with a heavy heart I left the once mighty Blue Mountain Dwarf Hold.
Years of isolation and regimentation has left the dwarves a shadow of their
former glory. No wonder they lost Khazad-Dum to the orcs. In all their care
for their sisters, who look almost exactly like their brothers except they
are the mothers of their children, and in their insular and closed-minded
environment, the dwarves have forgotten greatness. Pity the dwarves.
Shard the wanderer
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