Test drive post for demeleier

[durinsdaughter]

[It's been a few weeks that she's been in Demeleier now, and since a while ago she has accepted that she won't be able to leave immediately. She might not even want to, now that Kíli has arrived as well. There is a difference between knowing that a reunification with her family can't be further than a few decades off and actually having one of them around. Still strange, but still just as precious and full of wonder and joy. To have her youngest back, it's a thing that she doesn't want to leave behind. ...And even if the word that no time passes back home while they are here is a trick to subdue them (and that is a constant worry), there is a certain reluctance to desiring a way home. Not that, should a path open itself, she wouldn't immediately take it. She has a duty to her people, and while she is certain that they would not let the lord of the black messengers blackmail them into anything should he claim to have taken her as a hostage (though avenging her would be an entirely different story - she might not be a king, but her blood is still among the most noble of all dwarves in Middle Earth) she would not leave them in times of need if she could help it. And times of need they are.

But she is needed here as well, by her son and maybe others as well, and looping back to this point she opens the feed. She has an announcement to make.]

I've now set up everything in the smithy to be able to do proper work there. [As opposed to the above average but in her eyes sub-par work that she could do with an anvil and other things that were simply too large for her.] As such, I will now offer the services of a smith. [She won't mention that her smithwork is, by default, far better than any human's (though she does consider Matsue very capable. But. For a human apprentice), because that should be clear to everyone who knows dwarves and the others will see, no bragging needed - those are her thoughts, anyway.] Contact me if you need anything. Even if the item in question is unfamiliar to me, I might still be able to work with it. [Or maybe collaborate on it with the other woman or her son, two or three brains can think of more than one. She almost mentions payment modalities out of habit, but then stops herself, no. Things work differently here (and that unsettles her, but what can you do).]


[ooc: All of this is absolutely not supposed to be game canon, but simply a throwing together of something for the sake of a test drive. She's been in Deme for 1 1/2 months, Kíli arrived a while after her, and she gets along with Matsue. Everything else is up in the air.]

Comments

[westboundwounded]

[This news clearly meets with Celebrían's approval, as she is looking pleased when she responds]

I am glad to hear we will soon have Dwarven crafts in this village. I have missed such things.

[durinsdaughter]

[She still doesn't fully trust the elf, still isn't fully sure how to think of her, but Rivendell has always been a friendly enough place the few times that she's come to visit it over the years, for an elven home anyway. And while the main reason for her current attitude certain are the things that have transpired between them since her coming here, that has certainly helped towards the stance as well.]

There was much things wrought by dwarven hands in elven homes in the days of your staying in Middle Earth?

[There doesn't lie surprise in her word, exactly - because really who would not want to have such fine crafts in their house, even when they are an elf. But still, she's grown up in a family whose elves, in good and bad times, have been mostly those of Mirkwood, and in her lifetime the relationship has been caught between careful courtesy and outright loathing, veering towards the former again in recent years. She would not expect gladness at the existence of one kin's halls in those of the other group.]

[westboundwounded]

In the days when I lived in Ost-in-Edhel, we had a very robust trade with Khazad-dûm. Not that we did not have fine craftsmen of our own, but we always welcomed Dwarven merchants and traders in the city.

[durinsdaughter]

[There is a moment of quiet - she is thinking of home, and of the worry that she holds for the development in that ancient home of her kin - but there is little to be done about it now, and while she worries for her cousins and their companions, there just really is very little that can be done. Especially from here. So she concentrates on another part of the elven woman's words instead. Worry has never helped anyone, and all that she can do is trust in Glóin and his son to bring back good news, should she end up not joining them after all.]

Where did Ost-in-Edhel lie? [Her people are strong in handing down memory through the generations, along with duties and attitudes, but the name doesn't resonate with anything.]

[westboundwounded]

It was the capital of Eregion. West of the Misty Mountains. Only a few miles from Khazad-dûm.

[spilled_ink]

Oh, are you working at the forge as well? I've spoken to Matsue before, but I don't think I've seen you.

[durinsdaughter]

[For a moment she almost makes the switch to Westron, the situation is just all to familiar to the times when she would offer smithing and other services in human villages to support her family, travel with family and others to support them, places where they would not stay for longer than a week or a season, places there dwarves didn't dwell usually.

But the thought isn't strong enough, and the words come out in the village's common speak still.] I've been here for little more than a month. [It's a verbal shrug, basically; she has done nothing to attract particular attention, between working on and in the forge and fixing up her house, and dealing with those that she naturally encountered and those that she knew from home... So there are no feelings towards not being known. There lies no insult in it.]

You know Matsue?

[spilled_ink]

Only in passing, when I first arrived I received my iron from her. I don't visit that part of the village often.

[He shifts and leans closer to the mirror, curiously.]

You sound as if you have worked in a forge before. Do you normally serve as a blacksmith in your own world?

[durinsdaughter]

I prefer working with silver, and gold and gems as they find their way into those works or fine weapons, but there were many years when those weren't options and a living could only be found in more simple works.

[And just to deflect certain assumptions...] There lies no honor in letting one's hands rest idle, and no nobility does it signify to hold oneself to words and mere exercise of one's fighting ability. [Which is a reason why she thinks little of human nobility.]

[spilled_ink]

[He nods, listening, and smiles gently]

And yet there is no shame either, when one's hands need rest. I hope you don't overwork yourself too much, even if you're enjoying your craft.

[kurdith]

[Kíli, unfortunately, hasn't been able to get up and find any sort of work in the almost four weeks he's been here. Morgul poison, it seems, does a number on even Dwarves and it's taking time to heal. He has taken woodcarving commissions and other small, easy-to-do tasks, but he's itching to hunt or get to a forge or do literally anything.

He grins when his mother comes home and announces her job]

Finally. I thought we'd never get anything of any quality in this village!

[durinsdaughter]

[It's still odd to come home to him. To come home to find her little boy, really and truly there, and it still is a wonder to her, every time. It might make her just a bit softer towards him than she would usually be. Make her take a few years off his age when dealing with him, sometimes. She let him leave her before he had yet fully reached adulthood, let him leave to never return, and the scars run deep. Still, he's there, and getting better, and she smiles at him when she enters the little cottage, modified to look more homely by the capable hands of two dwarves, yet still only a small cottage.]

You'll find something in no time as well, once you're well enough. How is your leg doing today? [She left in the early morning, so it is a legit question even though they share a house.]

[kurdith]

[When Dís told him that he, Thorin, and Fíli died at Erebor, Kíli was a mess for nearly a week. Not that anyone who wasn't a Dwarf would have been able to tell, but he'd been much more affectionate and clingy where his mother was concerned--and given that he was already pretty physically affectionate for a Dwarf, he was worried Dís would have smacked him if he hadn't eventually calmed down a little. He doesn't even mind it when he thinks his mother is treating him like a younger Dwarf. He never should have gone on the Quest.

He shrugs]

Walking around the cottage and down the path didn't hurt, not until I sat down for a few minutes. Still, that's progress, isn't it? Soon I'll be runnin' around and giving you grey hairs again.

[Yes, he's ignoring the sixty years of grey hair his mother has currently that she didn't have the last time he saw her.]

[durinsdaughter]

[But if- no, no ifs and whats, because there really had been no alternative at that time. She's long made her peace with the decision and knowledge that she didn't fail her sons in not arguing for them to stay more strongly. It's still a fact full of regret and sorrow, but one that she has lived with for many decades. It's certainly an upside of being a dwarf that Mahal made them robust enough to withstand sorrow and be practical enough to put it aside as much as is needed to go on.

Sorrow is not on her mind at all as she puts down a bundle of groceries on the table and pulls a chair towards herself to sit down next to him, taking off her gloves and then reaching over to ruffle his hair affectionately. It's only a short moment of touch before she pulls away to unpack the grocery bag, though.] I'll be as white as my grandfather was within a year, I'm sure.

[kurdith]

[He makes a soft noise of protest at the hair ruffling before standing to help her unpack]

If I don't do it, the Elvenking and his son might just. I've apologized for you having to deal with them already, yes? Not that Legolas is really all that bad, I suppose, but his father...

[pterosaur]

[An immense pterosaur strides along the path, head high. Her rowan is less a crown than a ring around the base of her thick neck, largely covered by her pelt. She's not more than a few days into this setting, and may have been seen in the air at some distance.

Janine's still kind of weirded out by how humans are so small to her. This one's smaller than most. Also stouter and bearded, but doesn't quite look like a man. Should she comment?

Of course not. Maybe not even when her body was human. It's petty to think much about those things, especially now. Janine stops some distance away.]

:You're the smith?:

[durinsdaughter]

[She's seen a number of strange things since arriving here, and learned to not trust her own initial reactions - remain weary, but not show immediate hostility either. Still, her hand goes to a position where it'd only take a split moment to reach the hilt of the dagger at her side - going unarmed isn't something that she would do in a place like this, going out without weapons feels pretty much naked - and she keeps a distance.]

That I am.

[The speech isn't really a surprise to her, though the pitch and tone certainly are. She almost looks around for the source, but... no, it's fairly clear that she must have been addressed by this being.]

[pterosaur]

[Short pudgy bearded lady. Okay, sure. Janine lowers her great head until it's out before her with her neck like a horizontal beam so that she can peer in at the smithy with one startling eye.]

:Cool. So, yeah, they were saying get some iron, that'll help with things. I think I need to get like a cord or a pouch or something. Vines, maybe. You guys don't have any proper ones, it's too cold.:

[Not wholly aware she's doing so, Janine abruptly raises her neck back to vertical, scans the landscape with those wide-set eyes, and not finding threats lowers it again.]

[durinsdaughter]

[She remains tense, but stands her ground, not moving even as her hand comes to fully rest on the dagger, which is drawn when Janine turns back to her.

But it's not pointed at the dino, instead just firmly in her hand, pointing downwards. A warning, not a threat. Her eyes slide over the body, swiftly, trying to keep that head in the corner of her eye.]

A necklace, maybe.

[She won't turn her back on the being, but she won't refuse to equip them with the much needed defence against the fairies, either. Nobody wants a being like that in the hands of a fae.]

[pterosaur]

[Janine's inner pterosaur stirs and gives her a rapid wordless assessment - prey is (by dinosaur standards) unarmored, has a large fang or claw, looks difficult/dangerous to subdue - and subsides again. Well, that was disquieting. She doesn't fear the blade. Janine's beak is far larger, and with her neck her reach is considerable. Still, being attacked would be no fun.

She heaves a very deep breath and, ponderous, lies down on her chest, wings crooked at either side of her body, legs stretched out behind her. A kind of peace gesture, though she doesn't go so far as to lay down her head.]

:Sure. I might have trouble with the whole 'touch something with it and it'll go away', but I plan on mostly flying, anyway.:

[hypsilophodon]

[I don't actually have any icons. Yet. I'm figuring out drawing him but not yet content with what I've got.]

A creature is racing about in sheer panic. Covered in simple quilly green feathers and pink-skinned otherwise, it is no bigger than an impressive turkey save for its tail. It's very fast, zigzagging here and there with rather more speed than a human could manage. Maybe it was being chased by a fae at some point. Now it's just freaked out by everything, sometimes falling over itself and scrambling up to run some more.

Squeaks and shrill birdlike sounds emerge from its beak, and when it's within a few hundred yards those are joined by a 'voice' high and incoherent with terror, one that has no need to stop to breathe even when the creature itself has stumbled again and hasn't gotten up. It - he - lies on his side near the forge, small flank heaving rapidly, clearly just about exhausted.

:Nonononononono, tiny tiny not big at all, everything's so big - Everything's so big but meee!:

[durinsdaughter]

[What the

no what the even.

She peered out when she heard the sounds and then just stands in the entrance of the forge, trying to see properly what this obviously sentient being is. It looks stranger, stranger than any other beings that she has seen so far in this place, but that probably means little.

Fishing a piece of iron out of her pocket, she slowly walks over to it. It sounds distressed, and while it might be a ruse of the fae, she needs to check in case it isn't.]

[hypsilophodon]

[MUDDY FLAILING the creature sees her right away and would like to get up but is tired, and slips. I guess the ground is wet. A squeal comes out of his beak.]

:NOOOOO don't eat me!: [and then the large, wide-set eyes blink and he sounds still very nervous but-] :- That's fascinating.:

[His whole skull is about the size of a hand.]

[durinsdaughter]

What?

[She cannot not react a bit more softly than she would normally, though still wary. But this being seems more worried than anything, and it does really seem genuine... She stops a few feet away and crouches down.]

[hypsilophodon]

:You're a - oh, I'm not very big at allll! - ahah. Okay.:

[He's managing to roll onto his belly and get his legs under him, and stands, quirking his head and staring. He is a very leggy little lizard-bird. Wild turkey isn't far off.]

:Ohhhhh my. I really did shrink...: