Tennis With An Elf and A Dwarf by Grundy, Raiyana

To my friend Hafli,

My apologies that my letter is so long in coming – couriers bound in your direction have been lacking of late now that the king deems his halls complete. I hope this letter finds you well! I trust the injuries you had here in Menegroth have healed, though I admit I am less familiar with how your folk heal than elves. Were you able to regain the use of the hand at the least?

How are your children? Did they remember you when you returned? I am sure the elder of the two must have, though I can see where the little one might have been too young when you came here from Belegost. They must be nearly grown by now, and if they are at all like you, they are coming on well in their chosen crafts!

I shall close here, lest I bore you with too many elvish notions at once. Though I do hope you are willing to correspond – I find I miss our talks.

In the hopes you and yours are prospering,

Carweg

Greetings to you, Master Carweg of Menegroth

It is with some regret that I must pen you this note and send it on with the next caravan leaving for Thargelion – I am hoping it might there find kindly hands to take it further. 

When you do receive it, it is my hope that you will not feel undue grief at the news I amto impart.

You see, Master Hafli the Boneless, my father, has been returned to the Stone these past seven winters. As for your good wishes, I think they arrived before your note, for my father lived a long and  full life, drawing his last breath surrounded by his family, which now numbers my sibling’s pebbles, too. 

You will note the title bestowed upon my late father with some curiosity, I don’t doubt, but fret not, for, as he often put it, the accident that crippled his hand also led him to his greatest act of craftsmanship, and so he would never disdain it – in truth, I am indebted to you and your work, for I believe that if you had not acted with the skill of your people, he might not have lived to return to watch me grow up.

Boneless, they called him, and that is in admiration, I assure you, for though he ended up training himself to use the other hand, his legs could not regain their former use, and so he invented a craft so simple yet brilliant that it has become a marvel of my people, to aid him in returning to his workshop; Hafli crafted the first of his wheeled chairs only scant months after returning to our home, and I admit that I do not remember him any other way. 

He only lamented that he could not join the reel at feasts, but between you and me, I think he found just as much joy in having my mother sat on his lap as they enjoyed the music together. 

I thank you for your good wishes for myself and my sibling, and yes, we are both well accomplished in our chosen crafts – I work in pottery, and my father’s love of metal-shaping lives on in his eldest, who runs a forge of ten.

In hopes that this news finds you well,
Harðgreip, daughter of Hafli

Greetings Harðgreip daughter of Hafli,

I am very sorry to hear that my letter came too late for your father, though somewhat comforted by your notion that my good wishes were not so tardy. I am pleased that you and your family are flourishing.

 If you have heard anything of me from Hafli, you will know that I do not know a great deal about dwarves, only what I learned while your father and others of your kindred were here in Doriath, helping to build the king’s halls. So I will chance inadvertent offence by expressing my feelings on his return to Stone as I would to one of my own people – your sorrow is my sorrow as well.

It pains me to hear that he did not regain the full use of his hand or his legs, though it does not surprise me that it spurred him to new heights of creativity in his work. We elves are taught that no matter how evil may mar our beautiful world, Eru will turn whatever it attempts to the greater good. Your father certainly demonstrated that as often as he could.

As for your indebtedness, you need not worry – I did what anyone with the skills to help would have done. I only regret I did not have the knowledge to fully restore him, or better yet to prevent the accident in the first place. I’m afraid it will be cold comfort to hear that we have instituted a system to guard against such accidents - two ropes for safety, as we found to our dismay and your father’s misfortune that one can be severed through ill chance or foolishness.

Perhaps you would be so kind as to send me a sketch of one of these wheeled chairs your father invented? (If you do not sketch yourself, perhaps you could prevail upon your sibling?) Such a thing is not known here, and I should very much like to see it. Were these not such perilous times, I would venture to Belegost myself to see one with my own eyes. But between our old enemies the orcs and these newcomers from the West, I do not think it wise to venture beyond the borders at present.

With best wishes,

Carweg

Addendum – If you will permit an elf one question that may be impertinent? How is your name spoken? I am not familiar with ð, we have no such letter here. Or is this a question that must be answered aloud?

Master Carweg,

I am not certain how to explain my name in letters except as it is spelled in our runes; my grasp of your letters is perhaps not so advanced as I would have believed? It is H A R TH GR EI P, I think. Perhaps you might call me Harga, instead? We are not, of course, kin, but I doubt any will raise the issue of formality in these letters; I know they are not read by any courier I would entrust with my words. I do hope they reach you in a timely manner – here, it is now late in the chilling season; we are coming close to the turning of the year as we reckon it, and my family are busy working on the projects they will present for the Midwinter Craft Fair. I think this is a strictly Dwarven tradition, and I will not now name it to you in our tongue, but it is a chance for all to show off their skill and prowess in their chosen craft. The King chooses his favoured Thirteen – after the Firsts – and my sibling hopes to be among the contenders for the honour. Do Elves have such traditions? 

Enclosed with this letter, you will find the plans my father perfected for his creation in his last years; I trust your own craftsmen may make sense of them if you have a use for such a chair – father told stories of your people seeming indestructible by such injuries as he suffered, but I am glad to hear you take steps to keep such accidents from happening again. Be not mindful of any proprietary restraints on the plans; I have discussed the matter with my sibling and we agree that spreading Hafli’s genius among other folk is in keeping with his legacy. Do let us know if anything remains unclear – I am not aware of the methods your elven masons, few as they are, use to annotate measurements, and of course the ones given are for a dwarf-sized chair regardless, so some calculations might be required for any adaptations. 

I am sending this letter with the traders heading to Thargelion, and entrusting that they might there find worthy hands to carry it to the Deep Halls – trade into Doriath has dried up of late, but the Noldor are fond of the goods and metals we provide; they are almost Dwarven in their outlook, I hear. Gossip says some have even been accepted to apprentice with our Masters, though I do not know to credit such speculations – I have yet to see an Elf in Belegost, at least.

My best to you, 

Harðgreip Harga, daughter of Hafli, Senior Journeyman Claysmith of Belegost

Senior Journeyman Harga,

My greetings to you and your kin! I trust you are all well.

So long as you are satisfied none of your people will trouble about lack of formality, I am happy to call you Harga. (My people, being on the whole unfamiliar with your people’s naming customs, will likely assume that is simply your name, so will not assume any informality.) I am afraid I have no such informal name to offer in return, as I am Carweg to all.

My hearty thanks to you for the diagram of the chair! I have ventured to make a copy with measurements I think would fit elves and passed it to some of our craftsmen, for several have taken an interest. (They are as full of wonder as I am myself – your father’s name and reputation will live on so long as any Iathrim do! We have agreed that rather than create a new word or continue to call it a wheeled chair, it shall be known as a Hafli-chair in memory of its maker.)

Though you may not have thought it, there are one or two among my people who will benefit from a Hafli-chair. Would that we were so indestructible as your excellent father believed! It is true that we would heal from an accident such as befell him. But if an accident – or the wolves of our mutual enemy in the north – should sever a leg, elves cannot regrow missing limbs any more than dwarves can.  

As I am a bit belated to wish your sibling luck in the past Midwinter Craft Fair, I shall content myself with wishing them luck in the upcoming one, should they once again compete. We do have occasional craft competitions, but nothing so formal as what I understood from your letter. Though I am not confident I understood fully – when you speak of the Thirteen and the Firsts, are these offices or prizes? And does the king choose from favor only, or does he judge based on the skill demonstrated? Do you compete also, or is the contest open to those who have attained their mastery only? (I know you will laugh, but if your father has told you elves are apt to err when they reckon the age of your people, it is true – and so I must humbly ask if you are only just of an age to reach journeyman, or whether you are at the stage where you yourself are contemplating attempting mastery?)

Though I am sure these seem like obvious matters to you, here it would be a bit odd for King Elu to take part in the judging of a craft competition. Though he sings rather well and his knowledge of the forest is unmatched, he is not a craftsman in the way of a smith or a woodworker. While he can generally recognize good work from bad, judging the finer gradations of ‘good’ would be beyond him. As he would tell anyone himself, in trying to name a winner of such a contest, it would have as much to do with what struck his fancy as with the skill of the craftsperson. If the contest must be judged on skill, we would have either the craftspeople themselves pick competent (and impartial!) judges. The king engages craftspeople on much the same basis – so long as their peers judge their work sound, it is more a matter of taste with him than any belief that they may be the finest carpenter, or jewel-wright, or so on.

Have you any further news of the folk in Thargelion? Odd as the question may seem, I suspect you will have better information than I, for by the king’s command we keep our distance from most of the golodhrim. There was apparently some quarrel among them and we cannot make out who was in the right, so better to be polite but distant to all than to pick the wrong faction to be our allies. I cannot see myself where it is any great matter, not when nearly all of them are happy to place themselves between us and the enemy…

Do not blame the messengers, dwarf, golodh, or lindar alike,  for the long delay between your letter and mine. As far as I have been able to discover, your letter was passed from hand to hand as quickly as could be expected (and of course it could not take a direct route hence from Thargelion.) You wrote in the chilling season, and I am told the letter reached Menegroth in the earliest part of spring. Unfortunately, I myself was away in Brethil at that time, gathering herbs which do not grow closer to the king’s halls. I only returned as the leaves of the trees began to turn.

I have asked the lady Galadriel if I might send this with her next messenger to her brother, for I know they both correspond with her cousin in Thargelion, with any luck it will find dwarves from Belegost there to trade. If my words make the reverse journey as quickly as yours arrived, I think you should have the letter in hand by midwinter. So I send my best wishes to you, and hope that the Midwinter Craft Fair brings honor to you and your kin.

I am also enclosing something in the hopes you may find useful. The main ingredients are from my harvest in Brethil, compounded in plant oils and butters. It is good for dry skin, something I am told can trouble claysmiths. I would not dare send it in the summer, for it would likely turn liquid and slosh out of its small pot on the journey, but now that the days are brisk and the nights chilly, it should prove no trouble for the messengers.

May the stars shine upon you,

Carweg

Dear Carweg,

Whilst the notion that you might be able to regrow limbs did not enter my mind – and now that it has, I am slightly horrified by the thought; would the limb regrow from the stump like a small child’s, or grow back in stages until it reached the natural end point… Do not answer that. 

My apologies – the above was written when I returned from a guild feast, and not entirely sober. 

I am, however, pleased that the chair – and we love that you named it after adad, he would have loved that, too – might be of use to your people. I assume you do not build limb replacements for such injuries? Of course, not all injuries are suited for such inventions, but the freedom of movement afforded by the return of a lost leg cannot be understated.

As for the Midwinter Celebrations, I must report that my sibling was not chosen to sit among the Thirteen – though I am proud to say that several commissions came in for work similar to the box displayed. As for your question, I am wondering how much or how little I might tell you, but I do not think the celebration falls within the realm of Deep Lore, which is forbidden to outsiders, much as our language – I am quite proud of my Elvish, in fact, and that is why I am the one replying to your letters. 

Very well, I suppose this pertains more to the history of my people, and perhaps it is well enough that you might know, sharing stories of other kindred among yours. 

When Mahal – I believe he is Aulë, to you – created us, he did so with joy, granting to us the excitement and pleasure he takes in crafting new things, in developing skills and purposes, and so we revel in the glory of creation in honour of our Maker. It is our history that he speaks to us still, in the yet unformed dreams of pebbles, and in the hearts of some who have grown into the shapes he once envisioned for them, for that was the Doom of Eru upon us when the Maker interceded for his Children to be allowed a place in the world, that we must grow as all folk and beasts do, giving parts of ourselves into the making of new pebbles. 

The Thirteen Firsts were, as the name implies, the first of my kind to awaken beneath the mountains where now our clans dwell – seven clans for seven mountains spanning the world as we know it. It was their honour to awaken to the Maker’s face, to reveal in his Way our purpose, our joy and our souls.

I shall not tell you their true names, for that, surely, is not for the ears of an elf to hear, though you will recognise them by the names of the clans they created: 

My own lineage would be Firebeard, named for the shade of red in the beards of our First and the heat-resistant skin of their bodies which is found mainly in our clan, making us well-suited to the forge and kiln. Nearest to us, the Broadbeam awoke, and they are mighty in arms and unparallelled in their sense of stone; great miners and carvers. Further East, you would find the Longbeards, gem-cutters and smiths of the finest most delicate works we know. Beyond their mountains, I know of the Ironfists, whose steel is of the highest grade and whose weaponry is unmatched in strength. I have not met any of my kin from farther still, though I know I should find the star-charters and glass-makers among the Stiffbeards, and fine builders and masons where the Stonefoots dwell and the Blacklock clan boasts better chemists than any other. 

The Midwinter Craft fair honours the skills the Maker granted us, and his presence within our crafts; the King chooses not thirteen of the best objects by any criteria I can see, but rather thirteen that show the breadth of our skills – the lowliest apprentice might as easily be chosen as the most venerable master. The makers of the Thirteen are seated at the King’s table for the grand feast that marks the end of true winter, and the crafts chosen are later – with much ceremony and chanting of ancient verses that I will not reveal to you – gifted to the maker; the fiery heart of our mountain accepts them willingly, bringing echoes of our joy to the Makers Hall – I think they have other customs in Mountains that have not revealed their naked heart so, for ours is the only one I know of with such a heart and temper, and many believe that this is why we awoke here – who better to live in a Mountain of Fire than those it will not burn? 

The balm you have sent me is indeed marvellous, though I should be most fearful spending so long a time above the stone as you must surely have in your journey – it is an uncomfortable feeling to venture out where the protective arms of the Stone Mother canot shield you – and perhaps I might implore you to send more pots? It seems to do more good than what we receive from the herbalist traders of Thargelion – I do not know the ingredients, but yours has a different smell, which I found quite pleasing.

To that effect – and also because I am fair proud of how this batch came out – you will find this not a letter, but rather a crate; I am trusting that the straw and cloth we wrapped within and around the pots will ensure a minimum of breakage. If it does, I might be able to expand my export of them beyond Thargelion, where they see much enjoyment; the clay found there is of such an inferior quality that I consider it night unworkable, and it seems Master Nestril agrees, or so the trader who facilitates our dealings claim. 

The design is one of my own making – and if I am honest, and in a letter between friends, I don’t see why I should not be, I could present them as a Mastery and earn my chain with ease. Only I have no desire to leave my Master – I am content where I am, and old Lugo pays me well to stay by his side instead of striking out on my own. 

As for Thargelion itself, I am told it is a fine steading, if too open for any good dwarf’s soul – it sets upon plains, with clear views on all sides, and that is too much sky for anyone but an Elf, I feel. If your enquiry is motivated in a desire for trade, I should think it would be welcome – they are well rich in cattle (do you eat meat?) and so do trade in leather and horn, as well as others. Also, they have much knowledge of smithing learned at our Master’s side, so their blades and steel is well-made, and that is no small praise coming from our smiths. 

They value the goods that come highly, willing to pay good prices for them – the roads are not without dangers, though the horse-elves employed to guard it are diligent in their duties; the caravans employ guards for the journey, though it is rare for loss of life to be reported. They are also not so haughty in their dealings with us as your people, it seems; I have heard that a couple have even been invited to stay within the Mountain for a time and that is a great honour for any outsider. 

As I said, I am personally most familiar with Master Nestril, who is the steward overseeing the halls of Healing – I make many of the ceramics needed for medicines and potions made there – and I shall happily write you a letter of introduction if you would wish to visit; I daresay the Noldor might also have techniques unfamiliar to you, as yours would be to them. 

I must end this letter soon if it is to make the next caravan, so let me close by announcing the safe Naming of my nephew this past moon – he is to be called Hafgir, and already shows promise as a herald if the strength of his screams are anything to go by. 

Your friend,

Harga

Dear Harga,

I must confess to having a good laugh at the opening of your letter – I have no idea how a limb might regrow, having never truly contemplated it myself, but your words gifted me the oddest vision of a miniature limb growing from the stump as a new branch from a tree!

Blessings on your nephew and your family! A child is a gift beyond measure – though I hope little Hafgir has not much occasion to scream often. While herald is an honorable office, I shall venture to hope once he has settled into the world, he will reveal talents that suit him for another craft.

We do indeed build limb replacements, but some cannot adapt to them, and some have injuries so extensive that the chair would probably be preferable. We now have several Hafli-chairs in the king’s halls, and there is talk of constructing a special path so they may also go outside independently and visit some of the nearby trees and quieter streams. That is not normally our way, but it would be cruel indeed to have them only able to feel themselves part of the forest when others can assist.

I thank you indeed for your detailed explanation of the Midwinter Celebrations and the Thirteen! It sounds like an exciting festival, and must be a sight with so many craftsmen presenting their best efforts. I am sorry your sibling was not chosen this time, but I do not give up hope that they may claim the honor in the coming Midwinter, or perhaps one yet to come. I had not considered previously how one might praise Aulë in a way pleasing to him; we elves tend to sing our praises and trust that they are heard.

Here in Doriath our hearts turn more toward Yavanna (your Maker’s Lady – what do your people say of her, or does this tread too close to the lore that is reserved only for yourselves?) and Oromë – the Giver of Fruits and the Lord of the Forests. We celebrate more in the spring and summer; in winter many things take their rest, and our celebrations are quieter so as not to disturb them. Indeed, though we may appreciate a fine snowy morning, even we elves tend to rest more in the coldest part of the year, when the nights are longer.

You speak of your mountain having a heart of fire, and the Mountain of Fire – pardon one who has not seen mountains, but is this normal for mountains? I have always thought of them as being made of cool stone.  (Laugh if you will, but I was begotten here in Beleriand, and so have no memory of the Journey; the closest I have come to mountains is gazing toward the highlands north of our forest a few times, and that is still a rather safe distance.)

I thank you from my heart for the pots. All but one came through their time on the road untroubled. That one was cracked – it looks as if the crate had something dropped on it, or possibly was dropped itself, the corner was somewhat damaged, and the pot closest to it took a slight injury. But a friend of mine, a metalworker I fancy your people would have fine discussions with, mended it – he took a metal with a shine similar to gold and melted it into the crack, so one can see that it was at one point damaged, but the crack itself now adds to the beauty of it.

I am pleased you like the balm. I shall send more along with this letter – a chest with a number of pots of it. I think you may recognize some of those pots – I could not resist, as the lids of yours have a superior seal to the ones I have used until now. Do let me know how they fared in the journey compared to the others – if as I suspect they weather it better, I should like to commission a number of them from you. A few other healers here may wish to do the same, for I am not the only one to have remarked on the improved lids. (I am afraid the mended pot has become my favorite, though, and I could not part with it. That one I now keep in my workroom, as a reminder of distant friends and that even marred this world is fair.)

The weather is still cool enough that I can send these, but unless the messengers go back and forth quickly indeed it is unlikely I will be able to send another batch before the leaves begin to fall. Even with your fine sealed pots, too warm a day on the road and it would turn to liquid. While the balm would still be useable once it cooled and re-solidified, I find the scent is not as nice if that occurs – something about that second heating affects some of the herbs, and I would not have you using the inferior version. (We elves have our pride in our work as well, you see!)

I am not surprised to hear that my balm is different to that made in Thargelion, for it uses mainly herbs found in our forests, and a few things traded from further south. The elves of Thargelion might be able to get the things from the south, but I am afraid there is not much trade between us, so they probably do not even know of most herbs my people use.

I shall bear in mind what you have told me of the folk of Thargelion. If they have been haughty in their dealing with us, I suspect it has become a habit – at some point their lord was haughty to our king, the king of course returned the favor, and it would not surprise me if that has hardened into habit on both sides. But I am no noble lord, just a humble healer, and from what I have seen, a people who make blades and steel likely also have need of balms and ointments. I may venture some small trade through intermediaries, a trial of sorts. (As to your question, I do eat meat, but only sparingly – generally only at feasts and festivals, when the hunters share their bounty. I am not much of a hunter myself, and we do not raise meat animals here. I remember Hafli being quite fond of a good roast, so I know dwarves eat meat, but what of you personally?)

Do not be uneasy about my journeys - for me venturing out into the forest is as natural as being within a mountain is to you – I feel quite at home in the trees, almost more so than in the King’s halls. They speak to us, and warn us if danger approaches, in which case they become our sanctuary and protectors as well. And I’m sure Hafli must have told you we elves love the stars – downright foolish about them, I believe he said on more than one occasion, shaking his head at us. (Fear not, it is a fond memory, for it was said in a fond tone!) Indeed, I suspect not being able to see the stars of an evening is one of the reasons the King’s Halls feel a bit stifling by times.

I will undertake another trip to Brethil once the nights are warm, for that is the season to gather many of the things I use. Then in the fall, there will be fruits and nuts to harvest. Some for eating, of course, but others I put to use in my concoctions. (Also, some of the nut shells and pits of fruits have their uses as well – so the fruits and nuts are doubly useful!)

I would be delighted to visit if your Master Nestril does not mind having an elf of Doriath underfoot – or perhaps overhead is more apt? For my part, I think an exchange of healing lore would benefit both of us. I suspect all healers are greedy for knowledge to better heal the hurts brought before them, and we all know the pain of being confronted with something we cannot heal. Moreover, if I visit, I might also have the pleasure of meeting you face to face, and your kin as well.

The elf who will run this message to the way station on the north road warns me that if I do not close this letter now, I shall have to wait until the next message run, whenever that may be. As that will likely not be for some weeks, I shall wish you and your kin good health and good crafting until the next time!

Your friend,

Carweg

Dear Carweg,

You speak of Oromë, and I had to ask the loremasters to tell me who that is, for it is not a name I have heard; we are the Maker’s Children, though not all are Children touched by his Wife, Kementari – this name is the one she has given to us, and I believe it similar to how the Noldor speak of her – and we are the Children of Stone. Born of stone through the will and skill of Mahal, and none other – where Elves, I think, feel beholden to more of these Valar – though we revere the One for his mercy and grace in granting us a place in the world. 

To you, our ways might seem strange, caring so little for powers beyond our own Maker, but we have not seen need to offer praise to ones who have had so little to do with our shaping and now wield little power over our lives. We oppose the Dark One, for his touch upon the stone hurts in ways we cannot abide and his will to enslave all who dwell above and below we cannot abide or accept. We do offer praise to Kementari for her bounties, and those who were touched by her hands in their dreaming are often great scholars who bring new ways of obtaining food for our peoples. It is true we do not have farms, in the sense that I am told they have in the lowlands, though we are skilled in living off what we have to hand. Within the mountain, we grow fungi – some of it lights at the touch of a hand, though that kind is not for eating; it is pretty, and we name it Jewel of Kementari where it forms in great clusters upon our walls – and a variety of things that thrive in the dark beneath rock. You would perhaps believe less that we also have foragers, who traverse the mountainsides for nuts and berries, and herders, too, caring for flocks of goats and sheep; in our markets you may even encounter streamlets, which is a type of fish that lives in the shallower pools and rivers that run through the range in places, so we are quite versatile in our foods, even if grain is less of a staple here. 

I am charmed by your description of speaking with trees – you sound much like some of my kindred who are able to feel the intention of stone before its carving, or hear warnings of faults before a fracture – it is the Maker’s gift to us, and perhaps it is Kementari’s to you?

Rereading your letter, I am afraid you misunderstood me somewhere – Master Nestril is an Elf of Thargelion with whom my Master and I do trade in pots such as the ones I sent to you.

I suppose I might chance a journey to Thargelion, even if Lugo will grumble at me for weeks about abandonment and foolish elf-notions! (He’s perfectly willing to accept Elven goods or gold, but I cannot say he thinks fondly of your people, though he will not give a clear reason for his mistrust, and I have long-since decided I might be better off not knowing the details) I admit to some curiosity when it comes to seeing Elf-lands for myself – adad spoke fondly of his trips there, and I am friendly with several of the merchants who bring our goods to Thargelion and beyond, so I should find little trouble in securing passage even though I myself am no true warrior. Perhaps it might be amusing, too, to meet Master Netril at last, and see if he(she? they? I am not certain, though Elves seem most limited in the availability of words to describe a being outside their name) is as crotchety as I have imagined from the terseness of the goods lists I receive when getting new orders in…

If adad only knew what his daughter is considering! He used to despair that none of his pebbles shared his sense of adventure.

And yet, there is a sweetness to the desire to see a world so different from the one I have always known – even if I expect I shall be frightened by the openness of the skies above; my people do not concern ourselves with stars, though I know they have grand observatories built for the purpose of finding clarity in the skies in the East. 

If your intent was to come to Belegost, I fear you would be disappointed – the outsider permitted to even enter the outer halls is a rare one indeed, and the King himself would have to grant permission; and even so, taking you deeper than the Obelisk Hall – there is a market there a few times a year with goods from far-off places, but I have yet to see an elf tend a stall there, though elven goods are on display, haggled over by Dwarven intermediaries. 

I have heard that there is some friendship between our King and some of the Noldor Lords, but even so I should not find it likely for one of their traders to be admitted to the Halls, and you are no Noldo – and, in fact, being of Thingol’s kindred might bar you on principle, I fear. Perhaps some sway could be found in the promise to knowledge shared, but we might more easily think of such a petition in person – these letters do take some time to cross the distance between us, and if I remember correctly, a trader’s permit is only valid for a specific moon’s turn, even for non-elven traders. 

Still, I should like to meet you, so if you dare brave the journey – and the Noldor! – we could meet in Thargelion? There, at least, they would not bar you from entry…

With hopes that you have returned safely from your journeys – and not fallen into the sky, which my sig– Hafli’s parent still believes a distinct possibility of living above the good deep stone,

your friend, 

Harga

[addendum, scribbled in haste] Your idea with repairing the pot has been some inspiration to me in my work, and the goldsmith I approached for aid had great fun helping me crack the pottery necessary for experimenting with an appropriate solution – it is based in a resin from a plant whose elvish name I do not know, and though it takes much work and time for the work to cure, it is indeed a most beautiful thing; perhaps I shall present one of these pots for the next Midwinter Celebration!

Dear Harga,

I write in some haste. Usually I take more time over my letters to you, but I have found an opportunity to send a letter that will arrive more quickly than normal and I dare not miss it! (More on that in a moment…)

First, I have some news for you. Please do not take it as a slight to your people’s work, and particularly not Hafli’s, for Menegroth is truly a wonder. But of late I find life in the Thousand Caves does not suit me as it once did, and it is nothing our queen can help. I have realized on my repeated trips to Brethil that I enjoy the song of the wind and rain, and the caress of true starlight, and those the queen cannot bring inside.

I have decided to try my luck outside the king’s halls, though not outside the queen’s protection entirely. I am not sure I trust these newcomers from the West, so I will remain in the forests she guards. But there are a few settlements on the eastern edge of the king’s realm that are more like how I am told our people lived before the king built his halls. I am going to give it a try, at the least – I have relocated to one in the forest between the rivers Aros and Celon. So far it suits me well, and there is much to learn of plants and trees that grow only here.

I must apologize for having misunderstood your previous letter – I had taken Nestril for a dwarvish name. My new neighbors have had a good laugh at my failure to recognize an elvish name, even if it is Noldorin! While I am still curious to see you among your own folk, I do agree it would be best not to intrude, so I am happy to meet you in Thargelion if you are willing.

And now I come to that bit I said I would mention more on – one of my new neighbors who was greatly amused at my lack of common sense is a dwarf friend. Lord Eöl has visited your people several times, and by chance is shortly to undertake another such visit. He heard of my inquiring for any messengers who might carry a letter to Belegost, and has kindly offered to bear this hence himself. What’s more, he will be able to send me a message swiftly if you are agreeable to meeting in Thargelion. If you will tell him when you think you will be able to arrive, he will pass that on to me that I may set out in good time that neither of us should have an undue wait among strangers. If you have changed your mind and do not wish to travel, then he will bear a letter back to me – either way, it will be far less time between me sending this and your reply arriving than we have become accustomed to!

I am holding my many questions about the fungi, edible or glowing, and what plants your foragers find particularly tasty or useful, in the hopes that you will be able to answer them in person. Though if not – I am sure sooner or later our paths will cross. (And even if you cannot show me in person, I suspect Lord Eöl would greatly appreciate a glimpse of one of your repaired pots – he was quite fascinated by mine, and as you have worked with a goldsmith, I suspect yours are more beautiful still!)

Closing in haste before my unexpected messenger departs, and hoping we may meet before long,

Carweg

[nearly illegible addendum, added in obvious haste] – Also tell Lord Eöl if there is anything in particular you would wish me to bring to Thargelion. I will bring the ingredients for the balm, but unless I can be assured of travelling in the cold, I will wait until I arrive to concoct it lest it be ruined on the journey.

Carweg!

I have not ever been so surprised as I was when Felkhar appeared at my door, more keen to meet the dwarf who would build a friendship with an elf he barely knew than any might have anticipated. 

HOW DID YOU GET THE KING’S FRIEND TO PLAY MAILCARRIER??!?!?

Also, that one is oddly frightening while also being very endearing – he had much to say of my gold-crack pots indeed (and I gifted him one for his wife, which sounded like it should be well-received – does she know much of smithing, clay or metal??) and such an intense way of paying attention. 

Quite unnerving, in truth (I do hope he doesn’t read this letter, but yours arrived with no signs of tampering, so I shall chance it), to have him looking at me as I write this – though he is very polite; I half expected that he would wish to wander through the workshop, but I suppose he must have learned manners as we teach them over the years he has spent in friendship with our people… 

I have offered him a tour – he is not well-versed in the art of claysmithing, but there is an almost child-like curiosity in him that I find charming, even if I am certain that he is centuries my elder. Elves are a strange folk indeed, I think I might finally see what adad meant when he spoke of your kin. 

As for meeting, I suggest  – I had to ask Master Eöl to tell me the names you use for the shifting times of the year; he was most kind in drawing me a diagram – how strange to have a calendar that changes so little within a cycle! – I digress! I have made tentative plans to join my cousin’s merchant traders in Thargelion this spring, once the snows clear and the ground is suitable for wagons to cross – Master Eöl says you call this april, but if my spelling is too strange, this is the moon after the equinox, and I think we should arrive around the middle of that moon. 

This letter has been quite short, but I feel those dark eyes boring into my skull (even if Master Eöl is too polite to complain at the speed of my pen-scratchings) so I shall end it now, hoping that I might see you this spring in Thargelion!

Your friend, 

Harga

Dear Harga,

I might have known Lord Eöl would have a dwarvish name, he has been a dwarf friend since before the King’s halls were even begun. Though I did not ‘get’ him to play mailcarrier -he offered when he heard I was looking to send a message. I believe he was somewhat pleased to find another elf keeping up friendship with your people. (And your letter arrived without any meddling, worry not!)

I am not entirely sure what his wife knows of smithing, though she is of the folk from the West, who are said to have many smiths among them. I am afraid I cannot tell much of her from my own observation, as I have yet to meet her – though my neighbors assure me it is only a matter of time. She often roams these woods when a restless mood strikes her.

But I think she will like the pot – I do not see how she could not. Lord Eöl was kind enough to show it to me, as he was aware I knew of them but had not seen one. It is magnificent! (Quite beyond my mended pot, though I am still very fond of it. You improved on the idea immensely!) He was very complimentary about both your work and your workshop.

As your friend, I would be remiss not to mention that should you wish to broaden the market for your goods, you would have a number of buyers in these parts. Between what I have said, Lord Eöl’s good opinion, and the glimpses of your work people have had, you already have an established reputation here.

I shall look for you in Thargelion in the spring! I am assured that while it is slightly farther for me than for you, it is also not a difficult or unpleasant journey. At least, not so long as it is not undertaken in the depths of winter. Few make the journey regularly – I am sure you are aware of the king’s opinion of the elves from the West – but Lord Eöl certainly does not object. (And anyway, he cannot be so strongly against them, or at least not all of them – his wife is said to be kin to the West-elf who holds Thargelion, and his brothers further north. Perhaps by the time I see you, I will have met her and be able to say more.)

I am sending this letter with the shipment of wood bound to your city, in the hopes that it reaches you before we both set out – but I expect to receive your reply in person.

Wishing you safe travels,

Carweg