Tennis With An Elf and A Dwarf by Grundy, Raiyana

Dwarf Invitation?

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!