Songs of Stone and Mountain by pandemonium_213

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Chapter 3: The Elf-child

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After her mother left the nursery in the company of that impossibly tall elf-woman, Dísa sized up the much smaller elf-child who stood before her.  Clad in a stiff dress, the little creature's dark hair was pulled back into mass of tiny plaits, so tight that the skin of her forehead was stretched, giving her a surprised look.   That made Dísa glad that old Gulla did not braid her own hair so tightly.  Bright flecks of silver glinted in the girl's grey eyes.  They looked like mithril shards catching the moonlight.

 

Dísa crossed her arms in front of her and tried to look stern and important while the elf-child glared back at her.  Her brother, Dagr, as the heir of their House, had been invited to go along with Father and those even taller (and scary) elf-men, but Mother firmly told her she was to remain in the nursery with Gulla.

 

Mother had scolded Dísa after she complained about being left out.  "Have I not taught you that it is not proper for our women and girls to mingle with men of the Others?  You shall remain here and entertain the little girl."

 

It was so unfair!  Father often took her with him to the forges, but now it seemed that Dagr was more important.  She did not want to be nice to this girl, whose lips were pursed and eyebrows scrunched, looking like she was none too happy to be left here with Dísa.

 

"You shall be kind to her," Mother had whispered in her ear.  "This child is kin to Celebrimbor, who, I don't need to tell you, is a loyal friend to the House of Narvi.    Her parents are important people in the Elven-City, and your father wishes to make a good impression on them.  So you behave and mind Mistress Gulla."

 

The elf-woman also eyed her daughter. "The same must be said to you, young lady. Comport yourself properly and no mischief." 

 

Mother's cheeks flushed, and she looked startled that this stranger overheard her, but the elf-woman was not flustered in the least.  "I am sure they will be fine, Lady Hlín.  Now, shall we be off to your herbalists' guild? I am most interested in hearing of their success with burn wounds."

 

"Certainly, Lady Culinen.  Let us be on our way."  Mother led her out of the nursery, but shot Dísa a sharp look before she closed the door.

 

For a long time, they just looked at each other while Dísa tried to think of what to say.  She had never met an elf-child before.  This tiny girl was so odd:  no wisps of a beard grew on her chin, and she was fine-boned and skinny, like a fledging bird.  Dísa's curiosity at last shoved her anger aside, and she spoke first.

 

"How old are you?"

 

"Seven.  Seven sun-rounds.  Years, I mean."  The girl spoke the Grey-Elven tongue, but with a different accent compared with what Dísa and Dagr had been taught.  Her words were rounder somehow, like water flowing over smooth rocks.

 

"You are so tiny!  You can't be seven."

 

The elf-child straightened, as if trying to look bigger.  "Am so."

 

"You're too short to be seven."

 

"Well, I shall be taller than you when I am a grown-up."

 

"And I shall be stronger!  Mahal made the Dwarves from stone!"

 

The elf-girl opened her mouth, but snapped it shut, as if she meant to say something but thought better of it.  Instead, she asked, "How old are you then?"

 

"Nine."

 

"Huh.  You may be bigger than I am now, but you're not that much older."  The elf-girl looked around the nursery.  "What is there to do here?"

 

Dísa pointed to the many books and clever toys on the nursery's shelves.  "I guess we could read, or maybe play with the clockwork toys."

 

"You have clockwork toys?"  The elf-girl's eyes were wide as saucers.  "Oh, yes!  Let's do that!"

 

Dísa and the elf-child played with the clockwork toys, winding them up and watching them march past and into each other.  Dísa forgot about being angry, and the elf-girl must have, too, as they laughed at the antics of the toys.

 

The elf-girl asked question after question about how this one worked, and that one, so she and Dísa took apart the wind-up raven and put it back together.  The child pieced the intricate gears back together, adept as any Dwarf-girl.  When they at last looked up, old Gulla was snoring, slumped in her chair, and her knitting had fallen from her lap to the floor.

 

"I have an idea," Dísa said. "Do you want to see one of the forges?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"We'll have to be careful.  I am not allowed to be in the forge by myself."

 

"Me neither."

 

"It wouldn't hurt just to look."

 

The elf-girl nodded with enthusiasm.  "Just to look, yes."

 

"We'll have to sneak out and squeeze through a tunnel.  You might get that dress dirty though."

 

"I don't care.  I hate this dress.  It's itchy."

 

Maybe this elf-girl wasn't so bad after all.  "Let's go then…what did you say your name was?"

 

"Didn't say.  But it's…well,  you may call me Mélamírë.  I mean, Mélamírë at your service."  The elf-child bowed. "That's what I am supposed to say, right?"

 

"Yes, that is what you're supposed to say.  Then I say, 'Dísa at yours.' Now follow me, and be quiet!"

 

Later, with their clothes torn and filthy, hair unbraided and tousled, they stood before Mother and Father and the grown-up Elves.   Dísa bore the brunt of Mother's disappointment.

 

"What are we to do with you, girl?  Why do you not do as you're told? Was your disobedience worth tearing up your new tunic and ruining Lady Naryen's dress?"

 

Dísa ducked her head while Mother scolded her, but she glanced up once and saw her great-grandfather's friend — Celebrimbor — looking down at her.  He grinned briefly and winked.  Then Mélamírë nudged her with her little hand.  Dísa saw the same fleeting grin on her face and a wicked glint in the elf-girl's eyes.  Oh, yes, it had been worth it.

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Chapter End Notes

In the Pandë!verse, I adhere a bit more closely to the source texts (zounds!) with regard to Dwarf-women, i.e., from The Lord of The Rings Appendix A, Part III, Durin's Folk: 

They seldom walk abroad except at great need.  They are in voice and appearance, and in garb if they must go on a journey, so like to the dwarf-men that the eyes and ears of other people cannot tell them apart.

From a scientifictitious standpoint, Dwarf-women of the Pandë!verse secrete naturally higher levels of androgens, which may contribute to their beards (which are not sparse when they are adult women), heavier facial bone structure, and deep voices.  This may also account for the slow reproductive rates of Dwarves through reduced fertility.