Over the stone hills and past the ocean fair, down in the green dales came waking the Dwarves with dawns first light twinkling down their beards and shining in their eyes over the horizon in golden light. First among these where Dwar and Dwi, and when the first men saw them they called them Dwarves. But Dwi was very clumsy and stupid and hence came the word Dweeb, at which Dwarves are now very offended and many men have foolishly lost their lives as a result. Yes, Dwarves are easily offended. A stocky proud people they are. Noses bigger then the very hills they dwell in and beards longer still, however badly this beginning was to their friendship Dwarfs and Men soon got along quite famously. Why, if I told you that soon Dwarfs and Men would talk, sing and dance (not to mention drink), all through the night would you have believed me? 'Course not, but they did all the same. How much coin it was I wonder? Having Dwi over must have cost a pretty penny no doubt, spilling the ale and dropping the food all over the bright green grass. Right proper it was though, to see these altogether different people talking and laughing as if they where borne together. And I suppose they where.
But soon came a day when neither dwarf, nor human could feast in peace. For right up to the good Dwarven noses came this beautiful being, Simrog was his name, and as tall as two dwarfs he was with robes of fine white and a smile cold as ice, always hard it was to look at him though for it seemed that he was hiding something, they invited him into their esteemed home. And the moment he turned down their good ale, they knew something was amiss. So kindly, they asked him to go away and never come back. His eyes flashed with silent rage, then he smiled and without a word he left all the same, and never came back to their home. Instead rumor had it that he was visiting the humans, and that they did not mind his company.
But one day come his do appointment with Men he did not come. For a time they went back to the calm and peaceful life they lived, but all did not remain as it used to be. After that there was always a cold air between men and dwarfs and rare was a true laugh.
A fell wind was in the air whispering death and the evils of the night and the heavens turned black as the great tears of Elves rained down on Men. For in the wake of the growing blackened Shadow came riding Simrog in dark heart of the storm. Behind him was a host of beings like him, but they where not as they used to be. No not at all, now they where robed in black, stained with grime and filth the dark ones marched up to King Alaen Brögh and demanded he bow down before them. Alaen looked at Simrog and such was his gaze that the dark one shivered. For in him was the strength of The One. “Away from my sight, you who would dare trade the One for power.” And he spat in his face. But Simrog screaming in rage, and bursting forth in hate leaped upon the king and slew him. The people in pride drew their swords thinking to defeat the enemy unaided, charged into the battle with reckless fervor. Their swords clashed the heavier as the bells of war rang out in mighty vengeance, and the spears of the Valiant pierced deep, but soon Men where pushed back as their ever dwindling numbers grew thin as a leaf, falling from a tree rippling across the waters it sank in a tide of a black water.
~ ~
Now word of this tyranny reached the mountain home of Lord Vellöndi, king of the Dwarves. And his rage burned hot, for his friends of near kin where dead. He tore his adamant beard in grief for his brothers, and in the dark chambers of the mountain he swore an oath that he and his kin would not stop until his brothers where avenged. His call to arms did not go unanswered for at his gate stood the legions Bazryk calling out for vengeance. “The gates of Darkness shall not avail!” He cried, and down the snow capped mountains of the north and over the green, wet hills of the west marched the sons of stone. In their striving they came to the fortress of Caelbrúes . Black was it's great walls of timber and crushed was it's gate, the once white stones of it's courts now red with the blood of it's builders.
Swallowing the choking stone in his throat the old king, weak in fear buckled and fell in sadness for the children of his friends. Haggard like a hag his wispy white hair drooped in weary disdain, “This deed will not go unpunished”, he cried. “Neither pain nor death shall stop us, in the morrow we shall see how the ones who would do this would fare to our hammers! Away with them!”
In this fair world in wouldst evil lurks in the shadows unheeded, and of light and peace and the peoples of the earth, the tales of it's hope and fears, it's triumphs and failures, has now begun.
Thanks for reading,
anything that could use some fixing?
