She Would Not be Left Behind
The Very Private Papers of Gimli, Son of Gloin
Well, this is a first.
Father has asked me to accompany him on a trip – a trip of great
importance, or so he says, and I believe him. Never has my father led
me astray and it has been just the two of us for many years now, since
Mother passed away. Her memory still grieves me and I try not to think
on her too often.
Father does, however, when he believes me to be elsewhere, out of
sight. Oftentimes I have seen him lift his final gift to her, a
necklace of wondrous beauty, out of its carven chest and hold it up to
the flickering light of the few candles in his room. I remember how it
adorned her neck, its fair gems little match for her sparkling eyes,
though blue they both were. Sapphires, the finest to be had, set into a
circlet of deep gold, a choker almost. Inscribed upon its inner face
were the words “Your love is the greatest gift.”
Tears often fill his eyes at these times and I steal away, ashamed that
I have witnessed his pain. Dwarves do not show such emotion to others,
even those they love. Those words were, perchance, the first time he
ever wrote such things to her, for all their long years together.
But I digress, as I often do these days. Though I am accounted old by
the reckoning of men, in dwarven years I am still hale and hearty. My
mind, however, tends to wander sometimes…ah, for a war, a battle, a
fierce disagreement! My axes grow dusty and rust with disuse. Thus, I
welcomed this trip, though I do not yet divine its purpose. Father has
affairs yet to put into order, and I know not where we journey to, yet.
I do not care. The fresh air and open fields call to me after so long
in the caverns of the Earth.
Soon the sun will shine upon me and I will turn my face to its warmth and be glad.