The Arena

by Samwisegirl

Part 2
   
He felt the air change the moment he entered the arena. This air was not close and damp, as it was in the mines. This air had an acrid, coppery smell that scorched his nostrils, and he recognized it for what it was. Blood had been shed here. Many, many times over.

    Gimli felt his father's gentle hands untying the blindfold, and it fell from his eyes. He looked around in amazement. It was a dark and musty place, the only light coming from the few torches along the outer walls. There was a smoky haze that permeated his senses; his eyes began to water, and his nostrils flared. Many dwarves lounged on the benches that circled the inner fighting ring, and they were smoking pipes and drinking mead. He knew these dwarves; they were the craftsmen, the miners, the dwarves that breathed life into their community. They were also warriors. He knew them. He had played with their children when he was small. They stared at him keenly; no hint of recognition in their eyes. They looked at him as though he were an enemy. 

    He did not know what was expected of him. This frightened him badly. Glóin walked him to the center of the arena, then retreated and left him there alone. Gimli faced the council of elders seated at the head of the circle. Thorin spoke first.

    "Declare yourself" he said.

    "I am Gimli, son of  Glóin" said the young dwarf, standing straight and looking Thorin in the eye. He gave no sign that he was afraid, even though his innards quailed. All the stories he had heard about this place were flooding his brain. He was having trouble breathing. But he would not show these elders his fear. He would make his father proud.

    "First trial!" boomed Thorin.

    A large dwarf stepped forward out of the shadows cast by the torchlight, and declared himself.

    "Varin, son of Rundin" said the dwarf. He stepped into the arena, and bowed first to Thorin and the other elders, then to Gimli. Surprised, Gimli bowed back. Glóin, watching from the crowd, smiled into his beard.

    "Clubs!" yelled Thorin.

    Two attendants brought the weapons to Varin and Gimli. Varin accepted his from the attendant, then pointed it at the crowd and bellowed. The dwarves answered this with a roar of approval.

    Gimli took his club and hefted it, testing its weight. It was blunt and heavy, and spiked at the one end. There were dark stains about that end. He shuddered in comprehension. He understood now what was to be done. Varin began to circle Gimli, a low growl coming from deep in his throat. He swung his club with venom, and suddenly charged ................