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 ................