It was a stormy day, the rain was pounding on the windows of the Prancing Pony and the lightnings were amplifying the scarce light of the fireplace which Fiontann was sitting in front of. As always he had a tankard filled with ale on the left arm of the chair and he was enjoying his pipe. He was leaning back with his right hand hanging over the arm on the right side; his left handed was supporting the bowl, while his teeth were gently gripping the neck of the oaken pipe. His eyes were closed and a thick cloud of smoke had already formed around him, every now and then he would take the pipe away from his mouth and pass it to the right hand to take a sip of the ale, after that he would take the same position.
The sound of some hurrying steps and metal clinging against metal disturbed Fiontann’s peace, and made him idly raise his head and look who was running at the corridor. He saw a Dwarf, walking with the usual noisy Dwarven manner and turned his head in front again to enjoy his pipe. A frown shaped on his brows seeing that the weed had already burned out and, leaned forward while turning the pipe upside down to let the ashes fall into the fire. As Fiontann started putting his pipe away the Dwarf set his hand on Fion’s shoulder and says “No lad! Let me share some with you, I would like some company.”. The young man turned and looked at him curiously at first, but then he smiled and kindly responded to him. “Of course Master Dwarf, here, have a sit with me on this fine day and let’s hear the weathers tidings.”. The Dwarf sat on the chair opposite to Fion and started talking…
‘It was a night like this, two hundred and seventy six years ago, the rain was replaced by a heavy snow and the wind was howling over the Misty Mountains. (Here the Dwarf counted with his fingers) I must have been a lad of fifteen winters, my father and I were returning home after selling his works to some Men, far in the East. My father was a skilled crafter; he could take a piece of steel and turn it into a fine bracelet, shining more than the sun. We were heading towards the encampment we had made, along with others of our kin. That camp was behind a hill, some of our kinsmen had hit a vein of silver and we set up the camp to mine as much as we could. It was had a gleaming silver color and it was as soft as silk to the touch. My father and some others were there to assess the quality of it, while most of the other Dwarves were miners.
‘As we were getting closer to the hill, to reach its lowest part and go round, we could see black smoke coming behind it. At first we thought that it was just the fire they made to keep them warm, but as we were getting closer it was getting thicker and thicker, and we could see more smoke rising. We got alarmed and my father prepared his twin axes and I held my club as we got closer to the hill. We stood on a high point and peered ahead, towards the camp, trying to see what the cause of the smoke was. The whole camp was burnt down and there were no signs of life, carefully we descended the hill and made our way closer to the camp. Only to see many of our kinsmen lying dead, still clutching their weapons, blood all over their bodies, some of them were half eaten, others burned and others with their eyes open, staring at what had caused their death. My father knelt and wept at that side and blamed himself for what has happened, he thought he could have saved them. Tears were running over his long brown beard and his huge eyes were red from the pain he felt. I, on the other hand was sad, but I was alarmed also, what had caused their demise could be around, lurking for more victims and pleaded him to leave. He stood up and looked at his twin axes, gleaming in the winter light and said that he was going to avenge them. I begged him to leave and bring help but he refused, he said that he abandoned them and now it was his job to avenge them. I could do nothing but march with him in that accursed errand that his narrow mind brought us on.
‘We followed the blood trails to a lake and hid behind a bush nearby, to survey the area. After some time we heard some rocks moving somewhere ahead and from a shadowy place under some trees five or seven goblins appeared. They were laughing and one of them had a leg in its hands… Eating it… At that sight my father got enraged and rushed out of our hiding place to kill them with a heave, loud yell. His scream aroused them and they drew their weapons before he reached them. He managed to take down two before the rest of them ran into their cave and my father followed them, screaming curses. I stood there, in the bush waiting and trembling, the cold was getting stronger each minute. After a while two goblins came out of the entrance and threw my fathers’ remains on the ground and scattered them around the lake, obviously to scare anyone else who wanted to follow his example. I waited for them to go back in with bated breath, and when they did I ran…
‘I ran, like a deer runs, to escape its hunter, my short feet were beyond my command and ran and ran back to the camp. When I got there I fell to my knees and cried for the loss of my father, cried for my inability to hold him back or defend him, and finally I cried for our lost kinsmen. Slowly I rose to my feet to search for our tent, a difficult task, because all were burned and were black from the fire and all looked similar, I was too shook to remember the exact position. When I found it I entered what was left from it and found my father’s toolbox. That toolbox was all that I was left from him, that, and the knowledge to make jewelry. I dragged it away from the camp and buried it in the ground, for it was heavy for a child and, I marked its location on a tree nearby and made a map to help me find it easier when the time would come. But, the time never came… When I grew up got busy with my craftsmanship and mining that I forgot to go back to get the toolbox, no… I never forgot about it, it was always in the back of my head, but I never got the chance to do it. Now I have to do it again, but I’m old, if I was a young lad like you I’d do it. I would even happily pay someone richly if he would bring it back.’”.
At this point Fiontann smiled and explained to the Dwarf about him and the Bloody Dawn. Hearing that the Dwarf turned and looked at him expectantly, his hands hurried to his belt and offered Fion three pouches filled with gold coins. He said “More await, if you and your company bring me that toolbox, there is none like that in the whole world.” and he fixed his gaze on Fiontann, waiting for his answer. Fiontann looked at the pouches and then at the Dwarf and bowed his head once as he said “My men and women are the most capable for such a task, and if you’re willing to pay richly as you say I cannot refuse what you ask.”. The Dwarf smiled at that and took a box out of his tunic, he offered it to Fiontann and said “Here are the map and a gift to you, from me. If you bring the toolbox you will have my coins and my gratitude.” And stood on his feet, he put his pipe away and looked outside, “The rain has ceased, it’s time to leave, I expect your news.” He said and left.
