Year 2658 Third Age
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Aki headed for his sister's house near the Armorers’ Guildhall when he got back. The elaborately embossed and decorated front door of her home was set to one side of a much bigger residence belonging to the large family of Armorers she had joined when she married. Torvaldur’s younger brothers, uncles, and numerous cousins guaranteed the huge main house was always a noisy, busy place. It was one of the best places in the Mountain to get the latest gossip and information about the Guilds, the Forges, or anything that was happening in the Court. As the saying went, "Some dwarves go to the Goldsmiths, but ALL dwarves come to the Armorers."
The door slammed open with a loud clang. Noli came running out to meet him, black braids flying, with Svi right behind her, holding the new baby. Aki spent a few minutes admiring his new nephew Úlvur. Svi caught him up on the latest news as they walked back into the house. "Oh my brother, you were so right about Óthin and Máur's feuding. Some of their more hot-headed followers got into a major brawl in the middle of the street in front of the Goldsmith's Guild main office. It spread into a riot through half the City. The apprentices ran amok all the way down Tavern Row."
She shook back her walnut-brown braids and laughed, bright blue eyes shining with mischief. Her arrogant nose and high cheekbones were softer than her brother’s, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance. "Chancellor Borin and the Guard put it down quickly, without much damage. There were black eyes and broken noses aplenty among the rioters and no actual injuries to the Guard, but King Thror flew into a royal rage when he heard about it. He had the Guard drag Óthin and Máur to a full Public Court. The King’s Council fined the two of them into penury." Svi’s grin was slightly malicious. "They had to use carts to bring all the gold that was due!”
“He didn't strip Óthin of his Council seat, more's the pity,” Noli added with distinct disappointment, as she led the way back into the house. “He is still the Goldsmiths' Guildmaster. Both their reputations are ruined for trading, though. It will be quite some time before either of them will be a problem to anyone."
With the most important need for information satisfied, Aki dropped into the nearest overstuffed leather armchair as his two-year old son Kelin staggered in on sturdy legs, waving his favorite toy axe. Kelin grabbed Aki around the knees and slammed his forehead into his father’s kneecaps. Aki winced, laughing, as he pulled Kelin up onto his lap.
His face grew serious and sorrowful as he related Norion’s death and sketched out the Orc raid. "They ambushed us just a few day’s travel outside the far border of the Woodland realm. The Elven King may guard his borders well, but he won't go one finger-length beyond, not even for his own folk. He doesn’t approve of the elves who go out trading. Even his scouts are kept within bounds. The Orcs know it. We may have to send extra guards out with the west-trading caravans until we cut their numbers down again."
