A grey morning settled over the Dwarven stronghold of Thorin’s Gate, with little sun and the lowering clouds heavy with rain. At that hour, Frimsi Gembeard was visited by an eagle bearing a message from the nearby Elf-lands of Falathlorn upon the river Lhûn. Taking up the message, he recognized the name of the sender in now-familiar red ink, and this is what he read:
Seregrían of Bar-en-Acharn to Zabad Frimsi of the Excellent House of Durin's Folk, greeting:
Tidings have reached us here regarding a host of the Blue-crag goblins massing in the ravines of Rath Teraig. Their activity and movements would indicate they intend to march on the Dwarf-hold of Gondamon. Their attack appears to be imminent, and their numbers far greater than the garrison's.
Know that by our accord, our House stands ready to provide such aid and support as is within our means, up to and including the full fighting-strength we can muster. We await word from you and yours regarding timing and place of linking up with any contingent you may field.
Manwë keep you, and Mahal grant you strength.
Frimsi considered these tidings with both great interest and rising dread. After bidding the eagle return to his mistress to inform her the message was received, he hurriedly dashed off a report. The stones are now rolling, he thought, the avalanche has begun.
~~|~~
The next morning, clouds in the western skies veiled the sun over the Enclave of Bar-en-Acharn. Seregrían was taking in the air outside her manor of Torech Besruth, breathing in the fragrance of the coming rains. As she gamboled beneath the trees, the harsh cry of a raven broke her reverie; down from the high airs the dark bird swooped beneath the boughs, nearly crashing to the ground before pulling out of its dive and fluttering to her side, speaking to her in the Common Tongue.
“Red Lady of the Elves,” he croaked, “Saroc is my name, friend to Durin’s Folk, and I bear a message from Thordralin Stoutshield, who is known to you.” The raven showed the message clutched in his talon, which Seregrían stooped to take. Opening it, this is what she read:
To the Lady Seregrían "Blood-Queen" of the household of Bar-en-Acharn, Greetings.
My utmost thanks for your letter to Master Frimsi; he has told me of this grave news.
If what you say is true, we may not have much time. I bid you meet me this evening at the planning room at Durin's Folk 'Azghakka Headquarters in the village of Ulfhirth. We and our allies from the mountain halls shall await your arrival.
Ever at your service in these darkest of times,
Uzbad Thordralin
Seregrían clutched the letter to her breast, looking off to the west and muttered, “So it comes to this.” Turning back to the raven she said, “O Saroc Dwarf-friend, fly as the winds will carry you, and bring my word to Thordralin: I shall come with all speed!” The raven leapt and took to the air; even before it reached the height of the gables, Seregrían was dashing back inside the manor.
~~|~~
As the sun dipped beneath the edge of the world and twilight closed in, Seregrían rode up to the great gates of Thorin’s Hall and upon entering, walked along the path that would take her to the Dwarf-stead held by Durin’s Folk. Upon arriving, she had not long to wait, for Frimsi rode up upon a stout goat-courser, heavily dismounting then bowing deeply.
“Well, well, this is indeed a day of portent,” he laughed, “the Elves come to a Dwarf-council faster than the Dwarves do! Welcome to Ulfhirth, lady!”
“Well met, Frimsi old friend,” Seregrían smiled in reply. “Now, Thordralin’s letter mentioned “our allies from the mountain halls’, who else might be coming to this?”
“Good tidings, you see. Thordralin sent word to our brothers of the Blue Mountains Regiment – and would you believe it, their commander - Thorslin himself! – is on his way!”
“The Regiment! This is news, indeed,” Seregrían agreed. “I have not met with the leaders of the Regiment in some time. But what of Thordralin? I had thought this was a council of only the Heads of Houses?”
“Thordralin was detained by pressing matters,” Frimsi replied, “and he bade me act in his stead, with full authority and proxy. And you’re correct, only leadership or commanders are to be here; such was the secrecy that both Dwarf-kins agreed upon. The chance of any plans or policies being betrayed is lessened.”
“A wise precaution,“ Seregrían said. Both turned at the sound of clattering hooves coming up the path. A Dwarf of formidable bearing dismounted by them, the Dwarf looking Seregrían up and down in appraisal.
“Welcome, Lord Thorslin!” Frimsi exclaimed. “Frimsi son of Frimgor, at your service! I speak for Lord Thordralin, who has been delayed and might not arrive.”
Thorslin bowed properly to Frimsi, then turned back to Seregrían. “And this is the Elf?”
Seregrían gave a deep bow. “Call me Seregrían, Lady of House Bar-en-Acharn. Shamukh, Uzbad Thorslin! Mahal’s blessing upon the Regiment, and our counsels.”
“By my beard!” Thorslin exclaimed, his eyes widened at the words. “An Elf who knows our tongue! And here, I thought Thordralin was joking. Well, shamukh, azbad!” he said in reply.
“Shall we go inside?” Frimsi offered. “We shall begin, and I shall keep Thordralin’s seat warm until he arrives.” Frimsi led the way, holding the door open for the others.
The Mountain Council was begun.
