Kalvur, son of Rolvur
Jewel-smith and tinker
Thorin's Halls, Ered Luin
I am Kalvur, son of Rolvur, of the Iron Hills, born in the year 2950 of the Third Age (as the elves reckon such things.) I fight, trade and mine iron with the best, though my real love is jewel-smithing. Polishing or faceting a gemstone to bring out its deepest beauty moves me as no other craft does. Gems have their own power. This is my legacy from my mother Kaia. She comes from the Blacklocks, and is a Master Jewel-smith in her own right. I did not inherit her looks, for I look like my father, but she gave me the gift of hearing the song of the stones.
My father sits on the Council of our young Lord, Thorin III Stonehelm, Steward of the Iron Hills Folk at the command of his father King Dain II Ironfoot, son of Nain, son of Gror, King Under the Mountain. My father desired trade in the west and wished to send me, since I am more adventurous by nature than my elder brother Rogvi. This plan fell in neatly with Lord Thorin's need for someone to lead a group of refugees into the west: several families of Stiffbeards and a small band of Stonefoots who had escaped both persecution and fearful evil in Palisor. The Ironfists refused to come with us, but that is another story.
The refugees have been coming to us for more than a century. My mother's family were among the first. In the beginning, there was room for them all in the Iron Hills. All too soon, our mines were crowded and the ranks of our fighting forces were swelled with their numbers. When the great Thorin Oakenshield reclaimed the Kingship of Erebor, many answered Lord Dain's call to muster for battle. Even more came west to help rebuild the Kingdom Under the Mountain.
Conditions in Palisor and Rhun have gone from bad to worse. The evils our kin there have faced would make the strongest dwarf quail in dread. Even peaceful Dorwinion is beset. Whole families, entire clans have left their ancient halls, fleeing the malign magic of the King of Palisor, descendant of Khamul the Undying, servant of Sauron.
I have traded west to Erebor many times, but was glad for the chance to see the fabled lands beyond. Eriador is the place of my Longbeard ancestors; the subject of my father's songs and stories since my youth. I had heard of hobbits, but never seen one until I came to the west. I had never seen elves either. In Palisor, they stay hidden in their forests, for they are hunted by the King and High Council, who suffer no magic other than their own.
To us who know the horrors of the east, the west has always seemed a place of refuge and safety. Yet I have found that this is not so. Although Thorin's Halls in the Blue Mountains may be a refuge, there is little safety to be had anywhere. The evils that haunt and hunt the innocent here are as bad as anything I have seen in Palisor or Rhun.
My younger sister Rakul is the learned scholar in our family. I am not. I only know as much of our great history as there are tales and songs to tell it. My life has been trading and fighting and mining and smithing...and drinking ale with my friends. But the friends of my childhood are all left behind me now. I am wandering alone in a strange country.
none yet in the West
Orcs, brigands, oathbreakers, those who serve evil and prey on the innocent
family, friends, gemstones, gold, fighting, adventure
to bring honor and wealth to my famiy, to fight the servants of the Enemy wherever I find them, and to explore as much of Eriador as I can before I am called home
Trust is a rare treasure
|First letter home||3 years 11 months ago|