5 Frothing Road, Aisgarth, The Blue Mountains
Motgrouk Taleteller, son of Gumir, of the Iron Hills is an aged Dwarf with many of the reservations that accompany such. He was born in 2764 T.A. under the reign of King Náin of the Iron Hills. He was six years old when an influx of refugees came to the Iron Hills and spoke of the Sack of Erebor. He spent his time learning the arts of tinkering and gemcutting from his uncle on his mother's side. Yet mostly his occupation was one of the many miners of the Iron Hills in his home of Járnfast. His first moment of bravery was in 2799 of the Third Age during the The Battle of Azanulbizar. For most of the six years of The War of the Dwarves and Orcs, terrible casualties were suffered. It was during this time, with tales of victories in the southwest, that Náin, King of the Iron Hills led a contigent of fresh troops from The Iron Hills. Motgrouk was one of these troops. He knew little of battle, yet he was 35 years of age, which is five years past when most Dwarves are considered "battle-ready". Thus Motgrouk with his fine golden beard, with his brother Nezuki with the beard of red fire as he looked much more the visage of his father and grandfather, fought in the Dimrill Dale all the way to the steps of the gate. They cut a bloody swath with their mattocks, Motgrouk taking up the cry with his fellows as they roared for Azog. A low rumble that shook the foundations of the mountain. Yet Azog answered, and King Náin was slain. Thus began the reign of Dáin, as he became Lord of the Iron Hills. Motgrouk, his father Gumir and his brother Nezuki returned to the Iron Hills. For much of his time he prospered well, and learnt the crafts of his fellows. One hundred and forty-two years of peace passed by as Motgrouk and Nezuki prospered. They shared their grief as Gumir passed from old age. Yet other tidings were brewing for Dáin Ironfoot had recieved word of Thorin's retaking of Erebor, and call for aid. Thus Motgrouk and Nezuki joined the ranks with the five hundred dwarves that marched to the aid of King Thorin Oakenshield. He marched with the Dwarrow once more, his brother Nezuki being every-bit the warrior. Kinship and good cheer filled the campfires at night on the road west to Erebor as each spoke of the riches and glory that awaited them. Then, before the mountain, Motgrouk had stood with his brother among the ranks of Dwarrow cheering and roaring as they taunted the army of Elves and Men that had come to steal their riches. Motgrouk seethed at the sight of these Woodland Elves besieging the mountain. They took up a cheer, yet before they could join the battle against Dalemen and Elves, Gandalf arrived to warn all parties of the threat looming from Bolg of the Misty Mountains. Thus, Motgrouk and his fellows joined their forces with the Elves and the Men as they fought for survival. The sky was choked with bats before long, as Motgrouk did his part on the slopes as they were continually pushed back by the pulsating waves of goblins. For everyone that fell before the valiant arrows of the Elves, the blades of the men and the axes of the dwarves, more ever came. He found his eyes being gouged by the endless bats as one lifted the valiant warrior, Nezuki, his brother. Like others before them, they carried him off and dropped him to the shatter on the rocks below. Thus, when the battle ended, and Motgrouk and his fellows buried their dead, the songs turned to ash in his mouth. None of the riches within the mountain were a salve upon his wounds as their king and his brother had fallen. Thus he returned to the Iron Hills, the home of his grandfather and father before him. There he saw many pack off and leave for the Lonely Mountain as Dáin II began his reign from there. Eventually, when the Iron Hills was but a shadow of his former self and the years had worn him away to a grey and fattened shadow of his former self. He left to the Blue Mountains. He had been before, with his father and with other Dwarrow to trade and barter. Yet this time he left alone, bitter and seeking solace in the halls of the Dwarves there. Yet as he returned and made new friends and companions, he found his heart still was of Iron, that he had to return one last time to see his home. Thus became his purpose. He met the Hobbit Kithri, and many more. He even found kinship with some of Durin's Folk within the Blue Mountains. Attending moots and drinking with fellow Longbeards once more. Until fate would have it that an expedition to explore the lands east of the Misty Mountains finally gave him the opportunity. Strangely enough, this chance came with the caveat that he would be traveling with an Elf of Mirkwood.
Motgrouk perished at the age of 254 within the Trollshaws.
Kithri, Blida, Aamu
Fine food, malt beer, gems and other precious metals, good cheer and a warm hearth.
Deep mistrust, yet not quite a hatred of specifically Elves of the Woodland Realm, Goblins, Wargs and Giant Bats. Excessive Cruelty.
To return once more to the Iron Hills, to see those fast emptying lands once more. As well as look upon the waters of Kheled-zâram in times of peace, and see the stars.
A fine starting place for tales is the beginning. As well as his hearty "Har" that often accompanies his many jests.
|A Letter||1 year 1 month ago|