Author: Soledad
PART 4
Now the Great Hall was fully decorated and full of richly clad Dwarves, who sat at the long, low tables on masterfully carved, heavy oak chairs. The tables had been set with plates and tankards of gold, silver and copper, each piece individually adorned, and Legolas could not help but be amazed by the amount of talent and loving, patient work put into them. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he truly understood the Dwarves' joy in all things made by skilled hands and their love for their work.
It seemed that there was no particular place of honour at the tables. The ones from Thorin's Company still alive - namely Glóin himself, then Dori and Nori, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur - had been seated scattered along the tables, surrounded by their families. Well, seated would be exaggerated when one spoke of Bombur, of course. The almost frighteningly fat old Dwarf was practically lying in a double-width armchair, filled with pillows. 'Twas hard to imagine that this was the same Dwarf who had actually fought the Orcs in the Battle of the Five Armies. Now he could not even walk on his own; six young Dwarves had to carry him into the Great Hall.
"This happens to our people, sometimes, when we grow older than two hundred," Glóin, now clad as richly as everyone else, hair and beard groomed to perfection, explained to Legolas. "The Broadbeams are particularly inclined to it. Mahal made us for endurance, so we do not get sick as Men do, but great age affects us, too. And Bombur is old, very old. He was already much too old to follow Thorin on the quest against the dragon, but he wanted to come, faithful soul as he is. Each day he still spends among us is a gift... even though his tempers can be trying," Glóin added, shaking his head.
Legolas looked at Bombur, thoughtfully. The face of the old Dwarf was brown and crumpled like a dried apple, his hair and beard snow white. His round, deep dark eyes, barely visible among the deep furrows of his face, seemed somehow vacant.
"He seems... weary," the Elf said, and Glóin nodded.
"He is. Often do Dwarves die before their time, due to accidents, or in battle. But sometimes it happens that they live beyond their time, and life becomes a burden. I fear this is the last Yule Bombur will be celebrating with us."
Their conversation was interrupted by the deep, melodic sound of a huge gong, somewhere outside the Great Hall. To Legolas' mild shock, the gong-sound was followed by a faint creaking, and the walls began to move. A good portion of the wall left and right from the apsis opposite the entrance was simply pulled up like a drawbridge, revealing two small chambers, where Dwarves sat, with various musical instruments. Most of those were strangely shaped flutes that Men called the serpent, the lizard or the zink, but one Dwarf held a krumhorn in his hand, while others had gambas and viols, again others drums and tambourines of various sizes, hand-held-harps and lutes, and on one side stood a grandiose instrument with a double row of keys and three rows of metallic pipes which grew gradually from one foot to almost four feet.
Then the very walls of the apsis itself were pulled aside and revealed something that looked like an anvil. In the background, seven shapeless forms stood, grey and unmoving like huge butterfly pupas.
"What is this?" whispered Legolas in surprise.
"A wedding traditionally begins with a performance of The Making of Dwarves, sung in Khuzdul," replied Glóin matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world; perhaps, for a Dwarf, it was. "No outsider has ever seen anything like this, and most certainly no Elf, save Khelebrimbur. But worry not, I shall translate for you."
Legolas' eyes widened in awe. He had heard, of course, rumours of the famous Dwarven plays that were said to be so different from what Men understood by that word - everybody long enough in Middle-earth had - but never thought he would actually witness one. Dwarves guarded their secrets jealously, as a rule, and under normal circumstances they would not tolerate an Elf within earshot.
Apparently, there were exceptions, though. Celebrimbor had been one of those - which was more or less understandable, considering the fact that he had been a smith and an artisan himself. Legolas, however, had nigh to nothing in common with Dwarves - save his friendship with Gimli. Now he began to understand how deep that friendship truly ran.
The musicians began to play a strange melody. It was slow and rhythmic, with deep tones like the Dwarven heartbeat, and yet it had the strength of stone and the passion of fire in it. The instrument, of which Legolas did not know the name, could mimic the sound of many instruments, and the Dwarf with the bluish black locks and beard who played it used both hands and feet to produce the proper music. The very high ceiling of the Great Hall seemed to play a part in the music itself; mixing and echoing the sound in a way that enriched the performance greatly.
Now the first actor appeared at the anvil, circling it in a strangely dance-like manner, stomping with his booted feet rhythmically and swinging his great hammer and pounding down onto the anvil in a rhythm that matched that of the music instruments flawlessly. He was clad in wide, red clothes and wore a golden mask that mimicked a serene expression. His hair and beard were earth brown, braided with red strings and adorned with golden beads.
"Aulë the Smith, I presume", said Legolas in a low voice, and Glóin nodded.
"Sung by King Thorin Stonehelm, none less," he replied, and indeed, the actor now began to sing. He had a great, booming voice that almost literally shook the walls, and, of course, he sang in Khuzdul. Legolas could not understand it, although some words sounded surprisingly similar to Radagast's mutterings, when the Brown Wizard was talking to himself(2).
"Mahal sings about his great desire for the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar," translated Glóin. "He wishes to have pupils, to whom he could teach his lore and his craft; who would be strong and unyielding."
The actor now left the anvil and danced back to the seven shapeless forms, still singing and swinging his hammer. And as he hit the forms with it, one by one, the cocoons broke up and crumbled to the floor. And lo and behold! there stood seven Dwarves, clad in earth brown garb, their eyes still closed, as if they were sleeping. They wore bronze masks, but Legolas thought he recognized Gimli among them.
"And then Mahal made first the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves in a hall under the mountains in Middle-earth," Glóin commented softly.
Now the actor burst into a song of fierce joy and pride, and the Dwarves opened their eyes and moved for the first time, following him in a circle, jumping and stomping joyously and repeating the sung words he was teaching them. But all of a sudden, a disembodied voice boomed from somewhere above, magnified by the unique acoustics of the Great Hall to a volume that made Legolas wince involuntarily.
"Ilúvatar, though, knows what Mahal has done," said Glóin quietly, "and now he asks: 'Why hast thou done this? Why dost thou attempt a thing which thou knowest is beyond thy power and thy authority? For thou hast from me as a gift thy own being only, and no more; and therefore the creatures of thy hand and mind can live only by that being, moving when thou thinkest to move them, and if thy thought be elsewhere, standing idle. Is that thy desire?'(3)"
The old Dwarf recited the speech of Ilúvatar so fluently that Legolas suspected this part of the saga must have been something all Dwarves learned by heart at a very young age. The actor had fallen to his knees in the meantime, turning his masked face upwards, to the great, domed ceiling that was so high it could barely be seen among the shadows, and his singing took on a pleading quality.
"'I did not desire such lordship," Glóin continued to translate in the same fluent manner. "I desired things other than I am, to love and to teach them, so that they too might perceive the beauty of Eä, which thou hast caused to be. For it seemed to me that there is a great room in Arda for many things that might rejoice in it, yet it is for the most part empty still, and dumb. But what shall I do now, so that thou be not angry with me for ever? As a child to his father, I offer to thee these things, the work of the hands, which thou hast made. Do with them what thou wilt. But should I not rather destroy the work of my presumption?'"
With that, the actor playing Aulë picked up his great hammer to smite the Dwarves, weeping while he was doing so. And the Dwarves shrank from the hammer, obviously very frightened, and they bowed down their heads and begged for mercy in a chorus of despair that could have broken the heart of a stone giant. Legolas, though he could only guess the exact meaning of the words, felt tears in his eyes, and saw that all the Dwarves present were weeping, too.
Finally, the booming voice of Ilúvatar interrupted the plea, and Glóin, though deeply touched by the very thing he had most likely heard at least a hundred times (or more), pulled himself together to translate for Legolas again.
"'Thy offer I accepted even as it was made. Dost thou not see that these things have now a life of their own, and speak with their own voices? Else they would not have flinched from thy bow, nor from any command of thy will.'"
As the actor cast down his hammer and the Dwarves burst into a chorus of joy and gratitude, Legolas felt an immense, almost absurd relief. He knew, of course, that the Dwarves would not be destroyed - or else he would not be sitting among them right now - and yet, the densely emotional performance had made him tremble with fear for their fate. Such was the power of Dwarven music, and he had been fully enchanted and undone by it.
"Do Dwarves learn these words by heart?" he asked, after 'Aulë' had sent his creatures to sleep and a break had been announced.
Glóin shook his head. "Nay; there is no need for that. You see, Master Elf, every single Dwarf is born with the memory of our Making. We only need to learn the words in the Common Speech."