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Author Topic: Writings of the Scribe of the Company  (Read 1356 times)


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Writings of the Scribe of the Company
« on: April 08, 2013, 09:48:00 PM »

Ori is a young dwarf with his heart set in reclaiming the lost kingdom of Erebor, and he has his own set of tools to help along the quest. None in the company has the gift for words and drawing that he does, and he will record this voyage the best he can. Here are his humble works, from his own hand; from the famous drawing of his burglar companion of the Shire, Bilbo Baggins, to his description of the caves of the Elvenking Thranduil.

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Writings of the Scribe of the Company
« Reply #1 on: April 08, 2013, 09:52:00 PM »
A letter to Aesa, daughter of Issa.

After escaping home to leave for the quest, Ori could not dare leave without a proper farewell to someone other than Dori. And he chose a childhood friend, Aesa, to share his last thoughts.

Dear Aesa,
I hope this letter won’t fall into your mother’s hands, for obvious reasons. I’m writing this at home, but you must not look for me there. I assume Dori will be in a state of panic when you read this letter. Once he is in his right mind, give him the aid he needs, will you? I might not be seeing him—or you, for that matter—in a long time, a year at least. I wish you the best fortunes for this year, in ever way.

Here is why. Last night, Nori arrived home with the offer of a lifetime, for both Dori and me. Do not share this with anyone, Aesa. Thorin Oakenshield has gathered a company to reclaim Erebor! I don’t know how Nori was offered this opportunity, but when he shared it with us, it set loose a horrible quarrel. It was a dreadful evening, with several insults and accusations exchanged. Some of them were mine, and I regret all of them. I think I might have hurt Dori far worse than I suspect. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I flung all those years of bossing over me in his face. I suppose it must have been cathartic then…but the price I paid! It was really horrible, but by the end of the discussion, if such gentle a word can be used to describe that fight, I had no doubt in my mind that I had to go on this quest.

By now I can easily think of you disapproving of my choices deeply. After all, what could I, a mere scribe, offer the great Thorin Oakenshield, lord of Ered Luin and soon-to-be King under the Mountain; or his quest? I could try my hand at chronicling the voyage, of course, but I have no knowledge whether I am the only one with literary skills on the quest, And there’s the matter of weapon-handling for survival (if we were speaking face-to-face right now you would obviously rebuke me to the point of sounding like Dori!) in the wild. It was the first thing Dori brought up when we began the argument. Goblins, orcs, and trolls could all kill me easily. All I have is my slingshot and a knife. But the strange thing is, Aesa…I wouldn’t mind death under these circumstances.

Allow me to explain. It is not that I want to die. Far from it! I want to live a life well lived, regardless its extent. I would rather die helping in any way to recover our lost home when the opportunity is given to me than to live a life in Ered Luin languishing away, in exile. Can you remember all those stories on Erebor, on the Lonely Mountain? About how rivers of gold flowed from the Mountain? I always thrilled at this phrase. It is strange to think that a portion (at least a fourteenth, assured Nori!!) would be mine. But what I would really cherish would be the restoring of the archives of Erebor, the knowledge of our people available to them. We have been living on scraps of books and stories our entire lives. No more of that! But what matters most, even above the library, would be the recovery of our ancestral home. Not just its wealth. We’ve lived our entire lives thinking exile is the best we could ever have, instead of our homeland. This is a cause I would easily die for, if it was necessary.

But I sure hope nothing will ever happen to me, not for my own sake, but for Dori’s. I can’t be as ungrateful as to leave him like that without a proper farewell and heartfelt thank-you. I need to seal that rift between my family if my two brothers will only hang on to the past, which, after that quarrel, they will. To think I might have been leaving with him in peace, instead of sneaking away like this, but it is better than to let Nori and Dori once again fight over me like a pet, or to let Nori perish on a quest like this while I had the opportunity myself. There was no other way.

I just had a thought, Aesa. Remember those tales of the speaking ravens, how they would return to the Lonely Mountain? If I could actually send you word of my whereabouts through one of these to you, I would. I would ask about what you, and all my friends, would like about the share I would earn. Oh, how Nári from the archives would revel at the sight of the scrolls and documents at Erebor! And you yourself would love the books, and even some jewels from the wealth. But what I would see restored under my vigilance would be the archives, once again, being part of the Company.

But I mustn’t ramble on. I could speak for ages of why I don’t just desire but need to take part in this quest. The sun is rising, and I must leave before Dori wakes (he is usually a light sleeper) and Nori leaves Ered Luin (he refused to stay at home for the night after the quarrel) to make way to where the Company shall reunite, which I won’t disclose.  And then, to Erebor, far over the misty mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old.

A final word, my friend. I might never see you again, I might not see you for a long time, it could be either, but I would like to be of assistance even when I am far away. In those rare times you need aid, I would still liker to be able to lend a hand. I hope that in those times your will will never be broken by your mother, should she cross your way. Someday your own quest to follow, your chance to go to your own Erebor, and you will have to disagree and confront your mother. Stand for yourself. I know you will.

Farewell. I must away, ere break of day. Your humble friend,


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Writings of the Scribe of the Company
« Reply #2 on: December 24, 2013, 08:05:00 PM »
Written hastily at night after taking shelter at Beorn's

Under no enchantment but his own. That is the way Gandalf has described the owner of the queer household we stand in.

This morning we were still being pursued by the rabble of Azog and his foul ilk and being led by our Hobbit burglar Bilbo away. They had thankfully not picked up our scent as of this morning, but Bilbo reported seeing a monstrous bear in our way. Thorin and Gandalf once again did not concur about the path we picked away from the Orcs but in the way of the monstrous bear. We were nearly overrun by the Orcs until the bear came into our way. We had to race towards the shelter we hide in now at Gandalf's orders (it was done as always much to Thorin's disagreement). Overrunning the beast was quicker than the whole pack of Orcs hunting us. And yet, we had to push away the bear from running down the door.

Asked to describe the creature we had just beaten, Gandalf replied that was our host. It was a skin changer, no less, what we had just seen. And what guarantee were we given we could stay in the skin changer's household? "The bear is unpredictable, the man can be reasoned with." More than once the word of the wizard has been proven true, and despite Dori's and Thorin's grumblings about staying, most of us are agreeable with staying here. If there is a skin changer protecting the shack, we are more likely to be safe from the orcs hunting us. As of the skin changer itself…we can trust the wizard to "reason" with him rather than us. Despite his various other admirable qualities…our leader has a talent for antagonizing any presence we have encountered in this voyage.

The shack is large and populated with almost every woodland animal you can find. There is a kitchen and table and every furniture needed for a man, and certainly man sized. Between this livable area is a stable for horses and ponies. We sleep in the pathway between the two sides of the stables. We have also been able to presence curiously large animals that normally might have been smaller, such as field mice and bees. The wizard does not sleep, and Thorin often does not. Only I, Glóin who has taken the watch and the two former have stayed awake.

In all honesty…I am curious to see this skin changer. We have seen Elves, Eagles, Men, Goblins and trolls. If I had never seen these before, I can only imagine how strange it would be to meet a skin changer; its kind being all but legendary. The tales of the Second Age of their kind all come back to me, and certainly no one in this company except the wizard and perhaps Bilbo are knowledgeable on them.

Dori made a disappointed huff at my sketch of the bear earlier today, but that is only because he disapproves of meeting the skin changer. He called it unnatural. Sometimes I wonder…wonder whether if it might have been better for Dori to stay at home. By no means do I wish this journey to separate us. I have learned to cherish his presence in the company, and I have learned to admire him…almost as much as Nori, or Dwalin, or Balin, or Thorin. But he is not responding well to the adventure. When we almost fell to our deaths before the eagles rescued us…I wasn't thinking just thinking that that was the closest I'd come to death in my life, but that I'd killed my brother too. I cannot bear the thought of Dori perishing in this quest because of me.

I have lost count of the days since we departed from Moria. Though we left Rivendell on Midyear and three days later we were captured by the goblins, I still have no recollection of how long we stayed down there. I might ask the wizard or Bilbo later on (curiously enough Bilbo always has a notion of the time no matter where we are--let's see if he has the same talent with the date!)

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