#dwarf ocs

Sometimes, news travels slow and keeping track of the history of seven kingdoms is difficult. More Zâda and Igdi.

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It was that unique experience which marked out the zulmâ-khazâd from her own kind, Zâda thought. Long ago, her own kingdom and that of the other Eastern Dwarves had been ravaged by dragonfire and other dark forces. The Red Mountains had barely withstood those attacks, but it had held together — fast and stable, rooted indomitably to the earth. Over the span of centuries, the dwarves there had manifested complete control over the mountain passes and the land surrounding its base, and though shadows were growing in the East, they had always traded with the Easterlings who encamped nearby, moving with the seasons, or with the few permanent cities.

But to have your homeland completely erased? It was something that Zâda had a hard time understanding. Her heart ached for Khazad-dûm, as all dwarf spirits did, and during each cycle of the years there was a period across the kingdoms to reflect on its glory and mourn for the desecration of the pinnacle of their race’s history, lost to time and orc filth. But of the destruction of the Firebeards? The Broadbeams? She felt her face flush.

“I didn’t even know they… existed,” she replied meekly. Igdi’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “You didn’t know… but they teach you history in the East? They teach you about the Wars and the Annals of our People?” “Yes,” Zâda replied sharply, “but we thought… many of us think… that Nogrod and Belegost were long ruined, destroyed in the Great Battle.” “Aye, an’ so they were!” Igdi looked up over her shoulder, and her face broke into a smile as she saw the speaker. “Come, Hafrin! Come educate our guest. Or are you just a ghost?” Igdi unstoppered a bottle of liquor and threw it to the round, barrel-chested dwarf that had shouted over at them. He was older than they were but still had a youthful glow in his ruddy cheeks, and while Igdi had a network of scars that crossed her brow and one particularly nasty one that ran from her chin to neck, the other dwarf looked as smooth as an egg, with his only hair being a magnificent flame-coloured beard. “I may be a ghost soon if I don’t get something to eat,” he said merrily, but took the alcohol, sniffing it carefully. “This will do for now.” Igdi turned back to Zâda. “Zâda — this is Hafrin Strongarm, a Firebeard.” Zâda rolled her eyes as Igdi wiggled her fingers, as though summoning up a real-life djebre or nuruk. “At your service! A pleasure to become acquainted with one of our Eastern fellows. You see some in the Ered Luin, but few, granted it’s on the other side of the world,” Hafrin replied. The dwarf leaned back on his elbows and kicked his shoes off, sinking his toes into the small brook that Igdi and Zâda had sat down by to eat lunch. He had a manner that spoke of a dwarf slow to take offence, and this set Zâda more at ease. Causing a diplomatic incident wasn’t on her to-do list. “Zâda, daughter of Khafun at your’s and your family’s,” she replied by rote. She had met so many new people that the greeting was automatic. “And I don’t think you’re a ghost,” she retorted, nudging Igdi in the small of her back with her knee as she sat down from her bow, “as you rightfully said, it is long to travel between our halls and we have more dealing with those of Durin’s line.” “Oh aye, naturally. Naturally. And I imagine there is much I don’t know about your Eastern holds, and you might call me ignorant if I stepped foot in them with the little I know about you,” replied Hafrin.

oh so i found a nice nice dollmaker and made the dwarf lesbians from The Took’s Arrangement, hehe 

Seeing as I'm a bit better with pencils than I am with digital, I figured errandofmercy deserved a little fluffy domesticity in the care package I'll be sending.