Chapter Text
The walls of Erebor shook as giant boulders were hurtled against them as hard as the catapults outside could manage. The dwarves inside barely paid it any attention although some of the younger ones couldn’t quite ignore it yet. The mountain echoed with impact after impact but the mighty peak refused to crumble away. Some small pieces broke apart but the mountain was solid and wouldn’t be brought down without much more force. They were surrounded and couldn’t leave but neither did they have to. It was a deadlock.
After what felt like hours the impacts finally stopped and inside the mountain it almost seemed too quiet now. The dwarves knew that it was only a break in the onslaught. Soon enough the catapults outside would be reloaded and the earth shaking impacts would start up again. Not that it would matter. Erebor had stood undaunted under continual attack for three hundred years now. The mountain was nearly entirely hollowed and reinforced from the inside. The dwarves had dug deeper and wider over the years and had managed to eek out a living where it was thought impossible. They had everything they needed and they were stubborn enough to not leave. They had dug their heels in and nothing would be moving them. It had been hard in the beginning but they’d managed to survive the food shortages and sickness that had nearly ruined them.
The only way they had managed it was by virtue of how incredibly clever dwarves could be when faced with a problem. At first they had tried to leave the mountain in secret to find food. That hadn’t worked out very well at all. They’d been captured or killed each time. So they had to find food inside the mountain. There was the underground river, which they had expanded greatly and they now raised fish from. The river had always been a supply of food but it was now even more important since it was their main source of meat. Vegetables and grains had been far more difficult to acquire. Luckily, some of their best engineers had put their heads together to build several large caverns that were marvels of artificial sunlight and terraced growing beds. The first crops had been entirely too pitiful but after three hundred years they had managed to become good enough at farming to survive. They didn’t enjoy it as much as mining but they were passable.
Soon enough the impacts of the continued assault returned and the dwarves inside the mountain continued on with their lives without worry. Most didn’t even notice the booms anymore. It was just the white noise of living within the mountain.
But most was not all. Deep inside the mountain a head of wild red hair lifted from his workbook at the sound of the catapult fire and frowned. It was always so hard to concentrate on his homework when the booms shook the house. He didn’t know how his parents could just ignore it like they did. “Why are they still out there?” he asked, looking over to where his mother was working at the kitchen counter.
“What was that, Gimli?” she asked without looking up.
“The elves, ma,” he said with exasperation. “How can they still be out there after all this time still firing at us?”
“Oh, that. It’s just what the elves do, Gimli, dear. You know that,” she said.
Gimli frowned at the entirely unsatisfying answer. “But why do they do it?” he pressed. Surely after three hundred years of getting nowhere they would have left or something wouldn’t they?
His mother sighed and finally turned around. “Because the elves are jealous of our riches,” she said. “Long ago they decided that since they have magic and eternal life they should have the best of everything. They wanted our gold and gems and we wouldn’t just hand over our hard work for nothing. Well, they didn’t like that and so they started to attack us. But they forgot how strong our mountain is so they’ve never been able to break through.”
Gimli repressed the urge to give an exasperated sigh. He knew all that. It was taught in his lessons. But it just didn’t make sense. Why would they still be out there? Were elves really that greedy that even after this long they still wouldn’t take no for an answer? Surely they had better things to do with their time? “That doesn’t make sense,” Gimli muttered.
“That’s elves for you,” his mother said casually. “Daft things that don’t care about us mortals or anything but themselves. But don’t worry dear. They can’t get in and they know it. They’re just hoping we’ll get fed up with them and do something stupid. But we won’t because we’re not stupid. They always looked down on us dwarves but they shouldn’t have underestimated us.”
It still didn’t make that much sense to Gimli but he decided elves really must be daft for still fighting over gold and gems that they couldn’t even get. “Can I go meet da?” Gimli asked. “I’m done my work.”
“Are you?” his mother asked with an arched brow.
Gimli closed the book with hopefully not looking too guilty. “Yeah. Done. Can I go?”
His mother narrowed her eyes and pointed at him with a spoon. “If I hear from your teacher that work isn’t done tomorrow, we’re going to have words, my son,” she threatened before giving her permission. Gimli only felt a moment’s apprehension before jumping off his seat and rushing from their house. Surely he could finish his homework before school tomorrow. He was sick of working on his math anyway. His father might be the royal treasurer but he didn’t care much for numbers. It annoyed Gloin some but Gimli was more interested in the athletic side of his education than the mental part and there was little that anyone could do to change that.
Gimli darted through the streets and dodged other dwarves as they went about their business. As always, the noise of stone hitting the mountain echoed around him as he ran in a weaving path through the streets. Gimli slowed, as he always did, at the very central chamber of the mountain. It was massive and impressive. Even the elves outside their gates would have found it so, Gimli was sure. The ceiling went far upwards and massive crystal chandeliers hung from somewhere up above. The chandeliers glowed with a warm light that Gimli still wasn’t sure how was managed. Massive statues of ancient dwarves lined the hall and down the center was a row of fountains encrusted with jewels.
At the very end of the hall was a door that Gimli knew led to the Heart of the Mountain: the source of power that allowed them to live in the mountain without outside resources. It was from the Heart that they could make the artificial light to grow crops and light up the mountain. It even kept the forges burning red-hot without conventional fuel so that repairs and reinforcements could be made along with all the fine craftwork that the dwarves were so known for. The door was never opened and guarded night and day by at least ten guards. Only a few members of the royal family were allowed inside the chamber. Gimli was not one of those members. But he was terribly curious about what was behind the door.
There was no description of the Heart of the Mountain. Not in any of the books he’d read or from any dwarves who had perhaps gotten a glimpse of it the few times the doors opened. All anyone saw was bright light. Gimli stopped by one of the fountains and studied the door. It was surprisingly small really. Considering how large the rest of the mountain’s architecture was it was very normal sized. The door was at the very least plated with gold and had been carved with mythic scenes of dwarven triumph. In the very center of the doors was the family crest of Durin.
Gimli stared at the door another few moments before shaking his head and heading to where his father worked. He should be done soon and then Gimli could walk home with him. Gloin had been working a lot lately since the miners had hit another gold mine. As Gimli climbed the stairs towards his father’s office the mountain around him shook even worse than usual. He nearly fell over and had to grab the side the stairwell for support. The catapults must have hit right outside of where Gimli was walking.
Gimli hurried up the rest of the stairs and peered out of the narrow slits that arrows could still be fired through if the dwarves ever bothered with it. Outside he could see an entire encampment of elves with catapults stretching out for quite some distance. They didn’t have tents and muddy conditions. They had spiked walls and set back a ways from the mountain were wooden houses in an entirely Elven style that had Gimli crinkling his nose in distaste. They were too… gentle looking. Like one good breeze would just knock them over. But they had been there for decades without problems so Gimli supposed they worked well enough. Yet again Gimli couldn’t help but wonder why the Elves were still attacking. What did they hope to accomplish by throwing boulders at the mountain constantly?
They weren’t getting what they wanted and was money really worth all this fuss? Gimli shook his head. Elves really were foolish. “Gimli lad!” Gimli dropped down from his tip toes and turned to spot his father coming towards him. “What are you doing here, son?”
“I came to meet you,” Gimli replied. “But one of the rocks hit right here so I was looking.”
“Ah,” Gloin said with a bit of a nod. “Bloody elves don’t know when to quit. Guess they ain’t as high above us dwarves as they think they are,” he said with a bit of a laugh. “Come on, let’s get home.”
“Why don’t they just go home already,” Gimli asked sourly.
Gloin laughed again. “They’re greedy is all. Don’t worry yourself, Gimli. One day they’ll be forced to give up. The King’s never going to give them anything.”
“Maybe it’d be worth it to make them go away,” Gimli muttered.
“That’s exactly what they’re hoping we’ll think, Gimli. Can’t ever trust an elf though, son. They may only ask for pennies now but the next thing you know they’ll be demanding all you’re worth and more,” Gloin counseled. “Nah, best just to ignore them.”
Gimli hummed a bit at that and put the elves out of his mind in favor of far more interesting things. His ma had been making one of his favorite dinners after all. Plus his father always had the best stories to tell. The ridiculousness of elves were far too baffling for one little dwarrowling to wonder about for too long.