"Your tutor reports that you dislike History, my son. Why?"

Faramir flushed. "It is dull!" He recited in a sing-song voice:
"2002: Minas Ithil falls,
2043: Eärnur..."

"True, but what happened in 2040?"

A puzzled frown.

"That is when Fram of the Éothéod slew Scatha the Worm."

"A dragon?" Faramir gasped. "He slew a dragon? How? Where? Who was he? What does Éothéod mean? Why call it a worm?"

"You will find your answers in this book about our valiant allies, the Rohirrim..." He stood to leave. "But, since you despise history..."

"May I read it, Father? Please?"

Denethor smiled.

We in the house of Denethor know much ancient lore by long tradition....

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 4, Ch 4, Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

[The] songs of Rohan ... tell that [Fram] slew Scatha, the great dragon of Ered Mithrin, and the land had peace from the long-worms afterwards. Thus Fram won great wealth, but was at feud with the Dwarves, who claimed the hoard of Scatha.

The Return of the King, LoTR Appendix A, Annals of the Kings and Rulers: The House of Eorl

We stand alert, tense, hidden in shadows above the deep-cloven road cutting, awaiting my bird-call.

On this very road in ancient days, the last living heir of the newly-slain King fell to in-swarming Wainriders, stirred up by the Enemy. Kingless, Gondor staggered, but did not fall.

Now 'tis accursed Southrons, red-clad and red-bannered, who march towards the Black Gate, swelling the ranks of those sworn to the Nameless. Silently, we watch the sanguine horde crowd heedlessly into the narrow. Unwary.

Never to depart.

Our longbows creak under the strain. Once again will crimson slaughter befoul our beloved Ithilien.

I signal.

'Did you hear a whistle, and what sounded like an answer?' [Sam] asked.... 'I hope it was only a bird, but it didn't sound quite like that: more like somebody mimicking a bird-call, I thought.'

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 4, Ch 4, Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

'But still we will not sit idle and let [the Enemy] do all as He would,' said Mablung. 'These cursed Southrons come now marching up the ancient roads to swell the hosts of the Dark Tower.... And they go ever more heedlessly, we learn, thinking that the power of their new master is great enough, so that the mere shadow of His hills will protect them. We come to teach them another lesson. Great strength of them was reported to us some days ago, marching north. One of their regiments is due by our reckoning to pass by, some time ere noon — up on the road above, where it passes through the cloven way. The road may pass, but they shall not! Not while Faramir is Captain.'

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 4, Ch 4, Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

In 1944 King Ondoher and both his sons, Artamir and Faramir, fell in battle north of the Morannon, and the enemy poured into Ithilien.

The Return of the King, LoTR Appendix A, Annals of the Kings and Rulers: Gondor and the Heirs of Anárion

Minohtar had withdrawn his line to the head of the great North Road of Ithilien....

The Wainriders came on in little order, still exultant and singing songs of victory..., until they found that the road into Gondor turned south into a narrow land of trees under the shadow of the dark Ephel Dúath, where an army could march, or ride, in good order only down a great highway. Before them it ran on through a deep cutting....

[The] notes at the end show that they were not long held up by the rearguard defence of Minohtar. 'The Wainriders poured relentlessly into Ithilien,' and 'late on the thirteenth day of Cermië they overwhelmed Minohtar,' who was slain by an arrow. He is here said to have been King Ondoher's sister-son.... Nothing more can be made out; but the brief account in Appendix A to The Lord of the Rings tells how Eärnil came up from the south and routed them [in the Battle of the Camp]....

Unfinished Tales, Part 3, Ch 2, Cirion and Eorl and the Friendship of Gondor and Rohan: The Northmen and the Wainriders

Memoirs had always fascinated Frodo. As a lad, he begged Bilbo daily to retell the tales of his grand adventure with his doughty dwarven companions.

When Balin paid them a surprise visit, Frodo attended eagerly as the white-beard told of rebuilding the Lonely Mountain and filling the Dragon's Desolation with sturdy stoneworks.

Balin's deep voice resonated with pride for the reconstruction of his forefathers' halls. But Frodo also detected a hint of longing for his people's once-hallowed home, Khazad-dûm.

Now, in the light-shaft's harsh glare, Gandalf sighs and sets down the Book of Mazarbul.

"I fear their end was cruel."

'And what has become of Balin and Ori and Óin?' asked Frodo.

A shadow passed over Glóin's face. 'We do not know,' he answered. 'It is largely on account of Balin that I have come to ask the advice of those that dwell in Rivendell.'

The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 2, Ch 1, Many Meetings

The Company stood silent beside the tomb of Balin. Frodo thought of Bilbo and his long friendship with the dwarf, and of Balin's visit to the Shire long ago. In that dusty chamber in the mountains it seemed a thousand years ago and on the other side of the world.

The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 2, Ch 5, The Bridge of Khazad-dûm

"Come, Gimli, we must fly!"

His anguished keening doesn't abate as I drag him from his prostration beside Balin's tomb and out of the dread-full carnage-chamber. Can it be that this squat, sturdy stranger feels grief as keenly as we Elves?

I begin to comprehend — the dead were not merely his people, the sons of Aulë, but his kinsfolk and friends, and his bereavement stabs my very heart. His axe is as black-drenched in orc blood as my long-knife, but his rock-solid heart bleeds blood as red as mine.

I pray the Valar spare my fellow warrior any more loss....

The others followed; but Gimli had to be dragged away by Legolas: in spite of the peril he lingered by Balin's tomb with his head bowed.

The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 2, Ch 5, The Bridge of Khazad-dûm

Alas poor Ufthak! I knew him well... he was a friend, another Tower Guard. But when he disappeared, we suspected he'd deserted like a stinkin' Morgul-rat.

Our patrol spied him wound in cords head to foot, dangling upside-down in some dark corner, aging like choice Elf-flesh — hoping we'd free him! But Shagrat stopped us.

We encouraged him: "Take heart! Her Ladyship doesn't eat dead meat, or suck cold blood. She'll keep you alive, here in Her larder, maybe for weeks!"

How he glared!

Radbug advised, "When Shelob comes... hide!" Laughing, we trooped away under the dreadful malice of his stare.

[Said Shagrat,] "D'you remember old Ufthak? We lost him for days. Then we found him in a corner; hanging up he was, but he was wide awake and glaring. How we laughed! She'd forgotten him, maybe, but we didn't touch him — no good interfering with Her."

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 4, Ch 10, The Choices of Master Samwise

Armenelos the golden? Nay! By My hand, armenelos the blackened!

I bade them burn the white tree. Reluctantly, they obeyed.
The acrid smoke shrouds the nimbus-wracked sky, split asunder by lightning.

I bade them betray their kindred, despoil, violate, sacrifice; willingly, they complied.
The foolish faithful shriek and wail... the charred charnel-stench arouses My passion.

I bade them breach the ban of the valar and, pridefully, their king voyaged westward.
The menacing wavecrest looms. My goal's at hand: to exterminate these paltry vermin who sought to subjugate Me!

Satisfied, I mount the ebon throne in My impenetrable Temple.

And laugh.

And Sauron, sitting in his black seat in the midst of the Temple, had laughed when he heard the trumpets of Ar-Pharazôn sounding for battle; and again he had laughed when he heard the thunder of the storm; and a third time, even as he laughed at his own thought, thinking what he would do now in the world, being rid of the Edain for ever, he was taken in the midst of his mirth, and his seat and his temple fell into the abyss. But Sauron was not of mortal flesh, and though he was robbed now of that shape in which he had wrought so great an evil... yet his spirit arose out of the deep... and came back to Middle-earth....

The Silmarillion, Akallabêth

He comes.

To some he was The Wise; the appellation amused him.

To foes confronting the fell hand of the argent-crowned warrior lord, he was executioner.

To our daughter, he was her healer of hurts, silver-tongued story-singer, patient teacher, proud protector.

To me? He was my anchor in Endor, my roots, my nourishment. Upon me alone he bestowed his ofttimes tempestuous, ofttimes tender, ever-impassioned love.

Our endless separation has tattered my soul. But now, as his white ship approaches quayside, I savor the first faint brushes of his mind on mine.

I clasp my gold-banded hand to hide my trembling.

~~~

She awaits.

She stands in solitude amidst the throng, a pillar of white-gowned elegance bewreathed in a rippling aureole, regal in her dignity.

Disembarking, I am drawn to face her.

Others see the glacial magnificence of towering Taniquetil; but I alone glimpse Orodruin's perilous fires concealed beneath — and grasp the profound cost of masking such passions behind her public guise of serenity.

Her eyes betray her turbulence to me: wrath, sorrow, anticipation... despair?

Did you fear I would not come, my love?

I raise my gold-banded fingertip to her grave and beautiful face, then caress away the single scalding tear.

[There] is no record of the day when at last [Celeborn] sought the Grey Havens, and with him went the last living memory of the Elder Days in Middle-earth.

The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Prologue, Note on the Shire Records

"Self-indulgent twaddle," mutters the struggling scribbler to herself, though she only uses words like "twaddle" when earnestly endeavoring to write top-notch Tolkien fan fiction.

"I love birthday cake!" she muses, "Wonder if chocolate cake with rum buttercream frosting is mentioned in canon?" She shakes her head. "But I never developed a taste for wine. And pipe-weed? Ugh!"

"Concentrate!" she admonishes herself. "Make it Tolkienesque! And canonical!"

Adding up word counts nervously — must have exactly 111! Cut ten here, two there. Counting and re-counting, getting different totals each time.... What an impractical obsession!

"Fireworks! I forgot fireworks! How odd... I've always loved Gandalf's fireworks...."

"There!" she yells triumphantly. "Finished! One hundred and"

The challenge, in honor of Bilbo Baggins' birthday, was to write exactly eleventy-one words featuring: a bottle of wine, a birthday cake, the number 111, fireworks and pipe-weed.

Middle Earth Fanfiction Awards (MEFA 2005):
The Barliman Butterbur Award: 3rd Place, Humor: Metafics

"Ornendil, son of Eldacar, bow down before your King!"

He refuses! This renegade refuses to submit to me: the King of Gondor! And now he dares to call me pretender?

"Silence!" My fury will be felt!

The Captain of my Guard salutes. "Sire, should we hang him from the bridge to rot with the other dissidents?"

"No! Summon the people of Osgiliath to the Tower, then take him there and proclaim his disloyalty publicly...." I briefly weigh the most fitting penalty, then smile as I settle on the sentence, relishing my ascendancy.

"Sire?"

"Break his back. Then burn the city!"

Castamir had not long sat upon the throne before he proved himself haughty and ungenerous. He was a cruel man, as he had first shown in the taking of Osgiliath. He caused Ornendil son of Eldacar, who was captured, to be put to death; and the slaughter and destruction done in the city at his bidding far exceeded the needs of war.

The Return of the King, LoTR Appendix A, Annals of the Kings and Rulers: Gondor and the Heirs of Anárion

I peer about, ensuring the Great Fire-beast's absence, before diving furtively deep into the Mountain.

My corvine heart flutters at the huge heap of shiny treasures!

Grasping a sparkling water-gem of bearable size, I flap rapidly, regaining speed.

Only my best-concealed hidey-hole on Ravenhill will suffice for such a magnificent trophy!

I soar toward the beckoning blue sky....

~~~

Smaug clasps the sooty adamant with clumsy talons, and takes wing gently to reenter his dungeon-hall.

He knows — from experience — that once he restores the jewel to his bed and rests atop it, his crushing weight will crumble the clinging seared claw.

There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep.... Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail..., lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light.

The Hobbit, Ch 12, Inside Information

Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule...; and Smaug was no exception. He had passed from an uneasy dream... to wide waking.... Then he missed the cup!....

His rage passes description — the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted.

The Hobbit, Ch 12, Inside Information

Caching — Crows will often cache, or store their food for later consumption when they have more food than they need. Crows have a very good memory and will go back to their food caches as the need arises. Crows have also been known to cache bright, shiny objects that they have found.

www.zeebyrd.com/corvi29/glossary.html

I endure.

Fated to survive, I stroke my bitter wounds, soothing them rhythmically. My damaged skin sloughs off, and then heals roughly over the many gashes; the scars remain, reminders of my agony. My belly, though long-empty, no longer weeps where it was pricked.

I need no sight to grope my way around my hidden corridors, nor to scheme how to avenge my affliction. I nurse my appetite for vengeance as carefully as my injuries, savoring the foretaste of sweet meat.

My eyes rebuild slowly. Till sight returns, I crouch in my dark retreat and bide my time.

And hunger.

Shelob was gone; and whether she lay long in her lair, nursing her malice and her misery, and in slow years of darkness healed herself from within, rebuilding her clustered eyes, until with hunger like death she spun once more her dreadful snares in the glens of the Mountains of Shadow, this tale does not tell.

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 4, Ch 10, The Choices of Master Samwise

Faramir had called them Men of Twilight, but reconsidered after seeing the tender regard this golden-maned warrior showed for his equally golden, though shadowed, lady.

He helped her to a sun-warmed bench amongst fragrant herbs in the Gardens of Healing, protective of her bandaged arm. Kissing her brow and calling her Sister, he promised to return after seeing to his wounded men.

Faramir watched as she sat unmoved, seeming far away from that sunlit nook — the most peaceful of his battered City. He resolved to learn more of this fair but sombre visitor.

Would that he could brighten her twilight....

'For so we reckon Men in our lore, calling them the High, or Men of the West, which were Númenóreans; and the Middle Peoples, Men of the Twilight, such as are the Rohirrim and their kin that dwell still far in the North; and the Wild, the Men of Darkness.

'Yet now, if the Rohirrim are grown in some ways more like to us, enhanced in arts and gentleness, we too have become more like to them, and can scarce claim any longer the title High.... For as the Rohirrim do, we now love war and valour as things good in themselves....'

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 4, Ch 5, The Window on the West

In flame was I wrought; by flame renewed:

Fired. Red-hot coals purify my flesh, burning away traces of tainted blood.

Beaten. Heavy hammer-strokes meld my broken bones.

Folded. My spine stiffens, fusing strength upon strength.

Again and again do I suffer this handling, until...

Quenched. I hiss at the shocking chill, tightening my sinews.

Polished. Runes of protection adorn my burnished skin.

Sharpened. Keen is my bite.

By my maker's skill am I hardened on the outside, flexible within — reflecting the radiance of Anar, the resilience of Isil.

After an Age of shame, I am once more fit to serve.

Anar and Isil are the Quenya names for the Sun and the Moon; the name of Elendil's sword, Narsil, is a combination of the roots of these two words.

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 1, Ch 10, Strider

The Sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths, and on its blade was traced a device of seven stars set between the crescent Moon and the rayed Sun, and about them was written many runes; for Aragorn son of Arathorn was going to war upon the marches of Mordor. Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, and its edge was hard and keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and called it Andúril, Flame of the West.

The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 2, Ch 3, The Ring Goes South

But before all went Aragorn with the Flame of the West, Andúril like a new fire kindled, Narsil re-forged as deadly as of old....

The Return of the King, LoTR Book 5, Ch 6, The Battle of the Pelennor Fields

[Galadriel] gave [Aragorn] a sheath that had been made to fit his sword....

'The blade that is drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat,' she said.

The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 2, Ch 8, Farewell to Lórien

'The light of Andúril must now be uncovered in the battle for which it has so long waited. There is war in Rohan....'

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 3, Ch 5, The White Rider

For Imhiriel's birthday, January 2008.

Unwilling the others named my people; we called ourselves Faithful.

Tauron's summons we refused, to abide in the welcoming woods of Ennor. Long ages we wandered freely through endless expanses of wilderness, honouring its bounty, singing to our stars in peace.

But Men felled our forests, disfiguring the lands with monstrous dwellings, stone pathways, and raucous noise. They defiled the water, befouled the air, and stole our beloved stars from the night.

My people have faded. I follow.

~~~

Men hurrying by the lone yew never noticed the single dewdrop that clung, trembling, to the tip of a leaf.

It fell.

This drabble was written in honor of the one hundredth anniversary of my father's birth. Over his lifetime, he saw his home evolve from the Valley of Heart's Delight, peopled by fruit growers, to Silicon Valley. The last commercial orchard in the city of my birth was cut down just a few years ago, and replaced by a shopping center named, in apparent seriousness, "Cherry Orchard".

I thought an Avari might also be disoriented by the changes wrought during an unimaginably-long Elven lifetime:

Then befell the first sundering of the Elves. For the kindred of Ingwë, and the most part of the kindreds of Finwë and Elwë... were willing to depart and follow Oromë; and these were known ever after as the Eldar.... But many refused the summons, preferring the starlight and the wide spaces of Middle-earth to the rumour of the Trees; and these are the Avari, the Unwilling, and they were sundered in that time from the Eldar, and met never again until many ages were past.

The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Ch 3, Of The Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor

Elsewhere in Middle-earth there was peace for many years; yet the lands were for the most part savage and desolate.... Many Elves dwelt there indeed, as they had dwelt through the countless years, wandering free in the wide lands far from the Sea; but they were Avari, to whom the deeds of Beleriand were but a rumour and Valinor only a distant name.

The Silmarillion, Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age

As ages passed the dominance of their fëar ever increased, 'consuming' their bodies.... The end of this process is their 'fading', as Men have called it....

Morgoth's Ring, HoME Vol 10, Part 3, Section 2, Laws and Customs Among the Eldar: Of Death and the Severance of fëa and Hröa

No tree is more associated with the history and legends of Great Britain than the Yew. Before Christianity was introduced it was a sacred tree favoured by the Druids, who built their temples near these trees — a custom followed by the early Christians. The association of the tree with places of worship still prevails.

"Yew." Botanical.com. 14 Jan 2008.
<http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/y/yew---08.html>.

[Evidence] based on growth rates and archaeological work of surrounding structures suggests the oldest trees (such as the Fortingall Yew in Perthshire, Scotland) are... likely to be in the range of 2,000 years [old]....

"European yew." Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. 14 Jan 2008.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taxus_baccata>.

[They] laid Beleg in a shallow grave, and placed beside him Belthronding his great bow, that was made of black yew-wood.

The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Ch 21, Of Túrin Turambar

The Lord of the Eagles would not take them anywhere near where men lived. 'They would shoot at us with their great bows of yew,' he said, 'for they would think we were after their sheep. And at other times they would be right.'

The Hobbit, Ch 6, Out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire

Yew is the wood of choice for longbow making; the bows are constructed so that the heartwood of yew is on the inside of the bow while the sapwood is on the outside. This takes advantage of the natural properties of yew wood since the heartwood is able to withstand compression while the sapwood is elastic and allows the bow to stretch. Both tend to return to their original straightness when the arrow is released.

"European yew." Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. 14 Jan 2008.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taxus_baccata>.

'The trees and the Ents,' said Treebeard. 'I do not understand all that goes on myself, so I cannot explain it to you. Some of us are still true Ents, and lively enough in our fashion, but many are growing sleepy, going tree-ish, as you might say.'

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 3, Ch 4, Treebeard

'Some of my kin look just like trees now, and need something great to rouse them; and they speak only in whispers.'

The Two Towers, LoTR Book 3, Ch 4, Treebeard

Tauron means 'the Forester'; it is a Sindarin name for the Vala, Oromë the Hunter, who discovered the Elves at Cuiviénen and led many of them on the Great Journey to Aman. I thought that the Avari would prefer an epithet that recognized his connection to their beloved forests.

Ennor is Sindarin for 'Middle-earth'.

For the Remembrances Challenge, January 2008.

The stark majesty of the brilliant white peak towering above verdant lands took his breath away. Not even Meneltarma could rival such splendour!

He wavered a moment, doubting Sauron's counsel... till he remembered the White Tree ablaze.

Am I not the chosen of Melkor? Do I not deserve the gift of immortality?

Commanding the trumpets to herald his coming, he strode ashore to claim his due.

For withholding what is rightfully mine, I will make the cursèd Valar weep!

Sauron's corruption by degrees of Ar-Pharazôn, King of Númenor — which sparked Ar-Pharazôn's assault on Aman and the resultant downfall of Númenor — is chillingly documented in the Akallabêth:

Then [Ar-Pharazôn] sent forth heralds, and he commanded Sauron to come before him and swear to him fealty.

And Sauron came.... For he perceived that the power and majesty of the Kings of the Sea surpassed all rumour of them...; and he saw not his time yet to work his will with the Dúnedain.

The Silmarillion, Akallabêth

Then behind locked doors Sauron spoke to the King..., saying:... '[His] name is Melkor, Lord of All, Giver of Freedom, and he shall make you stronger than they.'

Then Ar-Pharazôn the King turned back to the worship of the Dark, and of Melkor the Lord thereof, at first in secret, but ere long openly and in the face of his people; and they for the most part followed him.

Ibid.

And Sauron urged the King to cut down the White Tree, Nimloth the Fair, that grew in his courts, for it was a memorial of the Eldar and of the light of Valinor.

At the first the King would not assent to this.... But... Isildur... passed alone in disguise to... the place of the Tree, which... was watched day and night by guards in [Sauron's] service... Isildur... took from the Tree a fruit that hung upon it, and turned to go. But the guard was aroused, and he was assailed, and fought his way out, receiving many wounds; and he escaped, and because he was disguised it was not discovered who had laid hands on the Tree...

[After] the assault the King yielded to Sauron and felled the White Tree, and turned then wholly away from the allegiance of his fathers. But Sauron caused to be built upon the hill in the midst of the city of the Númenóreans, Armenelos the Golden, a mighty temple.... [There] was an altar of fire in the midst of the temple.... And the first fire upon the altar Sauron kindled with the hewn wood of Nimloth, and... men marvelled at the reek that went up from it....

Thereafter the fire and smoke went up without ceasing; for the power of Sauron daily increased, and in that temple..., men made sacrifice to Melkor that he should release them from Death.

Ibid.

Then Ar-Pharazôn, being besotted, and walking under the shadow of death, for his span was drawing towards its end, hearkened to Sauron; and he began to ponder in his heart how he might make war upon the Valar.

Ibid.

Then Ar-Pharazôn hardened his heart, and he went aboard his mighty ship, Alcarondas, Castle of the Sea. Many-oared it was and many-masted, golden and sable; and upon it the throne of Ar-Pharazôn was set. Then he did on his panoply and his crown, and let raise his standard, and he gave the signal for the raising of the anchors; and in that hour the trumpets of Númenor outrang the thunder....

And at last Ar-Pharazôn came even to Aman, the Blessed Realm, and the coasts of Valinor; and still all was silent, and doom hung by a thread. For Ar-Pharazôn wavered at the end, and almost he turned back. His heart misgave him when he looked upon the soundless shores and saw Taniquetil shining, whiter than snow, colder than death, silent, immutable, terrible as the shadow of the light of Ilúvatar. But pride was now his master, and at last he left his ship and strode upon the shore, claiming the land for his own, if none should do battle for it.

Ibid.

Nominee, Middle Earth Fanfiction Awards (MEFA 2009)

"Pay attention!" Father snaps. "You know these runes! Begin again."

I sigh. "Zi...rak...zi...gil?"

"Acceptable. And the next?"

"Father, why must I learn to read? I want to be a master metalsmith like you, not a stonecarver!"

"You are a Dwarf of Durin's line! Gimli...," eyes closed, he exhales, unclenching his fists, "every smith needs to read, write, and figure, to trade our works for coin. Do you want corrupt Men to think they can cheat you? Or — Mahal forfend! — greedy Elves?"

"No, Father!"

"Do not try my patience further! Read the next."

"Ba...raz..."

The list of names that Gimli is trying to decipher are those of the three Mountains of Moria, which loom large in both the history and the art of the Dwarves:

So they passed into Eregion, and... the travellers saw... the Sun catching three peaks that thrust up into the sky through floating clouds: Caradhras, Celebdil, and Fanuidhol. They were near to the Gates of Moria.

The Return of the King, LoTR Book 6, Ch 5, Many Partings

"I need no map," said Gimli.... "There is the land where our fathers worked of old, and we have wrought the image of those mountains into many works of metal and of stone, and into many songs and tales. They stand tall in our dreams: Baraz, Zirak, Shathûr.

"... I know them and their names, for under them lies Khazad-dûm, the Dwarrowdelf, that is now called... Moria.... Yonder stands Barazinbar, the Redhorn, cruel Caradhras; and beyond him are Silvertine and Cloudyhead: Celebdil the White, and Fanuidhol the Grey, that we call Zirakzigil and Bundushathûr."

The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 2, Ch 3, The Ring Goes South

They are a tough, thrawn race for the most part, secretive, laborious, retentive of the memory of injuries (and of benefits), lovers of stone, of gems, of things that take shape under the hands of the craftsmen rather than things that live by their own life.

The Lord of the Rings, Appendix F, The Languages and Peoples of the Third Age: Of Other Races

Thorin: "[We] were unexpectedly joined by my father and my grandfather with singed beards. They... said very little. When I asked how they had got away, they told me to hold my tongue...."

The Hobbit, Ch 1, An Unexpected Party

It is because of the fewness of women among them that the kind of the Dwarves increases slowly.... For Dwarves take only one wife or husband each in their lives, and are jealous, as in all matters of their rights. The number of dwarf-men that marry is actually less than one-third. For not all the women take husbands: some desire none; some desire one that they cannot get, and so will have no other. As for the men, very many also do not desire marriage, being engrossed in their crafts.

The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, Annals of the Kings and Rulers: Durin's Folk

It is then said that Dwarves marry late, seldom before they are ninety or more, that they have few children (so many as four being rare), and continues:

To these they are devoted, often rather fiercely: that is, they may treat them with apparent harshness (especially in the desire to ensure that they shall grow up tough, hardy, unyielding), but they defend them with all their power, and resent injuries to them even more than to themselves.

The Peoples of Middle-earth, HoME Vol 12, Part 1, Ch 9, The Making of Appendix A: Durin's Folk

The Dwarves... had an ancient language of their own which they prized highly; and even when... it had ceased to be their native tongue and had become a 'book-language', it was carefully preserved and taught to all their children at an early age.

The Peoples of Middle-earth, HoME Vol 12, Part 2, Ch 10, Of Dwarves and Men

The alphabets were of two main, and in origin independent kinds: the Tengwar..., here translated as 'letters'; and the... Cirth, translated as 'runes'....

The Cirth were devised first in Beleriand by the Sindar, and were long used only for inscribing names and brief memorials upon wood or stone....

But in Beleriand, before the end of the First Age, the Cirth..., were rearranged and further developed. Their richest and most ordered form was known as the Alphabet of Daeron.... In the country of Eregion..., the Alphabet of Daeron was maintained in use and passed thence to Moria, where it became the alphabet most favoured by the Dwarves. It remained ever after in use among them and passed with them to the North. Hence in later times it was often called Angerthas Moria or the Long Rune-rows of Moria.

The Lord of the Rings, Appendix E, Writing and Spelling: Writing

The Dwarves... had never invented any form of alphabetic writing. They quickly, however, recognized the usefulness of the Elvish systems.... This occurred mainly in the close association of Eregion and Moria in the Second Age. Now in Eregion not only the Fëanorian Script..., but also the ancient 'runic' alphabet of Daeron [used] by the Sindar was known and used.... Nonetheless even in Eregion the Runes were mainly a 'matter of lore' and were seldom used for informal matters. They, however, caught the fancy of the Dwarves; for while the Dwarves still lived in populous mansions of their own, such as Moria in particular, and went on journeys only to visit their own kin, they had little intercourse with other peoples except immediate neighbours, and needed writing very little; though they were fond of inscriptions, of all kinds, cut in stone. For such purposes the Runes were convenient, being originally devised for them.

The Longbeard Dwarves therefore adopted the Runes, and modified them for their own uses (especially the expression of Khuzdul); and they adhered to them even far into the Third Age, when they were forgotten by others except the loremasters of Elves and Men. Indeed it was generally supposed by the unlearned that they had been invented by the Dwarves, and they were widely known as 'dwarf-letters'.

The Peoples of Middle-earth, HoME Vol 12, Part 2, Ch 10, Of Dwarves and Men

Durin is the name that the Dwarves used for the eldest of the Seven Fathers of their race, and the ancestor of all the kings of the Longbeards... [In] the caves above Kheled-zâram in the east of the Misty Mountains he made his dwelling, where afterwards were the Mines of Moria renowned in song.

The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, Annals of the Kings and Rulers: Durin's Folk

They say also that the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves return to live again in their own kin and to bear once more their ancient names: of whom Durin was the most renowned in after ages....

The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Ch 2, Of Aulë and Yavanna

[Dwarves] are not evil by nature, and few ever served the Enemy of free will, whatever the tales of Men alleged.  For Men of old lusted after their wealth and the work of their hands, and there has been enmity between the races.

The Lord of the Rings, Appendix F, The Languages and Peoples of the Third Age: Of Other Races

Nominee, Middle Earth Fanfiction Awards (MEFA 2009)