(Wed Oct  2)          

Barul's Tale

My early life was anything but typical. As a child, I remember growing up
in the house of Elrond. Many of the elves there didn't like me and never
included me in their games. Then there was the day that Bilbo came to
live with us. He sang songs to me at night and helped me fall asleep. I
wanted to know why I was different and so very ugly. But, he only smiled
at me and sang another song. I should like to visit Bilbo again, if I
ever pass that way again.

I lived most of my life in the house of Elrond. In fact, I dont even
remember my real parents. I went to school with elves, heard stories by
elves, and even told a few of my own stories, (which I made up of course)
to elves. They grew to like me in time. I also liked them very much. But
I still wondered why I was so different. Bilbo told me I was a Dwarf. But
I had no idea what that meant. The elves called me stupid and beardy
all the time. But, I wondered why they thought I was stupid and
beardy. In fact, I did very well in my schooling by the elves. I
graduated in the top of my class in writing and arithmetic.

When I reached the proud age of 37, I decided it was time to seek out my
roots. I asked Elrond if he knew. He smiled at me and produced, from a
small wooden box, a scroll bound in wax and golden thread. He carefully
removed the scroll from its resting place and handed it to me. He said,
Its time you knew who you are, and what you are doing with elves. I
hope you are ready for what awaits you. I opened the scroll carefully and
focused on the small writing. I stared and stared at the writing until I
realized that it was written in Khuzdal, The Dwarvish language! I read it
silently to myself and then glanced up at Elrond. For if this was all
true, then I knew I had to leave right away. I also could never show this
document to any living soul if I was to remain alive. I looked into
Elronds eyes. A solitary tear was rolling down his high elven
cheekbones. He knew I had to leave. And that I probably would not return.

I left that day to seek out Belegost and my roots. I knew some of the
truth. But I wanted all the answers before I began my quest for revenge.
I am leaving these words to you because I know I might not ever return.
As you read this, I am probably already on my way past the High Pass and
into parts unknown. I must complete a great quest before I can seek out
more answers. The following are entries from my fathers journal. His
bravery touched me. For, the sacrifices he made for his son will not ever
be forgotten. I miss you dad...

--Beginning of Journal--

July 19,

Once again Nurin and I had to move onward. She is heavy with our first
child, but we can not risk stopping. I fear she might lose the child if
we don't rest soon. But what good is a live child with nobody to
care for it. My beard aches just from thinking about leaving that child
of mine alone and unaided in the wild. The forces of darkness are moving
in. Even our fair city of Belegost has fallen under corruption. We both
fear we might be captured should we ever return there. I am beginning to
despair...

July 27,

Nurin had the child today. We havent decided on what to call the boy,
but I still wonder if he shall live long enough to be given a name. We
have decided to move toward Rivendell. They might not trust us, but
Elrond owes me a long overdue debt. Should the elves agree to take in the
boy, I wonder what my poor Nurin and I shall do. Our supplies are low,
and I am weakening from my infected wounds...

August 3,

Today we were attacked by four wargs on the path. The beasts are getting
braver, but not smarter. I fended them off while Nurin tended to the
child and killed the beasts from behind with her Dwarven Axe. Let all
enemies of Angbaruk beware, not from his sword, but his wifes fury. The
child is doing well. He is strong and very alert. I am almost positive
that he will survive...

August 28,

We reached the last homely house this evening. Elrond took the child and
promised him a safe life. I hope he is old enough, one day, too seek out
his parents fate. To ensure that my son never forgets us, I have
requested that Elrond would mark him as my son. Elrond thought about it
and decided that since the family name means "Iron Axes", he should be
marked with a axe figure...

August 29,

"I am proud of my son indeed. Today he was branded by Elrond's most
talented healer. My brave son didn't even utter a cry. He just smiled with
his little dwarvish face that we have grown to love. He shall always bear
the mark of the axe. And therefore, he shall never forget us entirely.
Whatever be our fate..."

September 9,

Another six goblins attacked us from behind today. My wife was ambushed
first. Bravely she fought until a foul goblin stabbed her through the
heart with his goblin sword. The creature paid for my wife's death with
his own. I do not fear death. But the Dark Lords minions will hunt down
my child as well. I pray they never find him...

September 11,

Alas! I have failed. Yet again, I was ambushed by some foul demons. I
have killed them, but at what cost? I have been cut badly and cannot stop
my bleeding. I write these words, which I know will be my last, in the
hopes that the evil Dark Lord will pay for what he has done. He has taken
my wife, my life, and any chance of a decent life away from my son. We
took a stand. The house of Angbaruk stood against evil Lord Sauron and he
hunted us down with the best of his men. Our words did not scare us so
much as my influence among the dwarves of the Iron Hills. They listen to
me when I speak. I spoke of taking back Moria as a base of operations
against the Dark Lord. They agreed and would have, but Sauron massacred
them. They simply, disappeared. Now I know of their fate. I am suffering
it as well. Should my son ever read these journals, I want him to know
his true name. Your name is not Elwin, my son. For that is the Elvish
name I asked Elrond to give you. Your true name is Barul, Son of the Axe.
You are heir to the Family of the Iron Axes. Fight for freedom, brave
Barul. Fight for honor. But above all Barul, fight for the memory of my
beloved wife, your mother, and for the honor of Angbaruk, your slain
father...
--End of Journal--


So you see why I must leave this haven of life. I shall be back, if the
gods are willing. But make no mistake, the goblins and wargs of Arda will
pay for my parents death. If I have to call upon all the powers at my
command, they shall pay.

--Barul (Teller of Tales)