[ :: starter for @eomertheblessed :: ]
In the wake of the War of the Ring there were few places that had flourished as well as Helm’s Deep. It’s walls and streets ravaged by the great battle for Rohan and it’s people against the dark forces of Sauron, it’s people only grew determined - inspired by the victory and sacrifice of it’s men and women - and not long after was it settled once more.
However, the betrayal of those who hid away inside the mountain was hard forgotten. Orrak, the Butcher, and then King of the kingdom of the Dwarven Kingdom of the Glittering Caves had shut the city’s doors when news of the pending battle reached the city. The all but impregnable caves were sealed and though Rohan stood victorious that the aid so long freely given by the stout folk had been denied left a bitter taste in the mouths of many.
When Ora, then known only as Stoneheart, the fallen princess of the Glittering Caves returned with an army of her own to depose her mad brother few stood in her way and Helm’s Deep once again became the staging ground for a bloody and vicious battle. By the grace of the Valar, however, the city itself escaped danger and further damage as the battle raged deep within the caves but the victorious usurper never forgot the help given - even if it had been born of hate for her brother and not actually out of a want to aid her.
But, in the years since, the relationship between the Dwarves and the Rohirrim began to mend under the watchful, clever eye of the new young queen. Trade and gold flowed, travellers passed through both cities, and as the Age of Men dawned over all of Arda none in the Glittering Caves could find any reason to complain.
Usually.
“I swear it, your majesty - this horse-loving thief has been charging us double that of everyone else!”
“That’s a filthy lie - and we know that you’ve been doing the same to Folcred - “
Ora bit back an annoyed sigh, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose to stave off the headache already threatening to rise. When she’d heard of a trade dispute she had hardly been surprised - having only reclaimed Aglarond four years ago they had been utterly focused on rebuilding and simply encouraging trade to start again, not having paid as much attention as she should have when it came to contracts to better control prices and curb such problems before they could occur. The price of leatherwork and grain had grown absurd and, it seemed, they had found the source of the problem.
“If you cannot speak civilly, then I will depart and wait until you find more polite words. I will not tolerate hearing childish insults from grown men - Dwarf or Human - ”
Her words were cut off by the sounding of a horn - that of the Rohirrim - and as the young queen turned to see just who the city was heralding, she was greeted with the familiar standards of the Eomer King, and the fair king himself.
An appropriate nod of her modestly adorned head in greeting as those around her bowed low, a rare, friendly smile graced the Dwarrow queen’s features. It had been some time since she had seen the fair Rohirrim monarch, neither of them bearing the titles that they did now, and memories of battle, songs, and ale shared over victories were recalled with fondness.
“Eomer King, we were expecting an ambassador - your presence is a most welcome and pleasant surprise.”
