At last, after a full lunar cycle, the outlining of the Lonely Mountain could be seen beyond the outskirts of Mirkwood. The journey was long, and unfortunately not yet over. It would still take a few more nights to reach the city of Erebor, the Dwarven Kingdom known for its great riches. It was because of its riches that the elf found himself on this taxing and rather miserable journey. Or more so because he was the third son, and not the first that he was forced to make such political journeys to a kingdom filled with brutish and uncouth dwarves. Meanwhile, his older siblings would have the privilege of meeting with the elven rulers of Mirkwood to strengthen their trade agreements. Their jobs would be much easier than trying to establish trade agreements with dwarves they have never met. That was his job.
By morning, a few days after Mirkwood, Roderich could make out the sculptured features of the stone dwarves towering over the gates of Erebor. He could cry out of joy for reaching his destination had his destination not been so gloomy. Well, in reality, Erebor was vast with stone walls carved with symbols he did not recognize. Had he been shown the kingdom without knowing it was built by dwarves, he might have admitted that it had its own charm. However, no matter where he went, nothing could hold a candle to his realm filled with trees of gold and silver flowers. Thinking about it, weighed down the corners of the elf’s lips for it would be some time before he would be able to return to his home... ‘Enough of that.’ Roderich mentally shook himself. The faster he got this over with, the faster he could get home.
When his small company was greeted at the gates, the elf’s lips curled into a polite, pleasant smile though it did not quite reach his eyes. The dwarf before him was rather squat with a rough tongue, and beady eyes. He appeared brutish with such thickly braided hair and cloaked in armor, though he bowed respectfully to the new guests, and led them to the throne room.
Immediately his eyes fell upon the dwarf prince sitting upon the throne. His shoulders were broad, features sharp, and eyes that made him feel small. Nonetheless, he gracefully bowed before the noble dwarf, his wreath of silver flowers upon his head glinting as he did so.
“Your Highness, I thank you for your gracious hospitality. I am Roderich, son of Rínor and Cleril, brother to Túron and Daeron, and third prince of the Kingdom of Lothlórien. As discussed in our letters, I have come to establish a trade agreement between our two kingdoms.”