milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Since there is no forge and no Barman available, Gimli has at least managed to procure a certain amount of wire and a few tools from the bar, and is practicing the making of small, easily worked and resized mail rings. There is no sense in being idle.

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Gimli hops down from his seat and comes over to where Hephaestos is sitting before sticking out a hand.

"Agreed," he says. "This should be interesting."

He nods and lets out a small chuckle.

"Oh, yes indeed."

And he takes the hand, shaking it firmly.

Then he looks around.

"I don't suppose you can leave this place?"

Because he has a perfectly servicible forge and workshop under Mt. Etna that he wouldn't mind sharing.

"Haven't tried," Gimli says. "I heard the door lock behind me."

It was one of those sounds that speaks more volumes than any mere words could ever manage.

"I suspect, though, that it might not be such a problem were someone else to open the door for me."

He nods.

"We can check that. I'm...assuming you won't have a problem with a workshop inside a mountain? Well...a volcano?"

He's pretty sure...but he wants to check.

"I was born and raised in Erebor, under the Lonely Mountain, as we called it on my world," Gimli says. "It was no fire-mountain, though. Are the walls solid, and the floor?"

He gives Gimli a look, somewhat insulted that the other would think a master smith would live and work with anything less than solid walls and flooring. He's had a long time to make his place in Mt. Etna a home and not only is it sturdy, but it's also comfortable. God or not, after work, he enjoys his comforts as any would.

Gimli just looks back. "The last forge I heard of in a fire-mountain was in one of the chambers where the molten rock was still flowing," he points out. "Sauron had peculiar ideas about what constituted proper engineering."

"He was an idiot."

He doesn't know who Sauron might be, or what kind of a smith he might have been, but the idea of molten rock flowing freely inside of a forge was positively idiotic. How could you set the metal correctly? That sort of thing produced inconsistant heat in the workshop itself and that just wouldn't do. And the sort of heat that would produce for the worker was just...

He actually rolls his eyes.

"No. The lava is well controlled, thank you."

"Thank you," says Gimli, in an aggrieved tone. "Black shadow and enemy of all the free folk of Middle-earth he might've been, but I still don't know how he could've forged that blasted Ring of Power directly over the lava flow of Mount Doom. Honestly, it'd almost be worth it to bring the wretch back from the dead just to find out what he did!"

He then remembers the discussion he's supposed to be having.

"My apologies. It was a subject of some importance to a quest I was once part of. I meant no insult by it."

He nods.

Certainly understandable, that.

But then he starts thinking about it.

"Water, perhaps?"

But that much heat..and the water...it should have warped things...

"Possibly. From what I understand, he made nothing else in that forge but one Ring, and that of such a metal that it could be melted by no lesser fire. Took some years to accomplish, apparently."

"Silly thing to do."

One ring from an entire forge?

"Aye, well-" Gimli wrinkles his nose. "I've learned better than to expect sense from those who think they can conquer all the world."

Sauron was clearly mad anyway. Didn't even try to improve the Orcs.

He nods.

"Idiocy."

Who needs the world? He's happy with the comforts of his forge and as long as no one bothers him or tries to give him trouble, he couldn't want anything less.

"Indeed. We're well quit of him. Would you believe the melting of that Ring of his put an end to him? Sorceror or no, who builds a device like that?" Gimli shakes his head grimly.

"An idiot."

He feels justified in his ascertion.

Gimli nods firmly, agreeing whole-heartedly with the sentiment now that he's got a good century or so between him and Sauron's day. "At any rate- mountain is fine, volcano is fine, massive and complicated cave system is perfectly acceptable, yes."

He nods.

"Somewhat flighty wife?"

He'll not exactly apologize for Aphrodite, but he figures he should mention her. He'll not go into some of his moajor issues with her, since that's best kept between her and himself...

"She usually keeps to her rooms, but..."

He's trying to mention everything.

Gimli's eyebrows go up at that. "So long as she doesn't get in the way when we're working, I doubt there'll be a problem."

Since when do women of any other race show even the slightest trace of interest in the Dwarves?

He snorts.

His wife was the goddess of love and lust. Goodness knew she slept with just about anything but him...the idea of her going after Gimli wasn't quite so far fetched.

But that was bitterness, pure and simple and uncharitable, and he supposed it wasn't even fair at the moment. She'd said she was trying...

"She doesn't."

Since when was she interested in his work?

"Well, then," says Gimli. "If she stays out of my way, I'll stay out of hers; if she bothers me, I'll let her know, and you."

He nods.

"Shall we check the door then?"

Gimli smiles. "Aye, let's," he agrees.

He stands, leaning heavily on his cane before he starts moving. Quick but uneven, his steps bring him to the door, which he opens a moment later. He turns back to Gimli and quirks an eyebrow.

Gimli follows suit; in all likelihood he's no faster than Hephaestos, for all that his legs work as normally as any. His kind were never built for speed, after all.

Since Hephaestos' forge is nowhere in Middle-earth (and, perhaps as importantly, the intent of this journey is in harmony with what his folk are meant to do with their afterlives in the first place), nothing prevents Gimli from passing through that now-opened door.

And Hephaestos closes the door after them.

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