Mahal's Blessing

Chapter 7: Looming Terrors

Razia's days in the Blue Mountains unfolded with a quiet rhythm. While she didn't actively seek out interactions, the natural ebb and flow of dwarven life brought moments of observation. Dis and Frerin, members of Thrain's family, became occasional figures in the tapestry of her silent observations.

On two distinct occasions, Razia glimpsed Dis and Frerin as they navigated the lively streets of the dwarven city. The first encounter ignited a spark of recognition—a momentary pause in her journey as she marveled at the striking resemblance between Frerin and Fili. It was as if the echoes of the past had found a reflection in the present, and Razia couldn't help but fangirl silently over the connection that spanned generations.

The second occasion, however, held a different resonance. As Razia observed Dis near the market square, a quiet contemplation settled within her. Dis, with her black hair adorned in intricate plaits, moved with a grace that belied the concerns etched in the lines of her face. Razia, from her discreet vantage point, witnessed a pregnant Dis, her hand gently resting on the swell of her belly.

In those moments of observation, Razia became acutely aware of the impending war for Moria—the shadows that loomed on the horizon and cast a pall over the otherwise bustling city. Dis, with an unspoken strength, carried the weight of a future that held both joy and potential sorrow. The thought lingered in Razia's mind, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges that lay ahead.

In the privacy of her lodgings, Razia started to make her plans. She unfurled a large map, its parchment revealing the intricate pathways of Middle Earth. Dol Guldur, a dark fortress in the southern reaches of Mirkwood, loomed as her next destination. She estimated at least a month's ride, factoring in stops to visit Bella and Bilbo along the way.

Her thoughts turned to the need for martial training. The mastery of weaponry among the elves was legendary, and Rivendell seemed like the ideal place to seek such expertise. Elrond, known for his wisdom, might provide guidance in honing her skills. The decision to involve Gandalf the Grey lingered in her mind, a key figure whose counsel could alter the course of events.

Razia sighed, the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders. She didn't seek to change everything, only the fate of Durin's line—the impending war for Moria that would claim the lives of Dis's husband and youngest brother. As she gazed at the map, a determined expression crossed her face. Rivendell would be her first stop.

The grasslands between the Blue Mountains and Rivendell stretched like a sea of green, offering a relatively safe path for her journey. Orcs tended to avoid elven territories, giving her a chance to navigate without the constant threat of conflict. Razia's mind raced with plans—finding a skilled sword master, refining her combat skills, and preparing for the challenges that awaited her.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Razia folded the map, its creases marking the routes she would travel. The lodgings, once a temporary haven, now became a staging ground for her next steps. The road ahead was uncertain, and the fate of Durin's line hung in the balance.

In the coming days, Razia would bid farewell to the dwarven community beneath the Blue Mountains, carrying with her the echoes of dances, the warmth of newfound connections, and the silent determination to shape the unfolding tale in Middle Earth. The grasslands awaited, and the path to Rivendell marked the beginning of her journey into the heart of destiny.