In a distant corner of Middle-earth, out in the middle of a vast steppe, a group of elven cavalry riders was traveling at a steady pace. As the unit moved forward in formation, the voice of Elrond narrating the story echoed through the room.
"Back then, I was on a scouting mission outside Rivendell. Our ancient enemy was still standing, and war still raged across Middle-earth."
As the elven unit rode behind Elrond at a rhythmic stride, Elrond suddenly pulled the reins and brought his horse to a dead halt. Caught off guard by this sudden move, the riders behind him were forced to pull up immediately. One of the riders quietly rode up alongside his lord and spoke.
"You heard it too, didn't you, Lord Elrond?"
Elrond nodded slightly, his gaze fixed on a specific point in the distance.
"Yes, Glorfindel. It seems there is a battle nearby—with orcs and trolls..."
Listening closely at these words, the surrounding elven riders easily picked up the distant sounds of combat carried on the wind. Glorfindel lowered his voice and asked:
"Do we proceed with our mission? Or go check the cause of the clash?"
Just as Elrond was about to answer, the deep, resonant blast of a war horn echoed from the direction of the fight. Elrond's brows furrowed slightly.
"That is the horn of the House of Durin. Those are dwarves of Khazad-dûm."
Without wasting a moment, he turned his horse and spurred it toward the sound of battle. Glorfindel and the other elven soldiers followed without a second thought. As the wind whipped past their faces, Glorfindel brought his horse alongside Elrond's and called out.
"Are you sure you want to aid the dwarves? After the fall of Eregion, they retreated into their mountains and left Middle-earth to fend for itself. At the first sign of trouble, they're selfish enough to look out only for their own skins."
Elrond, however, viewed the situation differently. Keeping his eyes set on the horizon, he answered in a calm voice.
"Like any mortal creature, they look out for their own lives, my dear friend. You know as well as I do that if the dwarves and the elves of Lothlórien had not appeared to strike Sauron and his host from behind, neither I nor the people of Rivendell would be here today."
Glorfindel fell silent at those words, for Elrond was right. Truthfully, he found the dwarves' tactical retreat logical enough and understood putting the safety of one's own people first—after all, he preferred to do the exact same by prioritizing elven lives, which was precisely why he mistrusted dwarves. The other elven riders heard their lord's words but offered no comment. Their discipline was built purely on executing orders.
As the unit rode onward, the noise of combat in the air grew increasingly fierce.
At that very moment, a bloody brawl was unfolding between a unit of dwarves and a band of orcs backed by armored trolls. The valley—where steel ground against steel, heavy armor shattered, and the dirt was soaked in black and red blood—was slowly turning into an open graveyard.
In one corner of the battlefield, a dwarf clad head-to-toe in Khazad-dûm armor held his axe horizontally, blocking the downward strikes of two orcs at the same time. As the orcs pressed their weapons down with all their strength, the dwarf strained to shove them back. The muscles of both sides flexed hard under the intense pressure, their bodies trembling from the effort. As the struggle dragged on for seconds, the dwarf's boots sank heavy into the soil, yet the unyielding grit on his face didn't shift an inch.
This deadlock was broken when a dwarven throwing axe embedded itself right into the head of one of the orcs. The orc collapsed dead, leaving its companion staring in shock at its fallen comrade. With half the weight suddenly lifted, the dwarf seized the opening; he surged forward with everything he had, throwing the remaining orc off balance. Right after, he whipped his axe around and, with a booming battle cry, drove his blade deep into the dazed orc's waist. Black blood splattered across the dwarf's helmet as the orc let out a high-pitched, pain-racked scream.
HAARRRGGGG!
The dwarf pulled his axe back hard. As the orc clutched its wound and dropped to its knees, the dwarf raised his weapon once more and brought down a vertical strike onto the groaning creature's head.
BAM!
Prying his weapon loose from the dead orc's skull, the dwarf spun on his heel without missing a beat and caught another incoming attack on his horizontally held axe. Dodging another blow with a nimble step to the left, he lunged forward and slammed a solid shoulder check into the first attacking orc. As that orc stumbled and crashed to the ground, the dwarf turned to face the threat behind him, parrying the second orc's blow. Then he swung his axe low, lopping off the attacker's leg right at the knee.
As the creature howled in agony, the dwarf turned back toward the first orc trying to scramble up from the dirt. The dwarf swung horizontally, but the orc saw it coming and rolled away just in time to dodge. Without losing momentum, the dwarf spun right back around and finished off the legless orc instead. Straightening up immediately, he blocked the strike of another charging orc, shoved his opponent back, and forced it to its knees with a brutal blow to the leg.
BAM! HHAAARRRGGGG!
Letting out another roar, the dwarf severed the kneeling orc's neck in a single stroke. As the severed head hit the dirt and rolled away, the dwarf scanned his surroundings and sprinted off to aid a comrade who was surrounded by three orcs.
The instant he reached his target, he slammed his shoulder hard into the back of one of the orcs, sending it face-first to the ground. Before the stunned creature could even process what happened, the dwarf's axe came down on its neck, cleaving head from shoulders. As the two dwarves went back-to-back, taking position against the remaining orcs, the savior asked calmly, staying on high alert:
"You alright?"
Though winded, the other dwarf didn't drop his sarcastic attitude.
"I'm fine. Where's the prince?"
"I don't know."
"He—!"
Before the dwarf could finish his sentence, the orcs pounced on them again. The pair instantly went on the defensive, parrying incoming blows and launching a counterattack that slaughtered the orcs on the spot. When they lined up back-to-back once more, they saw another group of orcs rushing toward them. One of them clicked his tongue.
"Tch, things are turning south. I knew this mission was a terrible idea."
The other dwarf chuckled helplessly.
"Yeah, but the prince was stubborn. You didn't have to come."
His companion answered in a mocking tone as he easily blocked a charging orc's attack.
"Right, leave all the fun to you guys and drink beer at home out of boredom? No thanks, I'd rather hack down more orcs."
The other dwarf laughed out loud as he sliced open the chest of the orc in front of him.
"Hahahahaha!"
Parrying another strike, he called out to his comrade:
"Then stop whining and keep fighting."
With those words, he lunged furiously at his opponent. The orc raised its shield in a bid to block the incoming strikes, but it couldn't withstand the sheer weight of the heavy blows and lost its footing. Seizing the opening, the dwarf struck the edge of the shield hard, breaking the opponent's guard, then pivoted on his heel and buried his axe deep in the orc's chest. The creature slumped to the ground dead, eyes wide in shock.
Pulling his axe quickly out of the corpse, the dwarf turned around just in time to block a sword slash, then immediately dodged a spear thrust coming from his right by taking a quick step back; the spear grazed his armor. Regaining his balance, he lunged forward, knocked the orc down with a shoulder check, and turned his attention to the spearman without wasting a second. When he swung his axe in a wide horizontal arc, the orc retreated in fear, but the dwarf didn't halt his attack; spinning a full circle, he brought his axe down right onto the head of the orc waiting behind with a shield up.
BAM!
After killing the orc, the dwarf tried to pull his axe back, but the steel was stuck in the creature's skull. Furrowing his brows, he felt movement behind him at that exact moment. Without hesitation, he abandoned the stuck axe and dived to the side. As the spear scraped against his armor, throwing sparks and missing him by a hair's breadth, the disarmed dwarf surged forward and crashed his shoulder hard into the spear-wielding orc. As the stunned creature tumbled down, the dwarf quickly drew a single-handed axe from his belt and drove it into his fallen enemy's head. Yanking his weapon back, he stepped back, resetting his stance, and raised his guard against the next wave of approaching orcs.
Meanwhile, his companion had smashed the haft of his axe hard into the kneecap of the orc before him.
Crack! HAARRRK!
As the orc bent forward in pain from its shattered leg, he brought his axe down on its head, ripped his weapon free from the corpse, and turned to parry two consecutive attacks. Laying them both out dead after the clash, the dwarf stepped back to his comrade's side, backing up to him once again. Every corner of the battlefield was filled with similar scenes; in this chaos where blood and mud blended together, both sides were wearing each other down to the bone.
In one of the most intense pockets of battle, a single dwarf was leading his men, waging a relentless fight against three armored trolls.
"ALL RIGHT, BOYS! LET'S SHOW THESE BIG BASTARDS WHAT DWARVES ARE MADE OF!"
Just as he shouted these words, he dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a massive mace brought down toward his head. Using his agility, he darted forward and buried his axe deep into the troll's thick wrist. The troll bellowed in pain.
RRAAAAAAAAAA!
As the creature dropped the mace and swung its arm, the dwarf, whose axe was stuck fast, was lifted into the air for a brief second. Sensing the danger immediately, he let go of the weapon and rolled to the ground. Retreating rapidly to grab a spare axe from his back, he watched as the troll clutched its wrist in pain and used its free hand to yank out the embedded axe and toss it away. The creature glared with furious eyes at the little runt who had inflicted such pain, while the dwarf stared right back into the troll's eyes with a fiercely stubborn, filthy smirk. Ignoring its aching wrist, the troll roared.
HHAAAAAAARRRRR!!
As it charged toward the dwarf, shaking the ground beneath it, the dwarf held his ground without flinching and shouted in a mocking tone:
"COME ON THEN! COME AT ME, YOU @£#>@-FACED BASTARD!"
As the troll charged at him like a living hammer of flesh with its massive shoulder dipped forward, the dwarf planted his feet firmly on the ground and waited for the exact right moment. Meanwhile, he channeled his aura into his axe, the metallic surface of the weapon gradually glowing with a crimson sheen. Just as the troll was about to slam into him, he dodged sideways at the very last second and swung the glowing red axe in a wide horizontal arc right into the creature's exposed leg. With his own physical strength combining with the troll's momentum, the axe struck its target with tremendous force.
From the sheer impact, the dwarf felt the sensation leave his arms and an ache spread through his whole body. Leaving the axe where it was embedded, he sprinted toward his other weapon that he had tossed earlier. Behind him, the troll took a few stumbling steps before crashing heavily to the ground. The dwarf knew he couldn't stop a creature of that size with pure physical force alone; but thanks to the aura infused into his axe, he had managed to crack the troll's leg bone.
As the troll groaned in pain, clutching its leg, the dwarf scooped up his weapon from the ground and turned back to face the gigantic beast. The troll narrowed its eyes in rage, growling as it glared at the dwarf. Although the dwarf looked completely composed from the outside, he couldn't hide the numbness in his arms.
'Damn it. I went too far—I almost broke my own arms...'
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his men battling the other two trolls, then at the rest fighting the orcs. Working in groups, they were barely managing to keep the creatures at bay. He quickly weighed the situation in his mind.
'They have us outnumbered... It looks like we'll barely make it out of this clash alive...'
Hearing heavy footsteps behind him, he looked at the troll limping slowly toward him, and a faint chuckle escaped his lips.
'Well, wouldn't be any fun otherwise... but once this fight is over, we'll probably have to head back... Damn it... I wanted to catch those traitors myself and take their heads back to the Kingdom...'
He tightened his grip on the hilt of his axe and braced to fight the approaching creature.
'Well... at least if I kill a troll or two on my own, I'll have some good stories to tell the folks back home.'
When the troll came right up in front of the dwarf, it pushed off its good leg and raised its massive fist. As it launched into an attack with a roar, the dwarf refused to back down and unleashed a battle cry just as fierce.
HAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGG! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!
Just as the troll was about to bring down its blow, the dwarf cloaked his body in aura and coiled his muscles like a spring. He was just about to dodge when a high-pitched whistle rang out in his ears. Within a fraction of a second, a white javelin adorned with elegant silver engravings sank right into the middle of the troll's forehead.
Both troll and dwarf froze in absolute shock at this sudden intervention. As the life faded from the troll's eyes, its massive body began to topple forward; for the dwarf, time seemed to stand completely still in that moment.
'W-Wait! Where the hell did that javelin come from?! Weren't those markings elven?! They stole my kill, damn it!'
The dwarf whipped his head around in anger and looked behind him. Sitting atop his horse in front of him was an elf with long, jet-black hair and a noble posture, his arm still extended in a throwing follow-through. The dwarf's brow scowled even deeper, and he raged inwardly.
'Did this bastard just steal my kill?!'
However, for a brief second, the dwarf forgot the immediate danger right next to him. Turning back around, he saw the colossal body of the troll—whose brain had just been impaled—rapidly collapsing right on top of him. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
'WAIT A MINUTE! WHY THE HELL IS THIS COMING RIGHT AT ME?!'
As the massive mass blocked out the sun and crushed down on him, only a single sentence escaped the dwarf's mouth.
"BY DURIN'S UNDERWEAR!"
CRASH!
Right at that moment, Elrond gave his command in Elvish, his voice deep and authoritative.
"Clear out all forces of darkness and support the dwarves."
The moment the elven cavalry received the order, they spurred their horses forward. Lowering their lances—adorned in white armor and fine engravings—the elves crashed like an avalanche into the orcs swarming the battlefield. Both dwarves and orcs were stunned by this abrupt raid, momentarily unable to tell who the elves were attacking. But the elves aimed only for the orcs. As the lancers impaled any orc in their path, Glorfindel sliced through the chaos like a gust of wind, setting his sights on the remaining two standing trolls.
He skillfully wielded his sword as he rode, effortlessly mowing down the orcs in his way. The moment he drew near the first troll, he stood on his saddle and leaped with perfect timing. Stepping first onto the troll's arm, then its shoulder, he launched himself upward and landed softly on top of the creature's head. Reversing his grip on his sword, he drove it deep into the troll's skull, gave the hilt a quick twist before pulling it out, and glided through the air to land right back in his horse's saddle, turning seamlessly toward the second troll without breaking stride.
As the first troll tumbled noisily to the ground with a fatal head wound, the surrounding dwarves stood frozen at the spectacle. Right under the astonished gazes of the dwarves, Glorfindel ran his blade through the heart of the second troll within seconds. When the creature slumped backward with a groan, its chest torn open, one of the dwarves was left slack-jawed. Licking his dry lips, he muttered:
"By Durin's beard... what a monster..."
Having finished his work, Glorfindel turned his horse and repositioned. Pinched between both the elves and dwarves, and utterly demoralized by Glorfindel's little display, the orcs broke mentally. Panic-stricken, they dropped their weapons and began to flee. Startled at first when the orcs turned tail, the dwarves—now fully realizing the elves weren't attacking them—pursued their fleeing enemies with a vengeance. With Glorfindel keen to wrap things up quickly and Elrond joining the fight, slaughtering the remaining orcs didn't take long.
Over an hour later...
An eerie silence had settled over the steppe. After putting down the last of the orcs, the elves and dwarves lowered their weapons and looked at each other. The elves stood with completely expressionless, statue-like faces, while the dwarves, after giving them a quick glance, grumbled and scattered to tend to their wounded companions. Elrond turned to his men and issued an order.
"Secure the perimeter and check on the wounded dwarves."
As the elves quietly dismounted and dispersed to carry out the order, Glorfindel wiped his sword clean and walked over to Elrond.
"What do we do now?"
Elrond replied in a calm tone as he surveyed the battlefield.
"First, let us find out why the dwarves are here. Then we shall focus on our mission."
Glorfindel nodded softly and waited behind his lord. Meanwhile, Elrond walked toward a dwarf whose eyes were frantically scanning the battlefield, searching for someone in distress.
"Good day, Master Dwarf. I would like to speak with your leader."
The dwarf paused upon seeing the elf and offered a greeting, crude as it was. Relations between them and the elves were strained—worse than strained, even—but thanks to their intervention today, they had suffered far fewer casualties. The dwarf didn't want to be ungrateful.
"I hear you, Elf Lord... but we're looking for him ourselves."
Elrond blinked for a second.
"Did your leader fall? Or is he missing?"
The dwarf shot an anxious glance at the piles of corpses around them.
"Yeah, last we saw, he was squaring off against a troll, but then he vanished into thin air."
Hearing these words, a flurry of thoughts crossed Elrond's mind. His gaze drifted toward where the troll he had felled lay. Saying nothing, he turned his horse and walked at a slow pace toward the massive corpse. Though the dwarf and Glorfindel exchanged a brief look, Glorfindel followed his lord, while the dwarf went back to his business.
As the two drew closer to the troll's carcass, muffled groans and straining sounds began breaking the surrounding quiet. Both dismounted.
"HRRRNGH! THAT E-E-ELF... D-D-DID THIS... DEFINITELY... HRRRNGH... O-ON PURPOSE!"
Hearing this harsh, halting, and blatantly angry voice, the two elves looked at each other. Quickening his pace, Elrond stepped up to the front of the troll's body and saw movement in the corpse. Coming a bit closer, the scene became clear: face caked in dirt, a dwarf was trapped beneath the carcass with his whole body buried except his head, pushing with all his strength to shove the multi-ton dead troll off himself.
Elrond stood there, keeping his deadpan expression intact. After a short silence, he cleared his throat gently.
"Ahem."
The relentlessly struggling dwarf flinched at the sound, and though unable to lift his head, he shouted:
"Who's there?! Glaven! Orwel! Is that you?! Get over here and help me right now! I can feel my bones crunching!"
Seeing the dwarf trying to look up at him by rolling only his eyes from where he was pinned, Elrond calmly stepped forward. Looking down at the dwarf who couldn't even turn his neck, he asked:
"Do you need assistance?"
The dwarf was already flabbergasted to see an elf standing before him instead of his comrades. But looking closer and recognizing the owner of the javelin that caused him to end up like this, the shock in his eyes turned to pure rage.
"YOU! YOU KILL-STEALING BASTARD!"
Elrond blinked in a moment of bewilderment he rarely experienced in his life.
"Who? Am I the thief? I saved your life."
"NO! YOU STOLE THE PRIZE I HAD MY EYES SET ON! YOU @£#@@$@!!!"
Faced with the barrage of heavy curses spewing from the dwarf, Elrond paused for a moment, at a loss for words. Behind him, Glorfindel couldn't hold it in any longer, gracefully covering his face as he began to chuckle. Elrond shot him a quick glance before turning back around, attempting to tone down the absurdity of the situation.
"I only wished to help."
"DID ANYBODY ASK FOR YOUR HELP, PRINCESS?!"
At those words, Elrond's eyebrow twitched slightly.
"...Did you truly wish to face a troll head-on?"
"YES! AND I WAS GOING TO KILL IT! BUT YOU GOT IN THE WAY!"
"Killing a troll single-handedly is hardly possible."
"HAH?! ARE YOU CALLING ME WEAK, YOU @£#@$?!"
"I ask you to mind your language."
"AND WHAT IF I DON'T?! COME SHOW ME, PRINCESS!"
Elrond's face gradually darkened as he tried to hold a rational conversation with the dwarf shouting at him from underneath a corpse. Just as he began to accept the sheer impossibility of sensible communication, the present-day voice of Elrond narrating the story chimed in.
"And that... was how I met Durin..."
Lore note: As the author, I'd like to point out that in Mr. Tolkien's notes, there truly was a massive bond of friendship and trade between the dwarves of Khazad-dûm and the Elves of Eregion. However, the architects of this friendship weren't Elrond and Durin, but rather the Elven smith Celebrimbor and the Dwarven craftsman Narvi of Moria. In fact, the two of them built the West Gate of Moria (Durin's Door) together. Elrond's personal friendship or contact with the dwarves during this period is never mentioned in the texts. But in that show, aside from the visual effects, the only thing I liked was the friendship between Elrond and Durin. I've always loved themes of friendship and brotherhood, so I added it to my fanfic. I might have stripped a bit of Elrond's grand majesty, but you can think of it as me tweaking the timeline a little. I originally thought about using Celebrimbor and Narvi, but since both are dead, it would have resulted in a pointless story disconnected from the plot. Plus, I would've been robbed of the joy of giving Thorin an Elven great-uncle :D. Anyway, my fanfic is mostly based on the movies. Of course, The Rings of Power is excluded from this—as you probably realized from Sauron and Galadriel's conversation. In original canon history, Elrond's place is just as I described. I hope you enjoyed the story!