Ibun's Perspective
If the world had come to turn its backs on us, we would turn our backs on them. They say not much is known of the petty dwarves, that’s only because no one bothered to ask. Our stories are plentiful too. Our songs were different from what you know, instead of the thrum of a harp or a flute or whatever you Noldor…Sindar...Edain..? What are you anyways? No, that doesn’t matter right now. Our songs were composed with the crunch of grass against feet, of your obnoxious snores in the night as we crept around your encampments. Don’t look at me like that, us Petty Dwarves don’t prefer the ash of the forge and the bubbling lava blistering at our skin. We could very well if we wanted too! But what is there around to forge? Stone? Gravel? Bah! It seemed like nature was punishing us as well, mocking our inadequacies or perhaps our dwindling numbers. We’re smaller than most, but plenty as tough. It didn’t matter that we had few friends. We were fine. I was fine. It was me, father, and Khim. ...