You open a chest and look inside. The precious gems are gleaming in the moon light. "The most exquisite Dwarven craft", the smuggler comments. You pull a long chain and your widening eyes fall on the most exquisite necklace you have ever had a privilege to see. In front of your eyes a perfect constellation of precious gems is glowing and glistening, and you can almost hear the roaring fire raging in a dark forge when the treasure was born, and the ringing of a hammer fills your beating heart with awe and ardour. You caress the jewel with the tips of your fingers and whisper, "On silver necklaces they strung the flowering stars, on crowns they hung the dragon-fire, in twisted wire they meshed the light of moon and sun."* "What is it, lassy?" the crook asks momentarily distracted from the gold you had handed him in exchange for the chest. He is met by the blade of your sword pressed into his throat. "This is Nyrnala, the Jewel of Khazad-dum, you filthy maggot," you are very nearly shaking in indignation. "If only I cared to tarnish this fine blade with the vile slime that you call blood..." The bushes on the side of the road rustle and you hear the velvet rumble of your King's voice, "Restrain, kurdu..." A company of ten Dwarves step out of the shadows and encircles the clearing. The panic contort the face of the crook but there is nowhere for him to run. "Though I can hardly deny the allure of your blood thirst," the malicious smirk on your King's face is deviously exuberant. You sheathe your blade and pull a soft luxuriant cloth out of your backpack to wrap the necklace. "We still have questions to our dear man of trade here," the King takes a few steps, circling the shaking man. Your Dwarf is two heads shorter than his prey but you can feel the terror radiating from the smuggler. He is silently gasping like a fish out of water, not daring to protest or defend himself. Who would blame him... While two of the Dwarves are busy clasping the chest and loading it on a pony, seven others clad in full Dwarven armour with horrifying battle axes in their arms are staring at him with hardly benevolent intentions in their eyes. The tenth one, regal and ominous, rather tall for a Dwarf,clad in dark garments and fur adorned cloak, wide Elven blade sheathed at his back, is currently focusing all his commanding attention on one insignificant looter. You momentarily feel sorry for the man whose day probably had started so nicely, in some dirty inn at the outskirts of the city, in the anticipation of large gains of some unassuming lassy, who had been ready to overpay for a miserable tinsy chest of some old obscure gems. The muffled moans from the bushes inform the man that his accomplices are not to aid him in his predicament. You King's focus shifts to you and he dismissively beckons one of his lieutenants, "Question him and find out how the necklace came to his possession." The summoned Dwarf steps ahead and the smuggler emits a terrified squawk. "Be amiable though," your King is obviously bored already, "he is hardly a criminal portent, just a fortuitous imbecile." The King turns to you and an affectionate smile adorns his face. "Are you unscathed, my heart?" You look at him with exasperated scoff. "Hardly a fight with a dragon, my Lord," nonetheless, you allow him to wrap a luscious cloak around your shoulders and protectively lead you toward your pony. "Remind me upon our return to Erebor to scold you for your overbearing despotic habits, my Lord," you whisper to him, quiet enough to keep the rest of the company ignorant of your reprimands in order to preserve your King's decorum. "Once we are back in Erebor you are free to even discipline me, if it pleases you," his salacious murmur sends tingles down your spine. "Inconceivable Dwarf," you huff but neither of you believes in your annoyance. He helps up in the saddle, unnessarily palming your thigh and stroking your calf. You look down at him and are presented with a smug smirk hiding in the lush black beard of your lover. You bend down and whisper, "You do realize that all this parading around and heroic stomping was absolutely redundant, my melhekh. After the initial negotiations it was obvious that the useless dimwit was just a fortunate looter. You could have sent two warriors with me and repose until my return with your best pipe-weed and a mug of mead." He nears his face to yours and whispers in return, "Have you considered that my warriors, your humble servant included, are just bored to death by the debilitating idleness of the peaceful time? At least, it gave the aging Dwarves an excuse to touch their dusty weapons and for once put on some armour that is regrettably getting too tight in the waist," you suppress a smile. "I do not desire to rob you of your triumph, kurdu, or question your battle skills," he picks up your hand and places a quick kiss on your knuckles, "but indulge your unduly protective King." You swiftly lean and kiss his delectable lips. "You are fightingly fit, my Lord, and I have to admit it is a pleasure to see you in all your battle glory." He graciously bows and you pick up your reins. You lean down again and purr into his ear, "It will also be a pleasure to slowly divest you of your vestment tonight, my Lord." He bestows another bow to you. "With my teeth," he chokes and utters throatily, "The pleasure is all mine, my queen."
*from Misty Mountains Cold by J.R.R. Tolkien (originally named "Dwarven Song About Old Wealth")
A/N: The necklace is purely a fruit of my imagination. "Nyrnala" is presumingly "a new river" in Khuzdul. I'll have some fun with it later in a highly inappropriate way, as I tend to do. The name was generated at tips/naming-guides/dwarf-name-components/