#dwarven miner

[mtgatherercomments]

[celestesketchbook]

Dwarven Miner

[littlelightfish]

Close ups under the cut!

[mediocre-tumble]

So we all know that out of everyone in the company, Bofur is the only full-time miner? Yeah, Bifur probably used to be a miner before the ‘axe in the head’ incident, but I think he wouldn’t be allowed to go in the mines full time with that injury.

And I know that being a miner was probably a common job for Dwarves, but what if it isn’t? What if the job for most miners is only temporary due to the amount of risks that can come from it? Since I feel like a lot of people forget about the fact that mining was/is a fairly dangerous job.

In Bofur’s case, the risks would be more around coal dust inhalation, lack of oxygen, mines collapsing, potentially getting injured by the pickaxe, manual labour leading to physical pain, and quite possibly, if you didn’t mine enough, you didn’t get paid enough either.

I thought about this tonight, and wondered if the reason Bofur was taken on the quest was because he would be used to the demanding physical labour, along with potentially not getting a reward by the end of it. I also wonder if miners are treated specially by the Dwarves due to the dangers of their job, and how important they are to Dwarven society, which might explain scenes when Bofur is sitting by Thorin’s right/left side in the first movie when they ransack Bilbo’s home, because fat spot should logically be for Balin- his advisor. It would also explain why- despite being the clown of the company, and I mean that affectionately- he’s also taken seriously, even if he suggests turning back during the beginning of ‘desolation of Smaug’.

And then I found it funny that Bofur would be getting five star treatment, not just by the company, but also by other Dwarves, and I mean Bifur and Bombur fending off unwanted courtships, or people who may only want to marry him for the respect miners receive, etc etc.

Even better, imagine some Dwarves insulting him for his appearance, or thinking he doesn’t do much, only to find out he’s a frigging miner who essentially helps run Dwarven society by supplying materials for trade and personal use.

Or even a politician tripping over themselves to apologise for bumping into him, accidentally making him drop something or even delaying his break from mining.

The opportunities are endless and I find that hilarious

[ruvviks]

god has given me the daintiest and veiniest and boniest hands on earth which is great for scooping pringles out of the bottom of the can but also makes me look like every single pinterest white boy yaoi hands picture in existence

[lordofthefeline]

In Deep Rock Galactic, the implications that everyone that works for the company is a dwarf is actually really funny. Cause you have the scientists in the Research and Development area that do need stuff, then there’s Mission Control that has the patience of saints, lastly management the unseen entity. Everyone is a dwarf acting civilized to get their job done.

All of that means that us the players cough i mean miners are just like that. i.e. batshit crazy. It’s our normal state to cause issues (barrels belong in the launch bay fuck you Mission Control) and go to work drunker than a monkeys uncle. It comes with the job description.

And that, frankly, is beautiful.

[headlesssamurai]

Brothers of the mine Rejoice!

[hypixelskyblockquotes]

typical day in dwarven mines

[sabertoothwalrus]

I want to emphasize something about the dungeon meshi ages.

So Senshi is 35-36 here, yeah? The dwarven age of maturity is 40, and he’s just shy of it.

When Chilchuck was just shy of his race’s age of maturity, he had a kid and got married. He was 13, and the half-foot age of maturity is 14.

So, developmentally-wise, THIS is how old Chilchuck was when he became a father:

This is even further emphasized with Izutsumi. She’s 17 (and actually turns 18 during the faligon feast), older than the tallman age of maturity, and still reads VERY immature to the audience. By the time Chilchuck was Izutsumi’s relative age, he was already on his third kid and had moved away from home to the city.

Imagine Izutsumi being a parent of three. Imagine Senshi having a child of his own when he was with the miners.

Like. Chilchuck was young young.

[7thbutterflyofspring]

What eats animal toxins then?

Random worldbuilding idea:

In a world with the classic Standard Fantasy Races, the concept of "mildly toxic just means spicy" is known to all of them, but what defines 'spicy' depends on what these specific people have the highest natural resistance to. Humans, who metabolise plant poisons remarkably well, naturally enjoy their chili, mint and other mildly irritating toxic plants in their food for spice. Dwarves have a whole gallery of various types of stones and minerals found underground, which are so precious to them that anyone finding a vein of a coveted crystal is set for life - the expression "as rich as a spice miner" is so common among dwarves that it's also spread to unrelated languages of people who live, or frequently trade or work with dwarves.

Elves, who are far too refined for such simple luxuries as toxic plants or rocks, prefer to spice their foods and wines with things that cause mild-but-harmless psychic damage. Elves from cultures that prefer spicier foods make fun of elves from milder cuisine cultures for not being able to handle spicy foods, while elves from mild cuisine cultures agree with non-elves that you can't even eat Spicy Elf Food without afterwards seeing demons for three weeks straight.

In contrast the orcs, who do not care for such fancily sophisticated luxuries as human plant spice or dwarvish rock spices, and are actually immune to elvish spices completely, prefer the simplicity of abrasive textures - common orcs add coarse sand into their foods, while warlords and orc rulers of high status might splurge in the luxury of having their dinners spiced with shards of glass.

Humans will sample the food of anyone but the orcs. Elves are actually surprised that humans also indulge in psychedelic mushrooms, and dwarves are amazed that humans can handle salt.

[hollowtones]

So after I read your ask where you mention looking into Dracula games, I did some searching out of curiosity (there's a category of video games based on Dracula on Wikipedia) and discovered there was a NES game called Drac's Night Out where he leaves the castle to find Mina Harker while wearing Reebok Pumps. The whole game is an ad for Reebok Pumps. And it never came out officially but the game was done when it was cancelled and it's playable. I felt like this was important to tell you.

That's fucking awesome. There's a whole glut of weird licensed or product-placement games from the NES and SNES eras and I feel like every time I learn about one I'm a dwarven miner unearthing a legendary gemstone. Dracula Reeboks is disgusting. Thank you for telling me about it.

[maris-solstice]

do you guys think the Dungeon Meshi writer has seen Dwarven Miner

Like I have to wonder yknow

[probablybadrpgideas]

The Dwarven miners union has complained that working conditions are too safe, your party has been hired to destroy all the hand rails

­

[teawithmagician]

Lonely Mountain = Armenia

I have a take to make: Armenian culture is very similar to how I would imagine the culture of the Dwarves of Lonely Mountain.

When you think of the halls of Erebor, images of grand stone halls, intricate metalwork, and proud, resilient people come to mind.

Interestingly, this mental imagery resembles Armenia, a rich and ancient civilization in the Southern (that is important - Armenians are not Caucausians per se, like Georgians and/or Dagestanians) Caucasus region. From the stone-borne proud spirit of the Armenian people to their architecture and traditional clothing, there are fascinating parallels between the two cultures, real and fictional.

1. Architecture: Stone, Fortresses, and Underground Structures

The Dwarves of Erebor are renowned for their skill in mining and stonework, creating vast underground cities with intricate carvings and fortifications. Similarly, Armenian architecture is marked by the use of stone, with many historical fortresses, churches, and monasteries built using basalt, tuff, and other locally sourced materials. These buildings, often nestled in mountainous regions, reflect a deep connection to the earth, much like the Dwarven kingdom carved within the Lonely Mountain.

Examples:

Geghard Monastery: Partially carved out of mountain rock, this UNESCO World Heritage site demonstrates the skill and artistry of Armenian stonework. Its cavernous halls and intricate carvings are reminiscent of the Dwarven halls deep within Erebor.

Tatev Monastery: Perched on the edge of a cliff, this fortress-like monastery reflects the grandeur and defensive nature of Dwarven architecture.

2. Traditional Clothing: Regal, Rich, and Embroidered

Tolkien’s Dwarves are often depicted in elaborate, layered garments with intricate patterns, a testament to their pride in craftsmanship. Armenian traditional clothing, especially royal and ceremonial attire, shares this emphasis on richness and detail. Armenian robes from different historical periods were made from fine fabrics, often embroidered with gold and adorned with jewels, echoing the regal appearance of Dwarven kings and warriors.

Examples:

Royal Armenian Attire: The robes of Armenian kings and nobles during the medieval period were crafted from rich fabrics and detailed embroidery. Visuals of King Gagik I or the attire from the Bagratid dynasty era would illustrate the parallels well.

Women’s Embroidered Dresses: Traditional women’s dresses from regions like Syunik and Artsakh, adorned with intricate patterns and gold-thread embroidery, reflect a similar pride in craftsmanship seen in Dwarven culture.

3. Craftsmanship: The Art of Metalwork and Jewelry

The Dwarves are famous for their skills as blacksmiths, miners, and jewelers, creating intricate items from precious metals. Armenia, with its long history of metallurgy, also boasts a rich tradition of metalwork and jewelry-making. Armenian craftsmen were known for producing exquisite silver and gold pieces, ranging from church crosses to ceremonial weaponry and jewelry.

Examples:

Armenian Crosses and Jewelry: The detailed filigree and gem-inlaid designs seen in Armenian religious artifacts show a high level of skill. These pieces could easily be imagined as treasures from the hoards of Erebor.

Ceremonial Swords and Armor: Historical Armenian weaponry, including richly adorned swords and shields, can also be found in museums. Their craftsmanship mirrors the care and pride of Dwarven smiths.

4. Resilience and Pride: A Shared Spirit of Survival

Both the Armenians and the Dwarves have a shared history of resilience and pride in their heritage. The Dwarves, displaced from their homeland of Erebor, strive to reclaim their lost kingdom, a narrative that echoes the Armenian struggle throughout history to preserve their culture and identity in the face of invasions and displacement.

Armenian history is marked by perseverance, whether through the maintenance of cultural traditions, language, or faith, even during periods of hardship. The Dwarves' determination to return to Erebor, despite the dangers, reflects a similar strength.

Examples:

Armenian Genocide Memorials: These monuments, while somber, speak to the resilience and enduring spirit of the Armenian people. They stand as a testament to survival, much like the return of the Dwarves to Erebor.

Mount Ararat: The iconic mountain, which has a deep connection to Armenian identity, is often depicted in art. It symbolizes endurance, much like the Lonely Mountain symbolizes hope for the Dwarves.

Conclusion

While there is no evidence that J.R.R. Tolkien based the Dwarves of Erebor on any specific real-world culture, the similarities between Dwarven and Armenian culture are striking. Both are defined by a love of stone, a tradition of intricate craftsmanship, and a deep-rooted pride in their heritage. These parallels offer a fascinating way to look at Tolkien's world.

[broodcore]

i wrote birth scene fic about the dwarven omega in this pic. this time i actually wrapped it up instead of awkwardly ending at the end of the birth. (ft. difficult birth; working during labor; the horrors of capitalism)

It had been a mistake on both accounts, but the social faux pas of it was really only going to be felt by one party. For the other, the consequences were much more of a burden. Very literally, in this case.

Some thirty-odd weeks after making one poor choice during a company party, Urwig still had to work through their advanced pregnancy. This wasn’t out of some ‘enduring Omega work ethic’, as their upper-caste foremen might put it; their job simply demanded nothing less. As an Omega, you worked until you dropped. Or, the baby dropped. Urwig had heard of their Omega kint having to keep working the mines well into labor, but they had never seen it in person before. Now, they were likely to experience it first hand.

For the past nine-ish months, Urwig cursed the careless lead-head that got them into this situation. They certainly weren’t going to see them again - the Alpha was a junior supervisor, a role that kept them in the upper echelons of the Hollow, far away from the deep warrens that Urwig’s company strip mined. Doric was young for a supervisor role, and their recklessness was apparent when they tried to hook up with a dusty old miner like Urwig. Most Alphas tried to stay as far away from the lowest caste as possible. But, maybe that taboo made it worth pursuing. Urwig themself was curious; were the statuesque, perfectly hewn Alphas really that impressive once you unbraided their beards?

Turns out, no. Urwig had better flings behind smelter coal piles, amongst their own kint who certainly knew what they were doing. Those never led to them falling pregnant, though; that was the other way around. Even when they took turns, Urwig was the one getting slapped with a child support tax afterwards. This happens sometimes. Some dwarves only carried, some only seeded. If you were lucky, you were only the latter. If you were very unlucky, you could be subject to both.

As an Omega, Urwig was used to being considered unlucky. This was just one more misfortune an Omega was often subjected to: carrying the enormous bastard of an upper-caste.

As a hauler, Urwig already carried half their weight in raw coal up the sloping mineshaft every day, a dozen times in a shift. Lately, they were carrying a whole other half of their body weight alongside the box they shouldered. The Alpha baby was large enough that their stomach jutted out in an exaggerated oblong shape in front of them. As it neared full term, its movements were incessant, squirming about and knocking against their forebear’s ribs and pelvis, crushing their internal organs and sapping the energy from them. Urwig’s efficiency reports had dropped well below what their foremen accounted for their gravidity, penalizing their meager pay. Nevermind that they were an Omega carrying an obvious Alpha, making their pregnancy turbulent at best and high risk at worst. Their company simply didn’t account for such exceptions.

Urwig couldn’t afford to take time off to give birth with these penalties, so they were expected to do what an Omega was meant to do: keep working until they drop. One way or another.

The bastard inside them stretched against the confines of their womb, a tight and uncomfortable sensation that Urwig endured for months now. They already ached out of every moment of the day, so if they were having contractions by now, they wouldn’t notice. It made every new twinge or unexpected cramp come with a jolt of alarm, and Urwig would get yelled at for pausing and obstructing workflow. Eventually, they had to grit their teeth through it. No more occupying their hands by holding their burdensome womb, no more stopping to catch their breath. Work until you drop.

Sweat was absolutely drenching their coarse fur, between their early labors and heat of the mid-level smelters they dropped their load off at. Their first payload of the day, and already it felt like they were pulling double shifts. The kid kicked against their ribs and rammed its enormous head downwards, more so than Urwig was accustomed to. The sudden, throbbing pressure made them stumble back as soon as they unshouldered their box.

As if on cue, they heard one of the foremen watching the procession for slackers like them toot their whistle with warning. The sharp noise made Urwig flinch, their gravid stomach clenching in response. The muscles remained locked in well afterwards, squeezing tighter and knocking the wind out of them. The foreman continued chastising them.

“‘Ay, squeeze out that new worker on your own time, grit-biter! Stop holding up the line!”

Urwig’s kint, their coworkers, did little more than glare at them as they waddled back down the shaft. They too would be penalized for any slip-ups such as having empathy or showing concern for a laboring co-worker, so quietly minding their own business was all they could do. The walk back down wasn’t as bad, at least. Urwig’s hands were free to feel about their taut belly, and assess the shape of it underneath their sweat-streaked fur. It hung low over the loosened belt of their trousers, swaying uncomfortably with each stumbling step. This kid wasn’t going to make it a second lap, was it?

Urwig felt dread creep up on them as they prepared to shoulder a new box of coal. What was once barely anything for the stout omega to lift now looked like solid iron, while they already struggled with the weight inside them. Still, there was no allowance for hesitation. Urwig steeled themself, squatted before the crate, and lifted with their legs.

As the Omega spread their bent thighs, they already felt the dull pain in their cervix worsen. The strain of lifting the coal made it sharpen considerably. Urwig had only held the box halfway when they felt something give, and their waters gushed out of the threadbare crotch of their trousers.

Urwig dropping the crate and moaning from their water breaking made the line pause. The foreman overseeing the pickup end of the lap sounded their whistle. This time, this Beta didn’t chastise them, but rather pointed to the sidelines.

“Take your break, grunt, then get back to work!”

Well, there went Urwig’s chance of having lunch today. Though having a baby was arguably just as important. The line behind them shifted to replace the gap they made as they staggered bowleggedly away.

They didn’t make it very far, as the alarming feeling of their hole bowing outwards against the seat of their pants made the Omega hastily brace themself against a stack of unmoved crates. They dropped to a low squat, their wavering moaning rising in pitch and volume until they cried out in agony. The head alone was too much to bear; their pelvis was being pried open beyond its limits.

One of the foremen had come down from their post to assist. Urwig felt a pang of shame and tried to wave them off, but the huskier Beta still knelt between the Omega's legs.

"This your first'n, grunt?" They asked, genuine concern bleeding over the hardened edge of their authoritative tone. Urwig inhaled a sharp gasp from another contraction wringing the life out of them.

“Y-yeah it’s - it’s the first I’m squeezin’ out.”

The Beta felt the sheer size of the baby within their subordinate, careful not to nick the stretched-thin flesh with their digging claws. “Phew! I do not envy you, gritborn. This’n’s going to be a shift and a half, for sure.”

“Great.” Urwig grumbled flatly. They held onto the crates behind them for leverage against another hard, urgent squeeze of their entire body around their womb.

“Hold on, hold on,” the foreman produced a pocket knife, and carefully cut access to the Omega’s laboring hole out of their pants, to Urwig’s quiet dismay. They were going to have to pay for that, on top of the penalty cuts, and rent, and taxes, and-

“Rrrrrghh!” The head forcing its way through their hips made a temporary, painful reprieve from financial worries. Their hole bulged obscenely under the heavy, swollen cock that didn’t know whether it was experiencing pleasure or pain. Through the searing sensation of their cunt opening up, the Beta’s fingers around the lips struggled to provide relief.

“That’s it, kint. Easy now.” The foreman was the only one who could see the limits to which Urwig was being stretched. Intermittently, their hand applied counterpressure against the Omega’s bulging perineum while slowly, agonizingly, they felt the crown of head slipping out of them.

When a contraction stopped in the middle of pushing out the widest point of the head, Urwig was left to wheeze and sob through the pain. Distantly, they wondered if the sire of their bastard would have had to go through an ordeal like this, had Urwig been the one to knock them up. Realistically, they probably would have already gotten it terminated, regardless of caste. It was the Omegas that were stuck in these situations time and time again, having to endure the consequences of actions in part by higher castes.

The foreman carefully eased the Omega’s stretched-taut lips over the skull, until the pressure released and the head gave way to a splash of fluids. Urwig moaned in tortured relief, bonelessly draped over crates of coal.

“Is it over yet?” They whimpered. Their heart dropped when the more experienced superior just chuckled.

This was definitely an Alpha child, not just by sheer size alone, but by the strength and vigor with which the bastard kicked and squirmed the rest of its way out. It had been so, so eager to get out of its cramped home up until now. The uncooperativeness of the infant brought only more pain, as the Beta had to tug the broad shoulders out of their employee by force. Urwig briefly felt like their pelvis was going to snap in two, before the pressure finally released. The lower half of the infant spilled out of their cunt with a sloppy gush of fluids and a length of the cord.

The newest Alpha of the Hollows squalled, and a few of the workers that had been trying to ignore the scene paused however briefly to admire Urwig’s job well done. A few of the other Omegas - at least one that Urwig had seeded themself - cheered them for their efforts. At least, until another foreman blew their whistle.

The foreman that took precious time out of their shift to aid Urwig didn’t just dump the babe ceremoniously in their lap and go back to work, as was expected. They must have done this before. Maybe they even had to squeeze out kids of their own on the clock. Though fear of being further penalized still lingered in the back of their mind, Urwig was too exhausted and overcome with relief to care. Despite cussing out the kid ever since it started to round out their gut, they felt an incredible sense of pride in taking the child to their chest.

Or, well, they attempted to. Trying to handle a child nearly as big and strong as they were was more of a wrestling match. While they held the kid still for the Beta to cut the cord, the two dwarves noted the clear status of the infant.

“I knew it. I’ll be damned if you were gonna come out full-furred at this size.” It was hard for Urwig to sound as gruff as they were, now that the kid was out of them. True to their forebear’s word, the infant was sparse of fur and small-eared, with a full head of hair and a currently bare chin. A far cry from their furry, unkempt, exhausted looking forebear.

The Beta seemed agog at the markers of a sire far above even their own station. “Sweet guts of the… who in the damn-hell have you been fuckin’ on your downtime, grunt?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, boss.”

“Well, all the same,” the Beta lurched to their feet, wiping their hands, “You should take ‘em up-top and hand ‘em over to an Alpha nursery. Bet they won’t ask questions, if they pass the physical.”

Urwig sighed tiredly at the idea of taking a day’s travel - and a week’s pay of shuttle fare - just to go into the upper city. A certain tug at their heartstrings also made them pause, as silly as it was. Omegas never had time to raise their own progeny, of course, so it was inevitable they would have to give them up to a communal nursery. The ones that allowed visitation cost money, too.

“Ah… I guess I’ll have to. No sense denyin’ the kid their due.”

“‘S hard, I know; my last one was a Delta, I had to pass ‘em over to the guilds for the stipend.” The sympathetic shake of the foreman’s head was cut short by a realization that made their eyes light up. “Hell, you know what? An Alpha nursery’s stipend would probably be a season’s pay, for you.”

All sentimental feelings for the child in their arms left Urwig like ash billowing out of a factory smokestack. “A whole season’s pay, you say…?”

The Beta shrugged with a laugh. “If the sire’s really from up-top, I bet you could even sue for a tax refund on top of that. Have ‘em pay you back for all those lost wages.”

The idea of getting back at the idiot Alpha that did this to them made Urwig’s fur stand on end. The idea of getting paid for it on top of that nearly made them lightheaded with glee. They looked down at their kid in their arms, and practically saw a pile of gold take their place.

“Well hot damn, when’s the next shuttle?”

[mushroomates]

gimli headcanons:

likes doing laundry. finds it soothing

history nerd!! loves reading old tombs/biographies of his ancestors

is incredibly intelligent. beats frodo in chess. would beat gandalf but gandalf cheats. has been in a stalemate with aragorn for two and a half years.

well mannered but chooses to forgo his politeness to make a point. especially around elves.

does NOT like horses. not just riding them, which is canon, but actually dislikes the animal itself. the reasons why include (but are not limited to) :

he does not like being not on ground. he does not have a fear of heights so much as a fear of… feet not on ground. as evidenced by refusal to jump, treehouses, and well, horses

he does not like their faces. they are long and have eyes on the side like prey. gimli thinks this is deceiving as horses are very large and can kick in someone’s skull. not his skull.

gimli believes that in a one on one match with a horse, he could easily win. he has thought of several, very specific, scenarios of this and has a detailed plan of attack should this situation occur.

they so easily turned against their home for an evil overlord (read: sauron stole all the black horses from rohan) and therefore cannot be trusted. as a rule, anything that willing you let you ride it cannot be trusted. they can’t be satisfied with this life. they are plotting something.

believes he would be great at drums. it’s just hitting things hard and he’s pretty strong.

ok, another thing about horses: they are fragile to a ridiculous extent. you breath wrong and it breaks. they have bad bones and bad blood flow in their legs, and their legs are all that they’re used for. he doesn’t understand why humans invested so much time into horses when they’re genetically bad at what they are meant to do. he’d feel bad for the horses if they weren’t so awful.

drinks coffee, not tea

takes great with the up keeping of his gear. he sharpens his axes, polishes his boots, shines his armor and waxes his mustache. that’s not gear, but he takes great pride in looking groomed and caring for his belongings.

has an axe for every occasion. battle axe? do you want throwing or slashing. a day on the town? have you seen this intricately carved masterpiece that also is a weapon? digging a hole? PICKAXE. cutting a cake? how about an axe???

hates the rain because it ruins his hair and beard. also loves the rain because it ruins legolas’s hair and clothes.

will eat anything. has a great tolerance for spice. contrary to popular belief, dwarves are not shy of seasoning but are very cautious around other races in fear of poisoning their friends

will also eat some rocks. salty is his favorite (halite, hanksite, glauberite) but also likes to add chunks of chalcanthite to his food for a slightly sweet yet metalic flavor. this is also slightly (SLIGHTLY) poisonous as evidenced by sharing his trail mix with boromir

also calls dirt the “local seasoning”

will taste dirt to try and get a feeling for the land. this tells him the acidity, weather, possible wildlife, and also pisses off legolas

actaully genuinely likes the taste of dirt. (note: if you desire to eat clay/dirt that is a symptom of iron deficiency. for gimli, he eats spoonfuls of the stuff like their supplements because as a kid it was fed to him like multivitamins)

OK SO HEAR ME OUT: lack of sunlight can cause really low hemoglobin and ferritin (a blood protein that contains iron) sooo being constantly in dark caves can cause some forms of iron deficiency. because dwarves are conscious of their young, dwarf children often grow up not often being in direct sunlight.

the solution? dirt. dirt contains iron and other tasty minerals that are good for the body. charcoal has natural antioxidants. so does clay. am i saying that momma gimli (unnamed) fed her son ash and clumps of dirt? yes. also bits of broken pottery. it’s good of the immune system.

fr tho clay/dirt/charcoal are the dwarven multivitamins. you have a tummy-ache? here, have a rock. i truly believe this was scientifically proven by dwarves and only FOR dwarves (plz do not eat dirt)

fuckin loves mushrooms. has a mushroom log at home. whenever dwarves find some fungai in a cave they go feral

likes dogs. thinks it’s great that they dig holes. thinks it’s fantastic that the bury things in holes. absolutes loves when they get muddy, and then shake off all water and dirt all over you.

when he came back home with the name lockbearer, a lot of the dwarves thought it was really cool and he has some sort of elven puzzle that requires a code to unlock something. imagine their surprise when he rocks up and is like: no, even better. HAIRS. three of them.

enjoys making mudpies- made them as a kid with his cousins, (mostly with rock slurry) and continues to, even even as an adult.

made them on the fellowship with the hobbits. taught them all about the best types of dirt and the water-to-soil- ratio needed.

while cutting up slices of his pie, he offered one to boromir, who in good nature, took it, clearly thinking it was just part of the bit.

poor boromir was locked in a stalemate after gimli cut his own slice, and began eating it.

to his credit, boromir did brave a few bites, but had to stop once he nearly had a mouthful of maggots

“protein”

gimli is like crazy good at hair. can braid quickly and efficiently in elaborate styles

picked up eleven hair style techniques in lorien (quicker than legolas) and was forced to relay them to the elf through twine as there is no way he’s letting grubby elf fingers to touch his glorious mane that’s been decades in the making

would ask for a drink “on the rocks” and get slightly upset if it did not come back with actual rocks