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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 135
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 23:41:39 +0000 UTCClack. Another stone block was knocked loose from the wall. After methodically helping himself navigate the Khazad-dûm passages, Garrett fin
Clack.
Another stone block was knocked loose from the wall.
After methodically helping himself navigate the Khazad-dûm passages, Garrett finally found a wider path that seemed to lead toward the eastern exit.
Gulp.
Down went another bottle of night vision potion.
Standing at a descending staircase, he looked up. His eyes widened, and his breath slowed.
He had arrived at a true hall, one that could only be described as colossal, vast, magnificent, so massive that its end could not be seen.
Countless towering stone pillars, each over a hundred meters tall, stood in perfect rows. They stretched from floor to ceiling, supporting this underground kingdom. Each pillar was intricately carved in the finest dwarven craftsmanship, a marvel to behold.
This was Khazad-dûm, a wonder of Middle-earth, the greatest of all halls beneath the earth. But soon, the world outside would witness a new wonder.
He walked slowly through the hall, this seemingly endless chamber. Silence surrounded him, and gradually he began to lose his sense of direction. He had no idea how long he had been walking or how many potions he had consumed. Suddenly, he turned his head. His gaze traveled far down the corridor to a spot on the eastern side of the hall, something looked different.
A door.
A large door with metal inlays.
Excited to finally see something new, he hurried over and tried to push it open.
Clang!
The door didn't budge, only trembling slightly, it seemed something inside was blocking it.
This door was extremely sturdy, impossible to breach by conventional means.
But he wasn't conventional. He retrieved his pickaxe and broke through the obstruction.
Crash.
The moment he stepped inside, his foot struck something brittle. It scraped across the floor, making a slight noise.
"This is..."
He knelt down.
A dwarf's remains, long decayed, reduced to mere bones. The bones were so brittle they crumbled at the touch, clearly having been there for decades.
The corpse was still wearing mail.
He gently moved the unknown dwarf's remains to the side and continued exploring.
Creak.
He opened a wooden chest. A thick layer of dust slid off, but the contents inside gleamed brightly.
"Gold, silver."
He opened another chest, filled with jewelry and gemstones.
There were many such chests here.
Most people would be overjoyed at the sight, since these treasures could easily support a person, or even an entire family, for generations.
But as he opened chest after chest, revealing more and more riches, he began to feel indifferent.
Just gold and silver, after all.
As he had once observed, if he liquidated all his wealth, it could probably buy half of Bree. To him, these gold and silver trinkets were nothing special. His inventory didn't have much space left, and he considered it wasteful to use precious slots on such common materials. So he closed the chests and continued deeper in. Whenever he came across a chest or container, he would simply peek inside out of curiosity and then move on.
Until he reached the far end of the chamber.
There, atop a masterwork forge, lay several silvery-white ingots stacked together, covered in dust.
He gently brushed the dust away, and his interface displayed their identification: Mithril.
The most durable, beautiful, and rare metal in all of Middle-earth. Lighter than silk, harder than dragon-scale, more precious than gold.
[Crafting Recipes for "Mithril" Unlocked]
[Mithril Hauberk, Mithril Greaves, Mithril Boots, Mithril Circlet]
The Mithril armor set, its defense stats matched Netherite, slightly stronger than diamond, though it lacked knockback resistance.
"Well, overall, Netherite's still a bit better."
Though the armor was somewhat underwhelming, a Mithril blade could be forged with 9 base attack damage, on par with Bane, a top-tier weapon.
No wonder it was the most prized material in this world, its legendary reputation was well-deserved.
There were exactly four ingots of Mithril on this forge table, just enough to craft a Mithril Hauberk. Its value was equal to that of the Shire itself.
This single piece of equipment was worth more than everything else in the chamber combined.
Mithril... Long ago, when it could still be mined in steady quantities, it could be traded for gold at a ratio of 1:10. But after Khazad-dûm fell, Mithril could no longer be extracted. Its price rose steadily until it became priceless, no amount of coin could buy it anymore.
Carefully storing away the precious ingots, he continued searching the chamber. After confirming there was nothing else of comparable value, he prepared to restore the door and leave. But just as he turned to go, his eyes caught something, there was an object lodged in the dwarf's ribcage beside the entrance.
It had been positioned so discretely that he hadn't noticed it earlier when he moved the remains.
This...?
"Forgive me. May your soul rest in peace."
Murmuring a brief prayer, he carefully extracted the object: A small silver-white axe, exquisitely crafted and balanced, etched with runes he didn't recognize.
"Could it be...?"
He wasn't certain. He had never seen it before, nor could he read the ancient script. But judging by its workmanship, it was definitely no ordinary weapon. He decided to bring it back and show it to Thorin. Perhaps he would recognize it.
After making his decision, he shut the door tightly and reinforced the barrier. But then his expression suddenly hardened.
Clang!
An arrow struck his chestplate and bounced off harmlessly.
Roar!
A guttural, twisted cry echoed from behind a stone pillar. He turned toward the sound and saw an orc, its face covered in boils and so deformed its features were barely distinguishable, staring wide-eyed at him, clearly sizing up the unfamiliar intruder.
Having received such a "gift," Garrett figured it was only proper to return the favor. He drew his bow and loosed an arrow toward the orc's position.
Whoosh.
The orc quickly moved to dodge to the side, but it was no use. The arrow still grazed him.
If it had been anyone else's shot, a mere graze would be nothing.
But this was Garrett. And with his enchanted arrows, even a graze was as good as a direct hit.
Fwoosh!
Flames erupted across the orc's body. It screamed in agony, thrashing and scraping itself desperately against the stone pillar in an attempt to extinguish the fire. But it was hopeless.
Moments later, it fell like a charred log from the pillar with a dull thud. That flash of light and that sound echoed dramatically through the grand hall.
"I think this place would be perfect for a concert."
Boom!
Drums sounded from deep beneath the mountain.
Boom! Boom!
The rhythm mimicked a heartbeat, pulsing, growing louder, drawing nearer.
He stepped forward, scanning the distance.
At the far end of the hall, countless figures began to emerge and swarm, flooding in from every direction like locusts, filling the space. When the floor could no longer contain them, they climbed the stone pillars. When the pillars were occupied, they clung to the ceiling.
Those clinging to the ceiling must have possessed incredible upper body strength. After all, if they didn't, they would have fallen to their deaths long ago.
Orcs.
An orc army from the deepest depths.
A savage legion from the darkness below.
"Well then," Garrett said calmly, "it seems I have an audience."
Whoosh.
From the shadows, the orcs fixed their blood-red eyes on the intruder.
Just as they were about to charge forward, ready to show him what it felt like to be devoured like grain before a swarm of locusts, the man suddenly spoke with a polite tone.
"Wait a moment, please," Garrett called out, his voice echoing through the hall. Mysteriously, the orcs actually paused, frozen in place, curious to hear what this human would say.
"You probably don't know me. After all, we've never met before. And this place, well, it doesn't exactly look like it receives much news from the outside world..."
"But! I promise, you're all about to get to know me very well, because... You'll soon be fleeing in every direction."
That contemptuous voice echoed through the hall, from one end to the other, long and resonant.
For a moment, all was deathly silent.
But in the darkness, something was stirring, something terrible, monstrous, like a slumbering volcano on the verge of eruption.
