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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 134
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 23:40:59 +0000 UTCGarrett wasn't sure if it was wise to let a newly born young dragon, one that hadn't yet experienced anything complex, taste the pain of par
Garrett wasn't sure if it was wise to let a newly born young dragon, one that hadn't yet experienced anything complex, taste the pain of parting so early.
Even though, for a dragon with an infinite lifespan, farewells would certainly become a regular part of life, it was still just a child.
"Well, it has to happen sooner or later."
Letting go of Wormi and allowing the two to continue playing, he returned to the tower, unfolded his map, and began planning the next journey.
Lothlórien.
With a destination, one must plan a route.
A line was drawn from Wayfort straight to Khazad-dûm.
Then to the eastern exit of the ancient realm. Not far from that exit lay the Golden Wood; the two places were practically adjacent.
Looking at these two locations, he couldn't help but feel a little emotional.
In the past, dwarves and elves had once shared a sincere friendship. The dwarves had enthusiastically helped the elves. But in the end, the dwarven kingdom was ruined by their deepening greed and stubborn nature.
The Seven Rings given to the Dwarf-lords by Sauron made them as covetous as dragons, hating anyone who attempted to claim their treasure. Yet, their stubbornness also kept them from submitting to darkness or falling under Sauron's dominion.
After receiving the rings, the dwarves of Khazad-dûm, under the leadership of their king, Durin III, mobilized a great army to aid the elves in resisting Sauron. Thanks to their support, Elrond was able to retreat safely to establish Rivendell.
This was also why, back in Rivendell, he had been so tolerant of Thorin and his company, it was all due to the merit of their ancestors.
That battle's outcome so infuriated Sauron that he ordered the orcs to forever regard dwarves as their greatest enemies, targeting them relentlessly.
From then on, the two races would clash whenever they met, their enmity deeper than any other.
"This is the way, then."
---
That autumn, Garrett set out from Wayfort, traveling southward, crossing the Mitheithel, heading straight for Eregion. He passed through countless ruins of Ost-in-Edhil until he arrived at a dark lake beneath the Misty Mountains.
This was where the western gate of Khazad-dûm lay.
Under the night sky, he stared at his reflection in the still water, reaching out to touch the surface near the shore.
Ripples spread outward, disturbing whatever lurked within.
But once the ripples faded, the lake returned to dead silence.
"Hey! Anyone there?" He called into the lake and tossed in a stone.
But the disturbance he had expected never came.
Of course, he wasn't losing his mind, he was simply trying to summon the unspeakable, tentacled creature in the water: the Watcher in the Water.
However, although the Watcher didn't respond, a different sound came from the mountainside nearby.
ROAR!
A warg climbed up the slope, revealing its ferocious, snarling head. Its blood-red eyes locked onto the human who had apparently delivered himself to its doorstep.
Keep in mind, this place was now called Moria, not Khazad-dûm. As long as it bore that accursed name, it meant the darkness still reigned within, full of orcs, wargs, trolls, and worse creatures.
"A warg... only one?"
Just as he was thinking this, another warg appeared beside the first one. Then, countless red eyes began gleaming on the mountainside.
A warg pack.
He licked his lips and drew his sword.
Swish.
Under the moonlight, Bane shimmered with cold light. That gleam, however, looked like death itself to the wargs, making them instinctively retreat.
But when he stepped forward into the moonlight, fully exposing his face and armored form, the lead warg suddenly let out a terrified yelp, turned around, and bolted down the slope.
The others, as if suddenly awakened from a nightmare, followed without even looking back, fleeing after their leader.
In an instant, the area fell silent once more.
"..."
Garrett silently sheathed his longsword and turned to examine the place he had been searching for.
Right beside the dark lake stood a vertical, smooth rock wall, as if it had been carved by master craftsmen. As he approached, a few elegant patterns on the center of the stone wall began to glow faintly.
This was a magically reinforced gate, crafted with a blend of Noldorin and Khazad techniques, so strong that even Sauron's armies at the height of his power had failed to breach it, forced to lay siege from without.
And to open it, one needed the proper word.
"Mellon."
He spoke the word, in Sindarin, it meant "friend."
Whoosh.
The Doors of Durin opened automatically.
A gate to a dwarven kingdom that required the Elvish tongue to unlock, this alone was proof of the friendship that had once existed between the two peoples.
In fact, the door itself had symbolized their alliance. Back when Ost-in-Edhil still stood, it had been kept open at all times, allowing free passage between the realms.
But now, it was better kept sealed.
As the gate closed behind him, the only light source vanished, leaving pitch-black darkness within, nothing was visible.
He didn't retrieve a torch. Instead, he drank a bottle of night vision potion.
His vision immediately expanded and clarified.
He opened his eyes wide in awe.
He saw two massive stone pillars, each dozens of meters tall, standing within a vast hollow space, flanking a broad passage leading deeper into the mountain.
On either side of the pillars were smaller doorways.
He didn't rush forward immediately.
Creak.
One of the small doors beside the stone pillars opened under his touch.
Inside was a modest-sized chamber with several stone beds placed near a cold fireplace. On the wall beside the beds hung empty weapon racks, and before those racks sat a small table, its surface covered in dust-laden plates and goblets.
"A guard post?"
He thought of a fitting term to describe the place.
It was clear that no one had been here for decades. Naturally, after the fall of Khazad-dûm, places like this had lost their purpose.
After searching both guard chambers and examining everything thoroughly, he found nothing of value. He could only sigh in mild disappointment.
The treasure-hunting instinct of a seasoned adventurer had kicked in, leaving ancient ruins without finding some artifacts just felt wrong.
After properly closing the guard room doors, he headed down the wide passage between the pillars, walking deeper until he reached a precarious narrow path.
Thanks to his night vision, he could clearly make out the terrain.
The narrow path hugged the cliff face. Below yawned a bottomless chasm, and deep in that darkness, something seemed to be moving, likely orcs. But judging by their behavior, they hadn't noticed anyone above.
Looking up, he saw that the path split into three directions, upper, middle, and lower. The topmost one connected to a corridor built in the distinctive style of Durin's folk. The other two led to unknown destinations.
He didn't hesitate and chose the upper path. And it proved to be the correct choice.
Before long, a magnificent hall appeared before him.
As expected, it embodied the grandeur of dwarven architecture, vast and imposing, supported by multiple stone pillars carved with intricate designs. If not for the fact that the stairwell leading upward had human-scale dimensions, one might believe it had been built for the giants of old.
The surroundings were eerily silent, with no immediate sign of danger.
He continued along the path for what felt like hours, so long, in fact, that his night vision potion wore off. He had to retrieve his brewing stand and materials from his ender chest to craft more on the spot.
This monotonous journey dragged on for several days, filled with confusing turns and dead ends. Sometimes he'd walk directly into collapsed passages, and sometimes after winding through countless corridors, he'd find himself in completely unfamiliar chambers.
This couldn't help but remind him of something he'd heard: Khazad-dûm itself was a colossal maze, vast beyond comprehension.
After getting lost for several days straight, Garrett finally ran out of patience.
He retrieved his pickaxe.
"Forgive me, Thorin. This place is way too hard to navigate. I'll need to make some... minor adjustments."
