Title: The Emeralds of Avalon
Summary: Arthur, accompanied by Gwaine, Lancelot, and Merlin, sets out on quest to the tower Khazad, to find the Emeralds of Avalon which might heal Uther's fragmented mind. He is unheeding of Merlin's warnings, and the menace that lurks in the tower may yet kill them all. Merlin/Arthur, mentions of Lancelot/Gwen
Disclaimer: O.o might a mere fan be writing fan fiction? Whodathunkit?
A/N: This isn't really my usual style, but it was fun to write. Thanks to Sofiajedi, for proofreading, and to a friend who ffnet profile I still can't find for letting me be antisocial and spend hours in my room writing.
The people of Camelot crowded in the streets. Children laughed and clapped their hands, while their parents looked on with a mixture of awe and thrill. A merchant had come to Camelot.
This was not an ordinary merchant. His clothing was of silk, and he wore gold rings on all his fingers. Few were so prosperous. He was short of stature and had a healthy layer of fat on his bones, more marks of living well. He had russet hair, thinned a bit on top, and a ready smile.
His hands-smooth hands, for amongst his stores were soaps and sweet smelling oils-held reins. He was driving the first of his train of wagons himself, and the two richly bedecked white stallions that hauled it endured the crowds with good grace.
The wagon train was five wagons. A pair of stallions trotted before each-the first brilliant white, the next a shining black, the third rich red, the fourth a soft grey, and the fifth paints that he had gone to great pains to find. Each after his was driven by another man, all stronger and broader shouldered. The crowd did not notice that each kept many daggers beneath their silken dress, nor that their eyes roved the crowd for thieves. The horses even were trained, to fight to the death if bandits seized them.
The crowd, thankfully, was unaware. They only saw glittering wagons piled high with wares. From some beautiful women peeped out, and smiled slyly when they caught certain eyes.
This merchant sold, after all, a great variety of things. At present three kings held his girls as mistresses, and one was even under the impression she had been a virgin before he acquired her. The merchant had not reached his present prosperity by being entirely honest.
One girl in the train had even assassinated a monarch. Many things indeed did the merchant sell, and not all to scrupulous folk.
All the same, goodwill shone from his plump features. He took a few baubles from the bag at his feet and tossed them into the crowd. Gold bells, pretty bits of ribbon, and silk handkerchiefs fluttered into the peasantry.
Ahead of the merchant, the official protection wished he would not. Two knights in shining armor and scarlet capes embossed with the Pendragon trotted in front of the procession. Sir Leon, who was in charge of the front guard, eyed the crowds. No sign of a riot, not yet. Sir Percival, also with him, smiled into the crowds and waved. Several children waved back, attention temporarily diverted.
The rear guard sifted through the mob of lower class following the merchant. Still, it was hard to keep from smiling. The people had so little to be cheerful for. Sir Elyan waved to his sister, who had her hands over her mouth to contain laughter as a child tugged her dress and pointed. Sir Lancelot smiled at her as well, and turned her cheeks rosy as the young child's.
They wound up to the citadel. The merchant periodically tossed the less valuable of his wares into the crowds, and smiled amicably. Keeping the common folk happy meant they rejoiced when you returned. Happy people had far looser pockets than mistrustful ones.
But the people weren't the biggest concern. They would buy his cheaper wares, goggle over them for days and then tell stories until he returned. The greatest prize waited just up the hill.
Royalty. Deep pockets and a comfortable room waited for him in the castle of Camelot, and the merchant was going to take advantage of both. He could see the royalty watching now from the walls.
Not King Uther, that golden head was Prince Arthur. An unmarried prince, confronted with a harem ready to please for a price. Maybe he might even be induced to take one on as a mistress.
With him was some dark haired fellow. The assessment at a glance the merchant perfected in his youth said that this one was poor but in a favorable position. The merchant waved up at them. The dark haired one waved back and elbowed the Prince.
Prince Arthur waved, with more reluctance. The merchant reassessed the other.
Influential.
He might be induced to buy things then place them on the Prince's bill. Excellent. The more they bought, the merrier he and his would be.
The merchant was greeted by Prince Arthur, not King Uther. Uther it seemed, was indisposed. He dined with the prince instead, and was given much honor. The dark haired man, who was unnamed as yet, drifted in the background, filling drinks and taking away plates.
Prince Arthur was not fully captivated the tales of the Merchant, but they held allure. He spoke of hulking sea dogs that lived in the north, and how he had gone on their ships and seen their fair haired women. He spoke of Oriental cities where wine flowed from fountains and fiery spirited steeds of the distant country Arabia.
The sun dipped down as they spoke. Time was nothing to Arthur, as he listened to the merchant speak of spicy herbs and green elixirs, as they strayed into folklore and myth. The dark haired one listened just as keenly, but his look was more skeptic by far. This one had met myths and fought demons, and his hands crafted what would one day be greater legend than this far traveling merchant ever saw.
So they spoke of jewels and blessings and curses. The merchant waved his hands as he told of the jewels he sold.
"Healing jewels?" Prince Arthur propped his chin on his hands and leaned forward. His green eyes were bright indeed. "What are these?"
"The Emeralds of Avalon, whose counterpart I hold in my wares." The merchant seemed, to the dark man, to be overeager. "They are emeralds of the purest green you'll see on the earth, and they glow with an inner light. These are set in a necklace of weeping gold and edged with pale blue sapphires. Their value is immeasurable. I myself sold this necklace to a court Queen, and she treasured them for they kept her in youth and beauty."
"Are they magical in nature?" The merchant thought it best to stray from truth here. He dared not act as if anything in his wares were connected to sorcery, else he would surely die.
"No your highness. They are blessed by the wise men in the farthest east and contain only that goodness blessed by nature." Prince Arthur's eyes were distant. It seemed that he was enraptured by these jewels, as so many before him were. "These are the gems to heal a mind."
"You are sure of this?" A hungry light shone in the prince's eyes. "They could make even the most broken of men whole?"
"Undoubtedly. I hold the bracelet to match them, and I am fifty years old." Prince Arthur's eyes were startled. The merchant smiled. Craftiness lurked in his eyes.
"But the necklace is the true power." The merchant bobbed his head. "Does it work in tandem to the bracelet?"
"Oh yes your majesty. Together, they would heal a body and keep it strong for years, even one already weakened by betrayal and madness." The merchant sighed. "Alas that the emeralds were sold."
"To whom?" The dark man moved closer to his Prince's shoulder.
"The court of Khazad, who live far to the southeast." The merchant paused. "I have the bracelet to sell to you, should you desire it."
"Arthur." Now the dark man brushed his hand over the Prince's jacket. "It's getting late."
"True. We should retire. Master Merchant, we will speak of this again." The Merchant, even sitting as he was, managed a deep bow.
"Certainly, your majesty."
Merlin was not at peace that night. He was warm and comfortable, lying on a mattress stuffed with swan feathers and beneath blankets of fine wool. Most peasants used to sleeping on the ground wouldn't fall asleep easily in a royal bed. Merlin hadn't ever had difficulty.
Until tonight. Arthur wasn't asleep either-Merlin, curled up to his chest, could tell. Arthur was deep in thought. Merlin knew better than to ask him. Sometimes Arthur was receptive to sleeping like this, with an arm around Merlin and his lover's head nestled on his shoulder.
More often, Arthur seemed to remember who they were and shift to the other side of the bed, then fall asleep not facing Merlin. For sure Arthur sought Merlin when he was asleep, but he ignored the fact that they were tangled together in the mornings.
"What did you think of the merchant?" Arthur asked abruptly. It wasn't hard to guess what he had been reflecting on.
"He wanted you to buy his goods. Like all merchants." Arthur made an amused sound in his throat.
"That's an astute observation Merlin. Any more pearls of wisdom?" Here, the words lacked the bite delivered when Arthur was fully awake.
"I don't trust him." Those who share the bed of sovereigns often hear secrets. Merlin was party to many murmured opinions from his prince that could not be spoken of with advisors, and held them tight. It was he who delivered news that could not reach the prince's ears through normal channels and he whose advice was sought in the most delicate crises.
This was no crisis, nothing more than the one they had dealt with for months. Uther's shattered mind was no longer at the forefront of Merlin's thoughts, but it strayed upon those of Prince Arthur often. For how long they might keep of the charade of a healthy monarchy was a question he nor his lover could answer.
"Those jewels he spoke of…what do you think of them?" Merlin frowned.
"He didn't look like he was lying."
"He wasn't. I'm sure." Arthur was excellent at detecting the common lies told to princes. His ability to detect his lover's half truths and covered up deeds was less, and in that respect Arthur was like many men. "They could heal my father."
"Not necessarily." Merlin wished he did not have to say these things. "They might just be some really pretty jewelry."
"I don't think so. I want you to look in the library tomorrow for legends of these gems. If we could go to the court of Khazad and borrow them…" Merlin snorted.
"Like you borrowed that oil from Gwaine?" Arthur bumped his hip against Merlin's.
"You didn't object." Merlin made a humming sound of agreement. "Besides, we could trade for them. Bring their country military support or trade for other precious gems."
Merlin did not point out that Camelot was at that moment none too wealthy herself, and could ill afford to spare more troops. Their losses fighting the immortal army had weakened them, and Uther's breakdown had not helped matters. He doubted that any of the troops would take being sent to foreign lands well, let alone going to the sake of a necklace.
"Maybe. But that merchant had a sly look I don't trust." Arthur laughed slightly.
"All merchants do." Merlin rolled his eyes.
"I know that. I just don't like him." That should have given the prince pause. Merlin was one of those people who liked everyone, and whom everyone adored in return. He taking an instant dislike to anyone should have been warning bells.
But the Prince's mind was caught up with the thought of those glittering emeralds, which promised healing and long life to his father. He mused on them long after Merlin had fallen asleep.
Merlin flipped through the pages of a dusty tome. It had taken much time to find it in the darker recesses of the library, and even Geoffrey could not say with certainty where the court of Khazad was. It did leave an uneasy feeling in the librarian's mind, as he directed Merlin to the section of the library where records of foreign lands lived.
The manservant was beginning to understand why. This book was over fifty years old, and written by a blind musician who traveled over lands playing his lute for coins. The man had written glowing descriptions of the music in Byzantium and the heat of Africa. There was even one section on Avalon, where "the air is sweet to smell but the waters deadly to drink, and there is an air of waiting for their own true king." The chapter on Khazad was short.
Even so, it was long enough to make Merlin shiver. The blind lutist said he wandered for many days over scrublands with no sound but the vibration of small hooves in large number crossing grazing grounds. As he walked to the heartland, where men said the tower of Khazad was, he felt more and more the presence of awful eyes. When he arrived, there was only silence. Fear grew on him until he began to flee, playing his lute as he went for protection. He escaped unharmed, but never traveled again, fearing to encounter another place whence the silence was so great and such a menace hanging over the land.
It wasn't any place Merlin wanted to take Arthur. Unfortunately the geography was also there, for a friend of the musician had drawn a map in the book and put his friend's path down in black ink. The musician had never come to Camelot, but he'd gone over most parts of Albion.
Khazad was south, and one corner just touched Camelot's southeast border. Merlin copied down the map with dread and resolved to tell Arthur that this was a bad idea, and not to venture in search of this necklace. He trooped from the library with a nod of thanks toward Geoffrey.
The Emeralds of Avalon however, weren't hard to find out about. Gaius had heard of them, and could attest to the truth that they were rumored to be great stones with which to clear the mind. Merlin's sense of doom increased. It was going to be hard to convince Arthur that this was something he should leave alone.
But it was difficult to maintain such a feel of gloom in the lower town. The merchant had set up booths and stalls all over, and all were full of exotic goods. Laughter rang in the air as children raced around and pretended to be knights, jabbing each other with toy swords bought from stalls while their fathers hefted real daggers with grim satisfaction and their mothers haggled over the price of spices.
"Merlin!" Gwen hurried over to him. Her face was lit up. "Did you see the stalls?"
"Well, yes. Hard not to." Gwen frowned at him, and Merlin shoved off his dour mood. "So, didja buy anything?"
"Oh, the food is wonderful and smell this perfume!" Gwen held up a bottle. "I've got seeds for my garden and jars for preserves, and Lancelot bought me this." Gwen lifted her chin. There was a delicate silver chain around her throat, with a pendant hanging from it.
Merlin peered closer. "What is it?"
"It's the word for love in another language." Gwen was practically glowing. "I told him not to buy me anything because there's simply no way he could afford it, but he's saved and as a knight he's paid amply so he went ahead and sprung it on me!"
"It's beautiful. You two are wonderful together." Merlin meant it. He didn't have the heart to begrudge Gwen and Lancelot the easy love they shared. It was blessedly uncomplicated, unlike what he and Arthur seemed to have between them. "Where is Lance anyways?"
"Oh, he's dragging Gwaine away from the liquor." Gwen giggled. "There's a man arguing that one cup of some wine will make a man dead drunk, and Gwaine was just dying to try it."
Merlin laughed. "I should go help him. Lancelot's not much of a match for Gwaine with a bottle in his sights."
Gwen looked at him severely.
"Oh, neither is Arthur." Gwen put a hand to her mouth, giggling. "Did you see Gwaine kick him over at practice yesterday?"
"Lancelot told me. I felt so bad for them both, especially when Arthur yanked him down into the dirt." Merlin grinned.
"He stole that from Lancelot." A new voice entered the scene. "What's up, fair lady and equally fair if less appealing in a purple dress lord?" Gwaine grinned at them both. Lancelot stood at his shoulder, looking harried.
"I was running errands for Arthur when I stopped to see the market." Merlin responded. Gwaine grinned.
"You should tell him to stuff it one of these days! And I see that necklace looks as beautiful on you as Lancelot claimed it would, my dear. We must elope together as soon as possible." Gwaine waved his hands. "We can all elope!"
"What did he drink?" Merlin asked Lancelot. The knight sighed.
"He's at least got the vendors impressed by Camelot. It took Gwaine three cups of their wine to get him this way." Lancelot wrinkled his nose. "Just the fumes made me light headed. Of course, then Gwaine had to buy a bottle of it and pass it around the whole circle of men who were applauding." Lancelot grimaced. Gwen, who was looking at Gwaine in a very concerned way, winced. Merlin sighed.
"I'll go find Leon. He's good at rounding up drunks. And I'm guessing the vendor also sold hangover cures?" Lancelot nodded.
"In all shapes and sizes. Thanks Merlin. I'm going to put Gwaine to bed before Gwen and I go on our picnic." Merlin flashed Gwen a grin. She blushed.
"You know, picnic really means that-" Gwaine, who at this point was slumped over Lancelot's shoulders and grinning like a lout, made an obscene gesture with his hands. It was far more communicative than Lancelot's when he first met Merlin. Lancelot and Gwen both went red to their hairlines.
"That's enough from you." Lancelot began to drag Gwaine off, who was protesting because he had more sign language to teach. "Bye Merlin, Gwen."
Gwen shook her head as Lancelot hauled Gwaine away. "Honestly, that knight can be a bit much."
"He's entertaining though." Merlin commented. "Don't worry, nobody heard." Gwen's blush had receded.
"God, I hope not. Elyan has forced Lancelot to list his noble intentions so many times, if he ever caught a hint of anything happening before matrimony…" Gwen shuddered. "He'd try to stab Lance in his sleep."
"Oh, I'm sure you two will end up married someday." Merlin said optimistically. "When Arthur is King he'll be happy to grant Lance's request for marriage. It's just a pity he can't as a Prince."
"Thank you, Merlin." Gwen smiled at him. "Are you shopping at all?"
"Too much work, too little pay." Merlin smiled sheepishly. "I shouldn't have stopped at all, but I could hear the crowds from in the corridor. I've really got to go now actually, since I need to find Leon for drunk patrol." He trotted off, counting on instinct to lead him to Leon. Magical tracers on the knightly cloaks had been a fantastic idea.
Gwen watched him. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that he should ask Arthur for money, or better yet, bring the prince out to the market and let him spend money on Merlin himself, but she held back. There was an unspoken agreement to not speak of what happened between Merlin and Arthur.
She was not one to break unspoken agreements.
Merlin caught Arthur in his study, with the Merchant leaving. He thought there was a triumphant cast to the man's face. Arthur jumped when Merlin entered the room.
"Merlin!"
"Who else do you expect?" Merlin sat down opposite Arthur. "What was the merchant selling today?"
"More than Camelot can possibly afford to buy." Arthur straightened a few papers. "And he's told me more of the Emeralds." Merlin groaned. "You found information on them?"
"Yes." Merlin shifted uncomfortably. "There's a blind musician who wrote about Khazad. It's on our southeast border. He says that it's empty, and that the tower where the court supposedly resided carried a feeling of great menace about it."
"It's uninhabited? Then the necklace might be there!" Merlin stared at Arthur.
"Did the feeling of menace bit just not enter your thick head?"
"He was blind. Probably just had a vivid imagination." Arthur paused. "My mind is made up."
"You're going to stay here and just buy the stupid bracelet?" Arthur glared at Merlin. He held up a gold band dotted with diamonds.
"I already did. But it does nothing without the necklace. We're going on a quest." Merlin groaned.
The assembly of knights around the table was none to light hearted. Gwaine's head was pounding. Lancelot's mind was elsewhere. Elyan was speculating on where Gwen had been last afternoon. Incidentally, that was where Lancelot's mind was. Leon was glaring at Gwaine. Percival was doing his best to stay away from Leon.
"I am going on a quest." That brought the attentions of his knights right back to Arthur. "I go to the land Khazad, and I seek the Emeralds of Avalon to heal my father's mind. They are in a necklace, at the tower where the court once was."
"Do you go alone, sire?" Lancelot straightened. His eyes were bright. "I would be glad to accompany you in so noble a mission."
"Oh, he's not going alone." Merlin, whose place at Arthur's side at the table was undisputed despite his not being a knight, spoke up. "I'm going, and Lance is welcome to come."
"I am always ready, my lord." Leon said. Arthur shook his head.
"I want you in charge while I'm away. I need a steady head around, to keep order until my father is restored." Arthur said. Leon was the most experienced of his knights, and one of the best at the day to day tasks.
"I'll come." Gwaine managed a sickly smile. Anything to get away from the wave that was going to break over his head when Leon got him alone and demanded why had to get so many men so utterly drunk early in the day. Besides, he didn't want Merlin going off questing alone with just his highness and Lance. "It'll be good to give my horse some exercise."
"Excellent." Arthur looked around with satisfaction. "Three knights is a good number. Plus Merlin of course, but he's just a pack mule."
"Oy!" Merlin glared at him. Arthur grinned. "Prat."
"Idiot. Everyone pack your things, we leave at dawn two days hence."
The leaving of Arthur and his knights, plus Merlin, was not much remarked on. This was because on the same day they set off the Merchant left Camelot, with his sparkling wagons lightened and his dazzling girls hidden behind curtains. He smiled and waved as he led his people out.
He had, after all, brought much happiness to a city that desperately needed it. If their purses were much lighter because of it, and he was carrying away stocks of gold, he was sure they wouldn't notice. The Merchant himself hummed to himself and felt the pouch of coinage that hung off his belt.
Solid gold nuggets, distributable in any corner of the world he might turn towards. A great reward for simply directing Prince Arthur towards his death. It hadn't even been difficult, and the man who paid him was well pleased.
The Merchant cheerfully wound away to the northwest, leaving Camelot behind.
Towards the southeast, a different party galloped. Arthur and his knights had cast aside the Pendragon emblem, for the sake of discretion. Arthur didn't expect to be attacked, but broadcasting himself as the sole heir to the throne while traveling with only three companions was inadvisable. He was picturing the necklace in his mind, and imagining his father sane once again.
Lancelot, who had bade Gwen a cheerful goodbye in the early mists of the morning, was in a good humor. He was questing for a good cause, fulfilling the knightly duties he'd wished for since he was a young child. It was enough to content him.
Gwaine had cheered. His head no longer pounded. He galloped along on his fine horse, going to a land he had not been, and the sun was out. Indeed, the only member of the party who was not pleasant was Merlin.
This was a bad idea. Merlin could feel it in his bones. He had failed to dissuade Arthur from going, and it resulted in an argument that ended up with Arthur sleeping on the farthest corner of the bed with his back to Merlin, then ignoring him the rest of the day. Merlin would have happily borne Arthur's bad temper for a month if he'd broken through.
But somehow those emeralds had enraptured Arthur. Merlin didn't know what the merchant said, or what went on in Arthur's mind. That itself was a rarity. Normally Arthur shared freely with him, and he'd learned to read the prince well. The very fact that it was hard to discern Arthur's thoughts made him nervous.
That was not all. Merlin had no opportunity to properly make up with Arthur on quests, and just that could make him cross. Arthur spent nights brooding over their fire, and was more uncommunicative than Merlin had seen him since the early days.
Most importantly, Arthur might be in danger. Merlin was weary of seeing Arthur hurt, and weary of lying to him about what happened while he was unconscious. He would protect Arthur to his last breath, but it was easier to protect someone when they bloody listened to you, instead of tramping off on quests.
Those were Merlin's thoughts as the terrain turned from forest to thin forest and then scrubland. The scrubland was harsh, and had very little coverage. To Arthur, it felt like the perfect place to build something.
To Merlin, it felt ominous. The tower could be seen as a stark line in the distance, black and isolated. There were no clouds as yet over these lands, just blue sky. It made the tower look even taller.
"Well, we're here." Arthur announced. Gwaine gazed around.
"At least we're in no danger of an ambush." He patted his horse's shoulder. "Good place for a gallop!"
"First we should find the locals." Arthur said. Lancelot was listening with interest. He had traveled far, but never actually quested before. "Those lumps in the distance look like they might be houses. We shall shelter in them for the night, then ride on to the tower at dawn."
"Or we could go back because there's nothing here?" Merlin suggested. Arthur glared at him over his shoulder.
"The tower is clearly right there. We're continuing." Merlin sighed and tapped his mare's flanks. She snorted agreeably and trotted after Arthur's stallion. Lancelot and Gwaine followed, making for the lumps that could just be seen.
The houses were huts of clay scraped from under rocks and sticks, just barely kept up by ropes of sheep's wool and goat intestines. Arthur, with his companions around him, sat on the dirt floor. They were clustered around a low table constructed of bracken. On the other side, a skinny peasant stared at them suspiciously.
"My name is Arthur, of Camelot." Arthur began. "This are Merlin, Gwaine, and Lancelot. We beg shelter for the night, and shelter for our horses."
"T' orses er aredy in 't pen." The peasant replied. He dropped into a cross legged position with the strange grace of someone who had never in their lives had a chair to sit on. "War ya 'n 't lands?"
Arthur swallowed. He found the peasant's garbled speech untranslatable. After a few moments of thought, helped along by a few whispers from Gwaine, Merlin, and Lancelot-having knights who were used to commoners and who had traveled was very helpful, any of the noble borns would've been useless here-he managed a reply.
"We are seeking the Emeralds of Avalon." That brought only a blank look. "We travel to the tower of Khazad."
The man shook his head. "Dernt."
"Why not?" Arthur trained his eyes on the man. "Is the court there?"
"Ter long ded." The peasant shuddered. The tower seemed to imbue terrible fear in him. "T's a bad place. Ger back t'yer lands a' mernin lite."
"We will not retreat." Arthur said. "We mean to make our way to Khazad at dawn, if you allow us shelter tonight."
"Dernt." The peasant spoke with total surety. "Y'll die."
"Because of what?" Night was falling as Arthur leaned closer. The peasant's wife came in from tending to the sheep. She lit one torch and then began dishing up gruel from a battered dish that hung from one wall. Apparently, she'd taken the appearance of four horses amongst the sheep and goats in stride.
"T' place." The peasant's voice sank to a whisper. "T's evil. T's a thing lurkn tere t'll kill aller ya, t'n w't'owt a sweat."
Arthur shook his head. "Have you been there?"
The peasant's eyes widened. "No! T's a terrble place."
"We mean to go there, whatever you say." Arthur warned. The peasant looked at them, without sadness. He clearly thought them all mad.
"T'll see ya 'n kill ya." Merlin shivered. His gaze swung round to Merlin. "Y'll lis'en t'me. Dernt go t' doom tower."
"I would love not to." Merlin said dryly. "Unfortunately, Arthur's a stubborn clot pole." The peasant raised his eyebrows.
"Ee a maddun?" Merlin shrugged. Arthur reached over and hit his shoulder.
"Merlin! I am not mad!" Merlin shrugged again. The peasant let out a low chuckle.
"Mite b' b'tter tbeh maddun. T'mite save ya pain a t'death." Arthur sighed. The peasant's grim certainty that they would die, despite he himself having never seen the tower up close, spoke more of superstition to him.
Still. It was slightly heartening to know that Merlin was faithful enough to go with him despite completely disagreeing. It was easiest to be loyal when you were of the same mind.
"We set out at dawn. Will you still shelter us." The peasant shrugged.
"T' na rason not'. T'will ya leave yer 'orses? T'ernt do ya gud a t' tower."
"We shall. They are in your keeping until we return." The peasant snorted.
"T'ernt r'turnin."
A/N: This is going to be a three-shot. Revieeeew and say you want to seeee iiiit…no, you should be glad you can't hear my wheedling tone right now. Believe me.
Oh, and I just realized which from which place I stole the name Khazad. Who knows it? (hint-it's not actually a tower, and the second part is -dum)