(AN: I know everyone gave up on this story when I didn't update it often, but I will continue because when I get on this site and see the Lord of the Rings fan-fics fitting into two categories - Mary Sue in Middle Earth and slash fics [mostly male on male] - and then see Legolas/Hobbit infatuation on tumblr, I get angry and know in my heart that I can do better. Last Alliance was my first attempt, and I shall continue this, in honor of the majestic work that JRR Tolkien gave us!)


Below the Lights

It was morning and, by the council of Curunir, the caravan of the Blacklocks was making ready to move out. Fires were being put out, wains and chariots were being readied for the return march, aurochs given the last bit of feed and Dwarves packing their tents and goods. At the rear of the company, Austri and the Wizards looked out upon the Red Mountains. It was still dark, for the sun was hidden in the reek of clouds that glowered over the mountains of the East.

"Are you certain we can reclaim our homeland?" Austri asked.

"You're with us," Curunir replied. "There is no cause for worry."

"But I do worry," Austri stated. "And with good cause, for these are the last of my people. If there are indeed Dwarves in the Gazaz Bhanad, my people might yet have a hope for our future."

"You're the last of your people?" Romenasto asked.

"Aye, weren't you listening?" grumbled Austri. "The wars with the Stonefoots and the Ironfists have taken their toll on our people. We...mate very slowly, and our women do not take another groom if their husbands fall in battle. Either we find our hopes, as faint and hopeless as they might be, in the West, or fall here in the east."

"Then I would council you," Romenasto said. "If Curunir would permit me, not to send all of your people with us on this expedition, if any. Send us but one guide who knows your lands well."

"Then I must go," Austri said. "For no Dwarf knows the southern reaches of the Orocarni better than myself. But I seek to take back our ancient homeland, and that we must do and with more than simply one Dwarf and three old Men."

"If you indeed seek to go in force," Curunir interjected. "Then bring along an army, if you will, and if you can muster such strength from this band of vagabonds."

"This band of vagabonds, Tharkun, are the mightiest and bravest of my kin," Austri said proudly. "They have survived countless invasions of wyrms into our beloved city and live to tell the tale, and they are willing to cast all away in search of the continuation of their people. I would rather have them at my side than any army of Longbeards."

Thus it was decided that Austri would take with them a company of fifty Dwarf warriors, all of them skilled in the use of ax, sword and bow. For he deemed rightly that there would be battle ere they took back the Orocarni, and while a great host could not be mustered, Austri also argued that a smaller force of skilled fighting Dwarves would be more than enough to break the occupation. So it was that fifty-four Dwarves, with two battle-wains and two aurochs pulling wagons left the caravan. Austri made his son, Althjof his lieutenant, placing him in charge of the caravan and of their people, should he fail to return from the Red Mountains.


It was mid-day when the company arrived at the foothills of the Red Mountains. The march had gone without hindrance, until they were up at the entrance of the great Dwarf realm of Orocarni. A gate, at least nine fathoms high and three fathoms across, loomed up at them, built into the side of the mountain. Upon its face were carved images of Dwarves with great beards, crowns upon their heads: four images were there, and they had rings in their hands and upon each ring was a jewel: a ruby, a diamond, a green beryl and an onyx.

"These are the Dwarf-fathers of old," Austri said, gesturing to the images on the door. "As they are known in memory. Two thousand and more years ago at least have they existed as such."

"What are those jewels upon their hands?" Curunir asked.

"Those are the gifts they received in ancient times," Austri proudly said. "Sarkhuh-run the Black, the Ring of Forge, carried by the father of the Ironfists. If the legends are true, it made iron the servant of the wielder and he could command it to mold itself to his will and it would obey him. Luzdhrun the Green, the Ring of Wealth, made he who wore it the master of the mine: they struck every vein of eziluk and that which they fashioned lasted endlessly without ever tarnishing or growing weak. Duymrun the Red is the Ring of Blessing, which gave the wielder longevity and eternal health. Last is Iimulrun the White, the Ring of Gold, gave wealth of similar kind as Luzdhrun. Those two were coveted greatly by my people."

"You certainly do not seem very wealthy," Morinehtar stated.

"That's because we've been on the run," Austri retorted. "Our hoards have been plundered of late by the wyrms and the Ironfists." He spat. "Despicable creatures, murdered my father and took my kingdom."

"That's why we're here, after all, eh?" Romenasto queried. "To help each other. We will give you back your kingdom and you will help us discover the source of this darkness and why the wild things are leaving the east."

"I don't need anyone's help," Austri grumbled.

"You were certainly running as fast as your stout legs could carry you, master Dwarf," Curunir retorted haughtily.

"Your coming was all that I needed," Austri replied uneasily, the words of Curunir still hanging over his head. "Now I will take back my homeland and my birthright." He looked back at them with a look of amusement. "You can follow along in my path if you desire so."

The Dwarf strode towards the door, placed his hands upon them and said in a loud voice: "Khuzsh!" At this, the doors slowly began to swing back until they rested each on either side of the Dwarf, revealing a huge, cavernous entrance that led into the side of the mountain. He walked in and behind him came his fifty Dwarves, with Curunir and the Blue Wizards following on at the last. They held aloft their staves and light glowed from them, illuminating the path before them. At once, the light was reflected off the fiery glimmer of gold. Coins, goblets, swords, belts and dishes of all kinds were littered on the floor, about the halls, in cut-out vaults in the sides of the walls and on the stairs.

"It's still here!" one of the Dwarves said. "My lord, should we take it?"

"No," Austri replied. "We have enough in the caravan to make us richer than any of the Longbeards. Once we take back our homes, this will all be rightfully ours again and it will return to their vaults and hoards." He turned back to the Wizards. "Touch nothing! No matter what the Ironfists say, this gold belongs to the Blacklocks and it would be detrimental to our friendship if you stole any of it."

"Regardless of what they might say?" Curunir asked. "Do you mean they believe you have stolen it?"

"Ironfists hate everyone and everything," Austri began. "They've enslaved the Stonefoots and the Stiffbeards and remain at war with my people because we refuse to submit."

"Submit to what?" Romenasto asked.

"Their tyranny!" growled the Dwarf angrily. "They believe only Ironfists are worthy of gold, food, mead and life. They treat the rest of us like slaves or enemies and because they hate us, they take our gold, saying that slaves and maggots have no business with things which they have not the strength to use nor the wit to understand how to use it."

"Have you tried to speak with them peaceably?" Morinehtar suggested.

"No one speaks with the Ironfists," Austri grumbled. "But we've spoken too long. We have to reach the lower vaults, where our greatest treasures were kept. The wyrms have made their nests therein, and it is there we will gut their scaly throats and pull their hearts out of their cold corpses!"

"Baruk Khazad!" chanted the Dwarves. "Baruk Austri!"


The next several hours were spent in almost total darkness, the only light coming from the staves of the old men. Down, down, down they went, far beneath the surface. In Dwarven halls, apart from great roaring fires, there were also many shafts that filtered down light into these great halls: the lights were gone, for the shafts had been filled, though by whose hand was beyond the guess of Austri or the Wizards.

Onward they continued, until it seemed that they had left light and the sun far behind them. However, it was only now getting on towards evening, and the sun was just starting to dip behind the far away jagged line that was the Hithaeglir, far in the West. Here, below the lights and beneath the earth, light was completely forgotten. But Austri of the Blacklocks was accustomed to living in the dark caverns of the world and the lack of sunlight and the still, stuffy air deterred him not. The Wizards, who had known no darkness greater than the night under stars, were quietly fearful of the shadows. Romenasto more so, but if Morinehtar or Curunir were similarly affected, they did not betray even a hint of any fear.

At last, however, they came to a place where Austri commanded a halt. The company rested, leaning upon staves and ax-hilts while Austri walked over to the Wizards and reported their location. They had come to the lowest part of their realm, at the Thirtieth Hall, seven hundred feet down from the Gate.

"Our goal lies another three hundred feet or more down below our feet," he said. "Here we can take rest and, if you so desire, you may see the Eastern Sea."

At this, the Wizards hushed and Romenasto and Morinehtar seemed amazed beyond belief. No one had seen the Eastern Sea, not since the fathers of the Children of Men had first woken upon its shores in the First Day of the First Age. Curunir held his place, while the Blue Wizards asked Austri if they could gaze upon it. The Dwarf grumbled in agreement and sent one of his scouts to lead them the rest of the way while they remained and waited for them.

From where they stood, the Dwarf scout led them down a hall that, though dark, the Wizards became aware narrowed off into a single passageway, with a wall on one side and a high roof. Narrow was that passage, such that only three abreast could traverse, but its height was massive, going up beyond the light of their staves into fathoms unguessed. It turned also, once to the left, and then again to the right, up three flights of stairs that wound right all the way around: at the top, the Wizards covered their faces with their hands, as the last light of the day was still brighter than the darkness into which they had passed. The Dwarf was unscathed by the light and told them to continue. They passed through the tunnel and entered the light once again.

Outside, they saw the passage led to a small cove of rock, sheltered by the heights of the Red Mountains, shrouded in the dark clouds of shadow. The rocks, however, were red and not gray, as they were in the West. But their eyes were not drawn to the rocks, or the snow-capped Red Mountains at their backs. Before them stretched endless a sea, vast beyond imagining, the waves singing their endless song as they crashed among the rocks. Silent they stood, listening to the cry of sea-birds and the song of the waves, of which no Elven voice would ever sing, whether in the lands of the East or in Valinor. Here, they knew, the Children of Illuvatar had first risen from their slumber, and here the followers, Men, had first risen and seen the sun rise for the first time on the top peaks of the Red Mountains.

But most importantly, though it was dark, they could see that the shadow had no power over this part of the world. The night was coming, but it would be a welcomed night, for they knew that, in the end, the shadow was only a passing thing. This sea, however, with its beauty and majesty, would remain. Romenaer they named it, the Eastern Sea in the Sindarin, for no Elven eyes would ever gaze upon it, nor would ship of the Men of the West ever set sail by the winds that endlessly moved its waves.

It was with heavy hearts that they turned their backs on the Eastern Sea and returned into the halls of the Orocarni.


(AN: I know I promised a big reveal, but I'm gonna leave that for the next chapter. However, if you didn't get it with the Gate of Orocarni, I don't know. Maybe I'm being too vague, so I guess that's a good thing. This ending scene, however, was inspired by Ted Nasmith's painting of the Blue Wizards traveling into the East. They're seeing the Eastern Sea, which no one else would ever see again. I felt it needed something, just a brief moment to appreciate the beauty of nature before we dive straight-way into...well, you'll see)