The paths winded and intertwined with each over, making it an impossibility to see the end of one and the start of another, which made the task at hand twice as difficult as it might have been. And twice that, when you take into consideration the height of the Association. The Association being Morlia, a dwarf with a bushy black beard and a dwarf without much beard at all, who seemed rather young to be apart of this kind of Association.

Of course, the Association being the 'Association of Rare Goods'. Some liked to call them thieves, and some would call them burglars, but some people thought they were highly respectable. Those people being themselves. Each of them had their own reasons for being there, which the others respected, not actually know what the reasons were. Though stranger to one another, they had a given appreciation and a courtesy to assist each other.

"Faern?"

Faern nodded, curtly, as Burr and Morlia ran under the window; readying for Faern to jump. And Faern ran as fast as his short legs could carry him, as they shoved his boots up, so he could gain a hand on the window. Next was Burr, then Morlia.

Once they had climbed through, they hurriedly clambered onto the bookshelves that leered above them, curving inwards to the ceiling and the elven chandelier, which glowed not of the blue that was outside, but of a cold white.

"Maedhros, Maedhros..." Burr muttered, as his black beard brushed along the dusty books, his tiny eyes peering closely as the titles.

"Morlia! It's all in Quenya!" whispered Faern, "How do we-"

Morlia cut him off by shushing him and pushing him back into the wall, for a tall elf had drifted into the room. The Association swiftly climbed up the shelves, and made themselves as small and as unnoticeable as possible. And they stared down upon the elder.

Faern, Burr and Morlia frowned, as they realised the elf had a rather long silver beard, tucked into his robes.

He moved to the window, the window they had just clambered through, and let out a longing sigh as he gazed outwards at the sea.

"Ereinion..."

The Association shared a look with each other.

Minutes passed, with the elf just standing at the window, so the Association decided to continue searching. They only froze when they heard the elf moving again, out of the library door, before proceeding to search through the cobwebs, but nothing was to be found under the name of Maedhros, and the sun was rising. They had to move quickly.

"To the roof?" grunted Burr, pointing a thumb at some ledges out of the window.

Morlia eyed them, and nodded, letting Faern climb the ledges.

They camped out on the roof for two nights and three days, living on nothing but a cannister of cold tea and pipe smoke.

Then one night, while still ransacking the library, Burr found a darker corner, near the top, which held small brown book, labelled 'Maedhros and the Sons of Fëanor'.

By the next night, they had stolen themselves a fisherman's boat to Island of Himling. The fisherman was conclusively not happy.

The fisherman's boat drifted upon the water.

The sun rose, creating an ominous shadow cast by the old ruins, which bled out through the fog, creating an unearthly atmosphere that billowed up and down the Association's spines in great rippling waves.

Their mouths tasted grimy.

The greyish water sloshed about as they paddled, and it was the only sound they could hear.

In the sea below them lay the kingdoms of old. The old land of Beleriand. Once great, but now quite drowned; quite dead.

Morlia squinted through the white and saw the beginnings of a hill.

"There," she muttered, "Get the rope out Burr, and that pole Faern."

They jumped out the boat with a thud and a splash, shoved the pole into the ground and wrapped the rope tightly around it twice, making sure that the boat wasn't going anywhere.

The water was so still. So silent.

Burr caught Morlia's eyes, as they all observed the area, and sighed.

She nodded, and gestured for them to walk up the hill.

There were no trees, barely any vegetation and the air was damp with the smell of rotten wood.

Finally, after a great deal of trudging, they met a staircase, not a full one mind, but it was something, and they continued up it with determined looks set upon their faces. And this manky looking moss consumed all that the eye could see.

"Where was it again? The gold?"

Morlia pursed her lips and brought a hand to her beard, scratching it slightly. "Try the throne room. If not, try looking deeper into the fortress."

She looked at them both, sharply, "Do not enter any of the dungeons. Or anything further underground. There will be water, and lots of it."

Faern and Burr nodded. And they continued separately into the castle ruins. Morlia pulled her fingers back through her hair and lifted her chin up, they were going to find it. They were.

Suddenly, left out of the shadows, appeared a person; making her flinch.

It was Faern.

And he smiled, briefly.

Morlia frowned.

"Thanks."

He smiled again, and nodded, with his blonde hair flying about, and hands shoving something into hers before disappearing into the ruins again.

The edges of Morlia's mouth twitched as she breathed in, deeply, through her nose, whilst shaking her head.

In her hands was Faern's hat, the one he wore when he first asked to join the Association. And it's knitted blue matched perfectly with her hair.

A yell.

Morlia's eyes widened and she ran. She ran and ran and ran.

Through the fog. Between the crumbling pillars, all surrounded in that murky looking moss.

And she slipped. And fell- into the courtyard.

She grunted and looked up.

Something spilt onto her cheek. And it rolled down into her beard and down her neck.

Morlia stumbled and crashed into a wall, her breathing quick and shallow, as she held herself up against the ruins, hand gripping the moss.

Burr was in the air above her, in the middle of the courtyard, his body hanging from what seemed like a golden noose.

Except-

That... wasn't a noose.

It was a necklace.

Red filled her vision.

And she woke with a jolt.