This Font delineates the common Rhûnic language.
This font delineates the dwarven Khuzdul language.
The three sat here and looked upon the dwarf. He was mad that they were inside his kingdom, mad that they were eating his food and taking his services, and he was mad that he had to deal with big folk. If it wasn't obvious enough from that single sentence, he would not be welcoming to them, but Rómestámo attempted to offer pleasantries regardless.
"We have an urgent message for you," he started. "And our message is also being relayed south, to the house of Stiffbeards."
"They want nothing to do with yas," Thraghol hissed.
"Well Gidum and Lidum, our guides, have already departed to retrieve the king," said Khamûl, trying to see if the lord would be upset by this. He was.
"Norin II Stiffbeard will dismiss those clumsy oafs! He won't give you the time of day, as won't I!"
"Please just–" started Elduin.
"Quiet, elf!" said the king, pointing a finger at him. "You will leave this place now or you will be dumped on top of the mountain for the birds to feed on yas!"
Rómestámo found it now time to intimidate, just so the dwarf would actually hear his words. "Thraghol, the first of your name," he said with a deep echo to rival the depths of the mountain itself. It stunned Thraghol, pushing him back a step as a surreal anger seemed to well up in the old man, truly frightening the king. "Listen to what we have to say now or perish at the hands of fate which you attempt to ignore! The world will continue on without you and will be unkind to your sons and your daughters unless you open your ears instead of your mouth!" The wizard relented a bit and returned his voice back to normal, looking at the dwarf with desperation now, and not fire. "We want to save you."
The fat dwarf attempted to regain his composure. He looked at the other two in the room, standing behind the old man. They were stoic, but were clearly affected by the scene. They had seen only the wizards' love and devotion, but not anger. Even Khamûl, who had fought with the old man once upon a time, did not feel this sense of ferocity during that battle.
"W-we don't need saving from anything," said Thraghol, quietly. "We live peacefully here under the mountains. We have no enemies, no quarrels. Who is trying to destroy us, besides the outsiders who come in and claim we be slain?"
"Our message is urgent," repeated the wizard. "Please listen to our tale and allow us to show you what may be soon falling atop the mountain peaks which you are plainly blind to."
Thraghol stood here a moment, bringing his chest up and his shoulders back to where they were when he entered the room. His fear had left him, as he saw in the wizard a retreat. He waited a moment, just looking at him, before he spoke. "You say King Norin is going to be told of this?"
"The twins were ordered only to bring him back to Idgrec from Sárnotir," said Khamûl. "They are to entice him enough to bring him here to listen to us. I trust they may have a bit more luck being dwarves and all?"
"Aye," said the king. "If they aren't foolish like they usually are. He might in fact send them away, but if they avoid telling him that you're big people, just some random passersby that speak of death, then he might come to hear what it's all about." He looked back up at them, as his eyes had fallen as he spoke. "What is this all about anyways?"
"Good, now you're listening," said the wizard. "You may get the short of it, but the full tale is immense, and would take the better part of a day to tell it all. If and when Norin returns to Idgrec with Lidum and Gidum, we will give you both then the tale in full."
Thraghol continued to stand here, staring with his beady little eyes trying to see deeper into each of the three for answers. "I don't like yous," he started. "But I'll give you until their return. If Norin arrives, you will be heard. But that ain't a dismissal. People don't like folks coming into their house and claiming they're all gonna die soon." He slowly turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps loud due to his sheer weight.
The three all shared a look until he was well out of earshot. "At least we have another couple of days here," said Elduin. "We might get to meet Norin of the Stiffbeards and plead our case."
"The twins appeared confident in their ability to bring him back," Khamûl said. "I imagine they will be able to get him to return as long as he does what Thraghol mentioned. It is probably best that they not mention our races to him."
Elduin shot back with, "Especially mine. The Blacklocks seemed kind when we first entered the mountains, but as we ventured south it felt as if every dwarf has had their eyes fixed on me, and mine on them. Each innkeeper, everyone here in Idgrec. I'd hate to know what they do with elves they find no use for."
"Nonsense," said the istar with a subtle chuckle. "You are a capable swordsman and combatant. I'd, for one, love to find out that exact fear, for I know you'd defeat them all on your way to freedom."
Elduin smiled slightly. "That doesn't make better the fact that he was ready to kill us if we stayed," he said, pointing towards the door Thraghol had just exited from. "We are lucky he even gave us the option to leave on our own terms."
"I agree with that," said Khamûl. "We must be ready for discipline. If we tell our tale, there is no promise that they'd join our cause, let alone believe us. They might laugh at the story, consider it entertainment, slay us when they are through with our 'act,' and continue about their lives."
Rómestámo was surprised at these words. "I find it hard to believe, myself, that you picture the dwarves being successful were they to attack us. We are experienced and powerful. Do you truly think not we'd be able to escape them?"
"Don't be naïve," said Khamûl. "Let us not underestimate them. They are hardy folk, and they all have attempted to turn us away at first. None fear the dangers because they are blind to it. They see their wealth and isolation as solidarity. If we attempt to open their eyes, they might find what they see appalling and rid themselves of us before closing their eyes once more."
"If they have also truly been thriving," interjected Elduin, "do you not imagine they have a fortified army of well trained warriors? We could be overrun by thousands against our three. I am with Khamûl; do not underestimate them. I'm privy to believe they'd prove us differently."
The wizard looked at the two. It might not have been an underestimation of the dwarves, necessarily, but an overestimation of their own abilities. When Elduin put in perspective the numbers they might have to fight through, it made sense. "When did you two grow wiser than the wise?"
Another couple of days went by before Gidum and Lidum had returned. The three only found out when Tubor had returned upstairs to tell them. "The twins are back," he said whilst putting some food and drink down on a table for them. "I heard from them myself they brought back King Norin II, and King Thraghol is hosting him at his private residence."
"We must make our way over there. We are meeting with them, master dwarf," said Elduin.
"Not so hasty," said Tubor, with a wiggle of his finger. "The boys told me to bring you over when the sun has fully westerned. Still many hours to go, there is."
"Was there a reason for this?" asked Rómestámo.
The dwarf looked up and far away, trying to think. "Maybe hoping everyone is asleep by then. I know he wants your presence to be kept unexposed as best as we can."
"Please bring us as soon as the time is right," said the istar. "We must be ready to speak at the last light as the sun hides from us in the west. The message is still an urgent one, my little friend."
"Aye, sirs," said the innkeeper, and he mosied his way out the door.
Several hours later, Tubor found his way back into the room. The three were napping, preparing themselves to be awake for most of the night as they recounted their tale. "Wake up, yas!" he shouted, flinching them all awake. "It's time to be welcomed by the Kings of the south!"
They lazily got themselves up and began heading down and out of the last building in the city. The three were excited to see more of this kingdom, as their view from the top floor was growing quite stale. Walking through the city and across all of the balconies would be a great new experience to get them ready for what was to come when they were done exploring and sightseeing.
This cavern was, simply put, bigger than Balomdon in every way. Not just literally, but figuratively as well. The ceiling of the place was much higher than the northern city, allowing for many extra floors in each of the buildings they passed. What this also meant was higher walkways crossing in every direction, connecting all of them on several stories.
The broken pieces of wall also seemed to glitter, as some ore within the stone contained a luminescent quality. Shimmers of pearly-white and tyrian offered a late-night glow and majesty that was difficult to comprehend. It did not shine bright enough to make torches obsolete, but seemed rather a simple aesthetic. The buildings did not themselves contain this quality, and was reserved solely for the city's borders.
Within a half hour, the group had made its way a couple miles from the edge of the city to what was obviously the private home of the king. A massive underground castle lay at the center of this great kingdom, and was possibly the first structure that was actually crafted by hand rather than shaped as the stone was carved out around it. This castle was not made of stone like all the rest either.
No, this magnificent structure was made of different minerals that must have been mined out as the dwarves carved their great open chasms. It did not match the red-purple of the stone around the city nor did it match perfectly the pearlescence of it either. These ores seemed more simple and common, containing shades of nearly everything in the rainbow.
The final walkway they would cross led them right to the front door of the castle, a great crystal bridge of frosty white that could nearly be seen through, crossing over a moat of which the water's source could not be found. Pillars of great blue fluorite and amethyst designated the doorway that would end the bridge and lead them inside. The walls on either side of and above these pillars were like black sheets of micas, the cracks between each layer exposed to the open air.
As they wandered inside, they could see the more colorful minerals they had dug out. Ruby and emerald and sapphire lined almost every single object within the walls. The walk through was almost dizzying as the light that came inside was refracted in an infinite number of directions, leading to confusion about where lights were actually coming from. The floors and walls were brightened by whatever color the light had passed through, creating a colorful array on all surfaces. Some torches even appeared nearby, but were in fact sitting along a wall perpendicular and out of direct sight, reflected and refracted to their eyes. It felt to them like we feel of clown houses, walking through disoriented.
Soon deep within the castle were the three and their escort, Tubor. They came upon a fantastic dining room of similar design to the rest of the mansion. The table was perfectly clear crystal with matching topaz dining chairs. Sitting here were four dwarves; King Thraghol I was sitting across from and next to two female dwarves. Diagonal from him was a male dwarf, not as big but seemingly just as kingly as Thraghol himself.
When they entered, the four at the table stood. "I'm sorry, my dears, but business has come up," Thraghol said to the ladies. "We will need privacy, as I mentioned." They knowingly got themselves together and headed off through some open doorway in the back of the room and out of sight. "Thank you for bringing them, Tubor," he said, nodding at the innkeeper who swiftly left the room back the way they came. "Sit," he ordered the three.
Norin made his way to the back side of the table where the other king was sitting so as to face the three as they sat down on their side of the table. The three unknowingly sat in similar positions as their partners several days earlier, with the wizard to the left of the elf and to the right of the man.
Thraghol did not look as stern as he had prior, perhaps putting on a diplomatic mask for his companion. "This is Norin II Stiffbeard," he said, no substance or personality coming at all from him. "He and I are to hear your tale and decide your fate for this intrusion."
Norin was plump, but not inflated like Thraghol was. He was of similar build to Lidum and Gidum, but several inches taller. His red hair was braided down his back and his beard braided along with it to a matching length. He wore a mossy-green traveling hood that covered nearly all except his brown leather boots. His eyes twinkled with kindness, matching the elegance of the room they were in. Compared to Thraghol's black hole pupils, one could look into Norin's for ages.
"Before we begin," said Elduin, calmly, "I'd like to start by acknowledging that the same has happened to these men once before, and they came out victorious."
"What does that mean?" asked the king of Idgrec.
"My people once considered these men as intruders to our lands, and we tried them with the same misconception that they'd likely be banished or have their lives claimed for invasion. Their deeds have not only aided our cause, but we've learned to aid theirs."
The two opposite tried to unravel this mystery, as Elduin was not giving the details just yet. "Get on with the story you said you had," said Thraghol. Norin sat in silence, with his arms crossed over his big belly. His demeanor was that of suspicion or indifference, but his eyes told otherwise, and the wizard began the tale and told much of it to these eyes over Thraghol's.
Like the three in Balomdon some days before, he went on about the ultimate goals of the wizards, explaining his abilities along the way. He remembered as he spoke that while they were supposed to keep their race a secret, he and Morinehtar had only confided the truth in Mélihera, who was partially of the same race. The word 'maiar' had never been brought up in conversation before telling her that truth, and it would remain so. They treated themselves otherwise as the race of 'wizards.'
When he got to telling about their ventures to the Wild Wood, he looked over at Elduin on his right. "Can you continue the story?" he asked, seemingly out of breath, almost. "I need to rest myself, and you play an integral part of what happened in Cuiviénen."
Elduin took the reins from here, recounting their brief battle and the healing efforts of the wizard at his side. He did naught but praise their intentions and their truths. By having knowledge they should not, it was clear proof that they meant all they said. When this fact was accepted, he explained how it turned into the greatest recovery the elves had ever seen. He spoke long and well, giving personal history to the intentions they were now setting forth together.
When he looked like he was done speaking his turn, the wizard was back up for continuing the tale, and spoke of all that happened along the river northward. He soon came to a swift realization about having quickly returned south. "Now I wish we did not do so, because we went north only to travel further south than we had began." Norin chuckled at this, pleasing Rómestámo.
"But that leads us to here and now," he concluded. "We've made this journey to see you and recruit you. Your help is needed, but you will need ours as well. It only makes sense for us to reach a mutual agreement of help, wouldn't you say? Banding together will make us each stronger, and more likely to destroy the growing threat so we can all live in peace."
The dwarves sat in silence for a moment. Norin's bright eyes remained, but he said something that would contradict what his eyes were saying. "So this is blackmail, then?"
The three paused for a moment, soaking in the accusation. "What is this about blackmail?" asked Khamûl plainly.
"That's what this is, right?" said the King of Sárnotir. "'You help me or you die' is what you're saying. It's gonna have to be a more convincing argument than that."
"This isn't blackmail," urged the istar. "It is simply truth. People will suffer, yours included, if we do not rise together–"
"You're repeating yourself, wizard," Norin said, slowing down his speech to make himself perfectly clear, "so I'll do the same: you'll have to do better than that."
The three fell quiet and shared a look with one another. The truth would not be enough. "What would you wish us offer you, besides fire and death?" asked Khamûl firmly.
"That's not for us to decide," said Thraghol. "You came here to convince us, and you are not doing a great job. It is not our place to convince ourselves. You and you alone are responsible for that. If you cannot, we will banish you from these grounds and from the mountain entirely."
"We've nothing to go on," Khamûl said. "Tell us about yourselves, and maybe we can find what you need and offer it to you."
"We don't need nothing," said Norin. "We've been getting everything we ever wanted as of late."
"Because Mahal has satiated your greed? I find that difficult to believe," said the wizard, with some accusation in his voice, now.
Thraghol stood up at this, his hands flat on the table and his eyes closed, trying to retain the anger welling up within. "How dare you insult me in my own tongue. In my own home!" This sentence lingered in the air for a moment before shouting at the top of his lungs, "You know nothing, and offer us nothing! Mahal offers us everything!" He slammed his fists against the table at each emphasis, nearly cracking the crystal beneath his knuckles. "I am leaving now," he said, his voice brought down to a whisper after a deep sigh. "Get out of my mountain." He began heading towards the door, and it seemed this meeting was over, closed rigid by the dwarf.
Rómestámo was reminded of an errant thought he had along the highway, and blurted it out quickly, knowing it would stop Thraghol in his tracks. This talk of Mahal brought the fact back into his mind. "Mahal is the reason for this evil!" he shouted just loud enough for Thraghol to hear him as he was almost out of the large dining room.
This sentence had the exact effect the istar thought it would have. Thraghol stopped walking at once, stood still for a moment, and turned to walk back to the wizard, looking calm. All was not so, as he approached the wizard and ended up inches from Rómestámo's face. "Get... out… of my mountain!" he roared these last two words, louder than before somehow.
"But he speaks the truth, and you must hear it, my brother."
All of the heads snapped towards the doorway that Thraghol had just walked away from. How he missed the incoming party was beyond all, though it was likely drowned out of his vision being flooded with a red rage. Iddûn IV Blacklock, Rafim III Stonefoot, Ossuri, Elnuin, and Morinehtar stood now in the open hall.
Norin stood, and both of the southern kings looked dissatisfied. "What is happening here?" he said, directing the question at the two northern kings.
"I am calling for a meeting amongst the Kings of the Orocarni," said Iddûn, the same voice that interrupted a moment prior. "Only the kings," he said as he looked at all six of the Hando Manîdh.
Rómestámo looked at Morinehtar for advice, and he just tilted his head backwards, urging him to leave the room. He looked back at Thraghol, who was still only inches from him, and he began to stand whilst staring deep into his soul. He rose slowly, eventually towering over the blob of a dwarf, but the king did not back down. It was an intense, silent showdown indeed.
The two other big folk at the table followed suit, rising slowly and making their way towards the door, and the wizard trailed close behind, breaking the gaze. The six all left the room as the northern dwarven kings shut the door behind them, separating the two groups of tall and short people. The six shared a minute of greetings and welcomes and handshakes.
"Why have you made the journey south, my friends?" asked Rómestámo to the rest of the party. "We were to return after we were through here."
"We have been offered many valuable warriors from the north," said Elnuin. "Twenty-five hundred dwarves are ready to accept our mission thanks to Iddûn and Rafim."
"Elnuin was splendid, and could very well accept full responsibility for this," added Ossuri.
"Congratulations," said Elduin. "I'm very proud of you. I knew that I could leave you to your own." He walked back over to his son and embraced him. "We have not been succeeding as much as you have clearly been."
They all looked at the elf, but Rómestámo interjected first. "As predicted, the Ironfists and Stiffbeards do not take to outsiders fondly. We have struggled to get them to see our reason, but I was onto something before you all arrived."
"Aulë?" asked Morinehtar.
"Yes," he responded. "I made the connection while along the Highway of Fôkhid, as our guides told us about the dwarven history."
"As did I," replied the istar. "Iddûn used the name Mahal and I was trying to place it for many days and many nights. Only did I remember the name's translation along the road when the kings told us of their creation story."
The rest of the party looked confused, so they decided to make swift work of explaining. "As ourselves and Tilion are of Oromë," explained Rómestámo, "so too is Sauron of Aulë, the master smith, who the dwarves call Mahal, 'the maker' in their own tongue."
"So the one they call Mahal is, in part, responsible for the evil in this world?" asked Elduin.
"Exactly right," said Morinehtar, "and I informed the northern kings of this while on one of the great rails. It is going to be the primary angle of their attempt to convince the southern kings to join us."
"What do you mean 'primary angle?'" asked Khamûl.
"Guilt," answered Morinehtar. "We recruited the northern dwarves by offering them riches if we found any. They are a selfish people, and Elnuin played this route exquisitely. The approach that Iddûn and Rafim have decided to take is one of guilt. If they feel that Mahal, and by proxy, themselves, are responsible for the potential evil, they may fight against it with us to redeem themselves.
"They are not an evil folk, and do not wish harm unto the world. Protective of themselves and their belongings, yes, but evil is not the right description. The northern kings know this better than us, and have the best chance of getting them to fight against a threat, compared to getting them to fight alongside us. While the outcome would be the same, these two things are not, and they are going to use that to try and convince them if they haven't already begun."
The wizard had explained this sufficiently enough for Rómestámo, Elduin, and Khamûl. "Even if they fail at pressuring them to help us," concluded Morinehtar, "we still have the aid of two and a half thousand warriors from the north. Adding that to what we've got in Erthandor makes our total number close to twenty thousand strong."
"Iddûn and Rafim estimate the Ironfists and Stiffbeards would be able to offer another seventy-five hundred if they decided to, potentially bringing us to twenty-five thousand," added Elnuin. "If we succeed with this, our numbers will nearly double whence we left Cuiviénen."
"This is good tidings," said Rómestámo. "Where would we go from here, if we add this race to our cause?"
Ossuri stepped forward, seemingly to have this answer. "The kings spoke that the southern clans had once reported venturing south outside the mountains," he began. "They spoke of a vast desert that went for forty-five leagues, where they found a river south. It was said to lead far into the southlands where it appeared green and lush, but they did not explore it further. It might be inhabited."
"Why did they stop exploring?" asked Khamûl.
"He didn't give a reason," Ossuri answered. "I suspect they already felt too far from home, and the desert was likely a risky trip. They might not have seen the potential benefits over the danger and just turned back."
"Luckily our mission is one way," said Rómestámo. "We should make the journey south across the sand and explore those plains. A great many more might lie in wait for our recruitment."
"Let us here finish first," said Morinehtar. "So hasty we've become."
The Hando Manîdh would remain standing outside the dining room for quite some time. Some began meandering through the shining corridors, exploring, and some found chairs they could rest themselves at, sharing intermittently. The wizards found a little private corner for themselves and had pulled out their pipes for smoking. Never in all their time could they get the others to find the taste and see the benefit of this leisure, so they always went apart from them to ignite their pipeweed.
After a while, the door swung back open with a loud creak. They did not notice if it had done so before, but tensions were high at that point, so it likely fell on deaf ears if it did at all. Iddûn was standing in the entryway, and bade them all to enter. They all followed him back into the room and found seats at the crystal table. There were just enough seats for all ten of them.
"Why did you not tell us about Mahal's relationship to this Sauron character you spoke of?" asked Thraghol, once everyone had settled into their chairs.
"I was just about to get to that, remember," said Rómestámo. "The last I spoke was that Mahal was responsible for this evil. It may not be entirely truthful, but blame could be traced back to him if one saw it that way."
"Sauron alone is responsible for his deeds," said Norin.
"And yet who is responsible for Sauron?" Morinehtar asked rhetorically.
"He does not matter!" said Thraghol, not yet screaming in anger, but at a level high enough to gain control of the table. "Blame cannot be thrown up the line to Mahal and back down it to us. We cannot and will not accept the guilt you put on us! It is not the choices of dwarves that result in your problems!"
"But it will result in your problems!" said Khamûl. "If you do not help the cause, he may scour the earth and lay the mountains in flame! What will you do then?"
"Mahal will protect us," said Norin, flatly.
Morinehtar chuckled. "Arrogance and pride are one thing. Ignorance is another. You choose to be unwise and blind."
"Don't lecture me, wizard," Norin retorted. "Is the saying not 'ignorance is bliss?'"
"Bliss until destruction and death rain upon you," said Elduin. "It will come lest we vanquish it first. We need your help in doing so."
"And we need you to prove your worth to us," said Thraghol. "Offer us something that isn't guilt or blackmail for us to consider."
The party looked at him confused. "Surely you all spoke in private about the possibility of acquiring further wealth in another range of mountains?" asked Elnuin.
"Certainly we did," said Rafim. "The kings of the southern mountains wish for more than that. They require a personal favor from you six directly."
Eyes ventured towards Thraghol and Norin. They did not waver at this, and were proud to demand this through someone else's lips. "They need to know they can trust you," Rafim continued, beginning to lay down the conditions. "For that to happen they must see you as you truly are. They have no choice but to not believe you as of yet, but we did manage to create a plan. If you find yourselves accepting this, we may one day reach an agreement."
"What are your terms?" asked Morinehtar, setting his eyes on a laser-like focus to the cowardly dwarves, having someone else do their demanding.
"You spent over six hundred years with the elves building a bond," Thraghol said, finally. "Build one with us, as our servants, and bring us closer to wealth and power."
"We cannot let six hundred more years slip away!" said Khamûl. "Our time may be thin as is!"
"We do not ask for six hundred," interjected Norin. "We only ask for one. Our lifespan is not near elves at all. We must also be hasty, as we will one day disappear as well. We think it is plenty of time for you to prove yourselves and for us to judge your characters and intentions."
The Hando Manîdh all looked at one another. While they did spend much time in Cuiviénen, it was now the moment for action. They did not want to sit idle for another year. "Is there anything else we could do?" asked Elduin, knowing they all seemed to feel this way.
"No," said Thraghol plainly. "We do not trust you, and for the time being, want you out of our mountains. We only offer this as a courtesy to our fellow lords of the north. If you cannot do this, we will continue with your banishment, and it will affect the relationship our four houses have with one another."
The six looked at each other once more. Ossuri offered a shrug, as did Elnuin. The wizards and Elduin did not look like they could decide, but Khamûl was struck with an idea and swiftly spoke of it openly. "I could return to Cuiviénen and gather a search party. I'll have them dissect Erthandor for disruption, as once was my duty as a king many years ago. If we return and find nothing, it could be safe to say that a year is within the realm of acceptable peace among the lands."
"How long would it take?" asked Morinehtar.
"I have thousands at my disposal. Erthandor could be combed straight in as little as ten days. I'd want them not just to travel the distance, but understand its condition and report back to me with their thoughts. If the world is calm, a year might be a considerable amount of time to dedicate to you, my lords."
"And what if you never return here?" asked Norin. "Because we ain't too upset if that is what you end up doing."
"We need your help," said Elduin plainly, "and wish to make peace with you. I suggest the rest of us could stay here, while Khamûl departs, and we can become your servants by the end of this discussion."
"I would like to take Ossuri with me as a companion," Khamûl added. "He is my most trusted man, and I'd like to have him at my side."
The kings of the south looked at one another, and nodded. "This is acceptable. Go forth, human. The rest of you shall remain here with us."
"Thank you, my kings," said the istari simultaneously. "You will not regret this."
"As my first courtesy towards you," said Thraghol, "I'd like to remind you that we have not yet agreed to helping you. This next year, if it can be afforded, will be one of many trials. Your every move will be scrutinized and your every action accounted for. If we decide we cannot trust you, your heads will find themselves on pikes."
"I think we have reached an understanding," said Rómestámo, trying to end the discussion as it lay. "Direct my friends out of the mountain, and we can begin with our servitude."
Ossuri returned after fourteen days. The wizards had been stalling the dwarves for his and Khamûl's return, and were risking a swift banishment or death. One of the hasty inconsiderations made by the men was the journey to Cuiviénen. Without steeds, it took many days and nights to return. Luckily the last snow had gone for the season, having fallen during their travels southward unbeknownst, and they made good time before they found someone to ride them home at a much greater pace.
The man recounted his orders, as Khamûl sent him back to the mountains on his fastest stallion to relay the message pleading for wait. He promised ten days, but had not thought to add the time of travel to this process. Ossuri returned and explained as best he could with this description, and asked for another ten days before Khamûl would return and gave immense apologies.
Luckily for the men, the dwarves were shaping up to be a hardy and honorable folk. While they did not turn their back on their words of this agreement, they had wisened up, and were coming to accept the elves and wizards. Their work was good, as the wizards silently used a bit of magic to help the dwarves with their mining abilities. Progress was already being made much quicker, and the kings could tell. This helped them to agree to Khamûl's terms, offering him more time.
Whence he returned to Idgrec, he was able to report on what his scouts had found over the near month he was away. They all sat back at the sparkling, crystal table once more to discuss what would be happening for the rest of the year-long agreement they had. "My men have nothing to report," Khamûl started. "No disturbances were noticed and no evil forces built against us. All is quiet on our most western fronts and south." He looked at the dwarven kings, with a knowing smile before continuing.
"I must apologize, firstly, but there is good news that follows. Whilst in my absences from Minas Alu during the years of our revival, and in my aging state, I seem to have forgotten about the lands I once knew so well. Before it was Erthandor, the lands known as Palisor were aware of The Last Desert. We six discussed, briefly, the desert to the south of the Red Mountains, which you have spoken of traversing. These two are one and the same, and I apologize for forgetting this information."
"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Thraghol, plainly, but not negatively.
"That apology may not have been necessarily directed at you," said Khamûl in reply. "The Hando Manîdh will have a journey after our year of time is up, and it will be useful to them. Palisor considered the desert's edge as its own border, and we never ventured across it. When it was brought up, I had forgotten this fact, and we should like to know more about the dwarves' travels across it when the time comes."
"Well that is a year away," said Iddûn flatly, wanting to get to the better part of the conversation. "You spoke of good news following?"
"This is now directed at you," said Khamûl, that smile returning to his face. "The other bit of landscape I had forgotten to consider was our border directly south of Minas Alu. The Last Desert is more south-east than south from that city, but the true southern border is of much more interest to the dwarves." He paused a moment to build tension, and it worked as the dwarves all sat forward a bit to make sure they could understand him when he spoke. "We call it The Mountains of Wind."
The dwarves kept looking at him, hoping he would get to the point that they thought this was heading to. When he realized they'd continue waiting, he carried on. "My men have never explored that range either, and have always considered it a border of our kingdom. The strong vortexes that come off those mountains make it rather dangerous, so we always strayed away from it. Whether it is inhabited by anything at all I cannot say, but I'd like to make an independent proposition, as I have not conferred about this with the rest of my people: if there is anything there, and we are successful in our mission, we'd like to offer you our help in cleaning it out and claiming it for your houses."
The four kings all looked at one another. This was clearly good tidings, and a promise they'd make sure is kept. "I assume you wish to say that this is all only an agreement if we aid you in your cause?" asked Rafim.
"Naturally," said Khamûl. "We would fight for you if you fought for us. All we wish for is peace in this land."
"What if we refused?" asked Thraghol. The six could not tell if this was a possibility, or if it was simply a hypothetical, but it shocked them all to hear it nonetheless.
"You won't," replied Khamûl coolly and with a smirk. The dwarves were taken aback by the assumption, so he answered this as well. "The dwarves are a selfish people. Now, that is not meant as an insult; it is merely your way. You are tough, private, and greedy. It makes you formidable. But I am offering you the opportunity to have even more. You would not turn that down, would you?"
Though not meant as an insult, the dwarves seemed to take it as such. Only Iddûn seemed to understand it truly was their nature, and it truly was something they'd all want. If this was the agreement, both sides might be very happy. The dwarves all looked at one another again. They spotted these thoughts silently in Iddûn's face, and could tell that Khamûl was right. The four all nodded together, and returned their gaze to the six.
Thraghol spoke up, as the one who seemed to have the most to say against this agreement from the start. "You've now got yourselves a deal, gentlemen."