A long journey through winded roads and human countries with a few inns would have made any traveler wary of journeying through the vast expanse of Eriador. The fact that the roads took curved pathways through dense woodlands made Durin warier of the path, but that was the path he had to take to reach Lindon.
Two weeks ago, he had received an invitation, and though it had the sigil of the High King, the note had been penned by none other than the Lady Galadriel. He would recognize her penmanship anywhere. It was because of her call he had bothered to journey so far.
Loathe was he to journey through the outer lands, missing deeply the heart of the mountain and the stone that made its body. Yet, when Galadriel had called him, he had made up his mind to go, though it had indeed taken a wee bit of prodding from his wife, Disa.
As he walked the forested roads, he remembered his talk with his wife before he had begun this journey.
Disa stood in front of an arched gate that led to a mine deep below. The miners had found a new vein of gold there and wished to explore it. He had been skeptical of allowing them to dig deeper than they should. He had not allowed them to continue their exploratory operations, asking them to withhold the operations for a time. It had become the source of much discontent among his subjects as they believed the discovery of the new gold vein would help their kingdom prosper further.
"It's okay, Durin," Disa argued in favor of the miners, "the stone-singers have found no problems with the mine. The mountain supports us in this. It would be unwise not to listen to it."
He grunted. "Disa, it's not that I do not wish for this kingdom to prosper. I wish to bring it back to the glory Khazad-dum once enjoyed during the reign of my ancestor, the one kind and legendary ruler we all remember as Deathless. But the dwarves that followed his legacy left the deeper halls of this place for a reason. They wouldn't have left those caverns and mines unexplored if they hadn't a valid excuse. Even Durin the Second found it folly to explore those mines and left them undisturbed and led his subjects into the upper halls in which we reside now. Should we simply discount the warnings of our ancestors to explore the deeper halls? Because that's where that mine will lead to."
"But then do you not trust your stone-singers, Durin?" his wife asked. "Have they disappointed you ever?"
He shook his head. "Nay, they haven't, and I've the uttermost faith that they never would. But the mines might not faze them; it does make me feel uneasy. I feel there's something in those mines, far deeper than here, that's a door to some lurking darkness. I can smell it from here."
"You smell the musty rot perhaps, the stench of places not looked after, but the vein of gold cannot be ignored, Durin," Disa said. "If you let us... if you've so much faith in your stone-singers as you profess to have, then let us guide the miners explore the mines safely. If we encounter this door you mention or if we feel anything bad out there, the mountain will warn us. We'll stop the miners from digging any further then."
He frowned, still hesitant to give permission.
Disa moved forward and placed her hands on my shoulders. "Trust me, husband," she said in a tone intended to placate me. "Trust me I won't do anything that would harm Khazad-dum."
"I trust you," he sighed, "though I give permission against the warnings of my heart."
His nose wrinkled, and the smell still bothered him. He was reminded of a similar quandary when he had visited the Blue Mountains a few years ago. He had been in doubt of his path in those mines when Galadriel had advised him. "When in doubt, always follow your nose," she had said. She had been right. It had irked him then that an elf had the better wits underground than a dwarf.
But here, Disa had won the argument. If he had not acquiesced, she would resort to other methods, and those wouldn't be polite. He knew how adamant his wife could be, and no matter what his opinions were about the mine, he could trust her instincts about the mountains and that she would bring no harm to their kingdom.
"Thank you, Durin," Disa said, beaming. "I'll inform the miners of your kind decision." She turned to go but stopped again. "What have you decided on attending the elf ceremony?"
"I think I'm needed here," he grunted. "And the journey to Lindon is long. I doubt I'll survive the bloody forests."
Disa laughed. "I understand very well a dwarf's needs to be glued to the bosom of a mountain, but even we dwarves need sometimes a breath of fresh air. You haven't been outside for a long time, dear, and I think this journey and ceremony would do you good in the long run. And, also, your refusal to attend the ceremony might be construed differently. It's imperative that the relations between our two kinds be repaired. After the debacle in Doriath, many elves refuse to treat with us. And, though we Longbeards had no part in its sack, we've to do our utmost. Besides, would you disappoint our friend, Durin? Lady Galadriel so courteously requested your presence."
"Lady Galadriel courts dangers of her own if she sees fit to invite a dwarf to an elvish ceremony," Durin chortled. "She works differently, that one, a cheeky brat that rebels against the established norms."
"And, it is because of her the ties between Eregion and Khazad-dum have deepened. It is her efforts that bring a token of peace in our broken relationships. She has called you thither, husband, and despite your concerns of forested lands and tiring journeys, it is only right that you heed her call and visit this elvish ceremony. Besides, I think you must inform her about this new metal we have found."
Durin sighed. His wife was right.
The new metal was another reason to meet Galadriel. He had to inform her about this. "Fine, I'll go, but the kingdom..."
"... the kingdom will work well without you for a few days," Disa assured. "Khazad-dum won't change until you return."
Riding on the goat, his fingers moved towards the pockets and touched the piece of metal he had brought for Galadriel to inspect. He believed this metal had the potential for better elf-dwarf relations.
"Are we close, Orvi?" he asked one of the guards riding closer to him.
"Not more than a couple of leagues westward, my lord," Orvi answered, pointing at the mountains westward, their peaks shaped like tall towers. "But we have definitely passed the borders."
"And yet we haven't been challenged?" he asked, surprised at the lack of any elven interruption of their company.
"Looks like they have been informed of our arrival, lord," Orvi said.
He nodded. Perhaps Galadriel had sent word of their coming.
A lowly grunt escaped his throat. How did the she-elf know he would come?