Now the Elf-maiden was his happiness
And Ranger rhymed about her grace
And told her stories of treasures
Deep beneath the dragon's lair.
Till in the stillness of one dawn
Still in its mystic crown
The Elf-maiden she went down to the lair
And in the ice she's gone...
The Ranger came down to the lair
To call out to his dear
When there was no answer
He was overcome with fear...
He searched in vain for his treasure lost
And too soon the night would fall
And only his own echo
Would wail back at his call.
"Hear, o Valar, my desperate plea
To see my love beside me"
- "Aldamir" from Lays of Bard Pantlinn -
They ran as fast as ever they could. Ranger of the North, Wood Elf from Mirkwood, dwarf from Erebor and young hobbit of the green Shire. A whole regiment of snowflakes swirled toward them. The flakes skirmished along the ground, and the nearer they came the larger they grew. They walked up to the ice labyrinth through the great gate which was a knife-edged wind. They flew like the wind for three days. On the third day, they saw blue lights from afar. When they got closer, they saw it was a large, dark cave. The wind was lulled to rest, and they came on into the vast, cold, empty hall...
They could hear Orcs on the other side of the ice wall, shouting, blowing horns, cracking whips, and the cries of slaves. They heard the roars of monsters. For a moment, they all stopped. A wave of emotions swept over them. Fear and despair were among other things. They fled, luring the orcs into the dragon's cave entrance.
And the hammer of vast leathery wings drove a whelming wind down upon the team, striking them to their knees. And a huge, scaled monster slammed down among the Orcs in the courtyard before the gates, crushing them beneath its enormous bulk. Double-bitted Orcs axes leapt to creatures hands, but great claws like scimitars lashed out, riving and slashing, cleaving Orcs in twain. Warriors rushed forward shouting battle cries, but huge jaws snapped, teeth clashing and tearing, rending through flesh and armor alike. Orcs squads fell back to regroup, but a massive sinuous tail whipped about, striking, smashing, crushing.
Vethúg Wintermind had come, and he was terrible.
Then they passed through the ice gate and the stepped into dragon's lair at last. The air was stiflingly cold. They stood before the tunnel that led to the heart of the cave. The tunnel was dark and musty, they walked on for a few miles. At last ended after they had been walking deeper and deeper underground. And there, a labyrinth was there to greet them: a series of enchanted stairways leading to great halls filled with snow and treasures.
Thindaer looked with awe and anxiety at all mazes of steps. There were hundreds of them. Each tunnel looked as dark and as uninviting as the next. He had no clue which way they were supposed to go first.
With help came the gifts of the Elves. Gifts from ancient times, endowed with magic and motherly love. Aid received from Free Peoples. Wisdom of the Children of Iluvatar. Knowledge from Rakul, the dwarven sage of Erebor.
Following Linglorel's mother's instructions, Passerose gave the Ranger her magic elven rope as they entered. He fastened this to the door and let it trail behind them as they went in. Frimsi, Son of Earth, led them deeper into the tunnels.
Just as silver-haired Galdrien of Doriath predicted, Frimsi was the ‘one to guide,’ for he was a Dwarf and cannot lose his own footsteps. And that was the day that this gift of the Dwarves was needed in this quest. She gave him a small white gem that hung on a chain. Its soft glow lit their way.
The gift for Thindinaer was a cloak that Galdrien had woven herself, to hide him from the eyes of his enemies. Grey in twilight but green when moved or brown as fields or dusk-silver in the night. While could not deflect a shaft or blade, it served as camouflage against unfriendly eyes.
The golden-haired elf maiden followed his lead, clutching her gift in her hand, a small crystal phial: it glittered as she moved it, and rays of white light sprand from her hand, with such blessing as Galdrien could still to bestow is upon it. Elixir from the poppies glowing redly in the dusk, and those the Valar called fumellar, the flowers of sleep - and Lórien, Master of Visions and Dreams, used them much in his enchantments.
Then, all of a sudden, there was a bright shine of light that blinded them briefly. When their vision cleared all they saw was gold. The entire area of this hall they were now in was filled with nothing but gold coins, cups, jewelry and many other things. All made of gold. All kinds of gemstones could be found there, from emeralds to sapphires, from rubies to opals, from amethysts to topaz, and even obsidian and diamonds.
That's not what they came for, though. They had to find Aldamir, the Green Jewel, the goal of their expedition. One of them sought it in order to win the hand of his beloved. One of them sought it for love. One of them sought it out of loyalty to friends. One of them sought it to satisfy his greed.
"Just be quiet." Frimsi pleaded in a hushed shout. Every time a coin or gem was dislodged and tumbled down the cascade of treasure while creating a cacophony of unwanted noise, this was his reaction. After all, it was bad enough that they had to find Aldamir alone in a massive sea of gold and jewels, and they had to make sure that they didn't make a sound.
They searched and searched without much luck. The realization that what they so desperately sought was not here froze their hearts. When they looked up, their bodies froze and their hearts nearly stopped dead in their chests with what they saw.
Vethúg Wintermind was returning to his lair.
