This entry was written by Kharsi.
Orc-Watch does not wake, nor does it sleep. There are always dwarves guarding every possible path and watching the darkness below. There is always someone sitting by the campfire, sharing stories in quiet whispers. There is always a boiling cauldron hanging above the fire, and a dwarf that is tending to it. The only change here seems to be us.
We wake loudly, with no intention of hiding our presence. We feel no need to, even in this frontier. But that feels like a luxury with each passing day, with every step taken deeper. I find myself sleeping less with each passing night, and instead listening. Listening for the soft breaths of the Expedition, for the hum of the sunless caverns and mostly, for the enemy. They do not sleep either.
Our road so far has not been easy. It only promises to get harder as we press on deeper, but I believe we are ready for it. Not the mistaken sense of confidence we had before passing through gates, as my uncle and Nara would say, but one that is forged true. Forged, like a blade from the heart of fire. I believe we are ready for what lies ahead, because we survived all that came before. Isn't that what we dwarves do best, after all? No matter what calamity we face, we survive.
Despite all that we have been through, the shadow hanging over us seems to have been lifted lately. Our conversations are livelier and our spirits burn brighter. Despite the darkness, or perhaps due to it, as an elf once said.
We assembled with excitement this morning, sharpening our axes and shining our shields while eating breakfast. When everyone was ready, my uncle and I announced that we would be going south to the deepest point of Redhorn Lodes today. We had already searched other marked locations on the map and this one remained as the most promising point. The road there was uneventful, as the orcs knew to stay well out of our path by now, though riding the same goat with my uncle is not as comfortable as it once was, back when I was a wee lad of five.
When we arrived at the mouth of the tunnel, an unusual heat greeted us. Heat, accompanied by a heavy smell. It seems the insects favoured this heat and multiplied greatly near it, for the tunnel ahead was covered from top to bottom with hives and eggs of the vile Gredbyg. Large crawlers patrolled at its edge while the smaller ones were moving back and forth in whatever work insects do. There was no other road for us to take to our destination, which we now realised would be right in the middle of this hive. None of us were afraid as we marched forward, though I believe I speak for all when I say none expected any pleasure from being within this hive. None, save for one. Dzbog was thrilled. He looked out into the eggs and hard-shelled insects and saw food. Delicious, inviting food. In fact, I had call out to stop him from grabbing a few of the huge eggs as we passed through. He was, as expected, alone in this interest of his, through Rompli as always seemed like he could be convinced to try some out.
The hive was yet quiet as we travelled through it and we made short work of any bugs that stood between us and our destination. With each step, the heat grew and surrounded us further. The hives were bigger now, some the sizes of tall trees, reaching the ceiling. Near halfway through the tunnel, we saw a path to our right. It led to a building illuminated with the light of orange crystals, glowing as if fire was captured inside them. It was astonishing that even centuries and the Shadow could not dim them. The building was mostly intact, though behind the large doors we could hear the muffled noises of the Gredbyg. It made me sad to see such a beautiful hall infested with such vile creatures. We had been away from home too long.
Inside, the same crystals decorated the walls, alongside many hives. Some were curiously dried, as if they had not been tended and simply withered away. We killed all the bugs in our way who seemed way too comfortable in here. More and more of them came from places none would suspect but they were dispatched without difficulty. The deeper we walked, the dimmer the light became and soon we found ourselves in an unnaturally dark room. If it were not for the light of our torches, we would have drowned in that darkness. The beasts in this room fought fiercer than any we encountered up to that point, unrelenting even when they knew they were outmatched. When the last of the invaders fell, some light returned and revealed to us dwarven sarcophagi surrounding the whole room. Their lids had been taken off and the remains that were once inside were nowhere to be seen. Instead, pale eggs were placed inside them, coating the once intricately carven stone with goo.
Fury filled our hearts. Eyes glowing red like embers, we grabbed our torches and turned to retaliate, to cleanse. All the creatures that now dwell in Khazad-Dum were bent on insulting us and our memory. This particular one, at the very least, would not go unanswered. Some eggs burst open while defenders slithered through cracks in the walls and the ceiling, but they were dispatched with fire and steel. When the last of the eggs and the hives had turned into ashes, and the fire within us somewhat quenched, we began to look for the key we came for. We searched behind the tombs and under the hives, even behind the faded paintings of dwarves that lined the walls, to no avail. There had been only one path left to us, to walk deeper in the hall.
Walk deeper in we did. Although it was not as dark anymore, the shadow felt more alive with each step. It emanated from the final room of this ancient hall, which was likely a tavern in better days. There, the queen of the hive stood in malice, waiting for us. Her terrible body towered above us, bloated and pulsing, her mandibles sharp. In the end, our shields proved thicker and our axes sharper, for she fell without causing us any harm. The force of her weight pushed an object flying out of her mouth as it fell, directly into my head. The gooey liquid stuck to me while the object fell and clattered away. As the rest of the Expedition dispatched the remaining bugs, I ran around like a headless chicken seeking water to wash myself off, much to my uncle and Nara's surprise. When I finally calmed down, the rest were busy exploring the room, sitting on the chairs that remained intact and chatting. Dzbog was filled with hope and glee as he searched for ale that no doubt would have turned into something else entirely. No doubt he would drink it and seek more. Narali told us what the stone whispered, Rompli roared about one thing or the other and Adonneniel humoured him. The Expedition was once again back to its usual self.
Instead of joining the others, I began to search for the curious object that hit me in the 'noggin' as my uncle says. With him joining in the search, we quickly located it amid some other, rather gross things. It was the very key we had been searching for! It was lightly corroded in places and the fiery gems on the handle had been broken, but it was otherwise intact. The craftsdwarfship of our forebears was a thing of awe, indeed. With the objective of our quest found, we turned to the other matters at hand. The elf Felaforn in Rivendell, among our discussions, had requested one of the bugs of the depths, should we find any. Seeing as he had given us gifts, gifts that Frimsi had been keeping to himself in classic Frimsi fashion, and that we promised to maybe fulfil his request, I decided to catch of the little buggers alive to bring back to him. Naturally, Dzbog and Rompli were the ones to accomplish the unhappy task, all the while being too eager to eat it. Rompli was given a barrel to store it, alongside the queen's head, but as we soon learned that he placed the bug in his backpack who promptly ate all of his rations. I named him 'Rompli the Bugbearer', much to his dismay, as he preferred the name 'Bugkiller'. He had earned both names.
With every task we had planned for the day accomplished, we were more than ready to leave. It turns out, the remaining dwellers of the tunnel had other ideas. Before we even left the hall, we heard them. The ground beneath shook with thunderous footsteps and the shrill screams echoed overhead. The hive was awakened and they crawled to us for vengeance.
The road we came from was now completely overrun. Overhead, soldiers of the hive slithered from the ceiling and threatened to trap us between them and the rest of the hive. We had no choice but to take the only path available, deeper into the tunnel. With deafening screams and a dust cloud behind, we ran. With each step we took, the heat grew. We fought our enemy as we ran, but for each one slain, five more replaced it. The hives now surrounded us like one of the famed jungles of the south, the entire tunnel a sight out of this world. Eggs laid in them made them bow down like fruit trees while deeper yet smaller paths glowed with a dark light. Out of breath, out of strength, out of our minds. We had to be, I determined, to have ventured here! But we were not out of courage. With a final climb, we reached to the heart of the flames and the heat. The Flaming Deeps.
Our enemies gave up chase, their screams now becoming echoes behind us. We had a moment to catch our breath but we could not yet rest, as the voices in air spoke in the vile Black Speech. While I sat looking at my maps for a path out, Elewaru collapsed. Her breathing was yet fine and we did not see any injuries on her immediately, so we believed it to be due to the heat while my uncle and aunt Garfi loaded her up on a goat. I determined that the most straightforward way out would be to the west and once again we were on the move.
Orcs of the Flaming Deeps are a peculiar breed, perfectly suited for the caverns they now inhabit. But not intending to learn more about them this day, we pressed on westward. Our enemies tested out with the occasional troops and arrows loosed, but they did not pursue us. Good for us, for Elewaru worsened with every passing moment and the heat sapped our strength. On ledges raised high above the burning pits of tar, we found the most beautiful and sorely missed sight. Dwarves! They called their camp Crossroads of Ash, built to bring war to the orcs and other vile things lurking in the deeps. There we found little comfort for comfort was not their goal, but water and safety was all that we needed.
Adonneniel spotted elves, curiously among the dwarves. They must have come down to see the threats here vanquished, but we had little time for them. Elewaru was now unconscious, barely holding on. She could not bear staying here any longer, but if we moved her, there was no guarantee she would survive the road. This time, we looked her at more carefully and spotted the tiny but deep teeth marks on her arm, right above the armour plates. The vile Gredbyg venom was not something we were used to, but Dzbog, knowledgeable in odd things, knew what to do. He told Adonneniel to take the hive queen's head and to extract.. something.. from its mandibles. I am glad they knew what they were doing, for the cure worked and kept Elewaru alive. Wasting no time, we rode west out of the Deeps into Waterworks, where cool air and damp stone greeted us.
Rotten Cellar camp would be our home for the next while. It overlooked the entire region, which looked serene from afar. But down in the flooded depths, a number of beasts and orcs even stranger than those before made their home, though we were safe from them as the camp was heavily guarded. With water aplenty, I washed myself three times, as well as my armour. The wound in my chest was now almost a scar, but it had not yet fully healed. When I looked down to the water, the face of the dwarf greeting me was that of a stranger. He looked older, eyes keener, beard thicker. I wondered if I would still see him after leaving Khazad-Dum, or yet another face.
Back at camp, everyone enjoyed water and banter. Rompli yelled about a bookcase or two while the others teased him and Elewaru slept peacefully. Narali sat away from the others. I sat down beside her in silence, thinking about the long day we had. All of it could have been just another adventure if not for the grief that we found at each turn in these halls. But I did not want to think of these things now, for the day had been a victory and we got what we wanted. I offered the key to Narali, who inspected it closely. When she handed it back to me, it was with the sunstone I gifted her. I took only the key, for the gem was a gift and the key needed no repair.
One down, one more to go. The path ahead seemed easier now. Or so I thought, for an argument rose at camp. I only caught the tail of end of it, but it was about Frimsi's ring. Rompli spoke to defend the apparently magical ring they took from a Nameless thing, while Dzbog paced and yelled. Raised voices and arguments all blended into each other in classic dwarf fashion until an agreement to hold a council was reached. The Council of the Deeps.
We would not have slept so easily if we truly knew how deep it really went.
