Chapter 86: Entrance found!
-Hours Earlier-
The snow lay settled atop the peak of the Lonely Mountain, a natural covering indicative of the typically harsh climate of the region, exhausting to any not accustomed to it. Any adventurer daring enough to brave such conditions would likely flee in horror from the bitter cold!
The sky presented a beautiful view if only one could look up, but the harsh reality was different. The dwarves moved forward with heavy expressions; the joy of nearing their journey's end was dampened by the dreadful sight before them, and dreadful it truly was. The land, once vibrant, was now desolate, though, as Thorin and Balin had once described, it had been "green and full of life." Now, it was only a stark, charred expanse stretching into the distance. They had entered the territories of that feared dragon.
"What a miserable place," Kili muttered, his usual cheer soured by the depressing scene. "Was all of this caused by the dragon?"
"That, and more," replied Balin, who walked beside him. They had been heading westward for a few minutes, following the map to locate the hidden door. Thorin had sent others southward where the main entrance lay, but to no avail; from a distance, they could see enormous stones blocking any passage. Perhaps a giant beast could break through with ease, but they were dwarves, small, and their strength would hardly suffice to remove those immense boulders.
Their position provided a vast view of the mountain's foothills, where they could see the main gate of Erebor and a rushing river flowing peacefully. It was as though the dragon's fire had never ravaged the land; the water remained as clear as Thorin and Balin remembered it.
"What ruins are those?" Bilbo asked, his gaze fixed on the remains of a once-beautiful city. Its architecture, a collaboration between humans and dwarves, must have been a magnificent sight.
"That's the city of Dale," Balin said sadly, "or what's left of it," he concluded, his somber mood deepening. He was both saddened and angered, still remembering the lush green fields, the lively chatter that had filled the city, and the bells that marked morning, midday, and nightfall.
"Let's go up," Thorin reminded them, noting the varied expressions as they all observed the enduring destruction. Perhaps the dragon's influence or some other cause had prevented these gray lands from returning to their former glory.
After a few minutes, the expedition party climbed higher up the mountain's slope. The cold hit like a snakebite, and the icy wind sent shivers through the dwarves less tolerant of the climate. The older ones, like Thorin and Balin, carried on as though strolling through a spring meadow. But Kili, Fili, Nori, and even Bilbo, shaken by the cold, trembled with each step.
"There's too much silence here," Aldril commented, cautiously surveying the surroundings. No birds flew in the area, and no rodents scurried along the slope, a clear sign that the animals' natural instincts warned them of lingering dangers on the mountain.
"It's only natural," Thorin replied. "Animals can sense danger." He paused to look around, raising his head and scanning from side to side like a possum peeking out of its burrow. "These places are still unsafe."
"But let's waste no more time," he said, dispelling the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. "Spread out and search." They had arrived at the location marked on the map, and though he wouldn't admit it, he felt a surge of excitement. Still, he needed to remain calm.
"All right," Aldril murmured as the group dispersed along the slope, each looking for the dwarf statue that marked the hidden entrance. To many, it would simply seem like a carving on the mountainside.
Activating his hawk vision, Aldril inspected the area, finding only barren land. He recalled a certain area where the statue might be, so he continued scanning. However, despite his search, he found only rocks and scorched earth.
The dwarves had hidden the statue well, making it naturally difficult to locate. Back then, only King Thrór knew the exact directions, later passing them to Thorin's father, Thráin, who eventually entrusted the map to Gandalf, hoping it would fall into Thorin's hands. His last wish was for his son to reclaim Erebor, a dream that would have been impossible without fate's hand, which brought Thorin together with Aldril.
"Found anything?!" Nori shouted from a distance.
"Nothing yet!" replied Glóin.
"What about you, Kili?" Balin asked.
"Nothing here either," Kili responded.
"Nothing on this side either," Fili added.
One by one, the dwarves' voices echoed across the desolate mountain, aptly named "The Desolation of Smaug" by outsiders. And desolate it was, reduced to barren paths and scorched earth by the dragon's wild fire.
Aldril furrowed his brow in concentration, his intense gaze scanning the surroundings. The dwarves often joked about his fearsome expression when he was focused, those honey-colored eyes scrutinizing every inch as if he were an eagle hunting its next prey. And indeed, he found something: a hidden path that might have gone unnoticed if not for his incredible vision.
"I found something!" he shouted to alert the others. Nearby, Bilbo also noticed the path, either by luck or destiny, but since Aldril had already announced it, he refrained from shouting himself, choosing instead to quietly follow alongside the rest of the dwarves, who rushed toward Aldril's discovery.
"What did you find?" Thorin asked, his excitement evident as he quickly made his way to Aldril's side. Today was Durin's Day, so time was crucial. It was a blessing that Aldril was with them, they wouldn't waste more time than needed.
"There," Aldril pointed. "There's a path leading up the slope on that side of the mountain," he explained to the great relief of the dwarves.
"What are we waiting for, then? Let's go!" Kili cheered, grabbing his brother Fili and pulling him along. Nori joined in as well, and the younger, more energetic dwarves dashed up the trail, their small feet moving quickly. They ignored the barren landscape and the charred patches of earth, leaving behind the somber mood for a moment as joy bubbled over like a spring. Who wouldn't be thrilled? Their long journey, filled with stories and hardships, was nearing its end, and the young dwarves couldn't hide their excitement.
Even Dwalin, usually the grumpiest of the group, followed closely, along with Glóin, who, despite his age, moved with the eagerness of a young dwarf in love.
"Don't run so fast!" Balin called out, a smile lighting up his face. "Remember, we're not as young as they are," he added, making the rest of the group chuckle.
"Who are you calling old, Balin?!" Glóin snapped, only to be interrupted by an enthusiastic shout from Kili, Fili, and Nori, who cried out from the distance.
"There's a statue here!" Nori announced.
"And some stairs too!" Kili yelled.
"Uncle! Hurry up!" urged Fili.
The group quickly arrived at the statue, an imposing figure standing amidst the desolation. It was the massive form of a dwarf, his beard carved from stone, his armor finely sculpted, and in his hands, he held a war hammer. He stood like a guardian, defiant against the barren wasteland.
"Good eye, Aldril," Thorin said with a smile of joy. They had found the entrance, and with Durin's Day upon them, they had plenty of time to enter. Without delay, he began to ascend the stairs.
There was an unspoken understanding among the dwarves: "Let Thorin go first." He was, after all, the King of Erebor and rightly the first to enter.
-Inside Erebor-
Smaug lay comfortably atop a mountain of gold, his reddish scales a striking contrast against the treasure. Today had been strange; an uncomfortable feeling had kept him from sleeping well. Rising slowly, his immense, intimidating figure moved carefully, letting the gold slide down his scales like a gentle rain.
He sniffed the air, trying to sense if someone had dared to intrude into his domain, or worse, tried to steal his treasure! He would show no mercy to any who dared take even a single coin.
But the great Smaug was mistaken. His keen sense of smell detected nothing amiss; his lair was empty, with only gold to keep him company, and that was more than enough. He took a step forward, finding a spot to resume his sleep.
Crack.
As he moved, he stepped on something, a familiar, sickening crunch. Lifting his massive claw slightly, he saw the remains of a dwarf crushed beneath his foot. Seeing the skeleton brought back memories.
Before he'd sealed off his lair completely, foolish and brave dwarves had once dared to challenge him, as had humans, all of whom now lay either digested by his stomach's acid or reduced to ashes by his fire.
"Such pitiful creatures," he sneered at the pile of bones. There was pleasure in seeing the remains of his victims. This dwarf had died under his claws, and Smaug had told them before killing them, "You should feel honored to die by my hand."
He lay back down, slipping into his deep sleep once more. The uncomfortable feeling had passed, probably because he just needed a new position. He paid it no further mind.
After all, who would dare challenge him again?
***
Filthy orcs!
Ye I have seen the movie of the war of the Rohirrim and it is much better than the rings of power, no doubt I ended up in love with Hera, tremendous woman!
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