Sorontar

Daeruth and Sorontar were studying in the secret library, the mountain seemed unquiet as a far rumbling could be randomly heard all the time they were pulling books from their places looking at the titles or first pages and either setting aside for further inspection or replacing if the book proved unhelpful, moving onto the next bookcase Daeruth began pulling books again while Sorontar perused any that she set on the desk that he should delve into, anything mentioning gems, the odd khuzdul language or a cradle was 

Given carte blanche by the representatives of Blue Mountains Regiment to wander the halls at will, Daeruth decides to actually do her job and find some references to the riddle of the chest, naturally after restocking her keg of Longbeard brandy, a word here, a deed there, and all would soon be as it should, Daeruth had never travelled to this hall before though it looked vaugely familiar in parts, could it be built on the ruins of Belegost? if so, all the tunnels and mines around could hold the treasure they were seeking, concentrate...

Rain slowly, gently falling onto the rooftop. Drip, drip, drip... the window was kept wide open in the hopes of at least a slight breeze, but there would be no wind in sight on this hot summers eve. It was dark already, as if someone had put a warm, wet blanket all over Imladris. From the window, one could see some lanterns still lit along the paths up to the Last Homely House. She would note guests coming and going long into the night. Some of the kin were most likely gathered in the Hall of Fire again, enjoying light music and good wine. Like most nights, those delights were denied her.

Knock, knock, knock. The tough wooden door made a ringing sound in the otherwise bare stone tower. It smelled like dust, as if very few would visit this part of the Pillar hall. It would be a correct assumption, of course. Hardly anyone would be let in to see the swallows, owls or hawks kept within, but its very dedicated keeper. Which seemed to not be in at the moment.

A clean cloth. Or what used to be a clean cloth. It was now covered with dust. The whole room smelled like distant memories, as if someone had not occupied the space for a long time. And it was true. It had stood empty for a while now.

She had taken it upon herself to clean it, as it felt like desecration of a holy place to let someone else in. She knew it was folly, of course. The lady Danel had left for the Havens, and would not return. But the idea that she might one day reappear kept Tingruviel busy tidying the space.

Tingruviel turned the document over and stared at the blank page. As she faced the front again, her expression turned rather sour. An artifact lost to the city of Gondolin, supposedly in the hands of... dwarrow. How could that be? And more to the point, where was it now? In some cave, supposedly. The scout had reported guards at the gate, a multitude of them. Enough that he would not be able to pass through without notice. She frowned, it would have been so easy to just slip inside and take it, if it were not for... No. They had to do it in a different manner.