3 Cloven Crescent, Ulfhirth, Thorin's Hall Homesteads
“Far to the north, tucked in the ragged peaks of the most northerly stretch of the Blue Mountains, and overlooking the icy expanses of the Forochel bay, lies the ancient ruin of the dwarves – Kibilzahar, the Silver Hollow.
But it wasn’t always abandoned. Ages came and went, and the mists of memory might have enveloped this snow-covered fortress, but the dwarves didn’t forget. Once upon a time it was a thriving mansion – a prosperous mine and the northernmost dwelling of the children of Durin. For centuries it lay snuggled in the frozen arms of the peaks of Forochel, standing guard, its mines stretching like ant-tunnels deep into that westernmost tail of the Blue Mountains.
Silver-Hollow. Lonely and far away, it didn’t escape the sleepless gaze of evil. Soon the tunnels became the home to more than sturdy dwarves. Goblins appeared, and cave trolls of the deeps, both descended from the evil hordes of Angmar and Gundabad. These foul creatures travelled the length of the mountain ranges to the west, and soon the dwarves of Kibilzahar had to exchange their pickaxes and shovels for battleaxes and swords.
But the darkness of the deeps is an unforgiving realm. A bitter war ensued, and for thirty years, Silverhollow echoed with the sounds of battle. Veins of silver and carts of ore no longer dotted those dark tunnels – they were replaced by bones, and the musty stench of death. For thirty years goblins infested the tunnels – until they won at last. With only a handful of dwarves remaining, Kibilzahar was no longer what it was. The glint of silver and the shine of iron were gone, and only cobwebs and dust remained – Silverhollow was gone. Defeated, the dwarves fled – each one seeking his fortunes far, far from what once was their home.
And this ancient tale of struggle is where the protagonist of this story comes in – Altli the Dwarf.
He – and a handful of other dwarves, most of them descended from the lineages of the exiles from Kibilzahar, formed a small group and journeyed far to the west – across mountain tops, jagged peaks, and the dark corridors beneath them. West they travelled, with the memory of their ancestors etched in their hearts. They sought Kibilzahar, the Silverhollow of the ancient times, seeking to recover the lost home of their forefathers. And this they did.
"The Dwarves Journey to Silverhollow."
Just like the Balin’s expedition to Moria, so did these brave dwarves find their way to the icy north, setting foot into Kibilzahar after countless centuries. For a while they lived there, reclaiming the corridors from the goblins, and recovering relics and the bones of their great-grand-grand-grand-fathers, restoring the pieces of history. Ten years they dwelt in those dark tunnels, each day a struggle. The second war of Kibilzahar they called it, and a war it was indeed. Alas, a war they couldn’t win. For goblins are many and foul, and they at last expelled this dwarven expedition – Silverhollow was once again lost.
And that is the story of Altli, and all his companions – they are wanderer-dwarves, warriors and hunters – descendants of the dwarves of Kibilzahar – the home that was lost.
Seventy years passed since their doomed expedition, yet Altli hopes still. And Silverhollow haunts his dreams…”
"Kibilzahar, the Silverhollow."
A wealth of Hobbits, Dwarves, Riddlers and Marketeers, and many others to boot.
Good drinking, onions, and 12-year old onion cider.
Goblins and Globsnagas.
"By Durin's nose hairs!"
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