Moria

Whilst she waited for the preparations for her journey Druda went in search of Bilbo Baggins, who had been living at Rivendell since his departure from the Shire. Druda had been privileged enough to meet him on several occasions in the past and he always seemed pleased to see another Hobbit and was keen for any news from The Shire. Druda found Bilbo in his usual seat overlooking the gardens. It seemed as though he had heard of her journey because he had with him a small package which her gave to Druda. Inside the package there was a richly decorated bag of burglar’s tools.

 I shudder slightly as I put my hand to the wall, leaning on it for the briefest moment. There are thick, clinging cobwebs everywhere in this part of the caves, and what little rock is free of them is often covered in lurid growths of fungus. I stand completely still, listening to the ominous sounds of movement echoing in the caves around me, taking in my surroundings. I have been here before, I am sure of that now. Despair wells up again, but I force it down, force myself to start moving once more, walking forwards in what appears to be a never-ending circle.

 We sit, crouched in the dark like mice. Waiting. By my side, the dwarves whisper to one another, talking of casual things, as if by doing so they can briefly forget what is to come. Their voices, multiplied and blurred by echoes, sound like the wind in the trees. Yet there is no wind – the air hangs as still and heavy as if it too is waiting. Somewhere ahead of us, they are moving – the occasional shout carries to us through the stillness. As the sounds grow more frequent silence takes over. The dwarves stop talking, stop moving even.

 It is dark here. Though the caves seem tall enough to encompass a world, there is no sun in this world. There are no stars. The only light comes from the flickering torches of the dwarves, the eerie glow of some strange crystal, or the fires that scorch the rocks in the depths. In the dark, terrible things lurk, and the glow of torches cannot push back the shadows entirely.

A cool breeze was blowing across the pool as Fundinul arrived at the entrance to Khazad-Dum. The gate way was open and there was a lot of activity around it. Several large carts were being unloaded of their contents and a line of Dwarves was passing the various crates and boxes between them and into the gate. Behind him more carts were arriving and either side of the convoy a line of Dwarves matched to a steady regimented pace. Each one wore a set of fine plated armour and carried a large pack on his back.