Chapter 14

They fled with all abandon back the way they had come: north past the Throne Room and on till they reached the corner at the end of the passage. Looking back they saw the fiery glow of the Ghatâl as it ambled along speedily in their pursuit. West, then north, and east again they fled, but when they turned into the up-sloping northern passage they saw before them a contingent of skeletons marching down to meet them. So they turned back and continued east down a long passage which yet lay unexplored. The Ghatâl had now gained on them somewhat and so they ran with renewed desperation.
      The passage went on and on, and no branching corridors did it offer for the purpose of losing their dreadful hunter. In time they came to a spiral staircase which wound down into the blackness. They flew blindly down the steps and now they were terrified indeed, for not only had they a demon from Helh following close upon their trail, but also they were running recklessly into the dark lower levels of Ilimath, where even the bravest among them would have feared to venture except with a mighty army of stout warriors.
      When they reached the bottom the passageway opened into a very large hall. In they ran along a wide path which they then saw to be a catwalk of sorts, for on either side was a drop of very many feet to unseen depths below. The path continued straight for some distance, then intersected another span orthogonally. The left way continued on through an arched portal in the south wall, and while the path itself continued straight to meet a similar portal ahead the right branch soon split transversely before exiting the hall to the north.
      This right branch the party took and then left they went upon reaching the next intersection. Now they saw that the north-west corner of this large chamber opened into an incomparably larger hall, which was truly vast indeed. Across this cavernous chamber stretched a complex network of catwalks from one side to the other, many of them passing through arched portals to leave the hall and others merely acting to connect the many paths into an intricate web.
      Down the left side of this hall the party now ran, yet the glow of the Ghatâl showed behind them whenever they dared throw a hurried glance back over their shoulders. When they had gone slightly more than halfway down the length of this immense hall they angled toward the north-west. A narrow walkway took them to a large circular platform with an intricate design set upon the stone involving a large, many-pointed star. Continuing toward the north-west they crossed several additional spans and passed through as many intersections, then angled westerly upon nearly reaching the north wall. When they arrived at the north-west corner they dashed into an unobtrusive portal on the right. The Ghatâl still followed, and though it was not quite on top of them it was matching their pace with frightening ease.
      The chamber into which they rushed had four exits, the northern one actually forming the mouth of a large Dwarven face sculpted into the bare rock. They did not go this way, however, opting instead to head west. Alatar and Raavan were as usual in the lead, but so far they had had no time to debate their route and were more or less leading the company at random.
      The passage which they followed threw narrow corridors branching off to either side. The company dove into the first corridor on the right, then turned left as soon as the opportunity presented itself. In this way they hoped to throw off their pursuer at least long enough to hurriedly discuss their alternatives and form some sort of a plan, but for the moment they dared not stop lest the demon come suddenly round the corner and devour them as it had poor Fifin. Meanwhile, they had not even time to register their sorrow at the loss of their cherished friend.
      They took the next right, but it quickly ended in rubble, so they continued west. After going some way the passage again ended at the site of a cave-in. Turning back they saw that the Ghatâl was not in sight. They took the next left and then went left again so that they were still travelling west. They went on for some way, and then rushing by a passage on their right they suddenly stopped, for at the limit of their vision they saw a staircase marching back up to the ground level. They quickly leapt up the stairs only to find after rounding a corner that the ceiling had collapsed and they could go no further.
      Rushing back down the stairs they reached the lower passage and turned again west, then looking over their shoulders they saw that the Ghatâl was again on their trail, for far down the passage behind them they could see the red glow that announced its coming. They dove into a side passage heading south. Several more turns did they make then: right, then left, then right and left again. They were careful not to double back, so that they were progressing west and south all the while, but again they hoped to lose the Ghatâl in the labyrinth of passages and so far their strategy seemed to be working.
      Another wall of rubble blocked the main passage, so they turned east. This way turned round in a semi-circle and then dead-ended in a pile of rock. Once again they back-tracked and turned east. Upon reaching an intersection they went south and followed this passage for some time. Now there were no more side branches down which to flee should the Ghatâl suddenly appear behind them, but when the passage turned sharply to the west they followed it and were somewhat comforted to see upon looking back that no sign of the fiend was evident.
      The passage began to slope downward, but still there were no other corridors branching off. Eventually it dumped them into a wide north-south tunnel with a pair of iron tracks running the length of it, presumably for some sort of cart to run upon. Burak informed them that such carts were used to carry heavy loads of rock and ore from the mines. The company arbitrarily turned south and walking along at a somewhat slower pace they saw that indeed there were mines opening in the eastern wall with some regularity.
      They walked for a very long time and still they saw no sign of their pursuer. Now they were able to catch their breath and begin to think more clearly about their situation. When finally they stopped to take some water the Elflings burst into tears and the others were close to doing so themselves, for they had all been very fond of Fifin and the pain of his loss was now able to come fully upon them for the first time since his death. Now as the numbness wore away they saw in their minds the terrible scene by the front gate of Ilimath, and all hope and all strength went out of them.
      Raavan felt especially to blame for the young Elfling’s death, for he had led the youth into that dark place and had placed him in mortal danger, yet his own abilities had not been able to protect the waif from the terrible monster.
      When they had taken some water Raavan reminded them that the Ghatâl was likely still searching for them and that they had better put some more distance between themselves and the otherworldly beast. Thus they reluctantly resumed their trek south following the iron tracks. Mines continued to bore roughly into the rock on the right while the occasional corridor led off to the left. When they had gone a very great distance down this interminable tunnel they turned off into a smaller corridor to rest, for they felt too vulnerable, or at least too visible, there in the open. Here they would force themselves to eat and make what plans they could for their escape.
      At first there was little talk, for the mood was obviously very sombre. The Elflings were especially affected by the loss of their close friend, in Dannadar’s case his own cousin, and tears were always ready to stream down whenever strength began again to ebb.
      Eventually Burak ventured a few quiet words. ‘Khazâl was indeed right about one thing: we now know that a demon haunts the deep places of Ilimath, and apparently even the not-so-deep places as well.’
      ‘Yes, it is so,’ agreed Raavan. ‘A Ghatâl from Úvani walks these very halls. It was a rumour I had hoped would turn out to be baseless, but to our everlasting woe that hope was in vain.’
      Alatar then spoke. ‘But did you not say that such a beast confined itself to the deepest and darkest holes even in such places as this, that there was little chance of our encountering the monster so long as we did not venture into the lower levels?’
      ‘It was ill luck indeed,’ agreed Burak.
      ‘It was no luck at all,’ Raavan corrected the Dwarf. ‘The beast was brought up from the deeps—lured, most probably—by another who would gain from our demise.’
      ‘Nostaite,’ suggested Alatar.
      ‘Yes,’ agreed the wizard. ‘It appears that I have underestimated his abilities considerably, or at least his propensity to cause us harm. He was ever facile with illusion. I would bet that he did no more than taunt the beast with a phantasm: a mirage conjured in the likeness of one of us. It would have been a very dangerous game to play with such a demon, but Nostaite was ever bold; even foolhardy’.
      ‘But how could Nostaite have found the beast and have drawn it up from the deeps on such short notice?’ asked Alatar. ‘It was not a matter of hours since you had spied him fleeing the Hall of Aitheangar. He had not the time to fashion such a crafty plan, let alone to execute it.’
      Raavan answered, ‘That is a good point, but I suspect that Nostaite has been slinking about this place for some time—since before we even arrived, probably. He may have been here for weeks, searching high and low for the codex. Without a Dwarf to help him seek out the secret ways of Ilimath he would have fared much worse than we at finding it. During the course of his search he may have come across the monster. When he did not find the codex he may simply have decided to hide in the shadows and wait for us to come along and find it for him.’
      ‘Which is precisely what we have done,’ said Alatar.
      ‘Yes,’ agreed Raavan. ‘And unless I am very much mistaken, he is almost certainly fleeing with it as we speak. Yet, here we sit, unable to pursue him because we have a demon from Helh hunting for us.’ The wizard rose and went to the end of the corridor where it joined the long north-south tunnel which they had just left.
      ‘Then we must escape this place,’ Alatar concluded. ‘But how? Burak, know you of any other exits besides the front gate? I fear that finding our way back to that exit-way will be impossible without retracing our steps or going through the time-consuming process of finding an alternate route, neither of which seems feasible at this juncture. The one is too dangerous and the other would take too long.’
      Burak answered, ‘There are certainly other ways out of Ilimath, but exactly where they can be found I do not know. I can say that there were reputed to have been several exits opening onto the Penyandil Pass.’
      ‘Then we should head north and east,’ said Alatar orienting himself. ‘This passage leads east, does it not?’
      ‘It does,’ confirmed Burak.
      Just at that moment Raavan stepped quickly back from the corner. ‘It comes. The demon yet hunts after us.’
       
       
      They quickly extinguished all but one of their torches and made off east down the corridor. They had no reason to believe the beast was able to track them by any means other than sight, and so it was important that they remove their glaring torchlight away from the long tunnel down which the beast now lurked.
      Soon they came to a side passage with steps leading downward and to the north, but as they had no desire to go deeper into the earth they continued straight toward the east. However, several minutes later this passage abruptly ended in a collapse, and as the passage had gone straight and produced no other branches they were forced to return hurriedly to the stairs and make their descent. As they did so Raavan sneaked once again to the corner and peering down the long tunnel saw that the Ghatâl was now considerably nearer than before, though still some distance away.
      When they reached the bottom of the stairs they found themselves in an east-west passage, which they followed eastward. When this dead-ended they back-tracked and headed north. This led them into a long chamber which was piled very high with bones. They were of course reminded of the grisly skeletons which they had only recently escaped, but as the sorcerer Nostaite was presumed to have fled Ilimath with the codex by that time they reasoned they had nothing to fear from these mortal remains.
      As they wove their way among the piles Dannadar noticed he had an itch in his left trouser pocket. Putting his hand in there he scratched away and the itch was gone. Curiously enough, Talen also felt an itch, only in his right back pocket. Glancing back he saw his dirty white handkerchief zipping out of his pocket and into the dark shadow behind a pile of rubble. He spun around in alarm to see a furry animal dashing off on two legs, followed closely by a lengthy tail.
      Seeing Talen turn, Burak turned also and caught sight of the creature as it scampered off. ‘Snarkh,’ he spat. ‘Petty thieves. They’re just pests: pay them no heed.’ When Raavan later heard of the incident he referred to the animal as a ‘Ghimal,’ though he agreed that it was no more than a pest and could be safely ignored.
      They were rather less dismissive when later they came to another chamber not unlike this one and unintentionally cornered a small, toothy creature with long claws and pointed ears. The creature had an enormous mouth for its size, and lining the jaws of that mouth were many long, pointy teeth. The beast hissed ferociously while its yellow eyes glared out at them with undisguised hatred.
      ‘That is just a Thornling,’ said Raavan, ‘—not usually much of a threat to largish groups, but potentially quite nasty when cornered. Let us back off and give him a chance to escape.’ This they did and after it ran off they heard no more from it. But the Elflings did not easily forget those teeth, and the imaginings of them sinking into their flesh kept them ever watchful of the shadows for some time afterward.
      At a four-way they decided to turn east. They followed the passage as it angled somewhat northerly and soon they came to an eight-sided chamber with passages leading off in all directions. In the centre of the room was a well, surrounded by a low, circular wall. Two rusty chains passed through a grating in the ceiling to trail down into the hole.
      When the party had come fully into the room Talen suddenly noticed a pair of eyes watching from out of the north-west passage. He immediately roused the others to take note of the watcher, but all they saw was a figure whirling round in the shadows to flee down the passage. Though some thought the figure bore resemblance to a Troell, none could be sure, and as there was nothing they could do about it anyway they continued on their way.
      Toward the east they went. Passing through another four-way they came at length to a moderate-sized hall with a low ceiling and two rows of pillars marching away toward the far end. A wide path led between the columns, and to either side of this path the stone floor was everywhere raised half a foot.
      What was most strange (and alarming) to the company was that spaced between the pillars were tall candelabra of wrought iron, very ancient in appearance, and set within each was a burning torch. The surrounds were thus fairly well lit and the company could see that this hall, unlike most of the others they had seen in this great underground kingdom, was quite empty, devoid even of the usual detritus that typically littered the floor. Someone or something was keeping the place clean.
      The company moved very cautiously toward the far end. Halfway down the hall the walls removed some distance outward to render the chamber much wider than before, a second row of pillars now marching down where the walls had previously been. When they reached the far end they saw that upon a raised dais of perhaps a foot and a half sat a large, sculpted figure on a rough-hewn throne. The figure had strongly Dwarven features, though the head was missing, having been crudely chiseled off many years ago.
      Propped against the figure’s chest was a rectangular shield bearing a sign painted in red. The sign took the form of an unsettled triangle with an eclipsed sun in the middle and surrounded by three squinting eyes around the sides of the triangle. Finally, upon the head of the stone figure had been set an ancient iron mask which was painted black. The mask was repulsive to look upon, for it was hideous in appearance. Yet, there was also something vile in its very presence that shocked and sickened the company when they approached within several feet of the artefact. Only Raavan recognised the mask, for only he among them had been present long ago when it was pulled from the lifeless form of Mythron.
      Burak looked long at the figure and at the runes which were set into the wall behind it, then declared that he now knew who the figure represented, ‘for this is the Shrine of Urraíoch, a place that figures prominently in the chronicles of Anílwalaär.’ Then casting the shield and the mask off of the figure he shouted, ‘What sacrilege is this! They profane the Great Luminary with these vile trappings.’
      Just then they heard the slap of bare feet against rock and the clank of metal. Looking back down the hall they saw tall, pale figures entering, seven or eight of them and all bearing weaponry of various sorts—swords, axes, flails, spears—and all with a fell look in their eyes as they paused for a moment to gaze contemptuously at the party.
      Though very thin and bony these were not the skeletons which the party had previously encountered, for their bones were covered with sick-looking skin like mouldy cheese stretched tightly over sinewy flesh. Their heads appeared to be little more than skulls wrapped in a layer of skin and adorned with pointy ears, and their yellow eyes glared out through narrow eye slits. Fully as tall as a man, they were garbed in filthy leather armour and they held their weapons in a manner which suggested considerable proficiency. Had they been mere skeletons instead, the party would have been better off.
      ‘Goblurs!’ exclaimed Burak.
      ‘Goblyns!’ said Raavan. ‘And Troells, too, behind them.’
      Before the company could flee out the northern or southern exits which they now eyed longingly the spawn charged. Alatar drew out his long-knife, for his sword Haranwë was no more, having been shattered by the Ghatâl. Seeing this Raavan quickly pressed Noromendor into the hands of the man and brandished his staff, which in his hands was a formidable weapon in its own right. A curious thing happened then. Along the edge of the blade a soft green glow leapt up and as the man held the ancient sword and readied himself to meet the Goblyns’ charge the glow became quite bright and shone as with an enchantment, for enchanted it was.
      The next moment they all were engaged in fierce melee with the foe. The Elflings stood back as long as they could to bombard the enemy with arrows and then drew their short-swords to engage the foe directly when they came too close. Though the larger members of the company tried to engage the Goblyns themselves and leave the Elflings to deal with the Troells, there were simply too many of them.
      Talen and Falco soon found themselves each striving with a Goblyn much larger than himself. Falco finished his Goblyn off with great difficulty and then lent a hand to Talen, who was quite overpowered by his larger opponent. Together they finally slew the tall beast and were then able to join Dannadar in dispatching the much less formidable Troells which swarmed about them.
      By this time only two Goblyns remained and Alatar was handling them without undue difficulty, for now Noromendor was seen to shine with a searing green flame all along the length of its blade, a flame which scorched the enemy with dire effect whenever the man delivered a blow to his adversary.
      Now there were only a few Troells left and these they would have cleaned up nicely except that a second contingent of Goblyns had arrived from the western passage and were now charging savagely into the fray, fifteen of them at the least.
      This was too much for the company to handle. At a word from Raavan they bolted toward the north exit. Passing through they turned to harry the enemy which now sought to pursue them. Alatar and Burak stood side-by-side in the doorway and hewed at the enemy with great efficacy, for the spawn could now approach only two at a time. Of those Goblyns who were unable to engage in the melee two began to blow on horns and the brazen sound boomed loudly through the hall and echoed repeatedly down the corridors before fading away. When several more of the Goblyns had been felled and their bodies lay before the doorway the company turned and fled north while their enemy incurred a brief delay in stumbling over their fallen number.
      Soon the passage split, sending one staircase up toward the north-east and another down toward the north-west. They took the north-east route and ascended a long flight of steps so that they were now only one level below ground. At the top of the steps the passage split again. Taking the eastern passage they flew past corridors branching alternatively on either side.
      Straight they went and then they stopped and turned when they heard the slap of feet once again behind them. The Elflings then knelt side-by-side filling the breadth of the passage and began to fire their arrows into the enemy as the creatures surmounted the top step. When again a pile of dead spawn had begun to form at the corner the company turned and resumed their flight eastward past the many corridors which opened on either side.
      Now they were running flat out, for they could hear their pursuers’ footfalls and the peal of their horns resounding again from behind. They had covered quite a distance along this straight passageway, but they were soon brought up short, for ahead they could see another party of Troells and Goblyns rushing westward to meet them. They would be hopelessly trapped between the two mobs unless they turned aside. This they did even though they were reluctant to trust to the smaller venues, for they had encountered sufficiently many collapsed tunnels by now to know that becoming cornered at a dead end was always a real possibility in that place.
      South they flew coming into a chamber littered with all manner of old tools—chisels, hammers, steel bars, and the like—but unfortunately no door. They proceeded through an exit to the south, coming then to another chamber, this one littered with dung and dead rats and offering exits in the east and west walls. This time there was a door in the north portal: a creaky old iron door, which they quickly shut and bolted from the inside. Unfortunately, there was little to prop up against the door, but as the hinges appeared to be yet solid they had hope that this would buy them some time.
      Eastward they again fled, passing into a short hallway and then into a semicircular room with a statue, which they did not pause to examine, much to Burak’s later dismay. Continuing east the party came to a long north-south passage with strangely concave walls and a narrow rut running down its length. They paused for only a moment to consider the way, but the enemy was soon in sight once again, for upon reaching the locked iron door they had simply circled round to come down the passage from the north so that the company now had to flee south.
      Once again there were many passages branching off to the left and right and though the party ran on with considerable speed they glanced with great apprehension down each of these side corridors, for the blare of the Goblyn trump continued to sound and they now knew the function of this call to be the enlistment of other spawn in the chase.
      On they ran for some distance, the greater part of a mile perhaps, yet their pursuers let not their pace flag. Several times the company had halted to turn and face their enemy, to pile their bodies high across the breadth of the passage, yet always they were forced then to resume their flight, for there were far too many of the creatures to overcome. In time they encountered yet another force of Goblyns rushing up from the south and once again the party was forced down a side branch.
      West they now flew and when they found themselves in a triangular room with two exits heading north-west they backed into the left one and let the Elflings use their bows once more to dissuade the enemy from pursuit. When the requisite pile of dead bodies had formed the company turned and hurried along the passage which now led west. They came to a small, square chamber which had much rubble piled up against the southern wall. They closed and barred the iron door to the eastern exit and piled rocks behind it.
      Fleeing westward again they came to a rectangular chamber which again had rubble piled up in the south-east corner and was equipped with iron doors on all exits. They again barred the door and piled high the rubble, and then they fled to the south, for the northern and eastern doors were sealed shut and they could find no way to open them.
      They were now come to an east-west passage, though they could see that the eastern extent was impassible due to a collapse. They went west and were soon forced to descend down many steps. Coming to a flat landing they went north, only to be turned back by another cave-in and so continued down another long flight of steps leading toward the west. Burak judged that they were now three full levels below ground and with still a long way to travel before they might find a way to exit to the Penyandil Pass.
      At the north-south passage to which they had come they turned north and then east and continued in that direction for some time, covering several miles at least and still with no sign of pursuit behind them. Their pace had slowed considerably, for they were much wearied by the exertion of both fighting and fleeing. They stopped for a brief rest, then continued east covering another five miles at least before encountering a fork in the passage.
      They took the north-east branch and went perhaps another mile before coming to a small, square chamber with a large fire pit and grill and passages leading both north and east. At first they decided to try going north for a change, but they found the northern way to have such a terribly offending smell that they doubled back and went east again. This passage curved round toward the south, throwing off a branch toward the north-east and then continuing on its way south. There it terminated in a wide, rubble-strewn chamber.
      Here they decided to stop. They closed and barred the door to the only exit and sat on fallen blocks of stone to have a meal. So weary were they that most of the company had fallen sound asleep within minutes of downing their Melimbar. They were now dangerously low on water, though their food supplies were still considerable. When they awoke Alatar gave them each a bit of root called ethras on which to chew. This would revive their strength and slake their thirst by conserving their bodies’ water.
      They had slept for some four hours with first Raavan and then Burak keeping watch, yet nothing had occurred during that time. After waking they had another small meal and then resumed their trek. North and then north-east they went, then again north. When the passage turned west they backtracked and took an eastern passage instead. The hallways were all very long in this district and this one went on for perhaps two miles before opening up on the left to reveal a stairway ascending up to the second level below ground. However, when they ascended the stairs they found that it led to a chamber completely blocked with rubble and they were forced to return to the lower level and continue their march east.
      At length they came to a very wide tunnel, a major thoroughfare by the looks of it, which extended north and south and threw off a great number of side passages, some of them rough-hewn and almost cave-like and others with expertly laid stonework. This main hallway they followed north, covering several miles without mishap. They marched steadily for several hours, keeping only one torch lit to reduce their visibility to the denizens of this dark kingdom and keeping always alert and watchful, and quiet. At length they took another rest.
      It was then that they first discussed the matter of their recent revelation: that Noromendor had revealed to them the new King of the East, and that this king was Alatar. The man humbly demurred, though there could be no doubt: the sword had chosen and his sovereignty had been declared. Quite apart from the power of the sword that he wielded the company were glad to have this benevolent and strong-willed warrior in their midst, and they wondered little at his distinction as a royal figure for they knew his mettle already.
      Ten more miles they went before resting, and again they had encountered little other than the occasional pesky Ghimal. Talen had lost two more handkerchiefs to the pests and Dannadar had lost a Melimbar cake which he kept in his pocket to nibble upon, as well as a fine little dagger that he had picked up along the way. They also caught glimpses of Thornlings fleeing down side passages as they passed, but these caused little trouble despite their dangerous appearance.
      Another rest followed by a two-mile march brought them to an intersection with another major thoroughfare running east-west. This they followed east, going for only a mile or so before deciding to take another rest. After investigating quite a number of side corridors they came at length to one which terminated in a chamber with a door. Once again they barred the door from the inside and took a rather lengthy break, this time sleeping for some six hours before resuming their trek. They ate more of the Melimbar but took very little of the water, for it was now almost gone and they knew not how long it would be before they came across a subterranean spring from which they could replenish their supply.
      When they had finished their rest Alatar administered more of the ethras root and then Raavan led the party east again. They travelled fifteen miles that day, their only encounter apart from the typical vermin being with a party of five Troells who were quickly chopped into tiny pieces by Noromendor and Tuin, with the Elflings seeing very little of the action and Raavan doing little more than herding the beasts toward Alatar and Burak with his long staff.
      They slept once again in a side chamber and then continued their journey, no longer as tired or hungry as before, but increasingly thirsty, for the water was now gone and Alatar’s special root could do only so much to reduce their bodies’ need for water.
      Five miles more they went before their thirst was finally quenched. The highway led them into a large rotunda with a beautiful marble fountain set in its midst. Fresh water spouted up and was collected in a wide, delicately sculpted pool. The rotunda itself was constructed of granite and offered passages leading in each of the cardinal directions.
      They refilled their skins and washed away the accumulated filth of several days. Much dried sweat and blood was thereby removed and they felt much fresher for it. After washing up they decided to take another short break. They sat at the edge of the pool and listened to the sweet sound of splashing water. It was one of the more pleasant experiences they had had in that dark place and they were not eager to leave the fountain behind just yet; especially so with their recent lust for water still fresh in their minds.
      ‘The Fountain of Tirindor,’ mused Burak as he squeezed the water from his beard.
      ‘Another Dwarven king?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Yes,’ said Burak, ‘one of the earliest kings in Dwarven history.’
      ‘Tell us of him,’ said Alatar, for he knew that the morale of the Elflings had run very low and he thought a tale or two might help to take their minds off of the recent loss of their cherished companion.
      ‘The legends of Tirindor are very old,’ said Burak, ‘many of them translated from ancient Mindrath into Drimordis during the Third Age and then into Drakalär during the Fifth. I am sure that many subtle changes have accumulated during the translations and over the long intervening years as they were passed on by oral tradition. Much has probably been outright fabricated as well.
      ‘Nevertheless, I can tell you what I know of his legend. Tirindor was a king, a mighty warrior, an extraordinary prospector, and even a sculptor.’
      ‘Wow,’ said Dannadar, ‘he did a lot. Was it he who sculpted this fountain?’
      ‘No,’ replied Burak. ‘The fount was built thousands of years after his death to commemorate his achievements and the magnificence of his legend. Tirindor exemplified the greatest qualities of a Dwarf: as warrior, builder, and artist. It is said that his sculptures were so realistic that on certain days of the year at midnight they would come alive and wander about the halls till morning.
      ‘One such work, that of Glafarna the eight-legged horse, was said to come suddenly to life a year and a day after it was completed, and it ran six times around the world before finally galloping on to Valinor where dwell the gods. Now Noeg rides the steed atop the storm clouds in the summer, and this is the cause of thunder. His hooves striking against the upper surface of the blackest clouds create the sparks that give rise to lightening. It is said that when Mythron caused the moon to ride in front of the sun, blackening the land at the end of the Great War, it was Glafarna that dragged the pale disk back into its normal track allowing the sun to shine once again on all the lands.
      ‘It is Tirindor we also have to thank for the discovery of meithilín ,’ continued the Dwarf.
      ‘What is meithilín?’ asked Falco.
      ‘You are wearing it,’ said Burak. ‘Meithilín is a wondrous metal which only Dwarves can work properly and it is found only in Ilimath. The corselets of mail that you wear are constructed of this lightweight stuff and their amazing strength affords you more protection than you likely realise. Tirindor it was who discovered meithilín in the deep places of Ilimath long ago and it was he who devised the process for mining the ore and properly working it. Many things were fashioned in this material. Now it is very precious, for we can no longer mine it. Yet in the Belling Hills we now have access to a more modern ore called sínitheal , which as of yet is not known to occur anywhere other than in the Hills. My own armour is made of this lightweight metal.
      ‘Anyway, many other tales are told of Tirindor’s lofty accomplishments. He is said to have befriended the Frost Giants of the north and to have subjugated the Oghors. When he would disappear for weeks at a time some said that he was conferring with Etta on matters of state, or that he was secretly wooing fair Uuma. And he is said to have lived close to two hundred years.
      ‘Of course, they also tell that during the later years he had become quite senile. One afternoon when he went prospecting alone for meithilín he is said to have become hopelessly lost in the deep tunnels beneath Ilimath.’
      ‘What happened to him?’ asked Talen.
      The Dwarf replied, ‘He was never seen again.’