Pallando and the Lost Realm of Palisor by Ilkorindrim  

Even as Sauron hammered his final blows into the curvature of the One Ring, and Celebrimbor in Eregion at last perceived his thought, seeing he was betrayed, Glorfindel and the two Blue Wizards came to the havens in Lindon. And, while Alatar, who was called Mornihetar, wished to go with Glorfindel to aid the refugees of Eregion, Pallando, who was called Romestamo, felt the pull of the Gates of the Sun at Kalorme, and knew his doom was drawn thither.

Therefore, he called to his brother in the forecourts of Lindon, and spoke to him in the company of Gil-Galad, for in those days though Eregion was besieged it had not yet entirely fallen. And he spoke to Alatar of his heart, and his desire for the East, feeling that some purpose unlooked-for called him there.

But Gil-Galad was not pleased that the might of the Istari should be divided so soon after they had arrived. “Why then should the Lords of the West have sent us such aid, only for it to pass beyond all knowledge, to founder in the uttermost wastes? The slayer of the Balrog in Cirith Thoronath at least lends his sword in war — but what use is it to send such captains from the War of Wrath if they will not defend Eregion in its hour of need? Must the Noldor be punished for the oath of Feanor until the bitter end? For it seems that Aman’s lieutenants are less valiant than the Princes of Noldor.” For Glorfindel was already in the frontiers of Eregion with Elrond half-elven, readying the refuge that would become Imladris in later days.

Pallando responded, “Lord, I speak not from cravenness, nor does my heart shrink from battle. I was indeed standard-bearer for Orome in that War, and I stood before Thangorodrim as Earendil cast Ancalagon the Black down upon its fell towers. Yet the task to which we are called is greater even than the High King of the Noldor can foresee. Do you not know that men, beyond the elf-friends in Numenor, have become great, and spread across all the lands of Middle Earth? And do you not recall the betrayal of the Easterlings in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears? Many there are in the East who even now may fall under the sway of Sauron, as they fell under the dominion of his master who preceded him. If such strength is marshalled against Lindon as well, how can even the High Elves stand against it? Thus, say not that I abandon Eregion or Lindon: say rather that I shall guard their Eastern flank. For it is to the East I am called, and the rising Sun shall be ever before me.”

Then Alatar added, “And indeed, King Gil-Galad, I recall that when the council of the Valar arranged to send emissaries to aid your plight, Orome at first proposed that only I come hither. It was out of love for Pallando that I begged leave for him to accompany me. Manwe at first resisted, saying that two captains — myself and Glorfindel, Prince of the Noldor — were enough, but it was only at the utterance of Mandos that he relented. For Mandos said that even now the forces of Sauron were breeding un-looked for in the far corners of the Earth, and that although I may desire companionship, two may be better aid than one, whether in fellowship or in parting.”

Gil-Galad however was silent, and his look was as one whose mind is turned inwards, scrutinizing many dark and lonely thoughts. So Alatar spoke again, “Lord, fear not, for I shall remain here and give what help I can to Glorfindel, and there at least you shall have the aid of the West in Eregion.” 

Then the two were silent, as Gil-Galad was deep in brooding, and neither dared to speak rashly before a king whose realm was in such great peril. When at last he spoke his voice was strange, and there was a fell glint in his eye, and his words were not what they expected. “My heart tells me that it is not just men who await you on those hidden paths, which my kindred have not journeyed over since the starlit morning of the world, before the rising of the Sun. The East is perilous, and the nameless Evil stalked us there. I know not what fate rules you, or why you feel compelled to journey so far from the Lords who sent you. Perhaps some good I cannot see shall come of it. But, you shall need guidance, for beyond the Hithaeglir all quickly becomes waste, and the paths are fickle. I advise you to seek out Daeron of Doriath, the creator of the Cirth in the Elder Days. He can aid you on your journey.”

“But I thought Daeron was lost following the ruin of Doriath,” said Pallando, “And that he who crafted the Cirth had dwindled to but an echo of lamentation in the foothills of the Ered Luin.”

“No,” said Gil-Galad, “it is not so. For he loved Luthien, and ere the Ruin of Doriath he came over the mountains in mourning at having been sundered from her beyond the circles of the world. And he dwelled at Lake Nenuial in the company of Galadriel and Celeborn in the memory of Doriath, and although they have both passed on from there in this time of darkness, there he dwells still.

“Still more,” he continued, “They say Daeron was a companion of Elu Thingol of old from the first company in Cuivienen, although in my time I hardly spoke to him. He has kept to himself, more subdued and withdrawn than he was in the days of Melian the Maia — in this sense, he has dwindled, yes. But though Pengolodh the wise yet dwells in Lindon, he was born in Nevrast, and alone of all the Elves of my realm, Daeron will know the way to Hildorien, the birthplace of Men, which legend says is East of Cuivienen.” Then the King was silent and spoke no more. If his mind was still troubled by the siege of Eregion, he gave no sign.

But Alatar took his leave and, taking spear and staff, girt himself in a mantle of blue, and with blue gauntlets prepared a steed to travel East to assist Glorfindel with the refugees. His parting from his brother Pallando was not without sorrow, but at once both wizards saw that great need drove the other, although in the case of Pallando, he knew not what that need was, and was troubled.

Therefore, he took the advice of the King and resolved to set out for Nenuial where, against all odds, Daeron still dwelled. He left the Court at Mithlond in June of that year, when the leaves were in full noontide, and growing things hummed in the beech-woods of Lindon. But there was no fanfare at his departure — indeed, the elves of the Havens were scare aware of him, and Gil-Galad and his house were taken up with urgent matters of the defense of the realm. So it was that Pallando began his fall into obscurity, that afterwards would lead him well beyond the memory of the Eldar in story and song.

He resolved to follow the river Lhun upstream until he reached the old Dwarf road which once had run to Belegost — there he would turn East and follow the road to Nenuial. In those days Belegost had long since foundered in the War of Wrath half an age ago, but there yet remained some Dwarves who did traffic in the Blue Mountains and maintained their mines. These were scattered few and far between the remnants of the mountains Rerir and Dolmed, where the pass still ran into Forlindon, which had been of old at the borders of Thargelion and Ossiriand.

Pallando took then the humble yet loyal horse Nasmith from the stables of King Gil-Galad, saddling the horse with only a blanket after the manner of the Nandor, and unlike Alatar taking only a staff and no spear with him, for he went not into battle. And he took few provisions, trusting too that the Lhun would provide all he needed, and being of the Istari needing less food than the Children of Illuvatar. Like Alatar his mantle was blue, though he wore no gauntlets. Thus, he set out along the boundaries of the Gulf of Lun little noticed, until he came to the estuary of the river.

There the land thickened to fens and willow meads, a memory of Nan-tathren near the mouths of Sirion, but Nasmith was dismayed, and the land became impassible. So Pallando turned northwards, keeping the Ered Luin always to his left, leading the horse into the highlands of that realm, where none yet dwelled.

He slept under the stars after the manner of the Avari, and it was a fortnight before he saw another speaking soul. After many days journey next to the mountains he saw, in the North and West, wreathed in the crown of clouds which wetted its head, mount Dolmed hulking over the foothills, like a king wrapped in an enchantment of thunder. The mountain was diminished from what it had been in elder days when the fathers of the Firebeards and Broadbeams awoke there, and its pinnacle had been overthrown by the wrath of the Valar, destroying Nogrod and Belegost utterly. But if this was Dolmed in the days of its waning, how great the mountain must have been, Pallando thought, in the days when the Fathers of the Dwarves awoke! Its shadow loomed lordly above the vale to the South, commanding all within its sight. Beyond Dolmed the river Ascar still had its headwaters which flowed West to the remnants that had once been the river Gelion.

Leading Nasmith North about the foothills of Dolmed he came to the Dwarf road which foundered near the ruins of Belegost, having lost itself in scattered boulders and crags which lined the remnants of the mountains, leading, it seemed, to nowhere. But the path broke off to the South further East and, continuing through the pass which remained beyond Dolmed, coming at last to Forlindon. Here Pallando rested and made camp, before he meant to follow the road East towards lake Nenuial. He found there a stream which also ran East, opposite the Ascar, one of many nameless headwaters of the Lhun. There he refilled his water pouch, and relieved Nasmith, who was grateful

As the sun sank in the West, sending deep orange shadows across the face of Dolmed through the vale of Belegost, setting the white flowers of that valley alight so that it seemed it was peopled with fallen stars, Pallando perceived that the road was not as desolate as he had thought. For, as the shadows gathered, he saw that the boulders and crags near the ruins of Belegost were home to many lights and flickering flames, which glimmered like a host of beckoning eyes from the foothills of Dolmed.

Even as he watched he saw from afar one of the boulders which he had assumed to be impassable move as though on a great hinge, and swing to the North, revealing a gate within Dolmed behind. From it came a host of Dwarves — strange Dwarves, unlike those of Khazad-dum near Eregion — with bright red hair and beards, and helms upon their heads set with brass spikes which gleamed in the fading light, and red-gold hauberks, and red shields. There was a little less than a score of them, but they were armed with axes alike to those with which Azaghal hewed Glaurung in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Pallando watched, impassive, as they came down the road from the mountains towards where he camped near the crossroads and the stream.

At the front of the host was a Dwarf attired differently from the rest. His hauberk gleamed with a strange glow, and his shield was girt with electrum. This caught the flickering of the setting Sun as the host ran, now and then shining like in a mirror towards Pallando, as if in a signal. Thus it was that the host proclaimed itself as they came down the valley.

When they were near to Pallando they halted and the shining one said in the tongue of the Grey Elves: “Hail, Blue Traveler! Who is it who comes to the realm of the Firebeards?”

But Pallando replied, “Hail and well met, Shining-one. I am a traveler from the South, from the realm of Lindon, on an errand at the leave of the King. They call me Romestamo. But I had thought the better part of your kindred had removed yourself to dwell in the East, in Khazad-dum?”

“Some of us yet remain,” said the electrum-girt speaker. “And you will find little love for the Elves among us that do. We have not forgotten the war on account of their jewels, and although it has been since the time of the Fathers of our Fathers that Tumunzahar and Gabilgathol stood, still we hold them accountable for the destruction of our cities.”

“Surely,” said Pallando, “The blame is better held with the Dark Power? But come, even now your kindred in the Hithaeglir do great traffic with Elves of Eregion, and both are now besieged by a new Power come up from the South.”

But the dwarf shook his head. “We count those who abandoned Dolmed our betrayers — too quickly were they to forget the betrayals of the Elves and the slaying of our kindred. And though we forever send our coal to the aid of Khazad-dum, we will not aid Eregion. For coal is all that we can mine here now, in the dwindling of the years, and the memory of our two cities is bitter.” Then he fell silent.

“Tell me, then, what is your name,” said Pallando, perceiving that they did not wish to waylay him, only to understand his purpose. 

“I am called Fainn,” said the Dwarf, “Last chief of the Firebeards in Gabilgathol in these dark days. But state the nature of your errand, and what direction you shall go, and then you may pass.”

“My errand is unknown, even to myself, except that I go East,” said Pallando. “My immediate aim is to reach the lake known as Nenuial, some forty leagues from here.”

“Ah,” said Fainn, “We call that lake Zanndush. Of old we have much traffic there, when this road was bustling with much traffic East and West, but it has been long, even in this age, since the Elves dwelt there. What business should the King have with an abandoned Lake?”

“It is perhaps not abandoned,” said Pallando. “But the King has no business there. My business is my own.”

“Curioser and curioser,” said Fainn. “Now I perceive that you are not an Elvish wight, but a man, or you appear to be. Who travels from Mithlond on the Eastern side of the Ered Luin to an abandoned lake, coming with the King’s leave but not at his behest. This is a strange riddle, and one I cannot easily unravel.” The Sun sank now beneath the horizon, leaving only the torches of the Dwarves to light their congress. The company fingered their axes, gazing expectantly at their lord.

“But I see you are no brigand, for you are clad in fair raiment, and appear to bear no weapons. You are not like any man I have ever heard of, not even one of the men of Westernesse. Why do you go East?”

“Because I feel called to do so,” Pallando answered honestly, not knowing how, for one as great as him, he should give an answer so at odds with reason. “A great need has arisen in me, and I feel that the One has commanded me to come even to the Gates of the Sun at Kallorme.”

Then the company gazed on him with wonder, and they beheld at his words that a high spirit was within him, for who but an emissary of the West would invoke the name of Iluvatar in such everyday speech?  The dwarves then removed themselves a little from the crossroads and held a debate in their own tongue.

After a time they returned, with Fainn again at their head, who said, “We perceive that a high doom is upon you. Were you one of the Eldar, or even of the Edain, we would bid you be on your way and leave our lands as quickly as you have come. We know not what you are, but we perceive some of your purpose. We would have you be an emissary to our kindreds in the Red Mountains in the East. For this reason we invite you to dine in our halls tonight, so that you might take news of the Firebeards to our cousins, be they Ironfists or Stiffbeards, Blacklocks or Stonefoots. Know that there are few travelers to whom we would grant this honor.”

And Pallando bowed, stating, “Fainn Firebeard, may your halls be blessed with rivers of gold and silver.”

At this Fainn smiled and was glad, and said: “Nay, friend, electrum, for it was ever in the blending of those two metals that the light of the Firebeards was made.” And Pallando took Nasmith by the mane and, swiftly breaking his meager camp, went to join the company.

As they traveled up the winding road towards Dolmed, Fainn spoke at length of the later history of the mountain. “In the time of Tumunzahar and Gabilgathol at their greatest, Broadbeams and Firebeards dwelt together in union and harmony. But there are few Broadbeams left now. The greater part of their company went to Khazad-dum, and are joined now with the Longbeards. It is the same with most of our kindred, but more among us remained. I descend from the lord of those who refused to leave: his name was Far, son or Frar.

“In the ruin of the mountain, many of our greatest mineshafts crumbled, and of those that remained, many are perilous now to wander in, for the very ground is not stable as it once was. They say still there are gems of Mahal in these mountains, and many great ores, but those are mostly to be found in the North near Rerir. But coal, that we have much of, and tunneling deep into the mountains we can find enough to last for many ages of the Dwarf! Still, it is a sad fate for the Firebeards to come to in these Dark Years.”

Fainn seemed to accept that Pallando was some emissary, and did not ask him any more of his origin, wanting to play the generous host. He spoke of the mountain, and its spirit, and of the forefathers of the Broadbeams and Firebeards who awoke in the deep ages of the world beneath its roots. He spoke of its peril and its lordliness, and how he loved Dolmed and its crown of clouds.

The company soon came to the dead end of the road where the scattered boulders lay. A herald before them blew on a twisted silver horn three short calls. The boulder Pallando had seen from the distance swung in a great arc before them. It was several times taller than a man. Behind it was set into the rock a small gate, wide enough for two dwarves to walk through but with a single red door, tapering to a triangular arch, which swung open as they approached, in line with the boulder. The company swiftly marched through, and then both doors swung shut behind them. Thus Pallando came to the ruins of Gabilgathol, that was called Belegost among the Sindar, Turusto among the High Elves, and Mickleburg by the children of Men.

Even though it was dusk when they left the valley, Pallando’s eyes still took some time to adjust to the flickering torchlight. Gradually he beheld that they stood within a wide and simple hall, unadorned, within which were several long tables, and at one far wall to his left, a large oven, in which a fire crackled merrily. In the right corner there was a stair, which led up to a door in the far wall. A few scattered families of dwarves, men, women and children, sat at the tables, some were serving flatbread from the oven in the far wall.

“You will forgive me,” said Fainn, “if our hall is more rustic than you were expecting. This was but a storehouse of Gabilgathol in the old days. But for us, it suffices. Come, I will take you on to accommodations more fit for a guest.” With one hand he dismissed his company of dwarf warriors, and they melted into the general crowd in the mess hall, going to join their families. Some took their axes and hung them on the far wall. One took Nasmith, after getting Pallando’s assent, and led him down a passage next to the oven towards what appeared to be a stable and a menagerie — at least the smell of livestock filtered down the hall, and Pallando heard the clucking of chickens.

Fainn led Pallando to the small stair and the door in the upper right corner. They passed into a thin passage, low and dark, and Pallando stooped, until suddenly they came at once into a great cavern.

There Pallando beheld the tragedy of Belegost. For as the light of Fainn’s torch reflected off his shield, he beheld that there was a great avalanche that had come down within the cavern many centuries ago in the War, and that great boulders, several hundred times larger than Man or Elf, lay massed in an immense pile. Here and there the ruins of towers and battlements peeked sadly from above the boulders, but the greater part of the city was drowned in stone. To the left and right of the ancient avalanche rude tunnels branched off from the cavern. A few scattered bands of dwarves pushed carts loaded with black rocks in either direction down this thoroughfare. He thought then of the standard of Orome, and the consequences of the wrath of the Valar.

To the left of this pitiful sight, and directly in front of them, there was a single mansion carved into the walls of the rock. It had square black windows which stared ahead, mournful and defiant, a single ramp of stone that led to a broad door, and a flat roof. It was, presumably, all that remained of the great city.

“Come,” said Fainn. “This was once a gatehouse. The original gate was to our South, left of it, but it is gone. It is here that we who remain hold our councils and govern what is left of our realm.” And he walked ahead, up the ramp, through the single sad door. Pallando followed.

They were at once in a small room filled with smaller statues — in honor, Pallando realized, of the Fathers and Mothers of the Dwarves. He had beheld no jewels or gems among them until this point, and it seemed they reserved such things for their ancestors, for before many of the statues were left offerings of gems and silver, and here and there the green-gold of the Firebeards, their electrum.

“Welcome,” said Fainn, “To the Halls of Gabilgathol.” He went to the front of the hall and seated himself on a simple stone chair set into the wall, indicating another next to it. Pallando realized that it functioned as a throne. Indeed, he saw that all the walls of the chamber surrounding the statues of the ancestors were set with chairs built into the walls on all four sides, allowing a great company of Dwarves to sit and hold congress there.

Pallando sat in the seat next to Fainn, and beheld a stone screen set into the wall between them, so they could see and speak with each other. Fainn set the torch in a holder along the wall, and it guttered along greedily, shedding dim light on his bright red hair and beard.

“So tell me, Blue Traveler,” said Fainn. “How do you find our city?”

“It is fair indeed,” said Pallando, “And homely. Your people make good industry.”

At this Fainn laughed harshly and said, “You speak like an Elf, honeyed and sweet. But you do well not to insult the host. Our means are pathetic, a pale shadow of our forefathers. It is only our stubbornness which causes us to linger here, making what we can from the slag of our beloved mountain. But it is our home.”

“Why then should you leave?” said Pallando. “You do well to honor your ancestors. The Fathers of your clans awoke here. Not all need to pursue riches.”

“Still,” said Fainn, “As much pride as I have, I often wonder of our folly. At the least, I would like to come to at least see our kindred in Khazad-dum once, and although some of us make the journeys as traders, most never leave the shadows of the Blue Mountains. My father did not, and his father before him. Tell me,” he turned to face Pallando, his eyes bright through the screen, “have you ever been to Khazad-dum? Is it as glorious as they say?”

“I have not,” said Pallando truthfully, “for as you may have guessed I am but new to Middle Earth, and all still seems strange to me. But I will say this: Khazad-dum is under threat. I do not know if you would find much merriment there now.”

“Of this we have heard only a whisper and a rumor — some evil the Elves have conjured walks in the world again — or have such rumors deceived me?”

“No,” said Pallando, “it is not the conjuring of the Elves themselves, but of another, a servant of the Dark Lord from the First Age of the world. And the Elves were deceived.” And he told Fainn of the forging of the Rings of Power, and of the One Ring, and of the betrayal of Celebrimbor in Eregion.

At this Fainn became very incensed, and he leapt up from his seat, pacing up and down before the statues, shouting to himself in Khuzdul and gesticulating wildly. It was some time before he mastered himself, and then he turned to Pallando and said in Sindaran, “This is fell news indeed. For when Feanor wrought the silmarils, he brought doom forever on the cities of Mount Dolmed. Now you tell me that another of his house will bring such doom on Mount Barazinbar, which you call Caradhras. But ever it is with the Deep Elves: their cleverness gets the better of them. Whether it is a silmaril or a ring they forge, everything comes to ruin, and the Dwarves pay for it.” Then he paced back to his seat and threw himself upon it and was silent.  

“Yet it was not the Elven Rings which were corrupted,” said Pallando, “but the One, which Gorthaur forged in secret.”

“Still he covets them, and will lay all the world to waste to get them. It is just like the war of the Elves and the jewels. We shall have no part in it.”

“I did not say you should,” said Pallando, gently. “And that is not my task: mine lies in the East.”

“Yes,” said Fainn turning to him again. “Tell me, traveler, how do you intend to come to the Red Mountains? For as many leagues as there are between here and Khazad-dum, and the way is great, there are still more leagues from the Hithlaegir to the Red Mountains.”

“Well,” said Pallando, “I am not entirely sure. I am going to Lake Nenuial to seek one Daeron, creator of the Cirth, to ask for guidance of the lands to the East of the Sea of Helcar.”

Fainn stared at him. “Had I known you were seeking one of the House of Thingol I would never have invited you into our house! But the Cirth are a great use to us, and our lore says we learned them from Daeron before the rising of the Sun and Moon. I did not know he yet lived. Do you not know the Sea of Helcar is no more? You speak like an Elf.”

“Is it entirely gone? In my youth I traveled with Orome in the East of the World, and then it was a very wide sea,” he said, forgetting himself as he did so, and then he saw the wide eyes of the Dwarf at his words.

“I thought as much: that it was not a mortal who graced my house. But if your memory is so ancient that it is confused, let me enlighten you: no, that Sea is no more. There is only a remnant, which men now call Rhun, and it is the gateway to the Eastern portions of the world. I know little about it, save that many of our kinsmen live in the mountains far beyond its shores. How do you intend to pass the Hithlaegir, if, as you say, the world is again going to war?”

“I had not thought of it,” said Pallando.

Fainn laughed bitterly again. “For so high and wise an adventurer you do not seem to take much thought to the details! You do not even know why you are going to the East!”

“I will know,” said Pallando, “when I get there.”

Fainn put his head in his hands and groaned, and then he began to laugh again, slow, barking laughs, sounding like a wounded animal. “Wizard. You are a fool. You come here with news of war at the gates of my far kindred, and tell me you are off to find a loremaster who tradition says was long lost, for no other reason than your own whimsy, it seems.”

“Fool I may be,” said Pallando, “but do not doubt my purpose. I was sent here to offer aid to Middle Earth, and to prevent Men from being wholly taken under the influence of the New Shadow. It is in the East, not the West, that they are most vulnerable — for there is neither a Khazad-dum nor a Gil-Galad there.”

“And what of my kindred in the Red Mountains?” said Fainn. “Do they not have mansions?”

“What of them?” said Pallando. “Do they?”

Fainn was silent for a long time. Then he said, in a small, almost childish voice, “I do not know. But if you see them, will you help them too?”

“I am here,” said Pallando, “to render aid to all free peoples of Middle Earth. And this I shall do.”

Fainn was silent again for a while, and the two of them sat together, beneath the torches, whose flickering light played against the shadows of the statues. Fainn was deep in thought, as though wrestling with a great burden. Finally he said. “Khazad-dum is besieged, you say?”

“Yes,” said Pallando.

“And they are our kindred. Curse the Elves! Always forging accursed objects which Dark Lords covet, and requiring Dwarves to come to their aid.”

Pallando said nothing.

“We do not have much to send,” Fainn said at last. “We have our coal, with which we make a tidy profit. We are few in numbers, but we could send a party of warriors — not more than 200. Our coal, though, could aid in the forging of much steel. It would take some months to reach them. But we are safe here, near the borders of Lindon. If we left but a shadow of our able soldiers behind, still our lands could be defended.”

Then he was silent again for a long time.

Finally, “Wizard. You are foolish and wise at the same time. Too long have the Firebeards and Broadbeams of the Blue Mountains dwelt in bitterness at the loss of our halls. I will speak to the elders, and we will see if we can send aid to Khazad-dum. If you testify for them what you have told me, I think they will say yes to such aid. But, although I am lord here, and my duty is to my people, still I have never gone East of the Lhun, preferring instead to trade in my coal and let others do the traveling. I would journey with you for a time, before I too will go South to Khazad-dum, whether you go or no. For one I would like to be of aid to my kindred, but also I wish to see those halls for myself, before I am old. Then perhaps I could enrich our people who still remain here.”

Then he was silent again.

“You have my leave to journey with me,” said Pallando. “What can I do to aid you?”

All at once Fainn was roused from his reverie. “Speak with the elders in this very hall, when I call a council. It will take a week to send for them all — longer if we send word to our cousins at Mount Rerir — but when they are gathered it will suffice for you to say again what you told me, from that very seat there. If they give their consent, we can dispatch a force to aid our kindred — and the Elves.” The bitterness was still in his voice, but he was smiling. “I suppose it is time for us to rescue those poor fools once again. Come, it is late. Let me lead you to your quarters.”

Then he took Pallando to a door in the back of the hall, which led up another flight of stars to a long stone corridor hewed into the side of the cavern. It was evidently newer than the ancient gatehouse, and rough stone windows looked out into the chamber below. There were a number of simple, unadorned rooms, each with a low cot set on a bed cut into the rock, and a set of blankets, with a table and chair. In one of these Fainn led Pallando, and bowed to him. He apologized for the provisions, which Pallando denied, and offered him dinner, which Pallando accepted. Then, after a light repast of bread, chickpeas and water, Pallando laid down on the cot and fell into a deep and restful sleep. As he dreamed, his mind seemed to twist about the remnants of the towers rearing their heads from the avalanche of Belegost, and he thought he saw the standard of Orome flying from the battlements.

It was two weeks before the council could be called, and some of the elders of the Dwarves did come from as far North as Mount Rerir. Not all the elders were whitebeards: some were quite young, and had come into their station by inheritance, still others by election or based on merit. Some were women and some were men but, as is the way of that people, all were bearded, since there were no children among them. They came until the crowd in the antechamber of Belegost with its tables and oven was swelled at mealtimes, and there was a great tumult of the families and beasts in those chambers. At length the council was called, and torches were set into the pillars, and wine was brought, and music — slow, sad music, like an endless dirge, relating the history of the two cities in the Elder Days — and then the council was begun.

When all were seated the hall was filled, and Pallando saw that each dwarf sat behind a statue of an ancestor in the gatehouse, as if they were representing them. As the council drew on it seemed to Pallando that they were indeed speaking for them, and he felt a great weight, as though a host of the dead was pressing down on the outside walls of the chambers, and the ancestors of the dwarves sought to speak through their emissaries and also be heard at the council. The torches flickered amid the crossing shadows, and then it seemed that it was the statues that were alive and speaking, and the dwarves on the chairs behind them that were still and mute.

But the council did not last long. As Fainn predicted, when Pallando rose to speak — one of the seats for guests, he realized, that did not have an ancestor to represent — all hearkened at once to his words, and he spoke briefly, of the peril of Khazad-dum, and Eregion. Then Fainn rose and quickly spoke his words concerning the folly of the Elves, but the need to help them even in their folly. To Pallando’s surprise, no one objected and everyone assented. He had expected the famous stubbornness of the Dwarves to manifest in a long airing of grievances, but whether it was the urgency of the cause, or the fact the people of Khazad-dum were bound up in it, or the great respect to which the elders held Fainn, the vote was unanimous to muster and dispatch a force.

However the council wanted Fainn to lead the force, and they were loath to have him take a detour from their journey to travel with Pallando. Thus, after a brief debate a compromise was reached. Since Lake Nenuial was on the Dwarf Road anyways, it was no great loss if the company traveled with Pallando there, and if they tarried for a few days, it would improve morale. But Pallando would only continue to accompany them if his path took him to Khazad-dum as well, contingent on the words of Daeron — whom, although he was a Grey Elf, all the dwarves present seemed to respect a great deal, and some of the older among them seemed aware that he dwelt still at Lake Nenuial.

The council had more to say to Pallando concerning the Red Mountains, and here he felt rather than saw the ancestors at work again. Up rose a woman named Alviss who was the representative of Azaghâl himself, and she said, “Long have we been sundered from our kindred in the East, but before all was marred, the Red and Blue mountains joined together at the Roof of the World. We would have you see that our kindred too do not fall under the Shadow, and bid you to bring them word of our kingdoms, and remind them that we love them.” Then they gave Pallando mighty gifts to convey to them, including an axe inlaid with electrum, and a shield with the emblems of Tumunzahar and Gabilgathol both, and a small casket filled with gems. These Pallando placed in a bundle formed from the blankets with which he mounted Nasmith.

Then, following the council, with little ceremony, the circle was broken and the voices of the ancestors returned to the land of the dead. The torches were snuffed out, and the company returned to their beds.      

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It was two more days to muster the company of Dwarves in the end, but then they set out. A great number of Dwarves from the countryside, almost a thousand, watched them go, and many brought gifts of food and provisions for the travelers on their journeys, as well as old weapons. Unlike the swiftness of the council, these gifts had to be accepted with ceremony, and thus it was almost midday when the small army of Dwarves finally left, coming down from the mountain to the crossroads, while the children walked with them, playing in the rocks beside the road. Then they passed beyond their kindred and set out on the ancient road going East. 

Before them the great valley of Lhun opened, falling slowly over the downs until it came to the river, which they could but dimly perceive as a murmur of a line in the land far off. But then the land rose again, up to the Emyn Uial, which rolled blue and purple away in the distance, and the lake was hidden within them. The Road stretched out before them. 

If the Dwarves were bemused to have a Wizard in their company they gave no sign of it, and treated him like any other soldier, despite his blue habit, and lack of weapons. Although none had spoken of it, all seemed aware that he was not entirely the old man he appeared to be, and they gave great respect to him. The days were bright and happy, and they were in high spirits. The realm of Gil-galad was still near, and it had been many centuries since evil had dwelled in the North. Thus they had no fear of enemies, although a nameless dread sometimes crept up on them, when they remembered the peril from the South. Still, no such evil had yet come to the valley of the Lhun! 

It was nearly a week when they came to the river, being six nights since they set out from Dolmed. There they found the bridge, being built in the fashion of the Dwarves in the elder years before the rising of the Moon. All one, great smooth piece of stone it was, rising in an arch that pinched in a sloped triangle, before plunging down to reach the other side of the river. So steep it was that into its path were cut shallow shelves of stone that served as stairs for the travelers, who climbed slowly up to reach its great summit, easily a quarter of the height of Mount Dolmed itself. How the ancestors of the Dwarves had built this bridge none now could say — some speculated they had a stonecraft that could work molten rock itself, but it was lost. From the summit of the great arch of the bridge the host looked out and beheld the Lhun falling to meet the gulf beneath them. From afar they could see Dolmed on the right, still wreathed in his clouds, and on the left, just a bit below the elevation of the Emyn Uial, they could see the headwaters of Nenduin, which ran down from the hills into the Lhun many leagues below them.  This climbed steeply up into the hills, but closer to them they could see its fords near the foothills of Uial. There the river ran shallow and flat for nearly a league, but there it was very wide, and it was filled with smooth round stones. Before them, at the edge of the valley, dimly, the towers of Mithlond could be seen. 

“How great indeed,” said Fainn, “were the Mothers and Fathers of the Dwarves, who raised this mountain about the river!” Then they went down the other side, slowly stepping from shelf to shelf. 

They came now to the green vale before Emyn Uial and it was a wide and fair country, filled with pines and tall grasses which rose in the hills between the Lhun and the Nenduin, and it was unpeopled. They spent three days there, hunting the game that ran between the tall trees, and eating the berries that grew scattered throughout the hills. They were so enamored with this land that they tarried there too long, and then disaster struck. A storm came out of the hills, and it did not cease, day or night. They were drenched, miserable and cold, and they were unable to cure or dry most of the game they had caught. Worse, when they came to the river, they found that the previously shallow ford was now in flood, and therefore impassable without boats — and out of the question for a horse like Nasmith. 

After more than a day of rain Pallando suggested leaving the road and traveling Northeast, skirting around the headwaters of the Nenduin and coming to Lake Nenduial from the North. It would mean reaching the Emyn Uial off road, which would be difficult, but would only add a few days to their journey, by Pallando’s count, as it would bring them closer to the North of the Lake anyways. Miserable and dejected, Fainn and the company agreed. The country was wide enough that they could make their way upstream with little trouble, but the turf, before beautiful with tall grasses, now turned to mud beneath their feet, and made every step torturous. 

The rain continued for two more days. When it finished, the Nenduial was still a raging torrent to their right, although they were close to its headwaters, or so Fainn judged from what he remembered from the bridge, and they were almost in the Emyn Uial. They came up finally through a shallow valley between two great downs on the third day after they left the ford. The Sun was rising before them, and as steam rose from the grasses they began to have a concept of warmth and dryness again. Against the sun they climbed slowly into the hills which had seemed purple at a distance but now were green and fair. Then they were in the North Downs.

It was in the evening of that day that they finally saw the Lake, although it was still more than a day’s journey away. It glittered, blue and emerald beneath them, although around it the tops of the hills were bare and covered with jagged grey stones which tumbled down to the heath around the lake. The purple flowers of the heather was in bloom, and the hills were dotted with juniper bushes also in flower, so the purple and yellow mingled on the heath, in spite of the foreboding hills. On the East the land gave way, and the Baranduin flowed down from the lake into the distant country to the East and South.

“We made good time,” said Fainn, coming up beside Pallando. “Our detour at the ford only cost us an extra day, I think. We should be back to the road in no time.”

“I wonder,” said Pallando, “where I shall find our loremaster. Tell me Fainn, do you know where the elves Galadriel and Celeborn made their dwellings on this lake?”

Fainn shook his head. “I know not, nor do I know those names other than that I know elves once dwelled here, but that was in the time of my great-grandfather, and is but a memory. But I do know that kindred ever looks towards the West, as it is in Lindon — few of them live on our side of the valley, desiring always to look West towards the Sun as it sets in the Sea. Therefore, I imagine they settled on the East side of the Lake.”

Two days later they came down to the North point of Lake Nenuial, where it came together in a small and narrow port. While it was not a wide Lake it was long, and one could not see its far shore from the North, seeing only the hills as they came down to the shore and then widened. The Lake began, snake-like, and then opened out into what seemed to be a vast, freshwater sea. Its blue-green waters gave off an eerie glow. There was no sign of any habitation.

But here they found the road again, which went just North above the Lake before continuing East. It ran parallel to the Baranduin, and then continued North over the downs, making for Mount Gundabad. “For of old,” said Fainn, “the Dwarves would gather there in the greatest council of them all, at the place where Durin the Deathless first arose.”

Unfortunately that was not the route the company purposed to take now, as Khazad-dum lay in the South. Thus, there was already some question for whether they should follow the road, and for how long. At the council they had agreed to make camp at the lake, and as Pallando had business here anyways, they decided to make for the Eastern shore and establish themselves there while they decided which was the best road to take. During this time Pallando would seek out any sign of Daeron, to get his counsel on the journey to the East.

By nightfall on the 13^th day since they had set out from the ruins of Belegost, the company came out of the Emyn Uial to the eastern shores of lake Nenuial. A flat plain, scattered with copses of trees, greeted them. To the West the lake itself, wide and vast, opened its sea-green shores before the smatterings of yellow and purple on the hills across the far shore. Out of the lake flowed the river. They camped by its shore. 

The next morning, Pallando arose with the dawn to find all the land about the lake filled with mist. He stepped forth from his camp beneath one of the tall beeches on the plain, and began to walk lightly in the tall grasses, seeking to come near to the Lake. But the mists blocked the view of the far shore, and even of the near shore beyond the middle distance, and he could not easily see where any Elven dwelling might be. So he began to wander along the shoreline, seeking for some sign of habitation.

Now it had been several centuries in the years of men since Galadriel and Celeborn had dwelled on that lake. Still, the Elves do not build their realms lightly, and they tend to last, even long after their masters have walked away. So Pallando walked to the South and North along the Lake, seeking any sign of habitation — any tower of the High Elves in Lindon, or tree-dwelling of the Grey or Green Elves. Yet there was none. And when he had spent several hours walking, and the Sun had risen and the mist had cleared, he saw with a keen eye the far side of the Lake, and beheld nothing there either. Then he began to despar, thinking the realm was well-hidden, and that the King must have been mistaken, and it was abandoned. He retraced his steps and came back to the river and, dejected, began to walk back towards the camp of the Dwarves. 

Along the way he followed the river Baranduin, which came down out of the Lake with many rapids, and swiftly, and all at once gave way to falls. Pallando was reminded of the legendary Gates of Sirion in the world of old, and then he thought at once of Nargothrond, the hidden realm of Finrod Felagund. 

All at once he beheld where the realm must be, for even as Galadriel had been brother to the most noble Finrod, she would perhaps have built her dwelling on Nenuial in the same manner in honor of her sibling. He began to search then, behind the falls, for a secret door. This did not avail him: the walls behind each waterfall were stout, simple, unadorned stone. 

He came then to a fall which plunged suddenly over a rim of cliffs into a circular basin which was deeper than the rest of the river which continued. Here, then, he thought was an abnormality, but if it was a gate it required him to get wet. He hung his blue habit on the branches of the nearest tree and, stripping down as much as he was able, threw himself down into the kettle beneath the waterfall and dove under. 

It was deep and cold, and the current pulled him down. He realized at once that he may have made a fatal error, and that the cauldron could conceal rapids that might take him to his death. He swam down. The walls at the side of the stone cauldron were smooth, and the rock was a grey-green that faded at times to black. He felt with his fingers and found a hole that had clearly been bored into the side by hammer and chisel. Running swiftly out of air, he pulled himself into it, fumbling his way down the passage until, straining for breath, he came up within a subterranean chamber. 

Here was indeed a cave in the image of Menegroth. Its columns rose in the shapes of branching trees, and its stone lattice-work was carved in the image of buckthorn. Pallando rose out of the circular pool clad only in his white undergarments, and gazed upon the remnants of what had been a fair hall with many pillars, leading to a further gate beyond set into the far wall. The gate was adorned with images of ivy, and it was slightly ajar. Passages lead away on the right and left to either side. 

Blessing his good luck in finding the passage, but regretting the absence of his staff, Pallando decided to chance the main entrance to the halls of Nenuiel, seeing as it was open. He was unsure whether this was a sign of habitation or abandonment. 

Behind the door he found himself facing three halls, of which the one before him opened out into yet another forecourt with columns. This, at the end, had two thrones set on either side, presumably for the Lord and Lady. He stepped forward into the hall, beholding as he did so images of Finrod Felagund and Turgon of Nevrast flanking him on either side. Yet there was no sign that any yet dwelled in these caves.

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