The Dwarf didn't bother waiting for a reply. "A certain carpenter –"
"Of Tarnost," Earring interjected.
"- dreamt one night that he was standing on the Bridge of Osgiliath –"
"- the old capital of Gondor."
I found myself darting glances between the two Dwarves as together they told their tale.
Aglahad frowned. "I know where –"
Ringlets ignored him. "And while standing there he heard joyful news."
"When he awoke, he could not remember what the news was but the next night he had the same dream."
"The bridge, Osgiliath, joyful news."
"And again, he awoke to find that he could not remember what this news was."
"This happened night after night –"
"- for seven nights in all."
"And so, he resolved to walk to Osgiliath –"
"- for he had no horse –"
"- and to seek out this good news. He stood in the middle of the bridge for two, three days but no one approached him. On the fourth day a shopkeeper –"
"- for there were many shops and houses on the bridge in those days –"
"- came to the carpenter."
"'I have noted you,' says the shopkeeper, 'standing here these past three days, neither selling nor begging, and I must know.'"
At this point Earring drained his tankard then rose and walked across to the counter.
"'What brings you to this place?'" Ringlets continued. "'I will be honest with you, sir. I am but a carpenter from a small village far from here. But I had a dream that I was standing here on this bridge when great, joyous news was related to me.' At this, the shopkeeper laughed heartily. 'What kind of a fool are you to make such a long journey on such a fragile idea? I had a similar dream to yours last night. I dreamt that I was in a village I had never heard of called Tarnost. And there I was, in the garden behind a merchant's house, under a great oak tree. And there I was, digging a deep hole in search of a hoard of silver and gold.'"
Earring had returned from the counter and was setting the tankards down on the table and, sitting down on his stool, took up the tale. "'Now think you,' says the shopkeeper, 'Am I such a fool as to take a long journey to who-knows-where upon the premise of a dream? If I were you, I would forget such notions and go back to your home.' And with that, the carpenter thanked the shopkeeper for his advice and made haste back to Tarnost."
Earring took a long draft of his ale then wiped the suds from his moustache. Ringlets puffed his pipe.
"And?" Aglahad said.
"And what?" said Ringlets.
"And did he find the treasure?"
"What do you think, laddie?"
Ringlets thumped the table and bellowed with laughter. His companion chuckled softly before swigging his ale.
"I am Lóni," said Earring, holding out his huge hand. My fingers were crushed as I introduced myself.
"And this," Lóni said, "if you might not have already guessed, is my brother."
"Lofar." He held up his tankard for a moment, grinning, then took a draught.
"We are journeying to Ered Luin in search of work," Lofar said. "More of our kind are settling in Thorin's Halls and there is need for masons and smiths such as us."
"We are bound for Lindon," I said. "To see my kin."
"And you, laddie?"
"Call me Eärnil" said Aglahad. I gave him a sideways glance. "We are travelling companions."
"Oh? I am told that no Men venture to Lindon these days."
"I am Siriondil's ward. He is my teacher. I have an interest in the lore of the Havens."
"I marked you as a Man of noble birth when I first saw you, did I not, Lofar?"
"You did, Lóni."
"Are not all Men of Dol Amroth of noble birth?" I smiled. "As all Dwarves of Erebor are of noble birth?"
Lofar again threw his head back and brought his fist down on the table. The drinks sloshed and I picked up my goblet. It wasn't that funny.
"Have you ever been beyond the Lhûn?" Aglahad said.
"What business do Dwarves have crossing the Lhûn?"
"Come, Lóni. We know of the great Dwarven cities of old. I should think that an enterprising Dwarf, an adventurous sort, might want to seek out Belegost."
The brothers frowned and looked sidelong at each other.
"Why would we want to do that?" Lóni said.
Lofar spoke through a cloud of blue smoke. "Dwarves do not go to the ruins of the Old Cities."
"Nogrod is but a pile of rubble," his brother explained. "And Belegost is -"
Lofar frowned. "- a dead city. Haunted by the ghosts of our ancient kin."
"And our ancient foes."
"A dragon guards the old hoard."
"That is a legend of the Elder Days," I said. "No one in Lindon has ever seen a dragon over the Blue Mountains."
"Perhaps," said Lofar. "And perhaps worse terrors than orcs feed the dragon so that it has no need to venture forth."
"Worse than orcs?" Aglahad wondered.
"And then there are the ruins themselves. Belegost did not survive the War of Wrath unscathed."
"You seem to know much of a City where you have never ventured." Aglahad said.
"Only what the survivors passed down to us," Lofar said. "Rumours."
Lóni folded his arms and leaned on the table. "That is why you will need guidance," he murmured.
"Guidance?" I said, feigning confusion. "You must be mistaken."
"We have no intention of going to Belegost," Aglahad said unconvincingly.
"Come," Lofar said. "A young man of means such as you? An adventurous sort."
Lóni turned to me. "And his esteemed companion will vouch for him once he reaches Lindon. A learned Elf such as you must have heard of a certain map."
I took a moment to ponder what I might say next. "Grithur's Map? I have heard of it."
"A map?" Aglahad said.
"It is said that three copies were made," I explained. "The original was lost."
"They were entrusted to the Lords of Khazad-dûm," Lóni said. "Thorin and Thrain rescued their copies from the Sack of Erebor."
"And I hear both are guarded jealously by their owners," I said.
"And this map shows the whereabouts of the Old Cities?"
Lofar scratched his beard. "Not the whereabouts, young Eärnil."
"A plan of Belegost itself," Lóni said.
"The Old Cities are easily found," I said, "if one knows which pass to take."
"And you, Siriondil should know Mount Dolmed by sight?"
Lóni shrugged as I remained silent.
"That is the mountain that rears above the Cities," Aglahad said.
I nodded. "The Pass of Hadhod-dîn runs past the foot of Dolmed herself."
"Find the Pass," Lofar said, "and you find Belegost."
"All this sounds a lot like your tale of the Carpenter of Tarnost."
"And what lesson, young Eärnil, did you learn from our tale?"
"That you should sit at home and make footstools?"
"Or that you should take heed of your dreams?"
"You should join us," Aglahad blurted, then bowed his head.
Lofar threw his head back and sprayed beer across the table.
"Two Dwarves of your skill and knowledge," I conceded. "We would do well to have you as our companions."
"What say you?" the boy said, slapping his hand down on Lofar's huge shoulder.
"Have you not heard us? We have no desire to enter Belegost."
"But think of the riches to be found," said Aglahad.
"There are easier ways of coming by riches," Lóni said. "But we can help you in other ways."
I knocked back the last of my wine. The table was full of the Dwarves' empty tankards. "I suppose you know the location of the third copy of Grithur's Map."
"That we do," Lóni said, wiping suds from his moustache.
"And I suppose you will tell us this location. For a price."
Lofar grinned. He turned to Lóni and slapped him on the back. "Another round, brother. We have much to discuss."
I should have known then what the twins' intentions were. I knew that the third copy of the map had been given to Grór, who, it was said, took it with him when he founded his realm in the Iron Hills. If the Dwarves didn't want us to ride three hundred leagues to get it, I was willing to settle down to listen to what they had to say.