The ramp twisted up through the Seventh Deep. Behind me, I could hear Aglahad's breathless sobs. But this was no time to grieve. An oppressive feeling took me, a sense that we were in the midst of a vast space. The sounds we made were muted. The ramp was surrounded by immense square columns, many yards wide and towering up to the unseen ceiling. We ran upwards, round and round without rest.
"This must be higher than all the other Deeps put together," Lofar puffed.
"And still no sign of the top," I said.
"Might we rest for a moment?" Aglahad cried. He was lagging behind and we stopped and waited for him. I looked over a wide balustrade into utter blackness. The Dwarf rested his forehead against the stone. He held the lamp crystal limply at his hip. Aglahad staggered up towards us, his hand covering his face. He took his glove off and wiped an eye with the ball of his thumb.
"We could do nothing for her, Aglahad," Lofar said softly after he'd caught most of his breath. He was now standing upright and tucking his axe into his belt.
I looked at the boy but he couldn't look at us. He merely nodded and gazed out into the darkness.
"Come," I said at last. "It cannot be much further to the top."
We set off at a stride. The oppressive feeling altered somewhat, as though the noise of our passing were echoing back to us from above. Aglahad paused and craned his neck up.
"The ceiling."
Sure enough, the immense columns met the cavern roof and now we were climbing up through the living rock. Our footsteps echoed all around us as we went.
The ramp at last issued onto a wide square. Behind us, the large housing of the ramp-well stood as stout and sturdy as a strongbox. Beyond lay the ruined houses we had seen when we first stood at the parapet on the concourse. From our new vantage point, the cavern seemed much bigger. The blue-green light from the glow-moss defined the immense space above and around us, and it felt as though the very mountain was pressing down on us. Alarmingly, blue lamplight pulsed in some of the windows far above.
"We must keep moving," Aglahad said. "Where now, Siri?"
"Westward," I said. Lofar was already holding up his north-shard. He pointed beyond the ramp-head towards the wall of the cavern.
We found a road that led along the river, where the houses were not as close together. As we ran, more of the earwig things scurried out from behind houses and from black doorways. They seemed curious about and terrified of Aglahad's light in equal measure. They did not come within a half-dozen yards of the road and we remained untroubled until we found the western wall.
Here, far beneath the point where we had first looked out upon the cavern, the river ran under a twisted bronze grille. We ran towards one of two archways on either side of the river and up another ramp that curved gently round and up to the left. We passed a landing that led off to unknown halls and chambers as we followed the ramp up to the Fourth Deep.
"Hold," I hissed as we ran onto the next landing. The map shows the Hall of Lords here, to the north."
"Where all the lights are being lit," Aglahad said.
Lofar pulled his axe from his belt. "Then we'd better be ready. Here," he said, thrusting the lamp-shard at me. "I think this might be a better weapon than your knife against these abominations."
I took the crystal gratefully and drew my knife anyway. Leading the way, I walked along a concourse overlooking the cavern, passing small halls and chambers and stores. The concourse dog-legged to the right and ended in a high archway. There was a pale light beyond.
"This has the feel of sunlight," Lofar noted.
We stepped through the archway then between what turned out to be two massive pedestals and onto a dark stone floor. We lowered our weapons as we stared along the Hall of Lords.
Gostir's remains lay in the middle of the floor on a huge mound of weapons. The bones of one of her great wings covered the huge, horned skull while her tail bones snaked alongside her.
We walked down three shallow steps, turning and gawping at the spectacle around us. Eighteen monoliths, each a hundred feet and more in height, stood in two rows, diagonally opposite each other. Each of the Lords of Belegost, stern yet noble, carved out of the living rock. In their massive hands they held aloft mighty axes, each of whose heads met with three others at a huge boss illuminated by hidden celairivyr. Behind the Lords, small apertures beamed sunlight through light wells onto dissipating mirrors. The Hall was flooded with pale light, filtered through unnumbered motes of dust.
The floor here was pooled with an inch of water and we made little splishing sounds as we stepped reverently beneath the Lords.
But Lofar was more interested in the dragon. "Looks like she died in her sleep," he whispered.
We climbed the gentle slope of Gostir's strange hoard, often sliding on the blades underfoot. From our new viewpoint, I looked further along the Hall at one of the mighty heads, the only one that had succumbed to the tumults of the past.
Beyond, a soft green light issued from an archway. And now, the sound of a crying child drifted into the Hall. I couldn't tell whether the sound was from one end of the Hall or the other, or from the dark ceiling far above us.
For some reason, instead of the prevalent scent of ancient earth and decay, here I could smell the freshness of pine needles.
"We must be near the surface," Aglahad conjectured but I thought that even if that were the case we must surely be far above the treeline.
We slid down the far side of the bed of arms and past the great Lords, glancing up at their grim faces. Each stood on a massive granite pedestal with an inscription of the Lord's name carved in runes along the bottom. I eagerly reached inside my pack for notebook.
"Siri, what are you doing?" Aglahad hissed.
"Most of the names of the Lords of Belegost have been forgotten. I fear that this will be the only opportunity I will have of making a note of them."
We walked through the archway and followed the dim, green light towards a small chamber on the left. Here, two oak doors stood ajar and beyond, a calarivor hung low from the high ceiling. A small table stood in the midst of the chamber and upon it lay three blades and the stolen Elendil Stone. When we were all inside the chamber, I pushed the doors to.
The swords were sheathed in intricately carved ivory scabbards and had silver cross-guards studded with tiny gems. Aglahad picked the greater one up and half-drew it. I took up the other, a backsword with a curved blade and an oaken grip. It wasn't until I had fully drawn it that the inscription near the tip of the blade was revealed. I held it to the light.
"These are the runes of Gondolin," I said, my heart pounding. "This one is called Orcrist."
"And this?" Aglahad murmured, holding out the naked blade before me.
I stared at the blade then glanced at the others. "Glamdring."
Lofar chuckled quietly and slapped me on the arm.
"This is a pretty thing," he said, picking up the third weapon. He drew the knife from its leather sheath. It had a vaguely leaf-shaped blade and a ball-shaped pommel. Its cross-guard curved gracefully towards the blade and the grip was bound with chestnut leather.
"Not a great weapon of renown like the others," the Dwarf said.
"Then why is it here?"
"I have seen this knife before," I said, trying to place it. "It too was forged in Gondolin, I am sure of it."
"While you try to remember," Aglahad said, "I shall wrap them up in my blanket."
"What of the palantír?" Lofar said.
"I shall take it in my pack," I said, "if you can take the last of the food." We worked quickly and silently, glancing about us. As I picked up the palantír, the memory came flooding back, as though the stone was looking back into the abyss of time.
"Now I remember," I hissed. "This blade, the small one. It belonged to Eärendil."
"Eärendil? I thought he was an Elven legend."
"He is no legend, Lofar. I met him as a boy at the Havens of Sirion and he showed me this very sword."
"Are you sure, Siri?"
I gave Aglahad a nod. "It must be taken to Rivendell."
"Why?" blurted Lofar before lowering his voice to a hiss. "Why must Elrond profit from our labours?"
"Because, Lofar, he is Eärendil's son."
Aglahad and Lofar looked at each other for a moment and an understanding seemed to pass between them, although I couldn't tell what it was. They wrapped the weapons tightly in the blanket with twine that the Dwarf pulled from his pack.
I was slipping the seeing-stone into my pack when one of the doors slowly opened. We all turned to see Lóni standing there, staring blankly into the room. Lofar moaned half with concern half with joy that his brother had found us. Lóni stepped into the chamber, his arms hanging loosely by his sides.
"Your leg," Aglahad said in wonder.
Lofar rounded the table and hurried towards him. "Brother, how did you find us? You should have stayed at the Gates. How is your leg -"
"Lofar," I said firmly. "Step back."
He spun around, his face full of confusion and fear.
"No!" Aglahad cried and lunged at Lofar, yanked him backwards.
Lóni's mouth was open wide; it did not stop opening but grew bigger. The inside was dark and soon filled with long yellow fangs. Lofar whimpered as the teeth pointed forward, pushing back the blackening lips. Now, more rows of fangs grew out behind them. The thing raised its hands but they were not Lóni's hands. The black, leathery claws grew longer as he brandished them. I drew my knife as Aglahad drew Bregedúr.
"No!" Lofar growled, holding his arm across the boy's midriff.
"That is not Lóni," I yelled as the thing swelled before us. Lóni's clothes split at the seams and the mottled skin burst through. Now the head was a mass of fangs and writhing tentacles. The monster raised one of its talons, ready to slash Lofar into strips.