(With thanks to Cyndwin for additional description - Xan's Humble Chronicler)
Cyndwin of the Westfold stood in the sickly purple light of the Foundations of Stone and looked out over a noxious green lake. She had been laboring in these stifling, toxic caves for days now beside Xanderian of Belfalas and she had had just about enough of it.
She was muttering to herself, laying low behind a mushroom the size of a horse as a patrol of grossly mishaped orcs waddled close. "I swear once we are out of this muck I am BURNING this armor..and especially these boots!" She shifted her foot as her boot made a squelching sound that nearly turned her stomach. "Lord only knows what I have growing in there by now."
As the patrol went past she slipped out of cover and with a whispered warcry she let into the two orcs from behind. Three savage strokes from her Great sword brought the larger down then a spinning backstroke with the heavy blade cleaved the second's head off. Having learned from experience, she then danced back out of range as the corpses exploded in a foul smelling cloud of oozing pink droplets. "Ugghhh....Why do they DO that?" she hissed to herself and looked around for more prey.
The caves around the lake were quiet for the moment, and she took advantage of the respite to take a long drink of metallic tasting water from her flask.
"I understand now why Rian was so loath to come back down here...it is absolutely nauseating...and the diseased orcs are the most pleasant part!" she whispered to herself, looking out at the lake to try and get her bearings again. "Things without heads, or with mouths in their chests, or worse...and all giving off such a horrible feeling of cold, nameless dread. This entire place is simply unnatural, no two ways about it. Back in the Riddermark I never imagined things like this even existed, let alone they would be trying to chew on me for days at a time."
She sighed, the stifling heat making her weary. "If I ever can return to the Westfold, I will have tales enough for a hundred songs. No one will ever believe all the things I have seen. The endless green of Breeland, Halflings living in their holes, hosts of orcs howling out their war cries, skeletons that walk, spiders as big as hounds, whispering ghosts, the spires of Rivendell...so many wonders. However I may not have seen anything as beautiful or as horrible as Khazad Dum, the land of Durin. An entire city beneath the earth! Imagine singing of that around a warm fire when I am old and gray."
The Shieldmaiden leaned back against the warm stone of the cave, relishing the image. "Grandmother Cyndwin, what brave deeds did you do in the underground city? Well my darlings, I adjusted mirrors, and gathered bits of bug guts, and picked up goat droppings....but I did it all beside the most beautiful firstborn princess..."
She laughed again wistfully, then frowned. Every day that passed her dream of riding back to the Westfold in triumph beside Xanderian to set all wrongs to right amongst her kin and avenge her brother seemed further and further away. "Is that dream becoming more remote..." she wondered to herself, "or are my dreams growing larger? Does it even matter? Now when I think of home, I think not of father's simple Mead Hall in the Westfold, but of a great stone palace in Belfalas. When I think of family, I no longer picture my blood kin, but Rian, and Fille...even Lif. When I imagine my future I dream not of a brave Rider who would give me sons, but an Elf huntress who will ride with me into war. Have I become so different in just a few years? Am I now more the Limula Khazush as the Iron Garrison calls me, and less a simple girl of the Westfold?"
Setting these thoughts aside, ever practical, Cyndwin slipped cautiously back to the edge of the steaming lake, wondering what was keeping Xanderian so long as she gathered fungus samples. A last task for that sneering elf back near the refuge. Scanning the lake, out of the corner of her eye she noted a gleam of light in the oily green shallows.
Carefully slipping closer, the Shieldmaiden spied a small, battered iron chest. It was clearly of solid dwarven make but it seemed older, more ornate then much of what she had seen high up in Moria. From the state of the muck and the fungus that surrounded the tiny chest, she felt that it had been down here a very long time indeed. Catching one corner with the point of her sword, she carefully levered it out of the glowing mud and painfully dragged the chest closer. It was strangely heavy for a box so small. However there was simply no treasure in the world that could tempt her to wade into that water again, so she huffed and puffed until it was free.
Having finally secured the chest on relatively dry land, she bashed the rusted lock with the hilt of her Greatsword but the ancient metal endured. Two, three more bashes and the lock finally sprang open. Cyndwin winced at the soft din the chest made in the silent cavern as she carefully drew the lid back. What she saw within made her eyes grow wide.
The rough-cut crystal gleamed and shown with a life of its own, sending blue-white sparks of light over the chest. Despite her earlier caution she reached in and cupped the crystal in her hand, as the same blue light danced over her gauntlet and her intent, solemn face as she gazed down into it. The rest of the chamber seemed to sink deeper into shadow before such a mystical radiance.
The girl’s single heavy braid hung down past the stone as she leaned over the chest. The crystal gleamed brighter as she turned it, staring rapt at it's beauty, her free hand slowly flexing as if testing its strength.
Suddenly a voice called her name, echoing down the endless caves. "FINALLY" she whispered as she tucked the crystal safely away in her belt pouch and stood. “Here my love, coming!” she cried and hurried towards the voice.
---
Just a few meters away, but past endless turns and switchbacks, Xanderian gazed into the darkness. Her heart was filled with concern as even her elven eyes had trouble with the unnatural gloom of these caves. She called out again..."CYNDWIN!!!". If something had befallen the girl while she had been delayed with Forglinn's wild goose chase, she would never forgive herself.
She peered more intently down the cavern and prepared to call again when the heavy blow slammed her shoulder from behind, sending her flying painfully into the far wall. It was only her hair trigger reflexes that kept the massive club from taking off her head, yet the impact had dazed her badly, her head striking the stone.
The hideous Globsnaga-Troll screamed in rage and agony as Xanderian slid down the wall. Heartbreaker skittered out of the huntress' hand and clattered across the wet cavern floor. Both Xanderian and the Bow gasped and she tried to crawl towards her weapon before the heavy troll foot came down, cracking the stone between her and her bow. It would have broken her arm as well if she had not rolled back in the nick of time.
Blood in her mouth, her vision cloudy, Xanderian felt the wind of the massive club being raised above her as she fumbled with the hilt of Lovelorn, her bloodied, numb hand slipping on the leather grip. She tensed for the fatal blow, knowing she was moving far too slowly to stop it.
A heavy spray of blood and maroon droplets covered the Elleth in a downpour as the troll screamed again, then staggered to the side before popping like a halfling's party-cracker, a massive gash in the side of it's misshapen head. With a boom, its club fell discarded amongst the foul mushrooms.
Gasping in the filthy red haze, Xanderian looked up through clearing vision to see Cyndwin, Shieldmaiden of the Westfold, driving the point of her Greatsword down into the weakened stone, it's length now covered in troll. She held a hand down, pulling the Elleth to her feet to pick up the whimpering, panicked Heartbreaker. "Is this what was taking you so long, my Aza? It wasn't nice of you to play with a troll without inviting me."
The huntress laughed softly, testing her bruised arm. "Yet you joined the game just in time, my beloved....thank you."
Cyndwin smiled, seeming to stand a little taller at the thanks. "If indeed you are grateful then might I ask a boon, my Elfbride?"
"Anything you desire, dear Cyndwin."
The Shieldmaiden nodded. "Then can we PLEASE leave Moria behind and walk in sunlight again?"
"I think that is a fine idea...on to the Gardens of Lorien, whether they welcome us or no." whispered the Elleth, and the two made their way to where they had parked their goats.
Cyndwin slipped her arm around Xanderian, supporting the wounded huntress tenderly. "Oh, Rian...I almost forgot...I found something! A glowing blue crystal! It is so beautiful! May I keep it? Please?"
Smiling at her childlike eagerness, the Elleth agreed. "Oh course my love...who knows, if it glows it may come in handy someday.
