Each passage leads to – one more passage…
Seregrían has found lodgings for the present, courtesy of her Dwarvish hosts, with the Iron Garrison in the relative comfort of the Twenty-first Hall of Moria. Because of her bold forays into the Mines in their company, as well as finding clue after precious clue to advance the Garrison’s mission, the Dwarves see that the Elf-scholar wants for nothing.
As the days pass in the outside world, the timeless dark of Moria is pierced by the light of both lamp and fire, as the Dwarves establish footholds in key areas of the Mines, extending their control of the ancient halls. The expedition’s leader, Brogur son of Bofur, bids Seregrían accompany members of the Garrison into the Deeps below, not only to search for the mining lodes but also to spy out the deep halls and learn of the threat posed by the Orcs.
As the company plunges deeper into the long dark of Moria, Seregrían is at once awed and angered at the places they discover, each one larger and more forbidding than the last. Awed, for the scale and vastness of Khazad-dûm towers over even the greatest tales of the Elven strongholds of a bygone age; angered, because nothing of Elven-lore even approaches the size and grandeur of the mansions of Durin’s Folk, now lost in ruin and darkness. And in that hour, the Blood-Queen resolves to do something about it.
The days have rolled into weeks for Seregrían’s sojourn beneath the mountains and deep into the Mines of Moria. And with this perilous but profiting journey, changes have wrought themselves upon her a new image, and a new insight.
The change from stolid scholar haunting the libraries, to an avenging adventurer roaming the lands, have added muscle and sinew to a formerly frail frame. Spindly limbs have given way to toned and supple arms and legs. New strength and endurance flows through a healthier and active form. Those she encounters in her forays in the Mines now cast covetous looks her way, which she dismisses with her usual glaring gruffness.
But the greatest change is in Seregrían’s attitude towards the people of Durin’s Folk. She learns of their thirst for knowledge and craft, surpassing their supposed greed; not greed, she learns, but rather the love of beauty wrought by hand and wrested from the bosom of the earth. With each hall and deep she enters, each more splendid than the last, she appreciates the skill and patience of the craftsmen of old. And she even considers a few of the Dwarves as something like friends – and so taking a Dwarvish hill-goat as a steed, she gives it a name, one of the first words in Khuzdul she learned: Khûzsh, which is “Friend”.
One evening comes when, in the company of a kindred spirit named Svanr, Seregrían explores further than ever, even to the great Eastern Gate of Khazad-dûm itself, and for the first time in weeks stands beneath the starlight of Dimrill Dale and beholds the majesty of the Gates of Moria. Not in two hundred winters had she set foot east of the Misty Mountains until this night – and she finds herself longing to re-enter the Mines to complete her quest for wisdom.
And Seregrían learns, what’s better than one power? Two powers. For upon her return from the libraries of Katub-Zahar, her search for lore among the vast Dwarf-hoards yielded a means to master and call forth lightning.
But on her recent journey into the gloom with the Dwarf Bosi son of Bifur, they find the revered Nar-Khelab, the Heart of Fire, the greatest forge of Dwarvish legend. While Bosi completes his quest, Seregrían completes hers: to find a further piece of lore to allow her to expand her already formidable power. And find it she does – a way to combine the powers of fire and lightning into a fearsome weapon. And on her next foray into the darkness, she resolves to test it.
So it is that, descending into the Flaming Deeps beneath Caradhras, Seregrían tests this terrible power against her massed foes, as the Blood-Queen screams a Word of Command:
“DOSTACH AEN!!”
(You will burn!)
