To Rûndis, my Moonlight,
I do not know where to start. Yesterday we took the hardest blow yet, and it was all my fault.
I should have known our mission was doomed long ago. Every signal was right there from the start… The bandits who followed us, the poisoner who attacked me in Rivendell, the map being stolen… Perhaps we should have listened to the Elves, after all.
I suppose I should start from the beginning.
It seemed like just another day, or at least as much as a day in Moria can seem like one. We got up and got to talking, waiting for Dzbog and Braudin to come back from their watch. We knew something was wrong when only one of them appeared.
They had been attacked on their way back from their watch. A hooded figure, dressed in black clothes, had got the drop on them. It attempted to flee once it found resistance, but Braudin and his faithful Zigilazag chased after it, and Bog quickly lost sight of them. Unable to chase after them in the darkness, he made the call to report back to us.
Just as more and more voices rose, calling for a search party, an Iron Garrison dwarf came running towards us, breathless. "The... The goblins! The camp! It's barely guarded!"
No matter how we looked at it, the time to strike was now. Balnirar, ever cautious, believed this to be a trap, but we could not risk letting this opportunity pass, and Braudin needed us. Bog agreed with me wholeheartedly, and so we marched onward.
Near the camp we found a dwarf, Stíling by name. He had stayed behind, watching the goblins’ movement, and confirmed that many of them had just left. He had no news of Braudin or his hound, sadly. However, we could not afford to lose hope.
Just when we were about to rush in, we found something unexpected. Another Elf was obseving the camp, and noticed our small group. She approached and introduced herself. She was called Adonneniel, and she was hunting goblins. We were not sure if we could trust her, especially given the mysterious figure stalking us, but it was very unlikely, nay, it was impossible that an Elf would ever cavort with the Enemy. Thus, she joined our attack.
We charged in the best way we know how — voices rumbling, and axes slicing. It was a show of dominance I had not seen for many a decade. The goblins did not stand a chance, or so I thought.
We found a pedestal in the centre of the first section of the camp. On it lay a map, but it was not exactly what we were looking for. It was very crudely made, as if a child had drawn it. There were notes written on it, but I could not recognise the language. Some kind of Elvish, perhaps?
Narali, who stood by my side, was able to identify it. Black Speech, it was. This map was obviously a forgery made by the goblins. Bog was able to decipher it, and revealed that it was full of notes on some routes. The word “Danger” was also written all over, as them both were able to identify.
Then and there I had to make a tough call. Time was of the essence, as there was no telling where the goblins would come, and there was still no sign of Braudin. Therefore, we split up.
Zirnr, Nara, Adonneniel, Atgar and Garfi came with me, and we took the northern side of the camp. Kharsi led Rompli, Eldanith, Bradati, Bog and Balnirar in raiding the southern section. We would meet up back at the first pedestal once we had scoured the place.
With a plan now set, we got to work. We found even more fake maps, and took every one of them with us. Zirnr made a most interesting discovery — he found traces of mithril dust in a broken down carriage. We did not have time to investigate the issue further, but it was very concerning news that the goblins would get their hands on some Moria Silver. We also found a very rudimentary depiction of a battle between Dwarves and Goblins on one of the tunnel walls.
With nowhere else to go, we went back to the rendezvous point. We heard a commotion approaching us, so we unsheathed our weapons once again. We rushed over to the rest of the group. They were carrying something. I refused to believe what my eyes were seeing, but there was no denying the truth. Kharsi was barely hanging on to life, Eldanith’s rushed treatments being the only thread by which his life hung.
By the time Narali reached him, blood had already darkened the seam of his armor. When the broken metal was pried away, it revealed a long cut over his breastbone, torn wide and swelling fast, bruising spreading beneath it in the shape of broken ribs. Smaller wounds ringed it — many shallow, ugly cuts filled with with steel-dust and grime.
Narali quickly got to work. I could not bear to look at my boy, and stood there helpless. The rest fended off the hordes of goblins who rushed us, while Narali did all she could to keep Kharsi with us. Our new elf friend assisted her. I prayed to Mahal that the combination of Dwarven and Elvish remedies would be enough to save him, but it was nigh impossible to keep my heart from bursting out of my chest. But then I heard her words, and her voice made me the happiest that it’s even been.
“He is stable. His life is not in immediate danger, but we need to get him out of here”, said Narali. The Elf nodded, and they both looked at me.
I was the most furious that I have ever been. The goblins were almost defeated, but they had not yet given up. One approached me, and I put my axe away. My armour taking the brunt of the attack, I swatted the goblin’s weapon away and grabbed it by the throat. I was not myself, and still cannot forget what I said to it.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON?”, I yelled to its face. The goblins behind him stopped in their tracks. I hit mine, knocking out some of its teeth.
“There is no tunnel, no crevice, no small crack in the earth that will hide you from me. None of your kind will be safe from my wrath. May whoever takes you in death have mercy on your wretched souls, for Mahal knows I will not. I will make each and every one of you know true fear, and you will long for death. You will regret ever being born. And, most of all, you will regret what you have done here today.”
I commanded Zirnr to tie up the creature. He calmly grabbed some ropes from the goblin tents, and bound it. The other goblins stared at us, petrified. I looked at them, and they quickly hid. No one tried to prevent us from leaving, for they knew what would happen to them if they tried.
We were able to make it to the camp in the Deep Descent without much issue. We set Kharsi down carefully, and Narali took proper care if his wounds. He sung to him softly, and his troubled mind seemed to find some rest, and he slept peacefully.
Meanwhile, we threw our guest in one of the cells. Still unconscious, it would take long for it to awake, so we took to properly setting up camp among our concerned friends from the Garrison.
And then he arrived.
“Look who I found!”, shouted Dzbog, coming back downstairs. Drenched in blood, armor dented, cloak tattered, and failing to conceal a limp, Braudin stood before us. His hound was not in much better shape, but he was still standing.
Braudin greeted us, but not with his usual energy. Narali rushed to hug him, much to his surprise. “N-now now, what's this sudden affection!? You couldn't possibly think me DEAD!?”
Narali smiled. “I hug all my patients, and you have just become one of them.” She then went back to Kharsi, and began to hum a soft tune.
Braudin smiled at her. “What have you told them, Bog?”
Bog smirked. “I told them ye tumbled down Moria, fightin' the poisoner! Which ye did”. He chuckled.
“Well, at least my news have not arrived as late as I”. He looked around the room once more, and his returning smile again fading away. “What is with the long faces?”, he asked.
“My face is never long!”, protested Rompli. “My face is exactly the right size for frowning at the enemy!”
With Kharsi still sleeping, we each shared what we had learned. Indeed, Braudin had attempted to chase this would-be assassin, but they knew better than to fight a Dwarf head-on. Rather, Braudin was injured when he fell off a cliff during said chase. He was lucky to be alive, and we were relieved that he was still with us.
He confessed that this had not been his first encounter with the assassin. Back then, when we first entered Moria, he had lied to us. He had a very ugly dent on his helmet, which he insisted was a shady smith’s fault, a botched maintenance job. This was untrue. When standing watch near Echad Dúnann, the assassin found him, and they fought briefly. His enemy fled, and only managed to cause that dent. Braudin was ashamed at his failure, which is why he hid it from us.
Learning this disappointed me greatly. However, it was clear in his words that any shame he may have felt after that encounter paled in comparison with what he felt when confessing to his lies. He then proceeded to share every detail he could remember about this figure, although he did not manage to see much in the darkness. All we knew is that it was tall, wore black, hooded robes, and wielded a dagger. They were not a fighter, but an opportunist. It was very likely that it was the same individual who poisoned me back at Rivendell, believing that would be enough to end my life with barely a trace.
After talking for some time, Ronhus arrived, and he brought a prisoner with him. He and Balnirar had been delayed, as they were requested by the Garrison to reinforce one of their key positions in Moria. The Goblins were moving all across the Halls of Durin, and they had no clue as to why. I had a hunch it must be related to why the camp was so empty when we arrived.
Ronhus was devastated to learn what had befallen Kharsi. He kneeled next to him, concerned for his well being, and he briefly woke up. He screamed in panic, and grabbed Ronhus’s throat before collapsing again. He looked around, confused, wincing from pain with every breath. “Nara…?” he asked, looking at her with fear in his eyes.
“Yes, Khars”, she responded. “I am right here.”
Kharsi looked around him. He saw the bandages covering his injured arm and his beaten chest. He looked at his breastplate, darkened with blood and split in two. He looked at his cloak, torn up while we dragged him here. It was then that we noticed that his shield was nowhere to be found, likely lost in the struggle.
“You were lucky”, said Narali. “Your plate was of very good quality. It has saved you from a much worse fate.”
“I am sorry, my friend”, lamented Kharsi.
“Shush, now”, she consoled him. “There is nothing to apologise for.”
I made my way to my nephew. Rompli stood aside, and I nodded at him. I sat beside Kharsi.
“How are you holding up?”, I asked him.
Kharsi spoke softly, his head resting in Narali’s lap. “I’ll live.”
I broke down. “You’d better live!”, I scolded him with tears running down my face. “Whose yelling will wake me up in the morning if you're gone, silly?”
Kharsi sat up, but refused to look at me. Whatever happened back there, he was deeply ashamed of his defeat.
His group then explained what happened. While the others were fighting the goblins, he found another copy of the map. He rushed toward it, and failed to notice another five goblins fall upon him. He resisted blow after blow, until his armour was split in two. He fell after standing for longer than anyone had any right to stand against such a relentless attack, and just when they were about to deal the final blow, the others arrived to save him.
“I am sorry…”, said Kharsi. “It was all my fault.”
“We will talk about that some other time”, I interrupted him. “For now, focus on resting. I could not be happier to be sitting with you, my boy, and that is all that matters”. He looked away once again. Narali got up and paced around nervously.
“Mirror, mirror in the Halls”, I whispered, “who is the prettiest Kharsi of them all?” He chuckled and winced, but still he refused to look at me. Narali looked at me, concerned, and I just smiled at her. “Thank you, Narali”, I said to her. She smiled at me and leaned on the stone walls, but immediately gasped and moved away. She had been doing that a lot lately.
“And thank you, too”, I said to the elves. “All of you have saved my boy.” Adonneniel bowed before us, and said she has happy to honour her ancient friendship with Durin’s Folk.
I then looked at the rest of our friends. “And thank all of you, as well. You risked much by taking him with you in his state, and surrounded by goblins. I am in your debt, now and forever.”
The conversation slowly began to die out. One by one, we each went to sleep. Kharsi was fighting a very stubborn battle against his own exhaustion, which ended when Nara sternly commanded him to surrender and rest. She stayed beside him only long enough to see his breathing steady, and then quietly gathered her things and stepped away. The way she had treated him, I had expected her to stay by his side, but I was wrong. I looked at her, and she said nothing, only looking back at me and nodding. She continued to steal glances at Kharsi, as if checking he was still as she had left him.
I should not have brought them to Moria. Kharsi is too young, to eager to prove his worth, and it led him to this reckless behaviour. However ashamed he might feel at his defeat, there is no one to blame but me. I should have known better.
I also worry for Narali. She is growing quieter with every passing day. She often stops right in her tracks, standing perfectly still, as if listening to the very stone that surrounds us. What she hears, I do not know, but I fear what it costs her whenever she does.
Moria is wearing us down, its Shadow grinding at our souls like metal grinds the stone. Now, Kharsi lies half dead, Narali walks alone, and it all of it because of me. Because I lay on their shoulders a responsibility that should have been mine.
I could not help but drink myself to sleep. The guilt was too much, and whenever I closed my eyes I saw Kharsi, broken, trying to reach for me, asking why I had brought him to this accursed place. Beware the depths of Khazad-Dûm.
I wish you were here with me.
Your Thrarfi.
