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The kingdom was sheltered by high walls plastered in impenetrable gold, floors of silver, and rubies and emeralds littered the walkways and waterways like leaves in autumn. The dwarve race , though small in stature, boosted the highest skilled forgers and some of the best warriors, even the women dabbled in the arts of war and blacksmithing.

King Dvalin had ruled for many years, taking over after his father who had no female children. Dvalin ruled the kingdom with an iron fist, building it to perfection in readiness for the day his little princess would come home and sit on the throne with her eight brothers by her side.

The dwarve king had just concluded his meeting with his council about a new metal they had come across that proved a potent weapon. The silvery white metal that had been named Lenorium was deemed to be poisonous as the men who mined it had succumbed to severe vomiting, nasal bleeding and other complications just from a few minutes of exposer to the metal.

“This will prove to be a leathal trump card in war your majesty,” one of the council members had spoken, “I suggest we mine it but under strict precautions. Weapons are more valuable than gold in the world we live in today.”

Dvalin had agreed with his council to excavate the metal carefully and forge weapons for use only when absolutely necessary. After all, they were living in times of conflict and war.

The dwarve king halted in his tracks when he saw his beautiful wife ahead.

“Dvalin..”

She was the only person in the entire kingdom who dared speak his name, and he loved how it flowed from her lips. Even his own sons only referred to him as ‘father’ or ‘your majesty’.

.....

“Daena.. you look troubled.”

“We have guests,” she spoke calmly.

“Guests??” This was strange. The dwarves were a conservative people who really didn’t open their gates to anyone and all knew this. So who could have decided it was a good idea to arrive unannounced like this?

“Who are these Guests?”

“Prince Gareth of the elves,” Daena responded.

“Tauriel’s son?” Dvalin spoke in surprise, “why is he here? Is everything okay?”

“I think it’s best you hear for yourself what he has to say.”

*

“Talk about lack of hospitality,” Ivan complained as he kicked a small stone into the rocky wall, “they couldn’t even offer us a seat?”

“The dwarves rarely let outsiders into their walls,” Zander explained, “we’re lucky we even made it as far as the gates without being attacked by their ogre gaurd.”

“An ogre? What is that?” Beric questioned the blonde elf.

“An ogre is a huge humanoid creature that the dwarves usually keep to stand guard at the gate,” Finwe responded. He whipped his head side to side as if trying to locate the creature, “I wonder where it is?” He asked sarcastically while eyeing his brother.

“Well where ever it is, let it stay there,” Ozias added on.

Gareth averted his gaze from his men when he realized that the creature him and Melissa had killed a while back on their way to Cenia, was the ogre Finwe was talking about. He hopped the dwarve king hadn’t heard about that little mishap or else their chances of making an alliance would go down the latrine.

The large gate began to move slowly and with it the ground began to ramble. Gareth and his men composed themselves awaiting whoever would walk out to meet them. From the dust and debris tossed up in the air due to the violet movement of the gates, four dwarvish gaurds walked out and behind them a man with rough long hair and an even rougher looking face. Even though he was almost half the elven men’s height, he did not lack in intimidation.

“Which one of you is Tauriel’s son, which of you is the crowned prince of Ervelon?” Dvalin spoke, even his voice was too big and rough for a man of his height. It was almost like everything was so compressed within his small body making it too much in comparison to other average men.

Gareth stepped forward and bowed respectfully. He needed not to anger the dwarve king if he was going to win him over, plus dwarves were known to be hot headed. “King Dvalin,” Gareth spoke, “I am Gareth, first son of queen Tauriel and the late king Aragon, crowned prince of Ervelon.”

Dvalin raked his eyes over the young prince, the resemblance to his friend Aragon was unsettling. Even his voice and demeanor resembled the late elven king.

“Did Tauriel send you here?” Dvalin asked, his eyes trailing towards the men and elven soldiers behind Gareth. “Is there a problem?”

“My mother didn’t send me here king Dvalin,” the dark haired prince responded, “I came here at my own accord because I feel you and I can help each other.”

Dvalin scoffed, “help each other? And how exactly do you intend for that to happen?”

“I ask for an alliance to march with me to Meria,” Gareth began to explain but was cut off by the wave of Dvalin’s hand.

“To that lunatic Edron’s son?” Dvalin responded, “for what reason? So you can steal his wife away a second time?”

Gareth pursed his lips and drew in a breath to stop himself from saying something rude. He didn’t know the dwarve king was so informed about the events that had been occurring over the months.

“Look boy,” Dvalin continued to speak as he closed the gap between him and Gareth, “I’m too old to get involved in your love escapades. The last time us adults played a role in something like this, our races were divided. This battle is your own, don’t involve me.”

The dwarve king turned around and was about to leave when Gareth called out to him, “wouldn’t you want to save your daughter?!”

“Darla..” the king muttered before halting and turning back around, marching towards the prince with a hasty pace. “Where is my daughter what have you done with her?!”

The guards pulled out their weapons upon hearing their king’s angry tone, in readiness to apprehend the prince.

“Darla..” Gareth responded, “so that’s her name.”

“I have no time for banter elf, where is Darla?!”

“From what I know,” Gareth began to explain, feeling pleased with himself for having caught the king’s attention, “‘that lunatic Edron’s son’ is keeping her hostage.”

Dvalin took a staggering step back, “that bastard..” he looked up at Gareth and growled, “I’ll kill him if he lays as much as a finger on her perfect head!”

~perfect? I see where Julia gets her impulsiveness from~

“The best way to deal with this matter is strategically king Dvalin,” Gareth explained, “going to Meria to wage war might put both Melissa and Darla in danger.”

Dvalin shimmered down a bit and drew in a deep breath. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

“Why don’t we talk about that somewhere a little more...” Gareth eyed the dwarve guards who were armed with axes and daggers, “.. private.”

Dvalin turned to his men and gestured them to stand down before turning back to Gareth. “Fine, follow me.” It infiltrated Dvalin that he was letting outsiders into his home, but Gareth was as smooth with his tactics as Aragon was, and he left him with no choice. He was actually growing to like this sly elf.

“Take the soldiers to the baracks while me and the prince have a little discussion!” Dvalin ordered his gaurds, “and no one is to disturb us!”

Prince Gareth, prince Finwe and Gareth’s men followed Dvalin through the massive gates cautiously, not knowing what to expect on the inside. Would it be dark, gloomy and dirty? Or maybe it would be grim, murky and stuffy?

When all eight men fully stepped through the gates their jaws dropped to the floor, because rather than a gloomy, dark, and dingy underground habitat, a gold coated underground citadel came into view. All the men were at complete loss for words, how was it even possible to coat an entire city in gold?!

The walls and high ceilings were encrusted with luminous jewels that brightened the place, and the pathways were plastered in silver and littered with different precious stones. The men had never seen a place so beautiful, not even Ervelon was this breathtaking.

Children, women and men frolicked along the silver plastered streets going about their daily lives. There were food stalls, busy markets, stores and many other places. The people here seemed completely unaffected by the fact that they were living in an actual treasure chest.

“By the way,” Dvalin spoke as they walked down the street towards a large structure that lay past the town. “If you pick anything here, that will be considered stealing, and we will not hesitate to cut your hands off.”

Ivan who had picked a beautiful red ruby on the ground immediately threw it away and gulped. If they didn’t want people picking them why were they laying around on the ground?!