Alrik lifted his axe and cheered with a guttural roar. Long had he waited for this day! Today, the dwarfs would take their first step, the step that would lead back up the stairs to greatness!.
With his minds eyes he pictured the mighty hold, once more in dwarfen hands. Countless lamps illuminated the halls as if stars glowing in the night beneath the mountains. The ringing of hammers on anvils echoed through the vast halls in which pillars carved to resemble great trees jutted out, supporting the roof that seemed to stretch on forever.
And, with the Mithríl once more in their posession, the dwarfs would be mighty indeed. Mighty armies clad in armour wich no blade could pierce, armed with weapons wich made mockery of even the finest armour would purge the lands of their enemies.
It felt as if his heart was on fire, burning hotter and brighter than in any a forge ever devised. Thoughts of the bright lamps, vast halls and motherlodes of Mithríl lying under the mountain flittered through his head, and he had to fight down the urge to sing.
At last, the day had come!
<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:45 PM January 20, 2004: Message edited by: Will Witfoot ]
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Herein, it is said, the power of Ulmo was shown. For he gathered tidings of all that passed in Beleriand, and every stream that flowed from Middle-earth to the Great Sea was to him a messenger, both to and fro
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