Legends of Belariath

Krom

The Quest of Mithril

The barbarian kisses his slaves goodbye and without any other words, he kicks the side of the black fresian and trots away from his home. Behind him is the annoying goblin Buttercup, whom he is forcing to go with as company to the mountains of the Northland. Having heard from a witch woman, that to the Northern boundaries and deep within the mountain of Kabur, resides an elder goblin chief. A goblin whose name is foreign to Krom, unable to pronounce such a name due to the tongue of their people.

Why would the large barbarian male head to the North in search of an elder goblin, especially when he knows not even how to communicate with them? Well that is easy enough, dragging along Buttercup, the goblin who wears a pot on his head constantly hollering crazy things like an insane madman. The goblin Buttercup would be his communication link whether he liked it or not. He owes the barbarian a favor, and Krom has depicted what he would be doing in return.

"Korg want know why we go to Kabur!" the annoying goblin Buttercup hollers out to the back of the barbarian. The Warlord not trusting the guidance of a goblin to lead him safely to Kabur mountains would explain why the goblin rides behind him.

"There be's an Elder Goblin deep within the mountain. A goblin who knows of the likes of mithril and how to craft such items, I wish to learn from him."

"Why you make Korg go! Korg no want to go!"

"You shall do as I say or I will drop you here and leave your corpse for the wolves to feed upon. With luck, there won?t be much left by the time the insects make use of your decaying and festering body." The words are harsh and as cutting as knife as he tells the goblin. There was little more reason for the barbarian to need the goblin. He would serve as a personal translator and nothing more. Other than that, he was expendable.

* * *

The traveling North towards the mountains seemed to last forever. The Warlord?s patience constantly being worn thin by the mouthy goblin Buttercup. His whining was growing worse everyday it seemed, or perhaps he was just not used to the company of races other than Elven or human.

"We will camp here for the night," Krom speaks to the goblin, drawing his fresian to a halt. The mountain was near, just ahead and in the line of vision, but the horses could not continue on. The horses were being pushed harder each day of traveling, mostly because the barbarian wanted to hurry up and get to the Kabur Mountains before he went insane listening to Korg this and Korg that.

The goblin got off the horse, scowling and grumbling, wishing to just thwap the barbarian in his sleep and run away. But he knew that would only cause more problems, having heard of the barbarian?s reputation and having many personal followers almost worthy of calling an army. The goblin knew he would not have much luck against a complete army force, so he was stuck to aid Krom and do as he wishes.

The two adventures unpacked their bedrolls and prepared camp, not even bothering to start a fire. The night was upon them and it was too late to bother with finding firewood and preparing a campfire. Besides, they really did not need extra attention through the night. A fire is like a sign, screaming out that there is an outlander amongst the land. This was the kind of attention Krom really wanted to avoid, especially since he was now with the company of a goblin. It would be difficult to deal with several races of people when there is a goblin involved. Krom has recalled many elven individuals despising goblins so much, that they simple started to hunt them down. The Warlord only hoped he would not run into any Elven this night, seeing as to how close they are to the destination.

* * *

In the midst of the night, the two adventures were awoken by mithril spears pressing to their throats. The rough voice of the goblin?s tongue being chattered, unfamiliar to the barbarian. Krom's blue, piercing eyes tried to focus through the darkness the night offered, to see how many and who these individuals are. Krom then saw Buttercup getting hauled up to his feet as fellow goblins spoke to him. Butters just laughed and pointed at Krom, but what was he saying? How Krom wishes he knew their tongue. He listened closely, but did not find understanding.

Krom was then struck to the head with the butt of a spear, only to have woken up in a cave it would appear. His vision was distorted at first as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at. The barbarian was not bound surprisingly enough, but he was in a prison cell of sorts. The cell constructed of wooden boards and to an alcove in the cave.

His eyes shifted about, searching for Buttercup, but found him nowhere around. It dawned on him, he was sold out and now made prisoner of the goblins. He roses to his feet and looked through the wooden boards that were used for the prison bars. He looked to dozens of workers in the torch light, hacking away at the sides of the cave and breaking off chunk of a light purple rock it appeared. The rocks or minerals, whatever they were, seemed to break off quite easily and seemed a lot like carbon. Much along the lines of a log partially burned in a fire. It was easy to break apart and allow it to crumble.

The goblin workers were busy, constantly breaking off pieces and tossing them into carts. There seemed to be a nice system of carts and rails for hauling the containers of this lilac material. Krom watched, day in and day out. What were these men doing with this material that crumbled away? Is this mountain or cave even safe to be in seeing how the walls are breaking away with the greatest of ease? The Warlord had no choice but to hope that it was structurally sound, because it did not appear that he would be getting out of the situation if the place decided to crumble down upon him.

To the corner of Krom's eye, he noticed that the same lilac colored formation was in his cell. He shuffled over to the area and took the heel of his hand to break off a chunk. He sat back down to the cold floor of stone and looked at it, wondering what function this piece has and why so many workers were seeming interesting in collecting it all.

He crushed the chunk of rock and it crumbled into bits, leaving behind the lilac residue upon his hand. But within the rock, he grew curious. He pulled the shards closer to his face and looked closely, noticing a faint sparkle, a trace amount of something glittery. With the faintest of breath or breeze, the crystals of glitter were washed away and out of sight. Certainly this couldn't be what the goblins were mining. There was such a trace amount of the sparkling dust that it would take a long time to even collect a handful of it. But then again, there are a lot of goblin workers slaving away to haul carts of this lilac material away. But where were they taking it?

Krom had listened for days, and trying to figure out what was going on. He was trying to make sense with what these goblins were doing and using all of this lilac colored stones for. Then he saw a goblin approaching, soiled and dirty, smelling absolutely rancid even to a barbarian. He saw who it was approaching, it was Buttercup. Instantly, Krom growled and sneered his lips up in disgust. He felt betrayed and sold out by the goblin. "I will kill you for this Korg?"

"No, No Sir. Korg know a lot! Korg know what this place is! It is Kabur, the mountains of mithril mines!" The goblin spoke, having drawn a thick accent from his native tongue. Krom, having been listening everyday, slowly started to piece together some things and understanding the accent. Even though it was thick, Krom could easily tell what was being said. The sound of their harsh tongue had grown to make sense to the barbarian. It was not that much different then the tongue of the Red Fist clan really.

"So these rocks that are being harvested, contain the mithril?" A quirk of his brow is given as he looked to Buttercup, having momentarily forgotten that he was set about killing him just moments ago. He became distracted that his goal has been reached and located the heart of mithril in the mines.

"Yes, yes! Korg now made worker Sir. Korg spend all his time harvesting this for Shyle'dar. He is the Elder to whom you seek Korg thinks."

This was all the news that the barbarian wanted to know. But how to get out of this situation of being a prisoner and to learn the metal? He sat there, thinking for a long time after Buttercup continued about his business. But his thought process was soon interrupted by a small pack of goblins coming, armed with mithril spears and wearing armor made from the same metal. They grunted and pointed their spears out to Krom, waving them about as if giving him directions.

He simple rose from the cold stone floor of the mine and started to walk out with the escort of four goblins. For the first time in days, he has set foot outside of his small cell and gained the freedom to look at the establishment. Trying to take it all in, the entire process these goblins were using to forge the mystical metal of mithril.

Goblins were carting the large quantities of the lilac mithril ore to a cavern. Dumping it down into a valley where it was all being piled high. Krom was being led down the narrow paths and staring down into the valley, seeing several goblins below seeming to weed through them. Having an eye it would seem for the right pieces and chucking away the bad. Krom slowed down to watch what they were doing with the suitable pieces, but found himself getting poked in the back with the spearheads. All the barbarian could see was the tossing of ore into a large furnace it appeared.

Krom was further down the path, where he found Buttercup with a goblin of great age. His ears started to wilt and eyelids swollen nearly shut with age. A long flowing white beard, which Krom did not believe, was upon this goblin. He stood with a hunch, supporting his weight upon a gnarled staff of wood whose top shimmered with the beautiful metal of mithril. He finally spoke in a rough voice, "Og knar h aru ararl harlrarl."

Krom then let his gaze shift towards Buttercup, who immediately started to speak, "The Elder Shyle'dar says He knows why you are here."

"Good, then ask him why I have been held captive for so long and locked away," Krom says with irritation looking to the man. The other goblins obviously picking up on the tone of voice and shifted with spears pointing at him still. This didn?t seem to bother Krom one bit however; he ignored them completely like they were not even there threatening him.

Before Buttercup could start to translate, Shyle'dar spoke up, "So you want learn Mithril barbarian, do you?" The words from the Old man were pretty clear and well articulated into common. The Warlord was a bit startled by such as he looked to him, but tried not to appear like he underestimated the Elder for not being educated in ways other than their own.

"That's right. I do."

"What makes you think you are worthy?"

"I have mastered many metals, worked with everything this world can offer, but yet I am clueless to the ways of this mystical creation."

"So it is for self knowledge and glorification. Better oneself? Humans?" The Elder goblin spits out the words and turns to start walking away with a limp. Krom then voiced himself before he had the chance to leave and the other goblins started to poke him with spears to lead him away from Shyle'dar.

"Og ogll dar angrogng aru ask," were the words coming from Krom. He has picked up the language, at least some of it by speaking with Buttercup and listening nonstop to the other goblins about him.

"Really?" the Elder stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Do anything, hm? Good. Then you will work here and learn each step of the process. My people lack some required strength for getting to the good ore. You will do it for us. In return, you will learn the ways of our precious metal. Agreed?"

Krom, a bit hesitant at first, but found his obsession becoming a reality to learning the metal, quickly said he agreed without questioning what the stipulation was about really. "Oh but there is one thing, you will not speak in common in my mines."

The Warlord knew that there was always some sort of a catch, but he simply nodded in agreement. This would probably prove to be more hassle than it is worth, but this is a metal he has no clue about. He knows not how to manage this metal, where it came from, how it is forged, or anything. He had set himself a goal to learn this metal, and there is nothing that will stop him now. Especially seeing he is finally at the right place to learn his obsession.

The goblins that were bearing the mithril spears lowered them and simply shoved Krom. He was being escorted now towards a part of the mine that lacked any of the lilac colored ore, but only finding stone. "Garlt tar arrk," one of the goblins said tossing him a miner's pick. Krom caught it and lifted a brow, when Buttercup came up.

"He said get to work," Butters said as he too started to pound at the rock surface, chipping away pieces of stone bit by bit. Krom knew what was meant for him to do. He was in need to break away all the hard stone so more ore would be revealed for the goblin workers to get. So, his mission was clear now and set to work.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, the barbarian worked in the mine breaking away the hard stone with hammers and picks with the aid of Buttercup. During this time, Buttercup was educating Krom in their tongue, so he would be able to communicate with others. Krom, having little other choice, was picking up the language for survival and to get him to learn about mithril.

Krom was growing in strength from all the hard labors, as was Buttercup. Their work together opened a new part of the mine and room for the goblin horde to start mining away the lilac ore with ease once more. Then Krom straightened, hearing the rough voice of the Elder, "Cartrarl. Aru havarl arlarnarld grarl rogght tar larlarn trarrarl."

Krom tried to piece the whole phrase together, but it did not come out as easily as he had hoped. He got out of the statement, "come, you have earned writing more." Curious as to this request, he followed along with Buttercup at his side. The Elder lead them up the path towards, what Krom would believe, the forge of the mine. Then it dawned on Krom what the Elder said, come, you have earned the right to learn more. This making much more sense.

The Elder had waved a hand, drawing a large chunk of the delicate colored lilac ore from the pile, floating in mid air into his hand. Upon holding the lightweight piece of ore, he examined it silently for what seemed hours. "Do you know what lies within this? The sparkles of the rare metal that you seek to learn. Merely dust and sparkles of the precious product that we seek."

The Elder, with staff in hand started to make his way towards a cauldron. The ore, once more was floating before him. It hovered over the cauldron for a while before it started to descend, submerging into the cauldron that was filled with a liquid. "A weak acid works to separate the waste from the mithril." The Elder explained the steps of what he was doing, using magic to manipulate the sparkles that remained to form a small nugget. In truth, it was not even a nugget, it was no more than a fingernail worth. From such a large piece of lilac ore, the barbarian believed that he would have at least collected a lot more than just what was collected.

The Elder then had levitated the small nugget of metal into the chimney shaped clay furnace, probably no more than four feet tall. All of this was done without word, as this now became part of iron working. The precious mithril, being prepared in the clay furnace at incredible temperatures, much higher than what is required for iron. The barbarian knew why the nugget was being heated at such high temperatures, that was the easy part to understand, but why was it being heated at such intense heat? Wouldn't it cause damage the mithril?

The barbarian simply observed the goblin Elder remove the slag, or impurities, from the small collection of mithril he drew from the ore. A small trickle of slag trickled out from the bottom corner of the furnace, meaning that the mithril nugget must be nearly complete into forming a high quality bloom of just the mysterious metal. Krom did not speak at all, he just observed and memorized each step of the process.

The Elder brought forth the even smaller bloom of mithril and set the molten blob down upon the anvil with the aid of his magic. "Very weak metal it has become. Will not hold form and very brittle. It must be enchanted, a mix of magic and the power of the forging process in order for this metal to become the superior of all."

The barbarian watched and listened as the Elder worked, never using his hands but the use of an invisible force to move things for him. This process of smelting the ore was repeated time and time again for the better part of the day. This was the process that took the longest, mostly because there is so little of the metal found in the lilac ore. It requires an insane amount of ore to just extra enough mithril metal to form a dagger. Cartloads followed by cartloads were constantly being dumped to supply the constant demand for mithril pieces.

Finally, there appeared to be a decent amount of the mithril blooms collected and they have cooled. The Elder picked up the smallest nugget and tossed it towards Krom, who caught it in the air. The mithril did not seem impressive at all, and lacked all the glorious qualities that made it so famous back in Nanthalion. The clump was weak and crumbled just like the ore. The Warlord believed that this was some sort of a trick, but then before his eyes the goblin Elder started to chant and waft his hand over the amount of mithril before him. It started to shimmer and glow, giving a reflective quality to the metal pool that was constantly being heated.

Once when the Elder lowered his hand, the swirls of pure silver, unflawed and undisturbed, moved through the cauldron. Several of the goblin workers quickly began pouring the liquid metal into various casts at this point so the metal will harden to its shape.

It did not take long at all for the liquid metal to harden. "This will never be able to melt again, not by means you are familiar with. It requires intense heat, much hotter than the extracting phase. The fire of a dragon perhaps could be the heat intensity that is required, but how often do dragons come about? For now, once the metal has been hardened, it has taken on the form and will remain as such. There is no altering this metal once it has hardened, so mistakes are not permitted."

The Elder turned and started to walk away. The barbarian lifted a brow before speaking up, "What else do I need to know?"

"There is nothing more you can learn at this time. Take this amulet, as it is needed to prepare the mithril. The magic within will give the metal its nearly indestructible quality, or so that is what you would call it, the lightness of a feather, and ability to be one with magics. Now go, there is nothing more I can teach." With that, the goblin Elder vanished from sight. The small army of goblins clad in mithril armor once more pointed their spears at Buttercup and Krom, poking them both to direct them away from the forge.

Up the trail they were lead and about a mile through the mine, the light of the sun was coming to their attention. They were lead out of the mines, the Mountain of Kabur. They were expected to leave by the looks of the goblin?s faces and the manner of showing force with their spears.

Krom and Buttercup moved away from the entrance of the cave and continued to move away, returning to their camp from which they were captured from to find their armor and weapons there, undisturbed as well as their horses who seemed to be the same as when they left them. Had time even passed? It certainly did not seem so? perhaps it was all a dream or a vision?

But then Krom felt around his neck and found the amulet.

BACK