The Dwarf in the Mountain [WRITINGS]

[DISCLAIMER] The term dwarf refers to the fantastical race of beings found in The Silmarillion and other similar works.

Part One ~~~

Long ago, through unknown forces, all manner of evil creature and wanton malice poured forth upon the lands. The many folk of the world, who did not take kindly to such action, cast aside their differences and united against their common foe. War was waged. War was had. But after a time, the war seemed lost. Yet the many brave, brave folk of the world fought on. They persevered. And after a time, the war was won. The many folk of the world rejoiced and rebuilt. Their heroes passed into myth, their victories into legend. Their history rang all throughout halls of gallantry and academia. And after all was well, the many folk of the world picked up…and moved on.

On this day of all days,

at this hour of all hours,

in this very tiny sliver of all the grand ages,

The lone dwarf stood alone at the mouth of a large hole. A hole that one might call an air vent, some sort of vent for air, but a hole nonetheless. And in this hole stood the test of time, a reflection into one’s soul, the very mighty chasm of all there is and all there ever will be forever, and ever, and ever, and ever.

The lonely, lonely dwarf, alone in all the world, far and away from any and all who may call him family or friend. The lonely, lone dwarf, at the mouth of a large, large air vent, a vent for air. He looked down into it. Into its darkness. The deep, deep, deep darkness. He was afraid. When he had taken great care to remove the gated fixture before him, he had dropped it. And the crash, though taking its time to find its final destination, did echo, far and far and away. He stood for a while, at the mouth of that large hole, waiting for anything. A voice perhaps. Some exclamation of why some gated fixture had just dropped on one’s head. Maybe even an animal of some kind, letting loose its only proclamation against the gods. Yet there was nothing. And so still, the lonely, and loud dwarf, stood all alone, at the mouth of a very large hole, a hole for venting air, afraid.

He was stood at the mouth of a large hole atop a very tall mountain. A very tall mountain indeed. All around him, through a light drizzle of snow, he could see the valley below. The far mountains to the south, gleaming in glory. The slow dance of the autumn leaves across all the trees. The plains and plains and plains that draped before him. And, before setting off on his irrevocable journey, he did so gaze upon the endless beauty before him, and took one last, one long, one drawn, one mightily and gloriously fulfilling breath, the world never knowing any better of a lonely, lonely dwarf, sat atop a very tall mountain, at the mouth of a very long, very dangerous, and very irrevocable journey.

Cautious and careful, the dwarf lowered himself into the deep, deep darkness. His first of three bright magnesium flares on his belt all but disappeared into the blackness below. But he had seen the surroundings of its path. He had, by way of rope and rappel, lowered himself into the top of what seemed to be a tall elevator shaft. One that he suspected stood the height of the mountain itself. No rope for that, he thought. To his right, a set of elevator doors. He reached for the lamp on his helmet. In the light, the numbers by the door read 1009.

Upon checking his equipment, the dwarf then began to question his next course of action. He began to swing his legs back and forth, slowly, until the momentum was his. He swung just far enough for the tips of his fingers to grab an edge on the wall. He hoisted himself closer and found his footing. With the tip of his knife, he leveraged some force between the doors and peaked inside. Complete darkness. He inched closer to the middle of the doors, and extracting some space between the heavy slabs of metal, managed to slip his fingers between. He pulled with all his strength. But these doors were tall. They were heavy. And soon, he began to lose his grip. His fingers were strained, his arms worn, yet onwards, he pressed. With strained expression, more and more, the doors began to part. He shone his light between the space, down into the deep, deep, deep black, a deep, deep darkness from whence a foul shriek and a fury of beating wings rushed towards him, unseen.

The dwarf gasped in shock, and with total instinctual fear, ejected himself backwards from the doors and into the darkness of the elevator shaft. He fell for a few seconds before his rope caught. A shrill shout of pain escaped from the dwarf’s lips as his spine took the full weight of his fall. In panicked daze, the dwarf wondered if he should move. Perhaps the fall had severed his spinal cord, ending his journey early and leaving him in a terribly disastrous predicament. His mind began to wander.

O how deep. How long the fall? Will it hurt? What if someone could survive such a fall…only to pass agonizingly afterwards. By the gods. Snap out of it! The dwarf began to twitch his toes. Yes, that’s right. Now the foot. Yes. The legs. My arms. Yes. Working. But what of the mind? Surely this cannot be real. Surely this terrible fate must be unfolding for some other poor soul.

What of your mind, dwarf? What of the time you, dwarf, stared fearfully forward, and fate dared stare right back? What of it? You should have died then and you know it. And you should be afraid. By the gods. What kind of…terrible things may lay below? Ready to snatch anything on its way down right up, before it even hits the ground! - He shuddered and gripped the rope. Get a grip. He pursed his lips and clenched his jaw. And with gods willing, the lonely dwarf hoisted himself upwards and began to assess his situation.

He was now three floors below, dangling somewhere between nine hundred ninety-seven and nine hundred ninety-six. The dwarf dared to peek below him. The abyss continued to stare back, it’s vast, empty blackness threatening to swallow him whole forever. Yet, in its call, he thought he may have found some encouragement. A push to keep going. At least, that’s what he would like to think at this very moment.

He blinked several times, accepting what must be done. Then, swinging his little legs back and forth, he mustered enough momentum to reach for a tiny ledge with the tips of his fingers. A familiar and painful sensation shot up through his fingernail beds as he pulled hard, reaching his other hand forward and mounting himself precariously upon the ledge. Phew. He looked down again, into the dark, and nodded to himself.

The dwarf thought for a moment, concentrating on the fading light from the hole he had fallen through. He looked closely. Through the hole, he could see little flecks of snow finding their way in. Then he reached for his pickaxe, drew it from his utility belt, and jammed the tooth right through the elevator door above him. Testing the integrity of the doors, the dwarf rocked the pickaxe upwards and downwards, slowly leveraging the arms deeper and deeper, until-

Clink.

The pickaxe was through. Carefully, he rotated the handle ninety degrees, barring the arms across the door. He tugged on the end as hard as he could from his hanging position. The doors seemed sturdy enough. But his full weight would be the true test. He placed one hand on the end of the handle and slowly dropped down, hanging more and more weight upon the pickaxe. Then, with bated breath, he let go of the ledge and faithfully grabbed onto the pickaxe with his other hand. Success, he thought.

With sheer might and force, the dwarf muscled his arms downwards, pulling his stout body up and over the handlebar. He now straddled the pickaxe, uncomfortable as it was. In front of him now lay the elevator doors.

The dwarf’s eyes strained in the deepening black. The grey steel before him could barely make form in the dark, and no better was the black slit that pierced its figure. He squinted, best he could, between the doors and into whatever oblivion the gods may see fit to construct. It was eerily quiet. Not a rumble. No wind, no clatter. Not even a creek. Just breath, upon breath, upon breath.

And what of the darkness? Of that foul creature who takes root. Perhaps its presence shall grace these halls below. Perhaps then, balance is lost. The dwarf sat afraid; petrified. Then, with what courage lay with the dying light, the dwarf rose. He planted himself firm, one foot on the pickaxe, one foot on the ledge, and pried the doors open with his fingers.

The doors creaked and clanged, but eventually folded into the walls. The dwarf having seen opportunity, stepped forward into the dark, turned to grab the axe, and clumsily thrust it into the air, ready to swing at any opposing force. Yet none but pure and utter darkness came to meet him.

The air was dry and cold. He felt the air in his lungs chill, perhaps even freeze. It was cold. Immensely cold. Get moving. The dwarf hesitated. The silence of the room enveloped him until all his ears could perceive was the adrenaline coursing through his head.

Alone? Maybe. Was it just a bat upstairs? By the gods, make it so.

He placed his fingers upon his flashlight, ready to twist the knob.

Perhaps it can see in the dark?

Perhaps it knows I am thinking of it.

Perhaps it knows not to make a sound-

Click

A blast of scientific fury and generations upon generations of dwarven ingenuity burst forth from the dwarf’s mighty helm. His electric torch blazed, electrons flowing freely and furiously from the lithium contained within, flooding with life, casting ray upon ray upon ray of bright, white fury before him.

A mighty dwarven rage seethed beneath his exterior, as if all fear and doubt had been vanquished, dispelled by the many, many generations of dwarven blood coursing through his veins. The gods had never seen such a sight. A dwarf, all alone in all the world, far and away from any and all who may call him friend or foe, atop a lonely, lonely mountain, beneath a lonely, blue sky, screaming headburstingly for death.

ARRRGGHHhhh!!!

The swing of his axe fell through and pierced the metal of the floor beneath him, erupting with a loud and shrill bang! Yet no enemy answered his mighty, proven battlecry. The dwarf gasped for breath and absorbed his surroundings. He felt himself red in the face. His eyeballs scanned the lonely room.

It appeared to be some sort of mail processing unit. Carts of mail and envelopes, some bursting, some empty, carts of all manner, lined and lined and lined, parked and abandoned all across hall and room and hall and room. The room was strewn with cubbies strewn with boxes strewn with paper and mail and more paper and more mail, enough to make one’s head spin, he thought to himself.

The server room was his goal, which, according to provided schematics of research facility RD-773, was located on level nine hundred ninety nine. Typically, server rooms were to be constructed near the top of mountain facilities, at least according to current Crate & Bros. Logistical Industries Ltd. guidelines. It made for easier access to mountaintop satellite infrastructure and communications arrays. Naturally. Once there, he could finally terminate the distress signal and investigate the situation properly by asking someone what’s going on-

The thought caught in his throat. A trickling sensation began to prick and pry its way through his frozen body. It was as if the walls themselves had grown eyes and were watching his very thoughts. He dared not move. Caught between a cubicle and a room, the dwarf suddenly felt very exposed. The darkness swelled and ebbed, flowing and thundering around him, broken only by the sheer might of his helm. One thought crawled through his brain.

Where…where are all of you? Not a soul to greet. Only the sheer silence and darkness of some time long ago. They must’ve left in a rush. Otherwise, why all this paper? Where did you all go? Are you there? Are you watching me now?

The dwarf rested his hand on his pickaxe, hanging loosely from its leather clasp on his waist. There’s no need for this, he began to convince himself. There’s nobody there. Not yet. He took a quick breath to compose himself. Upstairs. Just upstairs. Upstairs.

~~~