The Discovery

Dulint turned the strange artifact over in his hands, his thick fingers tracing its odd angles. “Well, I’ll be a goblin’s uncle. Never seen anything like this in all my years.”

Balin snorted, his eyes still fixed on the mysterious scroll. “That’s not saying much, considering you’ve spent most of those years staring at the same bit of rock.”

“Watch your tongue, youngster,” Dulint growled, but there was no real heat in his words. “I’ve forgotten more about mining than you’ll ever know.”

“Aye, and about everything else too, I’d wager,” Balin muttered under his breath.

The two dwarves fell silent, the weight of their discovery hanging in the stale mine air. Dulint’s eyes glazed over, lost in thought. Balin could almost see the gears turning in the old dwarf’s head.

Ancient Memories

“You know,” Dulint said slowly, stroking his beard, “this reminds me of the time I fought alongside the men of Lumeshire against the minotaur hordes. They had ancient writings, not unlike these-”

Balin groaned, cutting him off. “By the Stone Father’s beard, not another war story. We need to focus on what’s in front of us.”

Dulint huffed, offended. “You young’uns have no respect for history. In my day-”

“In your day, the rocks were softer and the gold grew on trees,” Balin finished for him. “I know, I know. But what do we do with this?” He gestured at the artifacts.

“Well, now, hold on a minute,” Dulint said, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “Did I ever tell you about my great-grandfather, old Thrain Ironbeard? Now there was a dwarf who knew the value of a good secret.”

Balin sighed, but Dulint pressed on, undeterred.

“Thrain, he got his hands on a map, you see. Stole it right from under the nose of some sorcerer. That map led him to this very mine.” Dulint rapped his knuckles against the stone wall. “Said the real treasure was deep down.”

“And let me guess,” Balin interjected, “he was never wrong?”

Dulint nodded vigorously. “Right you are, lad! Got rich, he did. Had so many expensive rings in his beard, he clinked when he walked. Used to say the echoes of those rings would guide him to the richest veins.”

“Fascinating,” Balin said dryly. “But what does this have to do with our current situation?”

“Don’t you see?” Dulint’s eyes gleamed. “If old Thrain was right about this mine, who’s to say what other secrets it might hold? This artifact could be just the beginning!”

Balin’s expression softened slightly. “I suppose you have a point. But that still doesn’t tell us what to do next.” He looked back at the artifacts. “I don’t know what this is, and I doubt anyone in Throngahm would know either.”

A Difficult Decision

Dulint’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. “We could always ask-”

“And I’m not sure I want to share this before we know what it is,” Balin continued, ignoring his companion.

Dulint’s eyes narrowed, a cunning glint appearing. “How do we know who we can trust? Who could help us?”

Balin fell silent, his fingers drumming against the strange artifact. After a long moment, he spoke. “There’s only one. Xandor might know.”

“Xandor?” Dulint’s eyebrows shot up. “The druid? Bah! What does a tree-hugger know about dwarven artifacts?”

Balin shook his head. “It’s not dwarven, you old fool. Look at it! It’s… something else. And Xandor, he knows things. Ancient things.”

Dulint scoffed. “Aye, like which berries give you the runs and which leaves make good te.”

“You know him and his people,” Balin pressed on. “They know a lot about ancient stuff and artifacts. If anyone can make sense of this, it’d be him.”

The Call to Adventure

Dulint stroked his beard thoughtfully, leaving a smudge of dirt. “Hmm. You might have a point there, lad. But how do we get it to him? The trade caravan’s not due for another month.”

A slow grin spread across Balin’s face. “Who says we need to wait for the caravan?”

Dulint’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. Us? Go to Zuraldi?”

“Why not?” Balin challenged. “We know the way. We’ve been there plenty of times.”

“Aye, with a caravan! With guards! With supplies!” Dulint sputtered.

Balin waved a dismissive hand. “Details, details. Think about it, old timer. An adventure! Isn’t that what you’re always going on about? Your glory days?”

Dulint’s protest died on his lips. A familiar glint appeared in his eye, one Balin hadn’t seen in years. “An adventure, you say?”

Balin nodded, pressing his advantage. “Just think of the stories you’ll have to tell when we get back. ‘Dulint the Brave’ they’ll call you. ‘Dulint the Adventurer’.”

“Ha!” Dulint barked a laugh. “More like ‘Dulint the Fool’ if this goes sideways.” But he was grinning now, caught up in the idea. “Alright, lad. You’ve convinced me. When do we leave?”

Balin clapped him on the shoulder. “First light tomorrow. We’ll need to pack light, move fast. And not a word to anyone, understand?”

Dulint nodded, suddenly serious. “Aye. This is our secret. Our adventure.”