A Game of Flags

Chapter Two: Entering the Mines

𝗧he Solidarity now walked on foot, Greflyn was leading the way, he had a leash on the bronze horse; which was his. Evera was walking behind; with the Dwarf D'Angelo and the Valf Eli behind, Merry and Gimitri had a leash on one of the Horses as it trotted, with Arathor at the back, walking his own horse.
They went up a few slopes, resided in a few caves, before making their way back up the road, they weren't never gonna stay long. The Journey was quick, even the Younglings seemed tired by all this, and the Dwarf himself started getting bored.
“How long are we going to be doing this?” said D'Angelo. “It feels like my legs are about to fall off! We've never done this much walking back in the Mines.”
“The Mines?” said Arathor.
“Yes, the Mines,” said D'Angelo, “long ago, of course. The Dwarves lived in Mines, we weren't allowed sunlight because other kingdoms such as Nazrule and Lurkmist forbidded us. As we weren't official children of the gods.”
“Well what are you then?”
“That i do not know,” said the Dwarf. “But what i think is that we were made from a special variant of animals, which explains why we are very hairy.”
Arathor looked at the sunlight ahead, with the mountains making a circle around it, he said: “You don't think those mountains have any mines in them, do you?”
“Those? It's possible, i doubt it, highly. Dwarves don't exist as much as they used to back then, so its probably filled up with dead orcs and collapsed clumps of rocks.”
“We can check it out,” said Arathor. “But what will the others think?”
“What is there to think!” said D'Angelo. “The Others may not care about the Mines; but i do, although i've never really been in one. The old times are gone, long gone.”
Arathor put his scimitar in his sheath. “Well so be it then,” he turned to the others, calling for their attention. “Everyone! We will be visting a special location, a location some of you may be fond of!”
“Oh really?” said Eli, “Give us a hint!”
“Dwarves!” said Arathor, as he ran up the slope. “Come along! Hurry, hurry!”
And then slowly, the Solidarity waddled up the Slope.

Rago was now walking back with the others, the sound of the screech could still be heard like a buzzing sound; although the others did not seem to be affected by it.
“Alright, you guys win,” said Captain. “We're going home, get your stuff.”
The Soldiers grabbed their belongings as they slowly walked back to the City of Grandzam, also known as the Pyramid City, which was on the fifty-fifth floor.
Rago had slowly diversed from the others, making it to his small house, which was shoved into one of the many levels of the Pyramid City.
But then, he remembered something; “Oh, good heavens!” he said. “The Scroll!” and like the wind, he dashed up the levels, and made it to the Citadel.
As he ran in through the entrance, he could see that the King — Ferocorn, and his messenger — the leader of the Soldiers, Bergorn, were alarmed by the youngling running in.
“Am i disturbing something?” said Rago. “Sorry if i seemed dramatic by the entrance — it was very impulsive.”
“You're fine,” said Ferocorn. “We were both discussing on our Solidarity and what we need to do, you're in that Solidarity, right?”
“The Solidarity of the Donrule?” said Rago. “If so, then yeah, not the other Solidarity the Nazrule's made.”
“Good,” said Ferocorn, “you need to run an errand for us — alert the others — it seems the Nazrule's are attempting to get the Flag through their Solidarity.”
“How are you so sure?” said Rago.
“We had a few messengers go out into the wild,” said Ferocorn, “Bergorn was on the mission too. Which is why he wasn't able to accompany you.”
Rago nodded. “Alert the others, got it,” he said, “oh! Beregor, you know that Scroll you told me about? Yeah, i might wanna take a look at it at home.”
“By all means,” said Bergorn, as he took out the scroll. “Here you go.”
He gave Rago the scroll, as Rago nodded. “Farewell!” said he, as he ran out of the Citadel.

The Solidarity had now approached a tomb, but it was blocked by a Boulder, few members of the team had their torches lit up, as Arathor examined the words on the Boulder, as they seemed to not be a famillar language.
“This is not an ordinary tongue,” said Arathor, as he turned to D'Angelo. “Can you translate this?”
D'Angelo took a close look at the text, as he said: “It's old fashioned Kehzad, ancient language of the Dwarves; i can try. But excuse me if i get some words wrong.”
He cleared his throat. “By all means, if you wish to enter a Mine of Dwarf, we will not be friendly. We will not be nice, you neglected us; now we will neglect you.”
“Well, that doesn't sound too threatening!” said Gimitri. “Why are we even here? This is a mad act! We can get to the next floor, but no! We are here!”
“Shut it!” said Greflyn, as he turned to Arathor and D'Angelo. “You guys might want to move.”
The Two moved out of the way, as Greflyn raised his Staff, and the Boulder collapsed into pieces, and what laid before them was a dark alleyway, with dead orcs all over the stone ground.
“Told you,” said D'Angelo, as he turned to Arathor. “You still want to do this?”
“We have looked everywhere for the Next Gate,” said Arathor, “i'm willing to take chances. As all of you should aswell, follow! And stay close!”
And by single file, the Solidarity had entered the Mines of Myriad.

Three is soon!