I didn't get to see any of the Lonely Mountain other than the outer welcoming hall, what the Dwarves set aside just for meeting folk that they don't want to let into their homes and mines. Well, I mean, I saw the Lonely Mountain itself, but I didn't see any of Erebor. Or is Erebor the mountain? I never got clear which name means which part, but anyhow, I didn't see their halls. Just seeing the outer welcoming hall took quite a lot of doing.
The librarian in Dale told me I should talk to the Dwarves, but you can't just ask any Dwarf as you see. You need to talk to the one what might know the right things. I approached some of the Dwarves what I see in Lake-town, but none of them had much to share. The ones what come into Lake-town are there for trade, and most of them want to do what they're there to do and then leave, as they don't find it comfortable to be in a city over a lake. Even more than I don't, that is. They don't want to talk to me about old history or some lantern, and they probably don't know anything anyway on account they're merchants.
But one day while I were looking for day-work I heard a tale of a Dwarf what had got his waggons lost to some brigands, south along the lake, heading to the Falls of Girion, where they was going to take a long road to some lands south. Seems the Dwarf had hired some fellers to guard his waggon, and they decided to steal it instead. But these weren't bright folk. They stole the waggon and then didn't got a way to haul it, and afore long they got it stuck in the swampy land down the south end of the lake. They took the cargo they could carry and ran off. From what I heard, they ran into the Mirkwood and probably came to an ill fate, as do most of them what go into those woods without knowing the right road and the right ways.
I were thinking about ways the Dwarf could get back his waggon and the remaining goods, just on account he needed help, I figured. So I approached him the next day and offered to help. Well, this being Lake-town, he assumed that I wanted something in exchange, so he asked what I wanted. Without thinking, I told him I wanted to have a chance to talk to the wisest of the Dwarves about this matter of the lantern. So he took it that that's the price I was asking. He didn't seem to like it, but after a bit, he agreed and told me I drove a hard bargain. I didn't even know I was negotiating! I'm not sure what really happened, but what come of it is, if I could get the waggon out, he'd help me get an audience.
I've helped pull a waggon out of mud a few times back home, and I did have a horse with me stronger than any that they normally had in these lands. I got the Dwarf to rent two more sturdy horses, and provide plenty of rope. I slogged out into the mud myself to tie off rope to the waggon and drag it around some of the nearby trees, then tied it to the harnesses of Kestrel and the other two, all pulling in slightly different angles. Then I went out with barrels of water and, while calling out to Kestrel telling him when to pull -- he's got an air about him that can make other horses follow him, so once he pulled, the others pulled -- I poured out water to loosen the mud in one spot, then another. Took two days of hard work, inching the waggon first left and then right, before I got it up to hard enough ground to roll, and the wheels free of enough mud to turn.
The Dwarf were plenty pleased and more than a bit surprised -- clearly he didn't expect me to succeed -- and he even bought me the best dinner I'd had since I'd been in Woodland Hall. Then he got me an audience inside the Lonely Mountain. I were all excited thinking I was to see those grand golden mansions, but all I saw was that entrance hall. I got to talk to one of the oldest of the Dwarves of Erebor, one what had dwelled there long afore the coming of Smaug, the dragon what destroyed Dale and burned Lake-town.
When I talked about the lantern and where it was supposed to have come from, he got quite upset at the assumption that it must have been made either by Elves, or the Men of Númenor, without anyone considering it might have been the hands of the Dwarves. They are, he insisted, the finest of craftsmen, and also the best of miners, who might uncover such a rare gem with a glowing heart as might power such a lantern, gems like the Arkenstone, the legendary treasure of Erebor. I am sure he really wished as he could have told me something about the lantern just to prove the Dwarves had been the one to make it, and were upset as he couldn't. Because in the end, he never heard of it.
As for the remnants of Eorl's people, he hadn't heard of them. It was with obvious reluctance that he offered the idea that I should try to speak with the Elves of Mirkwood to find whether the Éothéod had come this way. "If your people ever went through those woods, you can be sure the Elves knew of it. More than likely captured them for no good reason and put them in dank cells, in fact. They've got long memories, those Elves." All I could wonder, as I rode back to Lake-town, if it took such an effort to talk to one of the Dwarves, how much more to talk to an Elf?
