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(World: The Hobbit)
Khazad-dûm, located in the central region of the Misty Mountains in Middle-earth, spans across both the eastern and western sides of the range and serves as a vital passage for the inhabitants of Middle-earth to cross the Misty Mountains.
This was once one of the most glorious kingdoms of the Dwarves, established by Durin I.
Durin was one of the seven ancestors of the Dwarves.
The sounds of the Dwarves' smelting and forging echoed underground for long ages, until their boundless greed in mining disturbed a Balrog that had been slumbering deep beneath the earth.
After this fallen Maiar, known to later generations of Dwarves as Durin's Bane, killed Durin VI and drove the Dwarves out of the underground, he occupied this city that originally belonged to them.
The ancient name Khazad-dûm was gradually forgotten, and the region gained a new name: Moria.
However, some of the wise in Middle-earth have always kept a close watch on the situation in Moria.
They hoped that one day, this important gateway to the Misty Mountains could return to the side of Light.
Yet, without dealing with the Balrog below, such hope was too faint, like a spark flying from a Dwarf's hammer—it would only vanish in an instant.
It wasn't that no heroes of the Dwarf race had ever fought their way back into Moria, but in the end, they could only watch as it fell back into the hands of Orcss.
However, things seemed to take a turn one day.
Gandalf the Grey could feel the dark power that had long haunted the depths of Moria suddenly grow weak, so he chose to temporarily set aside his agreement with Thorin Oakenshield to go and investigate.
But before even entering the Misty Mountains, Gandalf made an unexpected discovery.
...
Isengard.
This was a fortress located on the northern border of the Kingdom of Gondor, guarding the Gap of Rohan and defending against threats from the Misty Mountains.
Although it wasn't a particularly prosperous human town, the large flow of people still made it appear vibrant.
Gandalf had originally intended to just stop and rest here for a while, but he unexpectedly caught the scent of a faint yet inherently powerful fallen energy.
Watching the beautiful woman walking past him, Gandalf couldn't help but hesitate; judging by her overly bold and revealing attire, it wasn't hard to guess her profession.
To be honest, despite living for so long, Gandalf had almost never dealt with this demographic.
However, the situation was serious, so he could only grit his teeth and steel himself to step forward.
"Good afternoon, beautiful ladies. I am Gandalf, a wizard..."
"A wizard? The kind that can do magic?"
"At your age, are you looking for a woman too?"
"I wouldn't dare take your business. It would be such bad luck if you died in bed."
"..."
Gandalf tightened his grip on his staff, his lips trembling slightly. He had far underestimated the boldness and sass of these two young ladies; as they spoke, they even began to get handsy with him.
It seemed they wanted to personally verify if his physiological functions were still intact.
Though Gandalf appeared to be an elderly man, his essence was that of a Maiar.
Strictly speaking, he was a lesser deity.
He was only limited by the current rules of Middle-earth and could not exert his true divine power.
But even so, this seemingly aged body was actually comparable to that of a top-tier warrior, capable of lifting a two-handed sword with one hand.
The firm feel of his muscles made the two ladies of the night gulp involuntarily, suddenly feeling that this transaction might not be impossible after all.
"Calm down, ladies. I didn't stop you for that sort of thing. I sensed a dark power on you. Could you please think if anything unusual has happened recently?"
Gandalf hastily took a few steps back, dodging the increasingly bold hands of the two ladies, and spoke flusteredly like an innocent young boy.
"Dark power?"
"Something unusual?"
The two ladies paused, their expressions shifting.
In Middle-earth, dark power wasn't just a scary story used to frighten children; it was a reality.
Orcss, Trolls, and the like were all manifestations of dark power.
As residents of the first line of defense against the Misty Mountains, the two ladies naturally had some understanding of dark power; they weren't the kind of ignorant or foolhardy people.
Coupled with Gandalf's self-proclaimed status as a wizard, they began to feel uneasy.
"If you're talking about something unusual... that might be that Ranger who came out of the Misty Mountains."
"Mhm, I've never seen anyone as handsome as him. He's just like the Elves in the legends."
"And he was extremely generous, though the silver coins he gave didn't seem to be from the human kingdoms. They were engraved with Dwarven patterns."
The two ladies chimed in one after another, revealing information.
"Silver coins? May I see them?"
Gandalf reached out and opened his palm.
After exchanging a glance, the two ladies each reached into their bodices and pulled out a heavy silver coin.
Gandalf could tell at a glance that these silver coins were indeed of Dwarven craftsmanship, and from the patterns, they were from Moria; the minting style was ancient.
It wasn't rare for Moria silver coins to flow out from the Misty Mountains.
After all, there were too many races living in the Misty Mountains, and even the brutal and stupid Orcss understood the art of trade.
During non-war periods, some daring human merchants would choose to enter the Misty Mountains to trade with certain Orcs tribes to make a fortune.
Of course, most of these people found it difficult to return alive.
What truly allowed Gandalf to sense the dark power was a small trace of dried blood on the silver coins.
It came from a Balrog.
"Where is that Ranger now?"
Gandalf's gaze sharpened as he asked in a low voice.
When Gandalf became serious and solemn, he was quite intimidating.
...
The most prosperous industry in the Isengard fortress was undoubtedly the pleasure trade.
After all, the main consumers here were energetic soldiers who had been suppressed for a long time.
Some Rangers or mercenaries also needed to unwind after returning from the Misty Mountains.
The income levels of these people were not low.
The Tulip Tavern was the most famous among them, and also the most expensive.
As soon as Gandalf entered, the thick scent of rouge made him squint his eyes, but he immediately turned to look around.
According to those two ladies, as long as he saw that Ranger, he would definitely recognize him.
Gandalf hadn't understood at first, but now he did, and he nodded in deep agreement.
He really was in a different league altogether.
At first glance, Gandalf truly thought he had seen an Elf.
That kind of transcendent charm and unparalleled presence almost dominated the entire hall.
But in the next instant, Gandalf dismissed the possibility.
No Elf would be so debauched.
The man was almost buried in a sea of fair skin.
This lifestyle, even among humans, would be considered quite fallen.
"Hello, I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey..."
Gandalf stepped forward and spoke softly, his eyes completely unsure of where to look, so he could only stare down at his toes.
"You're Gandalf? The wizard who sets off fireworks?"
The handsome Ranger didn't forget to open his mouth to take a grape offered by the beauty beside him as he looked Gandalf up and down.
"Er, I do indeed set off fireworks, and I am indeed a wizard."
Gandalf felt a bit awkward. The prefix'sets off fireworks' made him sound more like a street performer, seriously lowering the prestige of a wizard.
But it was undeniable that his fireworks were indeed very good.
"Oh~ then please set one off for me to see."
The handsome Ranger seemed to have taken an interest.
Gandalf took a deep breath, comforting himself internally not to be too petty with humans.
After all, they were just a short-lived race; even the greatest stories and legends would lose their flavor after being washed away by a few generations.
They weren't like Dwarves or Elves.
Forgetfulness was a common ailment among humanity.
Perhaps now only human kings or a few high-ranking officials realized what Gandalf the Grey represented.
"Then excuse me."
Gandalf the Grey raised his staff and gave it a light tap.
Magical fireworks exploded in the tavern in a dazzling display of splendor.
"Good show, you deserve a reward."
The handsome Ranger tossed a silver coin.
Gandalf reached out to catch it and looked down; it was likewise stained with spots of Balrog blood.
"Ranger, may I ask where you obtained this silver coin?"
"Just call me Kael, Gandalf."
Kael picked up his wine and took a large gulp, then continued.
"They came from Moria."
"Hasn't that place been occupied by Orcss?"
Gandalf asked urgently.
"Exactly. Those Orcss are as annoying as cockroaches—you flip one over and find a whole nest. They stink to high heaven and you can never kill them all."
At the mention of Orcss, Kael's face showed an expression of disgust, as if he had caught a whiff of their foul stench again.
"There's more than just Orcss in there."
Gandalf looked into Kael's eyes and spoke meaningfully.
"True, there was a big fellow hiding there too. The fireworks he put out were much more dazzling than yours; they even burned my clothes."
Kael's gaze didn't flicker as he spoke in a calm tone.
"Can we talk privately?"
Gandalf asked tentatively.
"Ladies, my apologies."
Kael shrugged and agreed, patting the beauties clinging to him.
Sometimes it was hard to tell who was really the one being entertained here.
Without the eye-straining 'fair skin' in the way, Gandalf finally noticed the long whip hanging at Kael's waist.
That was a weapon that should have belonged to a Balrog.
At the moment, it looked unremarkable, but Gandalf could feel the terrifying power it contained; once fully released, it was a sub-divine artifact capable of melting the earth.
"This is...?"
Gandalf's voice was a bit dry.
"Oh, my trophy. That big guy wasn't easy to kill; it took me quite a bit of effort."
Kael ran his hand over the Balrog's whip and sighed softly.
That battle could be described as world-shaking.
It wasn't that the Balrog's power was so overwhelming—the divine power of these Maiar was severely restricted and couldn't manifest much in Middle-earth—but its divine essence made it exceptionally hard to kill.
The blood spraying from the Balrog had stained almost all of Moria.
But in the end, he had usurped everything from the Balrog.
Gandalf stared at Kael, trying to see through to his soul.
A mortal could not possibly kill a Balrog, nor could they usurp the Balrog's whip, which was an extension of its divine power.
Sure enough, he saw some immortal essence in Kael.
Could it be that another great deity had come down to have some fun?
As a wizard, Gandalf was also essentially a Maiar, no different from the Balrog; both were servants of the 'Valar,' though the latter had chosen to serve the forces of darkness due to corruption.
The 'Valar' meant 'The Powers of the World.'
It was the name the Elves gave to the 'Ainur.'
In fact, both the 'Valar' and 'Maiar' were 'Ainur'; they were just distinguished into higher and lower ranks by the Elves based on the strength of their power.
As for the 'Ainur,' they were the thought-products of the one creator god, 'Iluvatar'; they could simply be seen as the gods of the world, each with different abilities and duties.
Morgoth, who was regarded as the Great Enemy of Darkness, was the most powerful of the 'Ainur,' but because of his own pride, he fell to darkness and was banished to the Void by his many 'colleagues' long ago.
Although Morgoth's soul had left the world, his dark power was closely integrated with it; unless the world was broken and remade, his residual poison would forever plague it.
Thus, contending with darkness became the unchanging theme of Middle-earth.
"Had enough of a look? I don't like being stared at by men like that."
Kael reminded Gandalf, and the latter hurriedly withdrew his gaze, apologizing sincerely.
"Apologies, that was rude of me."
If he wasn't, then fine, but if he really was one of his superiors, he mustn't be offended.
Gandalf was actually quite ambitious; one could tell by his tireless efforts to lead the forces of Middle-earth against the darkness.
There wasn't just one wizard in Middle-earth, but he was the only one whose fame was so widespread.
"So Gandalf, why have you come to find me?"
Kael looked at him and asked.
"I originally wanted to ascertain the reason for the changes in Moria, and now I have my answer."
Gandalf replied.
He looked quite relaxed.
After all, putting aside the question of Kael's identity, the death of the Balrog was a good thing; it meant the dark power had weakened further, and in the future, they could even consider reclaiming this Dwarven city.
Kael raised an eyebrow and said nothing, waiting for Gandalf to continue.
"Kael, have you heard of the Lonely Mountain?"
Gandalf blinked, deciding to add a new weight to the scales of the Light.
"Of course, the unlucky Dwarves of Durin's folk lost their home once again."
Kael took up the topic.
"Ahem."
Gandalf coughed twice, his eyes looking a bit guilty.
Fortunately, this was human territory; if the Dwarves heard this, they would probably jump up and strike Kael in the kneecaps.
"You say first it was a Balrog, then a fire-drake; is it just the Dwarves' bad luck, or is it their own problem?"
Kael rubbed his chin and teased.
To some extent, the suffering the Dwarves endured was commensurate with the unrestrained greed in their hearts.
"Ahem!!"
Gandalf coughed even harder.
He already somewhat regretted bringing up this topic.
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