“Hethuost?
On which map does this castle even exist? I’ve never even heard of this before!”
Bofur said, who was well accustomed to
travelling this side of Eriador. “Hethuost, my dear dwarf, is a place
you will never see on any map.” Gandalf huffed. “Not on any normal map, at the
very least.” Gandalf stepped up to the wooden gate, and found a portion of it
to have rotted and fallen apart, leaving the gate with an open gap. The dwarves
could possibly fit, and Gandalf would have to bend over to make it through. “What
do you mean, by not any normal map?” Bofur, curious by this, had followed the
wizard. “If you take a look at the ancient maps from the First or Second Ages,
it is possible that you would find this place. This is how old it is. And how
fortunate we are to see it!” The wizard seemed a whole lot more thrilled than
the dwarves did, and waved the others over. “Come come! We must see if there
are any records inside of what have happened here!” “But shouldn’t we be
heading towards The Shire, Gandalf? Aren’t we already late as it is?” Thorin
asked. “You would throw away the chance to see a once in a lifetime mystery for
that? I’m sure that your fellow dwarves can wait a little. And besides, we
cannot travel around this entire citadel, it would take far too long. No, the
myths have it that there are only certain times on certain days that you are
even able to see a marvel such as this!” Gandalf continued, deeply engrossed by
the wonder he was seeing. “Even as such, there are no books about the ruins of
Hethuost, no no. Nobody ever found out what happened here! Come now, let’s see
if we can’t go inside and find ourselves a place to set up camp and maybe do a
bit of exploring.”
