"That dragon lies in the treasury of the Lonely Mountain Kingdom, sleeping amidst heaps of gold."
Elrond spoke solemnly to Gandalf and Sorlin.
"It has been asleep for sixty years now. Who knows what chaos might ensue if it is awoken?"
"It is captivated by the brilliance of the treasure and the weight of the wealth. Sorlin Oak Shield, if the evil dragon wakes up... there will be casualties!"
"Are we just supposed to accept this fate?"
Sorlin seemed ignited with a fit of anger by Elrond's words.
He stared intently into the eyes of the Lord of Rivendell and questioned loudly.
"The wealth accumulated over generations by us dwarves, the craftsmanship and techniques we created! Are they just supposed to be occupied by that evil creature?"
"Did my people who survived the disaster in the Lonely Mountain deserve to suffer, to be displaced from a prosperous life, from their homeland Elbo, to this state?"
