Written for the "Six Days of Spooky" Challenge

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The lamps flickered in the lifeless air, casting a pale halo that wavered on the rough-hewn walls, holding back the darkness. Beside a rusted pickaxe lay a single moldering boot. A gleaming river of ore spilled from an upended cart. Heads bowed over their work, the masons did not stop to look.

In silence, they laid the courses of stone, each layer leveled square and true, until the last block was slid in its place, sealing the darkness inside. Then they carved on the wall in Daeron’s runes--
In this place did Durin’s folk delve too deeply into the mountain.