The great ascent began with a winding road, a spiraling track built for minecarts, and a gear-driven lift platform forged with the borrowed ingenuity of dwarven craft.
This was the gateway to the Sky Road.
Unlike ordinary roads laid on solid ground, a path suspended high above the earth brought its own hazards. The height alone was daunting, and every moving part required absolute stability. Still, none of these challenges were insurmountable.
A proper road always needed more than the path itself. Lamps, guardrails, and regular maintenance were essential. In truth, upkeep would not be terribly costly. Where ordinary lifts and gear platforms might wear out, crack, or collapse after years of use, the contraptions Eric built with his unusual skill were another matter entirely. The parts he forged and assembled did not creak, buckle, or rot. If one ever failed, it could only mean someone had sabotaged it. Stability was, in short, perfect.
Eric had already spent several days at the site, repairing and building. The most difficult section, the starting stretch, now stood finished. What remained was repetitive labor that any crew could handle.
When Bard received word, he hurried to the site. Raising his head, he found himself staring at a sight that nearly stole his breath.
A massive stone pillar, like the trunk of a mountain-sized tree, rose skyward. Upon it stretched a smooth road, bordered with sturdy rails and lit by lamps that burned with steady torchlight. At the base stood a small cabin for resting travelers, humble yet practical.
Bard let out a long whistle.
"Even if nothing more were built, this alone could be called a miracle."
"This is no miracle," Eric replied with a faint smile. "Have you ever heard of Khazad-dûm? Moria, as it is now called."
"I know the name," Bard said. His face darkened. "I hear it is a warren of orcs and worse things now."
"It was not always so," Eric said, his gaze thoughtful. "Long ago, Khazad-dûm was the greatest dwarven city of all. It stretched from west to east beneath the Misty Mountains. Its halls climbed toward the peaks and sank deep to meet underground rivers. Every wall, every bridge, every gate was carved to perfection. No shortcuts, no shoddy work. It was the true marvel of the world."
Compared to Moria, even Eric's fortress tower and the entire territory of Roadside's looked small. Only his strange, block-born gifts allowed him to build as quickly and solidly as he did. It was almost unimaginable how much time and labor the dwarves had poured into their masterpiece. That, Eric thought, was a miracle worthy of the name.
Bard tried to picture it: vast halls large enough to swallow Dale and Erebor together. The thought made him shake his head in wonder.
"Dwarven craft is beyond compare."
Eric's grin widened. "Then tell me. Do you still think this Sky Road is impossible?"
Bard chuckled. "I never said it was impossible."
"Good. Then it is time to begin."
Eric clapped him on the shoulder and led him toward the entrance, explaining each part of the design. The broad road for easy ascent. The spiraling minecart track for hauling stone and supplies. "And," Eric added with a mischievous glint, "if anyone wants to test what spinning in circles at high speed feels like, they can ride for fun."
Before Bard could decide if that was a jest, Eric leapt onto one of the lift platforms and beckoned him to follow.
The platform was solid as bedrock. The walls enclosed them, and a dozen safety features were packed into its frame, including a water basin beneath for emergencies. Eric had even thrown in redundancies he doubted would ever be used, simply because he could.
Both men stepped aboard, and the platform did not so much as shudder. It felt like standing on the ground.
Eric pulled a lever.
Clack.
The platform rose with steady grace.
For Eric, the movement was ordinary, no more thrilling than a trip down a minecart shaft. For Bard, however, the sensation was foreign. His stomach lurched, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt.
This was the same man who had climbed towers to shoot at a dragon without trembling, the archer who could steady his aim under fire. Fear of heights did not bother him. Yet the strange weightless tug of the rising platform left him gripping the rail.
"What a peculiar thing," Bard muttered. "I had heard of such contraptions, but never stood on one."
"Now you have," Eric said cheerfully. "And you will be using them often."
By the time the lift reached the top, Bard had steadied himself. He stepped out into the open air, the high breeze brushing against his face. Walking to the edge, he caught the rail in one hand and looked down upon the endless stretch of green trees glimmering in the sunlight.
"That is the true forest," Bard murmured. "Not the darkened wood men call Mirkwood, but the Great Greenwood as it once was."
As the heir of Dale's former rulers, he knew enough of old lore to understand what he saw. "So beautiful, so vast. I pity the Elvenking. To see his forest corrupted by spiders and darkness, to be forced into his underground halls…"
Eric nodded. "They were trapped by danger. Orcs could roam along the rivers, and travelers were never safe. But now," he gestured at the new road, "things will be different."
"Yes," Bard said firmly. "Everything will change."
With a quick gesture, Eric placed an iron golem beside the entrance. The towering sentinel stood to serve as a tireless guard, ensuring safety at the road's beginning.
"The wood-elves are not unfriendly," Eric remarked. "They only turned inward because the world pressed too hard against them. To friends, they can be generous and warm."
Bard glanced toward the halls of the Elvenking. "I can believe it. Their king seems stern, but his heart is kind. I have long wished to thank him, but never knew how."
"Simple enough," Eric said with a laugh. "Dorwinion wine. The good kind."
Bard blinked, then laughed as well. "Very well. I can manage that."
Once the route ahead was fixed, Bard quickly summoned the road builders waiting back in Lake-town. Together they gathered at the base of the great stone pillar.
The workers craned their necks, gawking at the skyward path. Whispers spread.
"We are going up there?" one asked, voice uncertain.
"Yes," Bard said firmly. "If anyone fears the heights, you may withdraw. No one will be forced into this work."
He swept his gaze across them. None spoke up, but the look in their eyes told the truth.
Back out now, before even trying? That would be shameful indeed.
The work would go on.