Cobbled together with what was at hand, the innocuous stones were joined. Pressed with mortar and left to cure, the arch stood without a gate for months.
The smiths worked long and hard, the miners in their darkness too, and all the while the wooden defenses stood guard as that fort was built.
The flame of a single flame could have taken that place in a moment, the rush of siege only slowed, the lord watched down every day with fear for what might come.
The work was hurried but not made with haste, for the careless make weak what is strong, and as the days passed and weeks followed suit, the lord grew more fearful and tired.
When at last one day the gate had been made and settled within its new home, the lord ordered closed and locked in an instant that gate as he finally slept.
A prompt response.
The Ederren 
I get the feeling the lord was living in fear. I am happy the gates comforted him.
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Maybe so, but most all stone forts and castles went through at least a temporary wooden stage. The best time to attack.
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I do so like this. I almost get the notion that the lord is King Arthur, and this is where he sleeps until the bugle calls. 🙂
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Perhaps he only sleeps until England wakes to call upon him. Yet deep is the sleep where dreams are real to pascify even the most aggressive of those who would other stand prepared.
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I did once write a story that featured this. And England called upon this ancient king. But he never was a king of England. He was Welsh and Breton and Cornish. Things did not go as hoped.
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Might have been more amusing if he were Irish, but there’s only so much that can be done with shaking legs and spiked colour-changing hair before people start assuming it’s actually a Japanese cartoon.
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To which I chuckle, the imagery you’ve invoked 🙂
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Suppose it’s what happens when you can walk on the tip of a spear.
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The bridge to the Otherwiorld is along the blade of a sword.
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And its doors within the mists and within the reflections of lakes.
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Yes. A loudly whispered veritable yes
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