With just a couple of casual glances, Allen could tell that Óin was right. The Sixteenth Hall must once have housed many people of considerable standing. Traces of gold remained on carvings throughout the hall, and even beneath Allen's feet, he could see lines of silver inlaid into the floor.
Beside those lines were broad gouges. Clearly, the Half-orcs occupying this place had dug up the silver flooring and left it in this state.
At the height of the Durin Dwarves' power, they must truly have paved their floors with silver and roofed their halls with gold. Now that was wealth.
But after searching for a while, Allen discovered that every room here, without exception, had been plundered by Half-orcs.
Doors that should have stood tightly shut had all been smashed open. Inside the intricately carved stone chambers, anything that could be damaged bore the marks of hacking blades and stabbing swords.
There was certainly nothing worth taking. All that remained were a few broken vessels.
As Óin took it all in, the excitement on his face quickly gave way to grief, followed by visible fury. He mourned what had happened to his kingdom and raged at the Half-orcs' barbarity.
Walking beside him, Allen saw every change in his expression. All he could do was sigh helplessly and gently pat Óin's shoulder, urging him to stay calm and not do anything rash.
Their little party was operating right under the noses of two bands of Half-orcs. They could not afford even the slightest mistake. A single furious shout could alert hundreds, even thousands, of enemies.
Of course, Allen felt no better. Though he had prepared himself somewhat, he was still deeply disappointed. If they could find no spoils even where the House of Durin had lived, the other halls would