Maybe most people would think of a dwarven citadel being hidden away in the bowels of the earth.
Well, who says one can't climb high into the fog?
I imagine the closest buildings are barracks and gatehouses for a whole company of guards. No one could cross that narrow and slippery ridge, to breach the gates beyond, with a phalanx of shieldwardens blocking the path.
As the traveller wearily dragged himself along the path he saw the city for the first time. Enshrouded in mist the citadel was large and impressive, its old stone walls defying the ages that had wared against it, its form and structure a testimony to human and dwarf craftsmanship both past and present.
The traveller’s heart filled with gladness, despite his weariness, to think that he had made it here to witness this great sight. Soon he would enter this place of legend and, in his excitement, he hurried onwards towards his goal. As he drew nearer the mists began to lift and more could be seen. His heart thudded in his chest as he suddenly realised his mistake. What he had seen wasn't the citadel, it was only part of the citadel! He stumbled to a halt, feeling small and insignificant in the shadow of this immense cluster of structures. Words failed him. It was beyond his ability to describe.
I am sorry. I'm not sure if this was appropriate or not. You see I can't create with colours like you can, only with words. Your picture set me off and I hope you like it. It is a small tribute to your piece. A thank you for creating something so neat.