Hermesin woke from a long, pointless sleep. Or, rather a pointless dream. He dreamed that an army of dwarves and men was about to burst in on the Paths and take over them. They would take over, and once he was dead they would burn him. His spirit would watch them in the Paths, looking for something... looking... digging, drilling, breaking, searching. For what?
"Pah!" He spat out, as if some terrible taste were to reside in his mouth.
"Unimaginable. What a stupid, worthless-"
He couldn't finish that sentence, because he heard footsteps outside his deep, secret cavern.
"Hm. What's that? Who are you? Come out, I'm armed!"
He drew up his sword, holding it in front of his nose, pointing it towards the wall as if something were to pass through it, suddenly.
[ April 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]
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The world was young, the mountains green. No stain yet on the moon was seen. No words were laid on stream or stone, When Durin woke and walked alone...
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