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Old 09-10-2006, 11:58 AM   #173
Durelin
Estelo dagnir, Melo ring
 
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Join Date: Oct 2002
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Durelin is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Durelin is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Vrór

The Dwarf had never felt so thrilled with hope in his life as one by one he helped the girl, boy and Hobbit out of the water onto rough, coarse dirt that he appreciated now more than he had ever loved even good stone. But what the Hobbit had to say brought Vrór’s momentary happiness to an end, as he realized just how far they were from victory, or even safety. Of course it was only a matter of time before the slavers would know of their rescue, but still it caught him in his stroke of optimism unawares.

“They’re too big…I think.”

Helping Carl out, Vrór’s voice was full of deep concern, though it was steady, “Let us hope so.” He knew there was not much else they could do but hope. And move.

As Carl reoriented himself, allowing a moment for his breathing to slow at least a little – though the Dwarf’s heart was racing long after he had caught his breath – the children were already prepared to get out of the tunnel. They both seemed to have a good head on their shoulders. Likely survival was something they were accustomed to fighting for. The thought pained Vrór as he rushed now to gather up his things. He donned again his belt, picking out his hammer from it, and then his boots, glancing at the water every few seconds, expecting one of those evil men to emerge from it at any moment. He offered the hammer to Kwell, and pulled a small pick mattock, its handle only about a foot in length, from his belt to offer it to Carl.

“We don’t know who will be waiting for us out there. Perhaps the spud bar is more suited for the young lady.”

With axe and torch in hand, Vrór determined without speaking that he would lead the way out of the tunnel. They moved as quickly as they could, shuffling along, while trying not to make too much noise. The seconds were agonizing as their ears strained to hear any sign of the slavers following them, none of them daring to look back. Finally they reached the end of the tunnel, and the Dwarf breathed easy for but a heartbeat before he had to prepare himself to face whatever waited for them above ground. He had not seen Lindir since he had first reached this side of the tunnel again, and there was no telling if he or any of the others had even been able to wait any longer for their Dwarf and Hobbit companions.

Pushing aside the blanket with his axe hand in a rush, he popped out, axe and torch at the ready, to find to his relief three of, at this moment, the most beautiful faces he had ever seen: Lindir, Rôg, and Aiwendil…he and Carl had not been abandoned yet. But soon they would all be in trouble. Vrór felt a sting of guilt. He was not even sure where it was his fault lie, but their escape was not going to be easy because of what had happened in the tunnel and the pit. There was nothing to be done about it now, except to make a break for it before two-dozen armed men were chasing them down.

Peeling back the blanket once more with the head of his axe, he motioned to the others to follow him out, and held open the cover while he turned back to address the tall ones.

“They have discovered our goal,” Vrór said in as low a voice as he could manage, as fervent and nerve-wracked as he was. “They know the children are gone. They are too large for our route, but…they know it exists.”

He could not stop a shudder from running through his body, and he found himself in no condition to make any decisions, so he waited in heart rending anticipation as what the Dwarf’s report meant fell onto the two men and elf. Vrór could not shake the feeling of how narrowly he had escaped death in that tunnel, and combined with the knowledge that he was far from safe now, it was enough to make anyone sick. It did not help that his scornful ears told him that a number of the shouts in the camp were headed in this direction.
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