[Thinlómien]

The night after his capture Thin-Gloomy had hardly slept at all.

The cell he was in was small and it smelled of rats. Both were things Thin-Gloomy was accustomed to. But he wasn't accustomed to a locked door between him and the world, nor to sleeping in hay without a coat or blanket between it and himself. The hay prickled his skin and got everywhere and there was probably more hay than beard growing from his chin.

The cell was dark, but it posed no problem to the dwarf. He was used to darkness. He was glad to notice a little hole near the roof though. It probably won't be any help with escaping, but it will probably tell me wether it's day or night outside.

It was not long after the moment when light finally crept to the cell from the tiny hole that they came for him. They were the same men that had handlled him before. The tall and broad-shouldered one with lifeless brown hair and gruff air about him and the young one with red hair, an ugly scar across his face and a gap between his teeth. Thomas and Jack they were called, if I recall correctly.

"Get up", the bigger man grunted. "Aye, obey when he tells you to", the redhead echoed. Thin-Gloomy saw no point in resisting and got up. "Where are you taking me?" he asked. "Not your business", the big man said, pushing him out of the cell rather ungently. "And don't even try to run. Jack's got a bunch o' throwing knives and I daresay he can use 'em too", he added, looking at the smaller fellow, who was grinning and toying with a sharp, broad knife.

They walked the dark corridor. There were a few other doors, but Thin-Gloomy presumed the other prison cells were empty. At least there came no sound from them and the dust covered the outer doorsills. "So, where are you taking me?" he repeated. "To the boss", the redhead with the knife answered casually. "Ah, that shrill-voiced cow. I see." The hit came sooner than he had anticipated. "That's not the way you speak o 'her, crippleback", the man called Thomas told him.

When they arrived to a big chamber, Thin-Gloomy was examining his face, wondering if the gruff man had broken something. His bones seemed to be undamaged, but his face definitely hurt and his ears rang.

"Bring him here." The same unpleasant, shrill voice. Thin-Gloomy lifted his head to see the owner of the voice. She sat on a high chair on a wooden platform (did she fancy it a throne?) and looked at him with a disgustd look on her face. She had long, straight, dark hair and cold light blue eyes. If you forgot her curiously short nose and square jaw, men would even call her pretty, Thin-Gloomy reflected.

"Thomas, bind his hands so he can't do anything." The order was obeyed. "Now, tell me, dwarf, where is it?" Thin-Gloomy had been anticipating this one. "Where's what, beginng your pardon, my lady?" The big man hit him on the stomach. "You do know what I'm speaking about", the woman answered coldly. "I don't have the slightest idea, dear lady", Thin-Gloomy said, "and even if I had, I wouldn't tell you." The big fist hit him again.

The bandits played the ask and hit game for a while, until they saw it had no results. Thin-Gloomy was used to being beaten. "Take one of his fingers off, then. Jack, you do it", the woman ordered. "No!" Thin-Gloomy screamed inspite of himself. "O' course, boss", Jack the Redhead replied and unsheathed one of his big knives. Thin-Gloomy struggled to keep the horrified face.

Jack lowered the knife and pressed it lightly on his left littlefinger. "Where be that treasure, strawbeard?" Thin-Gloomy let tears to come to his eyes. "Don't cut my finger. It hasn't done anything to you", he wailed. "Tell us, and I'll let it in peace", the gap-teeth boy answered with a cruel smile. Thin-Gloomy took a deep breath. "I'll show you, if you have a map."

The bandits exchanged doubtful glanced. "Mica, fetch him a map", the woman shrieked. The fair-haired bandit disappeared and came back with a big, badly-drawn map of the North-Western parts of Middle-earth. "Jack, unbind him, he needs his fingers to point", the woman ordered. "Jack's still got his knives, remember that", the big man hissed to him.

The woman ascended from the platform. "Show me", she said. Thin-Gloomy, still weeping, put his finger on the map. "There at the Northern North-Downs", he lied. Then he continued sobbing violently.

"You know what happens if you lie to me", the woman said and made an unmistakeable gesture across her throat. "Thomas, Jack, take him away. Mica, I have a couting job for you."

Though Jack and thomas didn't treat him gently, Thin-Gloomy was happy on their way back. I did it, I did it! Their bad they don't know the dwarvish mentality too well.

One for me, zero for them this far, Thin-Gloomy thought.