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TSoV: Ch. 7 Halls of the DwarvesChapter 7
When she awoke the next day, after a long healthy sleep, Vaenomar sleepily rubbed her eyes and wondered why the air in her open Elven room smelled like the underground and why it was so dark. Must be midnight, she murmured to herself.
She sat up and put her feet on the floor. It was very close; in fact, her bed was on the floor. That's odd. Dwarves....rope....mountains....she mused, recalling a very long, bad dream. It...was a dream, she hoped aloud, sleepily. Getting up, her feet clenched on pressing on the cold bare stone. There was no stone in Tauremith. Either she was still asleep or...it wasn't a dream at all.
As she stumbled around in the dark space, which by this time she'd found to be quite large, her memory wheels slowly began to turn and everything came back to her once more. She sighed heavily, still scarcely believing, where was she now, though. "The dungeon?" she wondered.
She recalled the first and last sight she'd had of the ma
TSoV: Chapter 6- Journey to the Mountain Their journey to the North was a tedious one, the air growing increasingly chill, and the terrain became more rugged as they neared the massive foothills of the Grey Mountains. The weary Dwarves found the ascent up the slopes more tiring by the hour as they trudged, with heavy burdens and sore feet, across the rough land.
The forest thinned with altitude and wind began to nip at their extremities. They had travelled many leagues beyond their normal patrol boundaries in pursuit of a small band of intruding goblins in an attempt to frighten off their persistent raids on nearby villages and settlements. It had been months since the Dwarves had been home. The crafters’ fingers itched for their hammers and they yearned for the aroma of molten metals. The few with family members that awaited their arrival yearned for that warm home welcome. Thorin, laden down with cares and duties heavier than his brethren, just wished for a good, stout meal, malt beer in plenty and a soft
Saga of Vaenomar Ch5- Hot SoupFor Beruthiel that night passed like a waking nightmare. She could barely convince herself of her situation’s reality or even of her being conscious. Gone for good from her home? It couldn't be possible. What on earth could this rough, secretive race want with her, alive. She almost preferred they had killed her. What really were they going to do to her, she wondered in a daze. Though the thought of escape crossed her mind vividly at least every other minute, it seemed perfectly impossible; at least now. Her hands were bound so tight they were turning purple and she had no strength to move, even less run miles at top speed.
Why was she weak! She cursed and set her jaw, frustrated. Oh...Because she hadn't eaten for two days.
Just then a viscose, meaty smell wafted in the tent and into her nostrils. Her stomach gave a tremendous growl and she groaned, “Why did I have to think of food...” Shivering, she curled up as best she may, elbows holding her empty stomach to comfo
Saga of Vaenomar Ch4- The Chieftain Chapter 4
When Beruthiel finally came to her senses she was huddled in a dark corner of a musty smelling tent. Her hands were bound and roped to a beam that held up the squat canopy of the tent's walls. Her head ached and her eyes throbbed but a darkness surrounded her. She had no idea where she was; she remembered nothing of what happened. Weakly struggling with her bonds she became more aware of what passed as the gnawing pain of the coarse rope on her wrists brought things back. She could hear a harsh language being spoken by deep guttural voices. Peeping from under the flaps of the tent were the faint rays of sunlight. It was morning. They would be looking for our return by now, she thought instinctively. Then it all came rushing back to her like an avalanche over ice a
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