[Annunfuiniel]

Vráin woke up to a cry of pain – that of his own. He tried to struggle out of the net of black dreams but the darkness was about him. The pain that had woken him hammered in his head and neck and surged over his body with every heartbeat. Only his left arm didn’t feel any pain: he had lain over it at it was now numb.

Through the veil of agony Vráin started to perceive the world around him. He lay on his left side, coarse blanket scraping his cheek. Something soft, warm and heavy pushed against his back, partly over him. He couldn’t stretch his legs and breathing was difficult. By Durin’s beard! Where am I?

Presently the weight over Vráin started to stir. The cloth smothered his yelp as it tightened around him and then he felt how solid ground vanished from under him. I’m not wrapped in my blanket but in a sack! the reality dawned to the dwarf. And with my luck this is the worst bag to be in… he continued to muse.

Just then his prison started to swing in growing circles. The swaying made Vráin sick and he sought to press his stomach with his free right hand. The hand met cold steel. The knives! How could you forget them! he scolded himself and released the weapon from his waistband. Hope had never totally left him but with his knife in his hand he felt again unbeatable.

"Wait just a second, who ever you are." Vráin murmured as he pierced the cloth with the blade. "Soon you’ll learn that no-one sacks Vráin without consequences!"

The swinging ceased after one final fling that ended with the sack thumping against something that wasn’t the ground. There were heavy footsteps and the bag quaked lightly from side to side. Suddenly they stopped again and turned around. Then Vráin felt his capturer spurting to the direction where they just came from. He got squeezed in the bottom of the sack. There are others in this trap too! he realized as a boot pressed against his ear.

The jog-trot was short. For a moment the sack hung again in the free air. This is my chance. thought formed in Vráin’s mind and he ripped the bottom of the bag with one stroke.

The fall was higher than Vráin was prepared for and breath escaped him when he hit the ground back first. One freed captive landed over him whereas the other rolled on their side. A moment of stupefaction followed during which Vráin managed to take breath. He quickly pushed aside the person over his breast whom he by now had discovered to be Farin. He sprang up and raised his face to the heights – to a gigantic troll with a nasty club.

The troll recovered quickly but Vráin was faster. Anger that had grown in the captivity was now released and he didn’t sense to fear anything. With a fierce cry he leaped towards the troll and slashed its club hand. The creature let out a blood-curdling shriek and the club fell to the ground, with three fat fingers. I must get that beast away from the others. rang in Vráin’s head and he turned and run to the bushes ahead. The troll wasn’t pleased to see his peaceful supper turning into fast-food and he tumbled after the dwarf with a growl, sucking his injured hand.