[Child of the 7th Age]

Rage clouded Ned's eyes and caused him to rush blindly onward, still determined to catch the Dwarves who had tumbled from the sack. He shook his head in bewilderment and frustration as he saw the round bodies thump against the ground, then watched as the Dwarves groggily awakened and clambered out of sight.

Still there was one Dwarf less fortunate than the rest. Farin's head had hit hard on a nearby boulder, so that the Dwarf lay unconscious in the tall grass just a few paces distant from the Troll's feet. Seeing one prize still lying within grasp, Ned howled in anguished triumph and tucked the limp body under his arm, then stuffed Farin deep inside the open sack. With great effort, the Troll managed to tie a crude knot on both ends, ensuring that his captive could not possibly wiggle free.

Then he cautiously retreated towards the cave, bathed his maimed fingers in the cold waters of the spring, and wrapped the hand securely in a few ragged scraps of cloth to staunch the flow of blood. Driven both by pangs of hunger and a stab of blind fury, Ned had totally forgotten his great stone club that lay behind him on the ground near the edge of the woods. The Troll's attention was fixed on the prospect of dinner. He wrenched off the lower branch of a massive oak and leered once more inside the bag, intending to skewer his remaining captive and roast her slowly over the glowing embers of the campfire to assuage both his empty stomach and his wounded pride.

[ June 04, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]