[Himaran]

Dwali awoke like he would have on any other day. The dwarf rolled over on the hard ground, stretched, yawned and rubbed his eyes idly. Perhaps it was a burst from Mount Doom that brought him back to reality, or maybe rows of torches shining before him in the darkness. The army. The company! The mountain passage! Pulling himself out of the ditch, he scrambled on as best he could. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, and Dwali realized that he must have slept for only a few hours. It was probably close to midnight, and the company might have already made off without him. But wait - they were all dead, so what did it matter? He could stay and rest... and then pangs of hunger pushed him forward, hoping dearly that a friendly face would be waiting at the passage.

The dwarf reckoned that he had travelled over a mile earlier in the day, which left about the same distance before him. He mentally beraided for being so slow to get off the path, but he knew it was foolishness. At least he was alive, more than could be said for some of the company. Memories of Dorim brought a wave of anger over him again. Why does everyone die? My family! My friends! Why not others...

Suddenly, a heavy boot landed on Dwali's back, slamming his face into the dusty ground. An orc had slipped off the edge. Trying to stay calm, the dwarf waiting, hoping that he would pull himself back up. Then deciding that in the darkness no one would notice, he heaved himself backwards. The orc toppled down on top of him. The dwarf's hand siezed his mouth, and the other dispatched the brute with a swift thrust of his dagger.

He waited a few moments, and left the body and crawled on. He knew that by dawn, the corpse would be discovered; but it would probably be attributed to an argument amongst the ranks of the enemy. Hoping that this would be the case, Dwali continued pulling himself along, heading for the mountain passage.