So they were then left in the middle of the corridor leading from the main Casino area. Smilog scratched his head as Skittles dashed away wither unusual outfit and even more unusual wooden contraption. "It'll never catch on," muttered Smilog, "where are we anyway?"
"Its a horror worse than even the deepest pits of Mordor!" cried Roggie, as he leant out of the window and screamed, "worse even than staring into the depths of the great eye itself!"
"Speak sense, man!" cried Tollin, "where in Middle Earth are we?" the Minotaur looked out of the window for himself. He stepped back, "I don't see what’s so bad."
"Its..." shivered Roggie, "s-s-s"
"You sound like Tollin with his lisp," mocked Smilog, "speak with words not nonsense. This isn't the house of Tom Bombadill." The Balrogian figure burst into a torrent of fire and shadow, filling the corridor with flame. All about him the shadow gathered and then he drew himself up and the shadow about him seemed to stretch forth like two great wings.
"Mock me not!" bellowed Roggie, his voice becoming as deep as the abysses and as terrible as the wroth of Sauron himself, "Foul smelling bearded creature! I am Roggie! Master of the Casino!" then the fire seemed to dye and he returned to his abnormal self, still scowling at the Dwarf. "A beach!" he said plainly.
"What?" Smilog said with a start, "Never heard of it."
"Its terrible!" cried Roggie, "at least, if the stories are true."
"Oh, be quiet," said Tollin, "you know as well as I do that they are. But it doesn’t look so bad. See, there’s an ice cream stand!"
"What's ice cream?" queried Smilog,
"No idea," replied the Minotaur, "but it looks tasty. Lets go and explore."
"I've got a better idea!" shouted the Dwarf, "lets find out who is driving this mountain first! We need to get to the crack of Doom as quick as possible. Who knows if the Mountain might drive off again while we're all outside drinking..." he peered out and read the firs sign he saw, "Nike shoes? Besides, it shouldn't take long. I have the blue prints
here..."