[Durelin]

Vrór

It was not just because he was sopping wet that Vrór shivered. Shouts and screams could be heard from above them, and each time any noise became sharper, seeming closer, he felt a cold shudder run down his back, whether or not a drop of water raced down his skin. Anything closer was too close. And with the knowledge dawning on him that though the disruption in the camp had been a distraction, it would soon cause someone to turn his attention to the pit.

They had to get out of there as quick as possible, but this boy decided it was a good time for an argument. If Vrór was a little more clear-minded, he might have been able to see the situation more from the captive’s position. That a Hobbit and a Dwarf had popped out of the water and expected the boy to come with them was a bit much. But Vrór was frustrated by the boy’s stubbornness. One would have thought him to be a Dwarf being asked to leave a near collapsing mine: a stubborn fool.

But before either he or Carl had a chance to respond to the boy’s refusal, the girl stirred. Hope rose in the Dwarf’s heart, and as he watched as slowly she began to move more, he could not believe his hears when she began to speak. Truly, her words were unbelievable in and of themselves! She had told him about? She had known they were coming? Vrór felt a small twinge of fear. What kind of child was this? What kind of children did this land produce?

He could only stare in amazement as she actually stood up and came over to them. She had appeared as the dead, and now she was walking and talking, and apparently certain that she could swim! And Vrór did stare at her as if she were the living dead. Luckily it was only for a brief moment that he forgot how close they all were to being quite definitely dead.

“Why…if you’re certain, my dear…” he said hesitantly, but putting all his kindness into his voice. Coming further to his senses, he began with more assertion, “We are here to get you out, but I do not know how easy that will be. I will go first…I do not know what will be waiting on the other side. And Carl will be the last through…” he looked to the Hobbit as he whispered the final part, inquisition in his eyes, which was answered with a curt nod.

“We must move. Do not get disoriented! There is a way through, no matter how it might seem while you are in the water, so do not panic. I will try and help guide you as best I can. The glint of my axe might serve as a sign for you to follow, if need be. There should be a torch in the wall of the tunnel if nothing has happened, so swim up to the light!”

Realizing the graveness of the situation, Vrór offered a smile of reassurance to both the boy and girl, and the friendly gesture was passed on to Carl, as well. “We will get out of here,” he said, with a variety of thoughts concerning what exactly he meant by ‘here.’

Without any hesitation, the Dwarf moved himself over to kneel by the waters’ edge. He looked down at it for but one moment, and then rolled himself down into it, slowly and carefully, so as not to make any splashes. The cold water splashed over his face and slowly enveloped the rest of his body as he swam down, face first, slowing gliding, his axe gripped tightly in one hand, which he held out, and his other hand feeling his way down. He ran it along the rough rock, ignoring the scraping of his skin, feeling for where the rock ended, and he could slip underneath it. He spared only a brief thought when he realized he would not be able to turn himself around or even to look behind him properly to see if anyone was following him. His thoughts were grave and his prayers fervent as he went as slowly as his lungs would allow him now that they were starting to ache.

Soon he was forcing his head up above the water, and gasping for air, having lost a battle between caution and the need to breath. He forced his eyes to see, even though the water that trickled into them blurred his vision. His torch was still stuck in the wall where he had left it, and there was no sign of anyone, he thought, but then something caught his eye. The blanket, their makeshift colour, did not completely cover the hole. It was drawn back, and someone was looking in! Scurrying out of the water as quickly as he could, Vrór growled and raised his axe. But a blink or two revealed to him his mistake. It was a familiar face that now peered at him with a strange expression.

“Lindir!” Vrór called out to him, though in a low, grating whisper. He chuckled under his breath. “We have them, they are coming!”

With that he turned around, and grabbing the torch from upon the rocky wall, he held it over the water and peered down into it. Tossing his axe aside for the moment, he dipped his arm into the water, holding out his hand both to give the children a sense of direction, and to help them out when they reached him. He counted the seconds as hours as he waited to catch a glimpse of one of them rising to the surface.