How long he had been out, Smilog could not tell. His head was wobbling more than Bombur on triple cake Friday. That wine was strong stuff for sure; so strong it had knocked him out cold, or it may have been the lamp, which lay in pieces just beside him. He struggled to his feet and waddled around, stumbling and gibbering incoherently to himself. It wasn't long before he began to sing...
We Love fishing for the sea
Because it gives us lots of glee
For into the mouth of the moth we go
To find the singing toad's crow!
Oh to be a family’s mouse
Would make me look like a house!
And then I’d look at all the cats
And say to them “Bats!”
He fell forwards onto the hard stonewall. Except, it wasn't so hard. In fact he was sure it was hollow. "Wasc awll thisc then?" he slurred as he repeatedly punched the wall. After many efforts the wall opened and Smilog fell through it and landed flat on his face in a dusty passageway. The door closed swiftly behind him, as if it too did not like the look of this odd place with its strange smells. Smilog tried to stand up, but only fell down again and soon began to sleep.
When he awoke his head ached worse than the Witch King's head when Eowyn stabbed him. He stood up and looked around at the strange surroundings, it was a long corridor, dark and dingy, probably inhabited by some giant spider, knowing his luck. Slowly he followed the passage until he came to a turn. Then another. Then a crossroads. Then another. Then a turn again. What was this place? A labyrinth. "I have Labyrinths!" he cried aloud to himself.
"Don't talk-sss to me abot-ss Labyrintttthhhsss!" came a voice from around the corner.
"Who's there?" demanded Smilog walking towards the sound.
"Oh, nobody!" came the reply, "its-ss all a dream! Go to shleep!"
"If its a dream, then how could I go to sleep?" queried Smilog. There was a pause.
"Erm..." said the voice, "Its-sss a sss-strange dream. Yeah, that'll do. And I'm an invisible ghos-sst!"
"Look, I'm not here to play silly beggars," huffed the Dwarf impatiently, "and you're not an invisible ghost. I can see you... you..." he stopped as he realised what he was talking to. A large, hairy, smelly Minotaur!
"Go on!" said the creature, "run and sss-scream. Like all the others-ss!"
"Well, for a start it wouldn't be a fair chase," observed Smilog, sitting down, "I can see from here that your leg is trapped in that bucket. What's your name?"
"Name?" mused the Minotaur, "Well... erm..."
"You know, 'name'" Smilog teased, "the thing most beings have to identify themselves by?"
"I know-ss that-ss!" The Minotaur stood up and fell down again. "Tollin, is-ss my name! Tollin Gaurhoth! At your sss-service."
"Smilog, the Dwarf, at yours." he helped the creature up, "perhaps we can help each other get out of this place?" Tollin shook his head and slowly began to weep. It was odd to see such a terrible creature cry to heartily and with such sorrow. Almost like seeing Sauron himself curl up, suck his thumb and call for his mother.
"I've been here for years!" cried Tollin, "I've not found even the slightest hint of an exit!"
"Why don't we follow that sign?" asked Smilog pointing at a large illuminated 'exit' sign hanging on the wall.
"I did not ssss-see that." said Tollin scratching his head.