at those words, and he offered Drizzt a nod and moved off deeper into the room, Thibbledorf at his heel. Drizzt looked to Cordio and Torgar, both of whom nodded their appreciation of his handling of the volatile king.
It was not Gauntlgrym, all three of them knew - at least, it was not the Gauntlgrym of dwarven legend. But what then?
There wasn't much to salvage in the library, but they did find a few scrolls that hadn't fully succumbed to the passage of time. None of them could read the writing on the ancient paper, but there were a few items that could give hints about the craftsmanship of the former residents, and even one tapestry that Regis believed could be cleaned enough to reveal some hints of its former depictions. They gathered their hoard together with great care, rolling and tying the tapestry and softly packing the other items in bags that had held the food they had thus far consumed.
They were done scouring the hall in less than an afternoon's time, and finished with a cursory and rather unremarkable examination of the rest of the cavern for just as long after that. Abruptly, and at Bruenor's insistence, so ended their expedition. Soon after, they climbed back up through the hole that had brought them underground and were greeted by a late winter's quiet night. At the next break of dawn they began their journey home, where they hoped to find some answers.
PART 2 Chapter 14 POSSIBILITIES
King Obould normally liked the cheering of the many orcs that surrounded his temporary palace, a heavy tent set within a larger tent, set within a larger tent. All three were reinforced with metal and wood, and their entrances opened at different points for further security. Obould's most trusted guards, heavily armored and with great gleaming weapons, patrolled the two outer corridors.
The security measures were relatively new, as the orc king cemented his grip and began to unfold his strategy - a plan, the cheering that day only reminded him, that might not sit well with the warlike instincts of some of his subjects. He had already waged the first rounds of what he knew would be his long struggle among the stones of Keeper's Dale. His decision to stand down the attack on Mithral Hall had been met with more than a few mutterings of discontent.
And that had only been the beginning, of course.
He moved along the outer ring of his tent palace to the opened flap and looked out on the gathering on the plaza of the nomadic orc village. At least two hundred of his minions were out there, cheering wildly, thrusting weapons into the air, and clapping each other on the back. Word had come in of a great orc victory in the Moonwood, tales of elf heads spiked on the riverbank.
"We should go there and see the heads," Kna said to Obould as she curled at his side. "It is a sight that would fill me with lust."
Obould swiveled his head to regard her, and he offered a smile, knowing that stupid Kna would never understand it to be one of pity.
Out in the plaza, the cheering grew a backbone chant: "Karuck! Karuck! Karuck!"
It was not unexpected. Obould, who had received word of the fight in the east the previous night, before the public courier had arrived, motioned to the many loyalists he had set in place, and on his nod, they filtered into the crowd.
A second chant bubbled up among the first, "Many-Arrows! Many-Arrows! Many-Arrows!" And gradually, the call for kingdom overcame the cheer for clan.
"Take me there and I will love you," Kna whispered in the orc king's ear, tightening her hold on his side.
Obould's bloodshot eyes narrowed as he turned to regard her again. He brought his hand up to grab the back of her hair and roughly bent her head back so that she could see the intensity on his face. He envisioned those elf heads he'd heard of, set on tall pikes. His smile widened as he considered putting Kna's head in that very line.
Misconstruing his intensity as interest, the consort grinned and writhed against him.
With almost godlike strength, Obould tugged her from his side and tossed her to the ground. He turned back to the plaza and wondered how many of his minions - those not in his immediate presence - would add the chant of Many-Arrows to the praises of Clan Karuck as word of the victory spread throughout the kingdom.
The