The shower Vol sent me to turns out to be a small underground stream. It comes out a hole in a tiny cave’s ceiling, and falls down onto a floor of porous rock which sucks it up. I stand under it for a full hour before feeling like the grime has washed off me, but I still don’t feel clean even though the muck is gone. The futility of it all, the humiliation, the distinct injustice of them picking on me simply because I’m there to pick on. It stains me, and the water can’t wash it out. It only helps fade it, leaving a deep seated resentment, and a strong desire for revenge.

Eventually the cold seeps into my bones and I get out of the shower, shivering. I dry off carefully with my blanket, making sure to avoid my open wounds with the dirty cloth. I try to consider what to do next. My mind starts busily working again. I don’t want to go back to work, but I can’t go back to the dens either. Lunch is over, I could return briefly to drop off my blanket, but then someone would send me back to work. Perhaps I could just wander for a bit. I could always say I got lost, and wandering would give me time to explore my surroundings, learn the passageways that aren’t on the map.

I leave the small shower cave and start meandering around. I’m not going in any particular direction, nor do I have a pattern. Instead, I focus on trying to brainstorm revenge plots. Because of my limited power however, all of the ones I think of end up being useless or just petty and unfulfilling and my mind deviates, starting to try to keep track of my turns. Left right, through a passage that looked like a crack, three more lefts and then a right. My torch that I had grabbed from the shower room when I started, flickers in the stale warm air. I still have over half of it left though, so I keep moving.

Today’s events have left me weary, both mentally and physically. I’m not sure I should have gone out this far. I hope I can get back, all these tunnels and caves look alike. I haven’t found anything at any rate. Perhaps I’ve just wasted my time here. Well not wasted exactly, I muse, I mean I did mentally map out more of the mines, places that aren’t on the maps. But I haven’t found anything interesting, nor have I come up with any plans to repay Thravic and that gang of five for their blows.

The path I’m following suddenly comes to a fork, the left road goes back upwards, and the right goes deeper down. I stop and survey them. Which one to follow? I hold my torch high, trying to see down them as far as possible. I don’t have any clue where either of them lead, to me right now one of them is just as good as the other. I spot something glinting in the one going down, and head down after it. The one leading up can wait.

I go down the trail chasing after the elusive glint. Eventually I find it. A shiny stone set into the wall. A surge of disappointment rises in me. Is this it? Nothing useful, just a shiny stone in a mine. I notice that the passage ends soon, so I follow it down the rest of the way and enter into a whole cavern made of this stone. A couple lie on the ground, as if they have broken off. The shiny stone reflects my torch and my cut, bruised face. Wherever I look I see this beat up version of myself distorted in the curves and imprecise angles on the stone. In one corner though, my reflection doesn’t stare back at me with dark eyes. There is something blocking it. I stroll over to get a better look.

There, abandoned in the corner, is a small pile of mining tools, an old jacket, and a bucketful of the stones. Apparently someone else has been here before. I take a closer look at the tools and the jackets, but I can’t tell how long ago the person was here. Apparently they saw some sort of worth in these stones though. I pick one up and study it in the yellow light of my torch. It sparkles mysteriously. It’s kinda pretty, but I don’t understand why someone would travel all the way here for shiny stones. This certainly isn’t part of the official mines which means whoever brought the tools here probably stole them.

I settle down against the wall, putting the jacket behind me and draping my blanket around my legs, placing the torch in a holder that is among the tools. I stick one of the stones in my pocket and glance around the cave. There are no exits except the one I came through, and I have traveled a long way. Perhaps this would be a good spot to stop before heading back? My torch is getting low after all. I sigh and lean my head back against the wall closing my eyes. I don’t want to head back yet. I don’t want to go back to all those jerks right now, it would feel too much like surrender if I went back with no plan. Not to mention my muscles are screaming in protest at the idea of going all the way back right now. Perhaps I could take a quick rest. I breathe in and out, relaxing in the soothing background rumble of far off explosions..

I blink rubbing my eyes, unsure of how much time has passed. Did I fall asleep? I glance around me. The torchlight has dimmed to nearly nothing. I try to get up and groan. Yep, my muscles definitely have set. And they hate me. I hobble over as quickly as I can to check on my torch. There is only a little bit left, I have definitely been sleeping. Thank goodness I didn’t sleep any longer or it might have gone out. Then I would never get back.

I look at the torch again, estimating my time left. I might not make it back as it is! I quickly rustle through the tools, but I don’t find any spare torches. Great.

I grab the ratty jacket and wrap it around my hand, then pick up the stub of the torch. The heat is still uncomfortable, but it’s better than not having the jacket. I grab my blanket as well, and then hurry out of the cave.

I rush through endless passageways, sometimes backtracking if I don’t recognise anything, all the while conscious of my limited time. Was it left, right, left, left, right? Or was it right, right, left, left, right? And did I count that side passage? I wish I had paid more attention when I was first exploring instead of letting my mind wander so much. The torch stub keeps getting closer and closer to the fabric protecting my fingers. The heat becomes so much that I switch hands regularly, using one to protect the fragile flame as the other holds it steady. As it gets closer and closer, I start to worry about the fabric catching fire. But then I see something, a tiny passage, barely large enough to even be called a passage at all really. But it looks familiar. Wasn’t this about where I started? I had come through a passage such as this when I was originally going off the main trail hadn’t I? I hurry closer to get a better look, but then trip. My torch, now no more than a burning lump of wood really, goes flying.

“No! Don’t you dare!!” I shout. It hits the ground and defiantly goes out, leaving only a few embers that quickly die on the cold hard stone. “Damn it!” I whisper, alone, stranded in darkness.

I don’t know how much time I sit there, stunned. I was so close. If only I had made it a little farther I was sure I could have made it back, but now… My mind trails off still struggling with the facts. Even if I was close earlier, I would never know it. I could make it through the passage ahead of me, but what then? I wouldn’t have anything that could help me find where to go next. I wouldn’t even know if the passage beyond goes left, right, or straight. I’d have to guess and hope.

I begin groping around in the dark to find the wall, thinking maybe if I can find the wall, I can follow it to the next passage at least. My fingers quickly brush the smooth stone, and I climb to my feet and continue on in the dark. I squeeze through the crack, and then concentrate as I feel it get wider. Should I hug the left wall or the right? I guess my life could depend on this, guessing right with a fifty-fifty chance of success. I was trying so hard earlier, and now it’s basically down to mentally flipping a coin. I chuckle at the dark irony, and then start as I hear an answering chuckle. I freeze, barely breathing, but I don’t hear anything else.

“Hello? Is someone there?” I call out into the dark.

A slightly warped version of my own voice replies. “Hello? Is someone there?”

“Echo!” I call out, “Echo!” my echo responds, and I breathe a sigh. I’m not sure if it’s of relief or not, but the tension from earlier is certainly gone. Why is it that all my other senses seem to be on high alert now that I can’t see? I never noticed an echo of my actions before.

I go left, because, why not? There’s no reason to not go left. I keep one hand on the wall and proceed slowly so I won’t trip. Eventually after what feels like ages the wall turns and I continue following it.

At some point I see a small stone in my way, and kick it farther ahead. I watch as it goes further down the passage leaving a shadow behind it. As I stare at it, my brain registers that something’s changed. The stone has a shadow. I can see the stone. That means that somewhere up ahead there is a light source. A light source means a person, or the main path.

I hear my footsteps, earlier slow and careful, speed up until I’m running to the light source. As I reach the lightsource, a torch in the wall, I slow down and come to a stop. The torch is placed in a small holder, right above a map. I take the torch down and stare at the map, quickly locating the ‘you are here’ arrow. Surprisingly, I’m not far from the showers. The dens are right nearby. I also notice that the tiny tunnel I came out of isn’t even listed on here.

I take the torch with me as I make my way back to the dens, it is much easier to travel now that I have a source of light. I quickly arrive at the main entrance to the den and douse my torch, adding it to the rack of spares nearby. I glance around and see people moving around inside and getting breakfast. I look at myself, I’m about as dirty as I was before I was thrown in dung yesterday, which is presentable I suppose. I head on in to join the Dwarves hurrying to the breakfast line, hoping there will still be some gruel when I get back.

I join the group with Vol and the others after I get my meal. A couple of Dwarves, including Golik, cast me curious glances as I sit next to Vol. Apparently news that I got beat up yesterday spread fast. I guess that, plus me not coming back to the dens last night, stirred up some intrigue. So much for not drawing any attention to myself. I smirk at my failure and lift a spoonful of gruel to my mouth.

“So where were you?” Vol asks. “Last night I mean.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing, but I got lost. I was lucky to make it back here alive.” I admit, shifting my position. Something keeps digging into the seat of my pants, I can’t get comfortable. I suddenly remember the shiny stone in my pocket that I had stuck in there last night. I take it out and survey it, that dark and quiet of the tiny cavern seem so far away now that I’m surrounded by noisy hungry Dwarves.

As soon as I think that though, I realize all the ones around me have gone silent. I look up, and they are all staring at me. I glance at Vol confusedly, but he, like the rest of them, is frozen, staring at the shiny stone in my hand.

“Murdenblum?” Vol whispers, the spoon that was halfway to his mouth drops back into the bowl with a tiny plop. The other Dwarves nearby quickly realize that everyone here has gone silent, and it spreads like a wave over the whole table, and then people from the other tables begin coming over to see what’s wrong. Even Bakken comes over to take a look.

“What have we here?” He says, Vol points at the stone in my hand wordlessly.

“Murdenblum.” Bakken whispers the unfamiliar term almost reverently as he plucks it from my hand holding it up to the torchlight. I’m too confused to protest.

“Where did you get this Faladel?” The anger from yesterday is completely gone when he looks at me. In his eyes there is only greed.

“I found it on the ground.” I say

“Where? Were there any more like this?”

“I don’t know.” I say lying instinctively. “I was a little lost, and I saw this shiny stone on the ground and thought it looked rather pretty. There weren’t any others. It looked almost like someone had dropped it there.”

“You have a good taste in stones, for an elf. Not only that, you don’t even know how lucky you were to find something like this. I’ll need to report it to Thravic, and make sure he doesn’t try to take all the credit for it. This will definitely get me back in his good graces.” He murmurs, almost like he is speaking to himself. Then he looks at me and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get your just reward for such a find.” The stone quickly disappears into one of his pockets, I can’t tell which, and he leaves us.

Dwarves crowd around me for the rest of breakfast, asking again and again where I found it. I keep with my lie. I don’t even rightly know what that stone was, but no way am I telling them all about the cave. The Dwarves keep bugging me while I’m running messages, and news spreads fast about my find, how lucky I am, not just to survive so far, but to also find a chunk of Murdenblum that keeps getting bigger every time I hear the story. Me being the only elf only makes me more recognisable as the one everyone is talking about. I earn a lot of jealous glares, but no one dares hurt me because apparently I’ve pleased the higher ups.

When lunchtime comes around I head back to the dens, with a crowd of Dwarves following me. I suppose they hope the past will repeat itself and I’ll get lost again and find more of this strange Murdenblum. The table I normally sit at gets so stuffed that I go into the den I share with the others in my group to eat. Luckily nobody follows me. I find Vol there, who has apparently also fled from the swarms of Dwarves.

“What exactly is Murdenblum? I keep hearing you guys repeating it in reference to that shiny stone. Why is it such a big deal?”

“First of all, don’t group me in with that crazy lot out there, and secondly, you claim to have been in Dwarven territory for twenty years, and yet you’ve never heard of Murdenblum?”

“I’ve been in prison.” I protest.

“Doesn’t matter, you still should have heard of it. It’s like this miracle metal. In it’s unrefined form it makes for amazing jewelry, all the rich ladies love it. But when you refine it and mix it with other metals it makes them ridiculously strong. I’m no mechanic, but even I know that practically everything works better with even a little murdenblum mixed in. It’s also really rare, and the government takes most of it for their labs during the war effort, so nobles will pay ludicrous amounts for that pebble you’ve found. It shows up in caches, a whole lot of it all in one place, which is why Bakken asked if you found any more of it.” Here Vol snorts. “You probably won’t get a fraction of it’s worth down here. I once had a dude who would bring that sort of stuff to me on a regular occasion. Never could get its true worth, and completely flooded the market. He was an idiot. I hope you’re smarter than him, you certainly caught on out there right fast.”

“What happened to him?” I ask curiously, ignoring Vol’s comment. He is suspicious of me, but that’s nothing new. Could the Dwarf he is talking about be the mysterious person who found the cave before me?

“Well, the news got out about the Murdenblum and we got raided one meeting. All of it was confiscated, and he never saw a penny. Couple days later the big collapse happened and he died with all the others.”

“Thanks for explaining.” I say, putting my spoon in my bowl as I finish my serving of gruel. I hop off my bunk and start heading out the door. When I reach the doorway, a spark of inspiration hits me and I turn back to Vol who glances at me. “I think I might have something of value to barter for after all!” I call back to him.

He grins at me in response. “I thought you might!”