A large tear rolled down Cragger’s face.  “Grandfather led a group of miners into the mine, the first shift after the decision to mine the one tunnel.  Hours passed and one mine car after another arrived outside loaded with fabulous jewels.  Everyone celebrated their new-found wealth.”

    His hand trembled.  He swiped tears from his eyes, and continued his tale.   “No one knew what to think when the mine cars suddenly stopped coming.  Hours passed and no cars arrived on the surface.  Finally, in the distance, one could hear mine cars approach.  No one expected the sight that met their eyes when the cars exited the mine.”  Cragger’s voice cracked. 

    “Please, stop and drink.”  Mavelle feared what he’d say next and wished to put it off for a few minutes.

    The Dwarf drained his wine-skin, took a few deep breaths, and began to recite his tale of horror.  “Blood, bodies, body parts, none alive.  Not one survivor in the first four cars that reached the surface.  The fifth car was the worst, two of Grandfather’s brother– one alive and broken, the other dead and torn apart.  Grandfather alive, bloodied and half out of his mind pushed the cart the entire way.  He raved about a monster.  A rock troll.  After that day, he swore he’d never enter a mine or any underground again for as long as he lived, and he lived another six hundred and seven years.”