A Night Underground

Cronk was tired. He had carried the body of his dead boss for hours. His muscles ached. It had to be evening. Cronk’s time sense was out of whack, being inside the tunnels. He wasn’t sure if it was late at night or early in the morning.

Cronk felt at ease in the tunnels, even in the dark. It was part of an orc’s heritage. Even though orcs were more civilized these days, Cronk’s parents being farmers, they still had a desire for the caverns. Growing up, Cronk and his dad would venture into the caverns of the Norwegian mountains for several days at a time. It was there version of a camping trip.

Cronk figured the best he could do to show deep respect for his boss was to bury him in an appropriate manner. The floor of the tunnels were rock hard, but Cronk had spied several boulders he was sure he could lift. So one at a time, Cronk would heft a huge boulder , placing it atop Quinn, then venture into the tunnels to find another.

When he was finished, Cronk peered at the heaping mound of boulders. “Cronk say thank you, Boss!” Cronk sorrowfully spoke. “Cronk sorry he failed.”

Exhausted now, Cronk sat back against the mound, swearing he would seek revenge for his dearly departed boss. Soon, Cronk drifted off to sleep.