"By Mahal's whiskers!! What have I been drinking?" Midarin groaned and grunted while he stretched and held his head as if it was about to fall off. The pain of his aching skull throbbed like there was a nasty Orc drumming away in his ear.
As Midarin grunted low some more, while carefully stretching his arms, the cracking of his joints could be heard as clear as a bell, growing louder and louder in his head.
Opening his eyes, he became aware of three things... .
One... he hadn't been drinking as his breath smelled of sandwiches, which he couldn't recall eating. Two... it was dark, so very dark. No star could be seen. Three... something was licking his shoes. Suddenly the harsh realization that something potentially dangerous was licking his shoes struck him, like a bucket of ice water on a Sunday morning. Very slowly he looked down at his feet, careful not to scare whatever was licking his shoes, but he could not see anything, the thick dark was all around him. All he heard was a loud, yet gentle lick of a rough tongue against the soft leather of his boots.
Midarin dared not move. There he sat, for at least minutes... perhaps it could even have been hours, or so it seemed at least. While he remained motionless, he realized by the echoing of his own heavy breathing that he was in some sort of cave. Eventually Midarin knew he just couldn't remain there, waiting for whatever it was to finish his boots and eventually him. He had made up his mind, he would muster his courage to shout at the top of his longs and after that crawl on all fours, as fast as his legs and arms would carry him, toward a tiny little light to his left that slowly had become visible while he was frozen with fear.
"BARUK KHAZÂD!!!!" shouted Midarin, and the very rock of the cave seemed to shake as in an earthquake.
Midarin's shout was so loud he was squinting for a few moments, trying to master the booming headache inside his skull while the bandages that were resting on his head came lose.
At the same time an animal cry could be heard. Midarin wasn't really sure what kind of animal is was, but it seemed at least as frightened as Midarin, perhaps even more. Several cries, of what now appeared to be a tiny beast no bigger then a lamb could be heard echoing in the caves. Midarin recognized the sound, he had heard it before.
Bears... it was a bear-cub, no mistake. The poor thing, that was licking Midarin's boots with kind attention, had taken such a freight it shot off to a corner of the cave crying out for its mother at the top of its longs.
While Midarin forced his tormented head to open his squinted eyes, he realized in a panic... he was in a bear cave! And unless the bear-mother was out hunting for some food, she wouldn't need to go hunting as lunch had just arrived in her cave.
At the speed of a trained racing cave-claw, Midarin sped off in the direction of the tiny light on hands and feet. As he was doing so, he was cutting his knees and hands on some raiser-sharp rocks. But Midarin did not feel it, he hardly realized they were there, for a roar had engulfed the cave. Growing so loud the very rock of the cave began to crumble. Behind him, not more than a dozen foot away, a mother bear had been woken, an angry mother bear at that. Fearful that her young cub was in danger she roared again with all her might. Midarin, who had by now almost reached the entrance of the cave heard the roar and stumbled. As the mother-bear noticed the dwarf at the cave entrance she raced toward the invader. Midarin looking back let out a yelp, stood up in a flash and ran as fast as his soar feet could carry him.
Not much later in the middle of Bindbole forest a dwarf could be seen sprinting among the trees, with a gigantic bear in his footsteps. Suddenly Midarin noticed a little hobbit house, at what seemed the edge of the forest. Gathering all his courage he made a final sprint to the grass overgrown house. When he reached the door, completely out of breath, he turned and saw... nothing. The bear had turned toward her cave, perhaps even some time before he noticed the little house. Relieved at having reached the hobbit home he sat down exhausted, resting his head against the door, nodding off slowly.
An hour or so later, a jolly hobbit returned from the Overhill market to find a smelly exhausted dwarf had passed out on his doorstep. With the help of four of his neighbors he took the dwarf into his little home and rested him on a bench.
