Chapter 1
Vucar was drunk that night. That much is certain. No one remembers, of course - but Vucar's a very industrious dwarf, and he can't very well work sober, can he? And so it happened that Vucar was drinking while driving. Driving our cart, that is. In the dark.
We were *supposed* to be immigrating to Koganusan. Their efforts were legend in our mountain home. Rumors of great wealth, majestic wildlife, and exotic cheeses had traveled far, reaching even our lowly ears. Thus seven of us peasants, dissatisfied with our current work (or the lack thereof), set out to seek our fortunes elsewhere. Specifically, in Koganusan.
The first tragedy was that everyone except Vucar was sleeping in the back of the wagon. Otherwise we might have noticed his drunken meanderings were taking us farther and farther from the road. The second tragedy was that Vucar apparently envied our restful sleep in the back, and so he decided to take a “quick nap” himself. While driving.
Now I must admit that the four oxen pulling our cart did a much better job driving than the drunken, half-asleep Vucar. But the pleasant ride proved to be the third and final tragedy, since all of us slept though night while the oxen carried us to nowhere.
And nowhere was exactly where we found ourselves when we awoke. There was no sign of the road, nor of any recognizable landmark. The gravity of the situation was not entirely lost on our de facto leaders, Vucar and Greenbeard (don't ask about the name). An impromptu meeting was called while the other dwarves stretched their legs a bit.
Greenbeard asked, “So where in this Armok-forsaken world have you taken us, Vucar?”
“Quite a nice day for a drive, eh?” said Vucar pleasantly.
“Nice? What... ” responded Greenbeard, clearly surprised by the subject change. “Of course it's not nice! It's hot as blazes, you fool.”
“Oh, well there's that of course. But it could be worse. It's not raining,” said Vucar.
Greenbeard's face twisted into a befuddled expression. It took him a couple moments to regain his train of thought, which had been completely interrupted by Vucar's musings on the weather. Greenbeard's face turned stern once again as he replied, “This is serious, Vucar! Please pay attention. Do you have any idea how we might get back to the road?”
“Go back the way we came?” replied Vucar.
“Gah!” exclaimed Greenbeard, “If you were any more frustrating I'd swear you were an elf!”
At that moment the meeting was disturbed by a loud noise. Specifically, the sound of four spooked oxen running away with the cart.
“Nooo!” cried Thumbfur as he chased after the cart. His effort was in vain, though, for dwarves are not natural sprinters. Thumbfur fell far behind, and we all watched the cart disappear over a small hill. Then we all heard a *CRUNCH*.
We climbed the hill together and found the cart, or what was left of it. From the looks of things, it must have slammed into the enormous boulder which was now lying in the center of the wreckage. Two of the wheels were smashed and the front axle was splintered. For a few moments we could do nothing but just gaze at the remains while shaking our heads. Why, Armok? Why?
Vucar broke the silence. “Curses!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, *now* you want to be serious, huh?” snapped Greenbeard.
“Huh?” replied Vucar. “Oh, it's not that,” he said, gesturing at the wagon. “I've just got a pointy rock in my shoe, and it's driving me crazy.”
