But boy, are these fuckers racists. I'm not kidding. Supremacists dwarfs huh, who knew? Really, the moment they spotted me, alarm bells went ringing and the little buggers were on my like a fat kid on a cupcake. Before I knew, I was tied down by rope (which looked rather thin initially, but was stronger than expected), gagged and carried off, down the mine. Their battle-cry to capture me, the moment they saw, was cute and scary at the same time. Being rather small, their voices were of a high-pitched nature, but everyone else heard, so yeah, I was a goner. That endearing feeling of watching these little people chisel away at the walls I had did not last longer than a few minutes.
Now back to the racist part. Sure, the accusation of racism is thrown around like a beer opener on any given Friday night, but these dwarfs are not f*cking around. Boy oh boy, did Tolkien get it wrong when he put down his idea on paper on what it means to be a ''dwarf''. No noble creatures, tending to their own business. At this point I'd believe anything, because up to about four hours ago, I would not even belief that they'd exist in the first place. I certainly got a more open mind now, something the dwarfs do not seem to possess. How they look you ask? Well, they're orange, about a 120 centimetres on average, stronger than you would give them credit for, but bluntly put, not as smart. They seem to be quite single-minded in their quest to extract all the worlds gems and resources from the ground, which in a way does not make them that dissimilar from us, I guess. And the racism. They acted like I was the first human they ever saw, but judging by their behaviour, we might as well be cousins. In any case, they did not seem to like my length. They told me as much. Yes, dwarfs speak English. Why, you ask? Well, they are magical creatures after all.
Moving on.
In my tiny, tiny prison cell (obviously not made for someone my size), they went on to tell me that any dwarf (a term they hate by the way, so I use it every time one visits me), or any creature above one meter and thirty-eight centimetres is inferior. The true dwarf is one meter and twenty-five centimetres. The further from this ideal, the less worth you have. They even goes as far as to say that if your grandparents were above this line, you are of a lower class as well. Damn, I did not like the sound of that. I asked whether I was the first human they ever saw. They said yes. They also said that they would start immediate construction on a very solid and very large wall, to keep any future humans out. Their leader assured me it was going the be huge.
By this time you must be thinking: ''what the heck is this nonsense?'' or ''what is this guy smoking?'' Well, it all started this morning, when I was cleaning my kitchen. When I came round the stove, I felt a draft. First I thought the vacuum cleaner might be broken, but after turning it off, the draft was still there. Now, you have to know, I live in a very old apartment block and that stove was here before I was and probably before the previous six or so owners as well. At first I thought it might be a gas leak, which could potentially result in me having a very bad time, since I like smoking indoors and screwing with the fire detectors, which turn out to be two hobbies that go very well together. In any case, I pulled the stove aside, but the gas hose was perfectly in place. Well, it was disgusting and really needed cleaning, but it was not leaking. I did see a whole lot of pieces of papers, dust and other junk collected over the years being dragged towards towards the skirting board and very gently lifting up the wallpaper. This was odd. I wondered where this air came from, so I lifted the wallpaper. The glue was old so it gave way without much effort. Behind it was something quite peculiar. At first I thought I might be some old part of the construction of this building, but the further I pulled, the more it stunned me. Soon enough, one could make out a handle, a frame, a door. There was a freaking door in my kitchen, behind the stove and nobody cared telling me about it. It certainly was not including on the rent contract. I was puzzled, surprised and exhilarated. The door was quite tiny and made for kids perhaps. Perhaps it was some old storm shelter or a bunker, to hide from the inevitable nuclear storm that was going to sweep us all into oblivion. In any case, I had to find out more. The little ring-shaped handle was a bit rusted and it was tiny. If I would try, I might fit one finger through, but since I saw no sense in trying that, so I just pulled. It almost felt as if the handle would give way before the door would, but with a creaking sound, it opened. Before me was a gaping black hole, a tunnel. A mild wind was greeting me, with a peculiar smell. A bit sweet, but mostly musty. I decided to light a cigarette to ward off the smell which I assumed would increase in intensity, the further I went into the tunnel. A few seconds later, I was heading out. Or in, depending our your perspective. The tunnel was dark, obviously, and damp. Worms and other critters were crawling around, probably somewhat offended by my uninvited presence. I kept going and the light slowly grew more dim, as I made my way deeper and deeper into the hole. I felt that I could keep going for ever until I banged my head against something hard. I had struck upon another door and this one was made out of wood. It looked like it wasn't opened in a very long time. The wood looked weathered and many different bugs had made it their home. For a moment I was undecided in what to do, but realizing I just crawled many metres through the mud, through a hole behind my stove, I figured this was not exactly the place to stop. So I pulled. I pulled and I pulled. But the door did not budge. A feeling of desperation crawled up on me. The hole had a slight declination and no room to turn around. I felt little joy thinking about having to crawl back the same way, backwards. In utter desperation I banged my head against the wooden door. And it moved. I could swear it moved. Perhaps no more than a millimetre, but it moved. The desperation left as soon as it came and I put all my weight against the door. Slowly, but steadily it gave way. I could see a light coming out from behind it. The next thing I saw, were the dwarfs. Many, many dwarfs, high and low on the walls, hanging from ropes, chiseling away for gold, diamonds, rubies, sapphires and the like. And then they saw me.
Back in the tiny prison cell, it appears that my presence had become known to the upper echelons of dwarf society and I was granted an audience with the highest leader. The leader would not visit in my cell of course, so sure enough, I was dragged off in chains (which barely fitted), taken out of the cell, yanked along through the hall, past the other prisoners and taken into the main hall, which was nothing other than massive. When I was caught, they knocked me out almost right away, so I barely had time to take note of the main hall, but now I could witness it in all its glory. Massive pillars, highly decorated, supported the ceiling, at least 10 meters high. Some were studded with gems. Apparently, they are so plentiful, they barely have worth to these creatures. Further along, I was taken up a large flight of stairs, each stairs perhaps no higher than 10 centimetres. The stairs were followed by another long hall which led up to a massive gold-plated door, studded with as many gems they could fit in there. I correctly guessed that this must be where the king lived. The doors were opened from the inside, loud trumpets marking my entrance. On a comically large throne sat a very small figure, almost lost in the robes he was wearing, but a large crown. More gems and diamonds studded both. All the other dwarves in attendance were lost among themselves, chattering away, but never taking their eyes off me. The king looked at me all the more sternly. I started to sweat. And then grin. At least as much as I could without looking like a total jackass. The reason for my sudden burst of misplaced happiness was the appearance of the King-of-the Dwarves-Behind-My-Stove. His hair looked like a murdered and skinned guinea-pig, his ears and hands were humorously small, even considering his already small stature and his eyes did not necessarily exude much intelligence. If our own world's way of choosing its leaders is any indication, then I can only make assumptions on how smart this king is, but the first impression don't do this guy well.
And then he rose. Still, not much, but he got up from his throne and the room fell silent. Everyone fell down to one knee and soon enough, I got a jab in the back, urging me to do the same. He raised his hand, as in trying to get the room to be silent, but he looked rather foolish. Then he turned his eyes on me. Boy, he didn't look very happy.
''Who are you?'' he nearly shouted, but what came out of his mouth sounded more like a squeak. Or it was the dead guinea-pig talking, I couldn't really tell.
''My name is Hank. Poulsen.'' My voice too, was with less conviction than intended.
''Why did you enter our realm?''
''Well, funny story. I found this hole behind my stove and...''
''SILENCE!''
''Well, you asked,'' I mumbled.
''Did you come to steal our riches? Enslave our women? What is your purpose!?''
''Wait, what women?'' I looked around and only saw dwarves with beards. No women.
''Our women are the most beautiful in all the dwarven realms!'' the King exclaimed!
''I beg your pardon... king... but I don't see them here. Where are they?''
It was then I noticed I made a mistake. Right after I said that, some rather lightly-bearded dwarves gasps and threw their hands in front of their mouths. Apparently they were the women. And they had beards too.
''Insulting our women is a capital offence!''
''Does that mean death?'' I asked.
''BY QUARTERING!''
The crowd went wild.
Thinking to myself as they dragged me off, I could understand being stretched and subsequently pulled apart would be quite the punishment for dwarves, their obsessive inclination with height and all. Luckily I had my way out planned already.
After they threw me back in my tiny jail cell, I repeatedly told the guard that I wanted to apologize to dwarven womanhood. Right my wrongs and all that. He did not seem to hear it. Though, after a few days of terrible, bland, insect-infested food and funny smelling water, I got a visit. I was to be quartered. But I was granted an option to apologize first.
When they dragged me on the stage in the main square, not far from the palace I was dragged off to earlier, I saw the dwarves were already readying their ropes. Barring horses, they had four teams of hefty looking dwarves that would tear me apart. Joyous.
I stood up and walked to the front of the stage where the crowd anticipated my speedy end. A guard proclaimed to the crowd that the foreigner wished to apologize. I took centre stage.
''Ahum....Everyone. I wish to give every one my sincere.... warning.''
Their tiny pupils dilated. The whole crowd seemed to step back half a pace. The guards eyed me nervously, not knowing what to do.
''When you will kill me, I will not return to my people.''
''Thank you Captain Obvious!'' said a voice in my head.
''If I do not report back soon, more will follow, more humans, all taller than me. And they will insult your women more than I ever could!''
The crowd started screaming, wailing, running. It was a mess, with all dwarves fleeing in all directions. Since my hands and feet were already untied to make me ready for quartering, I took my chances. Jumping in the crowd and ducking low, I ran, ran, ran.
Following the outer wall, by sheer luck, I managed to find the door. I prayed to all gods I ever heard about that it would still be unlocked.
With a creek it opened.
As fast as I managed, I crawled back up, the other end being nothing more than a tiny white spot in the distance. I crawled for what seemed like forever. On and on, the mud, bugs and darkness went. But slowly, I could see the spot growing to a hole and then a yawning mouth. I breathed the stale air of my room like I just ended up in a pristine forest. I was home. Safe. I hoped.
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The prompt was:
One day as you were cleaning you noticed air being sucked towards the base of wall near the cupboard. Perplexed you went closer to investigate. The air was going in, slightly yet in. You hold your breath and gingerly peel away at the wallpaper until a huge wrought iron door stands before you. Where does it lead? Did you imagine this? What happens next?
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