They ran, they really ran. One might have thought that they had developed goat legs like satyrs, because if not, I can''t explain how they didn''t kill themselves trotting down the rocks. They had nothing, NOTHING, to go down, no rope, no nail, not even a light, and not much experience.


    They returned through the gap in the wall this time with the stealth of a stampede and most of the time holding on all fours so as not to slip on the climbs. No one saw them enter, but they wouldn''t have cared by now. Beleg stopped for a moment, making a point.


    They looked at each other and, again without words, knew what the problem was.


    “What shall we do?” said the one who stopped, ‘let''s not say it, I’ll go quickly for tools of my work. Do you have ropes in the tavern?’ said the other. “Yes! We''ll wait for each other in the gap, don''t go without me.”


    That''s how they appointed each other, it didn''t even cross their minds to go after her alone, they were out of their minds. Mim was the first to arrive at the masons'' workshop, on the way crossing paths with few others. Luckily his race was given to manners and order, though that would not prevent stares and comments tomorrow morning.


    Running, they saw his mane to the little wind of the cavern, with an indescribable face. He didn''t have the key so he forcefully pulled to open the warehouse; four well-delivered blows with his shoulder and a kick when no one peeked out. He loaded up with nails, loaded up with candles and helmets, one for himself and one for the aborted murder victim. He came back even faster.


    For the other dwarf access was easier, but the marathon less discreet. He had been thinking about it as he ran to his goal, the tavern would be crowded at this hour and sneaking in without being discovered was a task worthy of a master thief. In the end he opted for the quickest way, he would enter as if it was nothing, pass the bar straight to the pantry and if the boss stopped him he could only say he had forgotten something, the wineskin perhaps?


    Everything went as planned, except for the moment when he heard the deep voice he now feared the most.


    “What are you doing? I''ve never seen you in these parts at this hour if you aren’t paid for it.” Time to improvise.


    Meanwhile, many houses down, the red-haired man running was arriving, but slowed down as he realized he had arrived first. “Where is he? I can’t believe it...” But over there came the other one.


    “Sorry, I got held up with the innkeeper.” He had probably lost his job, it was obvious that the owner was waiting for the first excuse to fire him according to the rules. Now it mattered little to him. Over his shoulder he carried the long, thick rope, for which he had no excuse in subtracting it from the larder.


    “Come on, quick, we have no time to lose” marched the two again, and again mustering all their balance, now with the spelunker''s burden. You may wonder why they did not cry for help from the beginning, why the secrecy.


    Because of her. They were not to be there, and any infraction in the squire lady''s profession meant severe expulsion. Who of the two would court her if sleep and sustenance were snatched from her by calling for help from the same guard she belonged to?


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    By the time they arrived the mad star was already shying away from the upper opening, the sinister hole growing blacker and blacker. Beleg prepared the knot, then Mim nailed the spike with the rope. The descent depended on the strength of their arms, but they did not fear for their lives, right now.


    “I’ll go first friend, not to boast, but I have more experience with heights and dangers,” said the mason, appearing modest. The other one held his retort because there was no flaw in the first one''s argument, any answer would be born of stubbornness.


    Mim was already coming down, swelling the muscles of his forearms. He was staring intently at the rock two or three feet in front of his face, why look down if almost nothing could be seen. In no time Beleg, of more modest limbs, followed close behind him, buttocks a foot and a half away.


    They descended with exasperating but necessary slowness, halting to a stop only when their feet struggled to blindly find the wall. Only for a moment, when they reached the real blind area where only the candles on their helmets allowed them to see somewhat, did they stop.


    “Wait!” said the one further in.


    “She''s dead, you know that, don''t you?” he asked somberly.


    “Yes, and you know that, don''t you?” replied the waiter, with certainty, but clearly trying to mark the irrelevance of the statement.


    “Right... let''s move on” Making it clear, with his tone, that he understood that quitting now was irrational and cruel. Now, more than ever ignoring the fear and the stiffening of the arms, they climbed down with tenacity and a determined look.


    How black was the cruel pit that had taken her, and now them. The Moon was not going to allow herself to stop for a moment, for no one she had never been in a hurry, nor for anyone had she ever put on the brakes. Minimal reflections from the opaque rock and the starlight already allowed vision.


    Only now the candles kept them sane, tied to this world and not to the one that exists where things are not seen, the world without form or color.


    How incredible was existence without light, how contrary to the preservation of our lives, but how full of freedom in its amorphousness. Here no one would be a blacksmith, here no one a counselor or a knight. Here there were no parents or children, no house or shelter. Without form no one is taller, no one uglier, no one richer or poorer, no one more -ego-.


    But our duo didn''t think of that, did they?


    You see, no one has been down here in a long, long time, but it wasn''t sealed off in the old days either. Obviously, it is one of those dangerous places about which children and the less responsible adults of this society of ours are forewarned, but the ship of caution sailed a long time ago.


    As has become clear, falls on bedrock are more than dangerous, they can be deadly, but there is another side of the coin to the horror of this sleep depriving crevasse that I want to tell you about.


    The world is an onion, it has many layers, and not just as a metaphor for life, but literally. Logically, the first layer was where the cousins lived, the first floor of the world, the surface. Here, the cavern, where stands the fortress of the little ones who do not see the sky, is the subsoil, the layer immediately below. There were, or perhaps still are, upper strata, a world above the sky and beyond.


    But there were also those below, as I''m sure you were already thinking.


    And as I''m sure you can also imagine, it''s no place for innocents. Or at least that''s what everyone learns at some point in their lives, either by old advice or by institutionalized teaching, DON''T GO TOO LOW.


    But in love anything goes, even suicide I have been told by some poet. And so, Beleg, the former waiter, and Mim, the former bricklayer, went on.