by Justin Wayne
Chapter Twenty Eight: Plan of Action
“You call this thing a bed? I’ve slept on rocks more comfortable!” Thom roared at the passing guard through the bars of his cell. He turned away angrily and kicked his empty bowl across the room with a clatter. “What do I do now?” And he threw himself down on the cot and stared up at the stone ceiling.
The guard returned then. “I don’t think it matters just how uncomfortable your bed is, prisoner.” he sneered. Thom stared at the armored man and saw only disdain on his helm-laden face. “You’ve got a date with the executioner tomorrow night little buddy.”
Thom’s chin hit his chest. “What? What’re you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t have killed those travelers for their food, maggot. You know, the ones you stuck with a knife in the back? Your captor told us all about it.” The guard hocked some phlegm in his throat and spat on the stone floor. “Coward.”
The hobbit slammed his head down on the cot and shut his eyes to keep away his fears. His heart pounded in his chest and thoughts raced through his head. His little hands trembled as he wiped the cold beads of sweat from his brow and rubbed his face.
“What was I thinking trying to go around adventuring with those guys? This, right here, this cell, is all I would ever get out of it. And here I am rotting away behind bars while they go live it up outside with their soft beds and warm food..” He drifted off to sleep with dreams of exactly those things he missed most to escape his prison, literal and figurative.
