Bakrauf snarled and crumpled the message.
"They have discovered something of the value of their prisoners." She ground together her huge teeth, teeth which had crushed human bones before. "I told you we should not be so hasty in offering to buy them back."
"What else could we do?" asked the monster she called her son. "Anyway they never do let anyone go. Not really."
"Except for Alfar," said Bakrauf. "They don't try too many of their tricks on the denizens of Gimlé's Halls. And she's got a lot of that blood, curse her."
"You mean they might let her go?"
"Might," admitted Bakrauf. "They keep on the good side of the Alfar, curse both of them. Of course gold talks loudly to the black dwarves. They will risk a lot for more gold. But they might just let her go. With the dwarves you never can tell."
"So what do we do?"
Bakrauf shrugged. "There are few places where they can be returned by the dwarves to Midgard. Only three in Telemark. We must have those places watched. In the meanwhile our plans proceed. Trolls must be bred, our allies here and in Midgard marshaled. Weapons must be made."
"And the hill-raising mechanism must be fixed."
Bakrauf ground her square teeth in rage again.