They're whispering and arguing in their guttural language. But, more important, they have a light! That tiny light is a beacon in the utter darkness of the tunnel, and you follow it to a crack between the floor and the wall, just wide enough to squeeze through. The trolls are below you. Peering through it, you see an underground river–not wide, but big enough for a small coracle, currently riding low in the water, as it's full of stolen Pine tribe valuables. Three trolls stand around the coracle, arguing about the boat. One troll has a candle between his horns. The wax has melted into his fur and streaked his face. All three have bronze knives stolen from the town above.

You drop through the crack and run for the boat. You're on it before the trolls can react, but the elaborate knots holding it fast prove unexpectedly complicated. Fortunately, good bronze beats good knots, and you shear through the line with your sword.

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But the sight of your sword terrifies and enrages the trolls; they leap into the coracle, and the overladen little boat slides sideways, knocking all four of you into the water. Your lamp vanishes, and the icy water shocks you. The troll with the candle on his head desperately rights himself as his flame gutters, but the other two grab you and haul you back onto the beach. The candle-head seizes your sword. Another tries to retrieve the boat, but it drifts out of reach. A third moves to tie you up with the ropes you just cut through.

It occurs to you that, despite the cold numbing your limbs, you might have a chance of overpowering your would-be captors. But then you see more trolls shoving their way in through a crack in the wall. In seconds, a dozen trolls flood the little chamber. They must have detected you earlier, and now they have you.