Eagle made his way down the dimly lit hallways. He had only seen one guard at the gate, and they had been asleep (or rather, dead drunk). As he made his way down the main stairwell (rampwell?) he heard the clamor coming from the dining halls on the arena floor. There was angst-ridden harp music filling the air, and the din of many clanging mugs and laughing voices. They were partying tonight. Eagle knew not why, maybe they were celebrating the easy slaughter of the recent demons? Maybe they partied every night?
Eagle got off on his level and passed the main dining hall. His swagger took on a drunken sway as he tried to fit in with the revellers. A couple drunken dwarves were entering and exiting the hall, but they didn't notice anything unusual about Eagle. In a fortress of only 58 dwarves there was a good chance he might be recognized as the deserter he was...but these dwarves were too drunk, and Eagle slipped by.
He saw the guards standing guard at the hallway's end. The great dolomite door between them was the entrance to the palace. Eagle would have to make his way closer to them, and then left down the hall. These dwarves were trained to monitor all who even passed near the palace. Eagle took a deep breath and carried on.
He passed without incident, though his heart rate quickened. Once out of sight he hurried faster to the trade depot. It was easy to find an anvil, as there were several stacked high in the corner. It was dwarven habit to accumulate unneeded anvils, and Eagle had his pick of steel or iron. He grabbed a steel one of course, because it's dwarfy steel rather than rusted gobbo-humie iron. With an axe on his back, and an anvil in his hands, he hobbled back down the hallway as fast as he could.
He reached the end and turned right, with the palace entrance now behind him. He scurried forward, and began to think the guards weren't going to say anything.
"You there!" boomed an authoritative voice. Eagle turned to see one of the two guards already walking towards him.
"Me?" Eagles voice nearly cracked.
"What are you doing with that anvil?"
"Uhhh..." Eagle thought fast. "The Queen wanted me to move it upstairs."
"Why?" he barked. "Theres no forges upstairs!"
"I think she mighta been mad at me."
The guard raised an eyebrow. "Making you haul anvils around all night, eh?"
"Yeah," sighed Eagle with a sad grimace on his face. "She said something about making me smelt all the limonite in the fortress using wood."
"Ha! Like a humie!" mused the guard. He looked back at the other guard still standing at the palace door, who was also chuckling at Eagle's plight. The guard turned back around and then asked, "Well, what's with the axe then?"
"Yeah she put that there...she said it would be easier if I had more weight strapped to me."
Both guards burst into sinister laughter. The nearer one pushed Eagle to the ground, dropping the anvil on his left fourth finger and giving Eagle a light gray wound. Eagle cried out in pain, but the guard didn't care. "Get up peasant. No lying down on the job!" The guard kicked Eagle in the gut, then walked off back to his post. Eagle could hear the apish yokel congratulate himself. "You see that? I told that peasant no lyin' on the job!!! haw haw haw!"
Eagle got back up, grabbed his anvil, and headed off back home, vowing never to return to this place again.