'
'Tell me,' said Gold-mane; 'when we fall upon Silver-dale shall their
thralls, the old Dale-dwellers, fight for them or for us?'
Said Folk-might: 'The Dusky Men will not dare to put weapons into
the hands of their thralls. Nay, the thralls shall help us; for
though they have but small stomach for the fight, yet joyfully when
the fight is over shall they cut their masters' throats.'
'How is it with these thralls?' said Gold-mane. 'I have never seen a
thrall.'
'But I,' said Folk-might, 'have seen a many down in the Cities. And
there were thralls who were the tyrants of thralls, and held the whip
over them; and of the others there were some who were not very hardly
entreated. But with these it is otherwise, and they all bear
grievous pains daily; for the Dusky Men are as hogs in a garden of
lilies. Whatsoever is fair there have they defiled and deflowered,
and they wallow in our fair halls as swine strayed from the dunghill.
No delight in life, no sweet days do they have for themselves, and
they begrudge the delight of others therein. Therefore their thralls
know no rest or solace; their reward of toil is many stripes, and the
healing of their stripes grievous toil.
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