CHAPTER VII
The following morning, Hanna also woke early. The first rays of sunlight were already slipping through the narrow opening around the door, and feeling wonderfully refreshed after her enforced rest, she rose from her comfortable bed.
Her wound looked remarkably good, and her limp seemed to have improved considerably, so she decided to climb the stairs on her own. Everything was very dark, but guided by the light filtering down from the room above, she had no trouble finding her way.
Upstairs, she found Gunuruk, who seemed surprised to see her and immediately tried to persuade her to go back down and rest. Hanna, however, had not felt this well in a very long time.
The thought of returning home was never far from her mind. Even so, she also wanted to learn more about these strange creatures and their way of life.
The Snork managed only to convince her to sit down. After tending to her wound as he did every day, the two went outside.
Hanna and Gunuruk took a short walk around the cabin, although they did not venture far. Both knew that her weakened leg should not be pushed too hard.
Hanna quickly noticed that Gunuruk was behaving rather strangely that day. Every so often, he seemed to become completely absorbed in staring at her.
She found his behavior amusing, and as they walked slowly along, they were able to admire the spectacular buildings of Bettnuk.
Although they remained within the center of the large village, Hanna was deeply impressed by everything around her.
The Snorks appeared to be exceptional woodworkers. With remarkable skill and creativity, they had erected magnificent buildings adorned with extraordinary carvings and figures.
The unusual pair chatted away in their respective languages, and Hanna made every effort to learn names, words, and anything else that might help her communicate in this strange place.
Despite being rather primitive and simple creatures, the Snorks had concentrated their most imposing buildings in this part of the village: the palace, the great Council chamber, what appeared to be a large museum, and an extraordinarily tall observation tower.
They could not climb the tower. The sheer number of steps they would have had to negotiate was enough to make Hanna abandon the idea.
As the morning progressed, the powerful sun grew increasingly fierce, and Gunuruk decided it was time to end their excursion.
Seeing how overheated the Snork had become, and noticing that her own limp was growing more pronounced, Hanna readily agreed.
Together they made their way back through the now nearly deserted streets of Bettnuk.
She was delighted with everything she had seen and could not stop asking Gunuruk questions.
Her friend smiled as he tried to satisfy her seemingly endless curiosity.
Their communication was far from fluent. In fact, communication was hardly the right word for what these two creatures were doing.
Nevertheless, Hanna was determined to understand that archaic language.
Seeking refuge from the fierce sunlight, they spent the rest of the morning inside the cabin.
Time passed pleasantly and surprisingly quickly. Between laughter, gestures, and their earnest attempts to hold a conversation, lunchtime arrived almost without warning, announced by the ringing of a bell.
Normally, Gunuruk brought Hanna her lunch. That day, however, he encouraged her to join most of Bettnuk’s inhabitants in the great dining hall beside the inlet.
Visitors who were not Snorks generally brought their own provisions and ate inside their cabins. Only on special occasions did they join the villagers in the dining hall, usually to celebrate a major commission, the collection of completed ships, or particularly important orders.
But Hanna, as the Council had decided, was now considered a Snork.
She therefore had every right to eat there.
The dining hall stood near the shore. Although it was not far away, Gunuruk decided to seek assistance.
He made a remarkably high-pitched sound with his mouth, summoning one of his companions. Together, they went off to fetch something.
A short while later, as Hanna waited at the attractive entrance to the cabin, her friend returned with a cart pulled by an extraordinarily peculiar animal.
It looked like a cross between a small donkey and a large, shaggy dog.
Hanna could think of no proper description for the creature, so she used a simple gesture to ask its name.
“Lewik!” Gunuruk answered.
The two then spent several minutes petting the gentle four-legged animal.
Despite their small size, Lewiks were tremendously sturdy beasts.
The animal carried them to their destination without any apparent effort.
Hanna gazed admiringly at this part of the village, which until then had been unfamiliar to her, at least in the details she could now observe from her seat.
An enormous number of cabins crowded the area. Along the waterfront stood huge hangars that sheltered the working Snorks from bad weather.
Hanna soon concluded that shipbuilding must be their principal occupation.
The exposed frameworks of unfinished vessels, both large and small, filled the entire stretch of shoreline.
Many other ships floated in orderly rows beside an extensive wooden dock.
Gunuruk tried to explain the different sections and buildings of this enormous, handcrafted shipyard.
Although Hanna understood very little of what he said, their exchanges were becoming increasingly useful.
The few Snorks she saw all seemed to be heading toward the same place.
Walking with their characteristic gait and looking somewhat breathless, they slowly entered a beautiful, enormous building that reminded Hanna of the great barns found in the countryside.
Of course, those ordinary barns could hardly compare with the exquisite details that countless skilled hands must have carved into this remarkable structure.
Hanna and Gunuruk were heading there as well.
When they arrived, they tied their Lewik alongside many others resting comfortably beneath the shade of a large roof provided for that purpose.
Hanna grew nervous.
The noise coming from inside was astonishing, and when they reached the main entrance, she gestured for Gunuruk to go first.
The slender young girl’s presence did not go unnoticed.
From the moment she passed through the two enormous doors, everyone inside turned to stare at her with intense curiosity.
Most of them already knew of her existence, but very few had actually seen her.
Overwhelmed by so much attention, Hanna blushed deeply.
Keeping her eyes lowered, she followed her friend through the crowded dining hall.
From one of the tables at the far end, Yasnek raised his hand.
After catching Gunuruk’s attention, he invited them to join his group.
The little Snork and his companion quickened their pace and crossed the long hall toward him.
The Uru of Bettnuk was enjoying a large piece of fruit. Smiling, he offered the two young visitors a seat.
Once they were comfortably settled, Hanna, who was very hungry, examined the food spread across the table.
On sturdy wooden trays lay a variety of dishes waiting to be devoured.
The Snorks’ diet consisted mainly of grains or rice prepared as flat cakes, vegetables, and enormous quantities of fruit.
Fruit, in particular, was something they consumed with almost ravenous delight.
Following her friend’s example—Gunuruk was already enjoying his lunch—Hanna decided to sample the appetizing food.
Cutlery was entirely unnecessary in that great dining hall.
Everyone used only their hands to pick up, break apart, and select their food.
Nobody seemed interested in conversation.
Instead, the Snorks devoted themselves to swallowing as much food as possible, making an extraordinary amount of noise as they ate.
Their single-minded concentration on the task was astonishingly animalistic.
A few minutes later, there was hardly anything left to eat.
Once the meal was finished, everyone received a small bowl containing a liquid resembling tea.
Apparently, this was the moment for conversation.
During lunch, Hanna had barely heard anyone speak. Now the entire room erupted into chatter.
The table where she sat was no exception.
Among the dozen diners gathered there, several conversations began at once, with everyone apparently determined to speak to everyone else.
Gunuruk looked at Hanna with satisfaction and gestured for her to drink the cloudy liquid.
“How is the human doing, little grandson of Aknus?” Yasnek asked Gunuruk.
“Still weak she is. Rest she needs, but with every passing moon, better she seems. Metmek says that when the winds arrive, fully recovered she will be.”
“The Great Aknus has ordered that she be treated as an equal, and as an equal she shall be treated. As for you, your punishment for that reckless escape to the Isle of Tover is to remain responsible for her until she is able to continue her journey,” Yasnek said sternly.
Afterward, the conversation turned to less serious matters.
Hanna paid close attention to everything.
Sipping the digestive drink from her bowl, she listened intently to the lively conversations, which continued well into the afternoon.
When the sun began to descend, another bell announced the end of this curious period of rest.
That afternoon, Hanna began to understand just how peculiar the Snorks’ behavior could be.
One moment, a Snork might be engaged in an animated conversation. The next, he might be lying in a deep sleep, sprawled on the floor or across the table.
And although they seemed capable of remarkably rational discussion in a fairly elaborate language, they also displayed distinctly animal instincts.
The truth was that Hanna found these little creatures thoroughly bewildering.
On the way back to the cabin, she could not stop wondering how beings capable of creating such magnificent works of art, filled with technical mastery and imagination, could behave in such an unstable, rough, and instinctive manner.
Gunuruk, meanwhile, seemed not to have stopped smiling all day.
He was happy, thinking that his punishment had turned out to be a delightful reward.
With the help of their obedient Lewik, the two returned toward the cabin.
The sun was beginning to take on a reddish glow, and the Snorks seemed to have reached the busiest part of their day.
As they traveled through the densely populated settlement beside the inlet, Hanna saw the lively young Snorks for the first time.
She was thrilled.
The little creatures chased the cart with their awkward, comical gait, looking for all the world like playful puppies.
Hanna could not help thinking of Kron.
She struggled to hold back her tears.
Gunuruk stopped the cart, concerned, and looked at her questioningly.
Hanna wiped her wet eyes, but before she could say anything, the young Snorks chasing them scrambled onto the cart and began sniffing her.
Startled, Hanna burst into laughter.
Their tiny snouts brushed against her, tickling her terribly.
Gunuruk began laughing too, and they continued their journey with five additional little passengers.
Hanna realized that her companion must still be quite young.
Although he no longer had the small, lively appearance of a Snorky, he did not look much like the adult Snorks either.
When they reached the cabin, Hanna climbed down from the now crowded cart after saying goodbye to the tireless Snorkys.
Gunuruk and the noisy youngsters turned around and headed back toward the inlet.
Hanna was feeling rather tired, so she decided to wait in the large armchair in the upper room.
Gunuruk did not take long to return.
This time he came alone, with the small cart filled with all sorts of things, and parked it outside the cabin.
Hanna had fallen asleep.
When she woke, she was astonished to discover how much her surroundings had changed.
Her friend was standing in the middle of the cabin. Using a remarkably efficient technique, he had just lit a small fire.
The room was now filled with objects whose purpose Hanna could not even begin to guess.
But one of them made her leap abruptly from her chair.
Inside a large wicker basket, protruding from among several wooden objects, pieces of pottery, and tin utensils, lay a beautiful metal dagger.
It was so bright that it seemed to glow in the flickering light of the burning logs.
There could be no mistaking it.
It’s the dagger I found! Hanna thought excitedly, remembering the moment she had first seen it.
She continued approaching, slowly, for her injured leg seemed not to have fully awakened.
But the sight of that object again made her heart pound.
Her noisy effort to reach the basket alerted Gunuruk, who was busy feeding the small fire.
“What is that?” Hanna exclaimed, pointing at the dagger.
The Snork became visibly nervous.
He had not even realized that his friend was awake.
Acting quickly, he stepped between her and the basket.
Then he began emptying its contents in great haste, placing each object on the floor while apparently naming it in his own language.
Hanna stood motionless, waiting for him to reach the object that had aroused so much curiosity.
But a couple of minutes later, the basket was empty.
And the dagger had disappeared.
“Where’s the dagger that was in there?” she asked, moving forward to make sure the basket really was empty.
Gunuruk looked at her in surprise, apparently unable to understand what she was saying.
He picked up the basket, which was almost as large as he was, and turned it upside down to demonstrate that there was indeed nothing inside.
Then he left the cabin without saying a word.
He climbed onto his Lewik, and a few seconds later disappeared along the dark road.
Hanna remained where she was, searching with her eyes for the object she was certain she had seen when she woke.
After several minutes, and after examining every one of the many objects now scattered across the floor, she finally gave up.
“It can’t be. I saw it. I saw it…” she kept repeating.
Resigned, she slowly returned to her chair.
Perhaps the whole thing had been a product of her imagination.
She sat down again, but her obsession with what had happened soon drove her back to her feet.
Perhaps she had imagined seeing the dagger in the basket.
But she had once held that dagger in her hands. That much was real.
In fact, thinking about it brought back memories of her arrival in this world that she had almost forgotten.
Now she could not get the dagger out of her mind.
What had happened to it?
She was certain she had put it in her pants pocket, alongside her pendant.
If the Snorks had returned her pendant, did that mean they had the dagger too?
Hanna was not worried that someone might have taken it from her.
Not for a moment did she think about its value or anything of the sort.
In fact, until she thought she had seen it again, she had barely remembered it.
What troubled her now was far more complicated.
“I saw it,” she repeated anxiously.
And yet she was no longer certain.
She had suffered so many dreams and nightmares during those days, so many feverish episodes that blurred reality and imagination whenever she slept.
Hanna began to question her own sanity.
Gunuruk could not have deceived her.
Perhaps the dagger had simply been lost in the shipwreck.
Even so, she could not shake the conviction that she had seen it inside that basket.
A terrible feeling came over her.
She understood nothing.
Questions kept piling up in her mind, and for the moment she had no answers.
Gunuruk arrived at his grandfather’s great residence in a state of considerable agitation and pounded on the entrance door.
One of the guards responsible for protecting the building received him.
“What do you want, young Snork?” the armed guard asked.
“To see Aknus I need. Very, very urgent it is!” Gunuruk replied.
The guard quickly recognized him and opened the great doors to let him through.
“Aknus!” Gunuruk shouted as he hurried down the corridor.
“What is going on here?” came the Snork’s distinctive voice, sounding rather angry at the disturbance.
“It’s Hanna, Grandfather! Gunuk’s dagger she saw. Nothing could I do, though quickly I took it. I didn’t realize. You gave it back for me to keep, but important it is, very important. With me I wanted to have it!”
As he spoke, Gunuruk pulled the dagger from beneath his clothes, where he had concealed it at his waist.
Aknus immediately seized his grandson by the arm and led him into a room, trying to calm him down.
“Careless little one! She must not know. Danger lies here. Her only protection is her ignorance, and the secret that I—and now you—carry. What she knows, we do not know. Vendemur foresaw what is happening now. He said she must know nothing of Kettke. Important that is. Only when her spirit is ready will her curiosity be satisfied.”
Aknus sighed for several seconds, trying to determine whether that chance glimpse of the dagger might truly pose a problem.
Perhaps Hanna simply wanted to recover something she believed belonged to her.
But the situation could not be allowed to develop any further.
He paced around the room a couple of times beneath his grandson’s attentive gaze.
Then the two left in silence.
Aknus wore a large cloak that covered his entire body.
Walking quickly and trying not to attract attention, they reached the cabin.
Hanna was extremely agitated and had once again begun rummaging impatiently through Gunuruk’s belongings.
“Hanna!” Aknus exclaimed in his powerful voice.
Seeing the serious expressions of the two Snorks, she seemed to calm down.
When she came to her senses and saw the cabin in complete disarray, she was overcome by surprise and guilt.
She approached them and apologized.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. I was only looking for a…”
She made a gesture with her hands, trying to show them what she meant.
Aknus’s reactions to Hanna continued to astonish Gunuruk.
He watched incredulously as his grandfather, despite his bad temper, seemed unable to resist gently touching the young girl’s face.
Hanna was kneeling directly in front of them.
The tenderness the Great Chief showed her was something the little Snork had never witnessed before.
He could not remember his grandfather behaving that way toward anyone.
Comforted by the elderly creature’s apparent understanding, Hanna seemed calmer.
She took a breath and slowly stood.
Aknus then invited her to sit beside him on a large bench.
Meanwhile, Gunuruk paced anxiously around the cabin, throwing his hands up toward his head and wondering how anyone could create such an enormous mess in so little time.
Hanna felt terrible and tried to explain her strange behavior to the two Snorks.
“I just saw something. I’m sure of it. I saw it. It was a little dagger I found when I first arrived…”
Before she could finish, Aknus asked her to stop.
He could not possibly understand exactly what she was saying in her complicated language, and Hanna, of course, realized this as well.
After Aknus stirred the fire back to life, the three sat around it.
They had placed a strange herbal infusion over the flames to warm.
Once the evening’s initial fright had passed, Gunuruk thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Although their gathering did not last particularly long, he was able to spend a pleasant time with his friend.
More importantly, he was able to enjoy his grandfather’s company.
Aknus had not been so warm and friendly in a very long time.
These days, Aknus was a serious creature, apparently troubled by the uncertain fate of his people and the other kingdoms.
Yet everyone said that he had once been kindhearted and cheerful.
He had supported the Kingdom of Kettke unconditionally and had faced the prospect of the rightful kings returning to the Kingdom of Kingdoms with genuine hope and enthusiasm.
But that, of course, was merely another sad chapter in the history of this strange world.
Hanna decided to drink another cup of the delicious infusion.
Afterward, she seemed to fall into a deep drowsiness that forced her to leave the room and retire to her underground bedroom.
Aknus also had to depart.
His position left him little time for relaxation, especially now, when every decision made during these troubled times seemed to carry uncertain consequences.
Before returning to work, however, he asked his delighted grandson to accompany him.
There was something important he needed to show him.
The sky was clear that night, and countless stars shone in the darkness.
After making sure Hanna was asleep and extinguishing the small fire, the two Snorks left the cabin.
The coolness of the night was unmistakable.
The Snorks took advantage of the falling temperatures to perform their most physically demanding work.
Aknus’s residence stood in one of the less traveled parts of the village.
Nevertheless, diligent workers were constantly moving up and down the streets, and activity throughout Bettnuk was unceasing.
“Many orders we have to complete. The winds will arrive soon,” Aknus said.
Hidden beneath his great robe, he crossed the street while thoughtfully watching a pair of Lewiks hauling an enormous tree trunk.
The load rested on a multitude of wooden wheels, resembling a gigantic trailer.
“What is so important that you want to tell me?” little Gunuruk asked, taking advantage of the fact that Aknus had finally broken the silence accompanying them on their return journey.
“Not far now. Impatient you must not be. Even in the village, safe from prying ears we are not.”
A few minutes later, without another word, they reached the palace entrance.
The guard recognized the old Snork, whose face was now visible, and hurried to open the doors.
After bowing as the Great Chief passed, he sealed the entrance behind them.
Aknus’s residence was the grandest building in the entire village.
It had its own meeting chamber and one of the few libraries in Antraka.
Books were a privilege reserved for those who might find them useful.
The Snorks were certainly not great readers, much less accomplished writers.
Consequently, the few documents kept there described the daily life of the villages within Snork territory in a rudimentary language and peculiar handwriting.
Most were simply annual records, listing the work completed, profits earned, and harvests gathered.
Gunuruk waited impatiently for his grandfather, who had disappeared from the library through what appeared to be a concealed passage.
Aknus soon returned.
He was carrying a large, poorly bound book that looked more like a collection of parchments.
He placed it on the great table and opened it.
“Come here,” he said seriously, looking at his grandson. “Tonight, things you may learn that could frighten you. But worry you must not. You, little grandson of Aknus, son of brave Gunuk, the Snork warrior, must also discover what the great Book of Vendemur says about you. You too have had your time of questions. Perhaps tonight the true answers you will find.”
Gunuruk stared at him in astonishment.
He understood nothing.
Unable to contain his nervousness, he could not decide whether he truly wanted to discover what his grandfather was about to show him or would rather flee and hide inside his burrow.
“Nothing I understand. Only a little Snork I am, one who wants to find his father. The Book of Vendemur is reserved for those who perform great deeds. Many who followed it only met their deaths,” he said in a trembling voice.
Gunuruk did not know what else to say.
He had never wanted to be an ordinary Snork.
Every night he dreamed of the enormous adventures his grandfather and his father—whom he had barely known—had experienced during the last reign of Kettke.
But the Book of Vendemur was something beyond his comprehension.
Many beings throughout that strange world knew of the book written by the mysterious Narako, but few enjoyed the privilege of consulting it.
The Book of Vendemur did not recount the future.
It merely revealed events that might happen.
Whether they came to pass depended entirely on the people involved.
The future was not written, but the present was.
And sometimes, knowing about events and circumstances that might eventually occur was precisely what could transform an uncertain tomorrow into the present one hoped for.
Its words were not always easy to interpret.
They might seem to say many things while meaning only one.
Yet that was the only way those destined to take part in events that would shape the course of the world could find either help or hindrance in those painstakingly written notes.
Their incomprehensible origin was known only to the one who possessed the power to write them.
Or at least, that was what Gunuruk had always assumed.
Summoning his courage, the little Snork climbed onto a sturdy bench.
Now level with his grandfather, he looked down at the book.
The existence of those parchments was widely known.
Many of the prophecies circulated throughout the world, surrounded by an aura of mystery that was often exaggerated by the interpretations of people whose persuasive tongues turned the true meaning of the writings into lies.
Yet it was also true that only the chosen could actually see what was written there.
“I can’t see anything!” Gunuruk exclaimed.
After a moment of disappointment, he breathed a sigh of relief, believing that his grandfather must have mistaken him for someone else.
“Sometimes, only sometimes, our eyes refuse to see what our hearts cannot bear to behold. Look within yourself. Take your dagger!” Aknus commanded with his usual stern expression.
Gunuruk was so nervous that he barely dared lift it from the table.
With the help of his grandfather’s steady hands, he began passing the dagger a few inches above the book’s old, damaged pages.
“Look within yourself. Believe. Only then will you see. The dagger will help you. Strength it will give,” his grandfather repeated.
The little Snork desperately hoped that nothing would appear.
He was afraid.
Yet he believed.
He could feel the strength within himself.
And reality revealed itself as cold and unmistakable as the sharp blade upon which the words of the mysterious book were now reflected.
When Gunuruk saw them, he gave a small jump and fell from the bench onto the floor.
“Now you see, little one. Gunuk’s dagger gives you courage. It draws out the strength you need. Hope—sometimes that is all it takes. Magical objects are those that bring forth what lies within our spirits.”
“No, no, no!” Gunuruk kept repeating. “Only an insignificant Snork I am. No, no, no!”
“Your father was also an insignificant Snork, yet great deeds he accomplished. His work must be finished by his son, little Gunuruk. Great courage you have already shown. Your journey to the Isle of Tover was no coincidence,” Aknus said, looking affectionately at his grandson.
“I heard you reading by chance. Then my journey I prepared. Very afraid I was, alone I was, but willing to give my life just to find Gunuk. The book spoke nothing of me. Only my father it named.”
“No, Gunuruk. Your duty you must face. You did not overhear me by chance. You were meant to come. And those words I read for you were not about Gunuk, but about his brave son. Come. Read.”
Those final words struck Gunuruk deeply.
It seemed impossible that he could be mentioned in the book.
Such deeds, he believed, could only be compared with the courage Gunuk had shown.
The little Snork gathered his strength and prepared to read.
The pages that had been blank now shone with knowledge.
And accepting that he had been chosen to honor the memory of his beloved father, Gunuruk began reading, freed at last from the crushing terror that had overwhelmed him only minutes earlier.
“…on the Isle of Rocks, known as Tover, in the place where, with the first darkness after the fallen kingdom, the hopes of many fled. There it shall rise again, after fourteen harvests, in the seventh darkness, that which Tuarkket once gave, hope of Kingdoms, strength of Kings. Only a Snork shall be its guide, small and great at once, bearing the strength of the one who once surrendered his destiny, the same blood, a different being, equal courage…”
After his first encounter with the Great Book of Vendemur, Aknus departed, and Gunuruk spent the entire night reading.
Despite its imposing covers, the book contained only a few old, thick pages, not even properly bound.
But the Snorks’ reading abilities were rather limited.
Furthermore, the language in which the events were described was the ancient tongue of Kettke, complex and difficult to interpret on most occasions.
And so, as the first hints of dawn appeared, the exhausted Snork reached the final sentence and fell asleep upon the table.
That morning, Aknus entered the library and was pleased to find that Gunuruk had finally succumbed to exhaustion.
He too had been working hard throughout the night.
The delivery dates for many orders were approaching, and every year, during the months preceding the arrival of the winds, work throughout Bettnuk proceeded at a frantic pace.
Unfortunately, that was the least of his worries this year.
One of his decisions had been extreme.
So extreme that it openly defied Antraka’s honorable code.
And, above all, his own.
He knew that when the time came, many would accuse him of being a traitor.
Yet although that decision might ultimately cost the lives of many of his people, there was no other choice.
Most of the beings inhabiting that world lived without knowing what would happen to them in the not-too-distant future.
Only a few, like Aknus, already knew of the approaching reality.
A terrifying darkness was gradually making itself felt in many places.
Antraka would be among them.
But hope remained.
And Aknus had risked far too much to surrender to despair.
He approached his grandson and carefully closed the book.
Then, without making a sound, he disappeared through the discreet, unremarkable opening where he kept the precious writings.
The Great Book was far more extensive than Gunuruk believed.
It recounted events dating back long before the reign of Oddeon.
Yet the young Snork had read enough.
Only a few pages.
He was not supposed to know every prophecy, especially those concerning the future.
His grandfather understood that uncertainty born of ignorance could sometimes sharpen the senses and keep the body alert.
For on certain occasions, reality was so unjust that it shattered hope.
And before long, his grandson’s future would be filled with danger.
After locking the cabinet with his unusual key, Aknus went back upstairs and woke Gunuruk, urging him to return to Hanna.
Yawning repeatedly and still half asleep, the little Snork somehow managed to make his way to the cabin.
He did not even bother going downstairs to her room.
Instead, he rolled about on the earthen floor of the entrance hall and soon fell fast asleep.
Yet despite his apparent exhaustion, the little Snork had not stopped thinking about what he had read.