"Agreed," said Athgar, gripping the doorknob and giving it a twist. The handle creaked, and when he tried to open the door, it seemed stuck. He put some weight into it, and the door finally squeaked open. A dim light flickered somewhere, casting shadows against the wall, but the room itself was filled with shelves that blocked the view to the far wall.

Athgar stepped in, calling out as he went, "Hello? Is anybody there?"

A distant shuffling sound greeted their ears as if someone or something had moved slightly, their boots scraping on the floor.

"Master Garul?" called out Natalia. "Are you here?"

A grunt echoed through the room, and then a voice called out, "Who's there?" in a deep baritone, the sound rough and coarse.

"My name is Athgar, and I'm with Natalia. Are you Tonfer Garul?"

"I am," the voice returned, "but I'm rather busy. Come back later."

"We've come a long way to see you," called out Natalia, "surely you could find time for us? I promise we won't keep you long."

"I'm busy," the voice reiterated.

There was something about the voice that struck a chord with Athgar. Taking a moment to think it through, he then spoke. "We come in friendship," he said, this time in the Orcish tongue.

"What did you say?" asked Natalia.

In answer, Athgar put his fingers to his lips.

The footsteps drew closer and then a rather bulky figure emerged from behind a bookshelf.

"How do you speak the language of my people?" he said, from beneath a hooded robe.

In answer, Athgar reached into his tunic, pulling the torc from beneath to reveal it.

"Ah," said the Orc, "now I understand." He quickly shifted to the common tongue of mankind, "My apologies, Orc friend. What brings you to my humble place of study?"

Natalia looked on in amazement as their host lowered the hood, revealing his green features.

"You're an Orc?" said Natalia, paling slightly.

Athgar took her hand, giving it a squeeze, "It's all right, Natalia, he's friendly. I'm sorry Tonfer, she's never seen an Orc before."

"Quite all right," the scholar replied, "I get that reaction all the time, though visitors seldom come to my domain."

"How is it that an Orc finds himself in these archives?" asked Athgar.

"Life is sometimes a strange collection of chance and circumstance," said Tonfer. He pointed at the torc, "What tribe gave that to you?"

"The Orcs of the Red Hand," said Athgar. "They taught me to harness the flame."

Tonfer bowed slightly, the action looking almost comical in one so bulky. "It is with great honour that I welcome you here. How fares the tribe?"

"Well, the last time I saw them," said Athgar, "and yourself?"

"I manage well enough," the scholar replied, "but where are my manners, come, sit down and I shall fetch us something to drink."