I have traveled the long winding stairway that leads to the hidden cavern.
No easy journey was that twisted sharp studded path of steps.
There were secret watchers with bows shooting flaming arrows.
They do not want visitors from the surface of the Earth.
No good memories have the troglodytes of us up here.
Once they too lived up in the sunlight.
Before they were chased by angry mobs from Rome.
Down the same harsh path that I later followed they had to run.
Their only crime was being short and pale skinned.
They did no wrong to Rome at all.
Once out of sight of sun and fresh air they changed.
Pale of skin and thick bodied now are the troglodyte folks.
They keep to deepest caverns of dark unlit night.
They mine no jewels or gold, nor silver.
The dwarves jealously guard all of them.
But the troglodytes have learned to farm the fatted worm.
They found ways to keep them healthy in their inner world.
It is unwise for surface people to find a way down there.
For we are not welcome among them after what they have been through.
Only by humble mien and lowly short stature did I survive that trip.
Down the sharp studded stairs to their dark world I slowly crept.
For I too was running away from harmful men.
That they well understand having been there themselves.
I was allowed to linger there with them awhile till my pursuers left.
Then a guide brought me home again to face my foes.
They drug them deep beneath the surface and left them in the dark.
I know not what they did with them, but I am free at last.
The troglodytes are still my friends, a trader I have become.
I sell them fresh produce from our sunny lands.
They bring me cave pearls and stones of hardest rock.
We both do well ever since I trod those sharp steep steps.
And my pursuers apparently must now work for them.
A fair bargain don't you think?
Considering the fate they planned for me.
For it's not good to be a pretty girl among cruel consciousless men.
Sharon Pribble