King Morg had two reptilian-walruses guarding his cave palace entrance, he had summed the son of Tfarcevol (Tig) the Wise, Git, to his cave chambers to learn the “Great Secret of Moiromma,” its beginning, which was hidden someplace in the icy underworld of Moiromma. The upper part of the cave system was a maze in itself, and no one of this generation had ever seen the icy underworld, and how to even get to it, and somewhere in that world was hidden ‘The Books of the Beginning,’ bound in skin, centuries old, if not millenniums.

It was fall on Moiromma, and the ice was thickening all about, and the winter winds were coming in, and likewise for the icy underworld. Git was asked to promptly go see the king. It was simply enough for him to understand why, he wanted the Historical documents of the planet; they were hidden in some remote place, in the arctic like underworld of the planet. Just where no one really knew, except Git’s father, Tig, and of course he was on earth at this time.

When Git entered the throne room, in the cave-domain, the king met him, in somewhat of a friendly manner, yet his eyes burned icily for satisfaction, and absolute obedience,

The king was cleaver, as we all know now, and said right off: “You know what I want Git?”

“I think so,” Git replied in a mesmeric kind of silence, one that irritated the king.

Morg’s massive limps now swung to and fro, Git moved backward, to keep his distance, should his temperament rise much more, he’d be dead with a single blow. Git was no Brute, like the king, perhaps one-third his size.

“I had hoped you’d resist so I could break your spine, then I got thinking, I’d not get my scrolls then, so I shall do the next best thing, lock you in the caves, and feed you lightly until you go on this journey. You shall not be release from the tunnels and caves until you bring me the scrolls.” And the king laughed to high heaven, and Git was brought to the tunnels, unending tunnels of the underworld, like a maze of catacombs.

2 Git

Git, had stood hand and hand by the king for a moment, was going to tell him ‘My father never told me of the exactly where the scrolls were, ‘ and that would have been the truth. But what he did not tell him was, ‘I know there is a well that leads down to the underworld, which floats on a sheet of ice 10,000-feet thick, and due northeast, there a mountain, or mound (he was not sure) and on top of that as a structured, wherein was the scrolls.’ It would have only ignited his anger more should he heard such an excuse, so again say, he said nothing, and was taken to the maze of tunnels, were some 2000-miles long under the surface of the planet (the planet being a little smaller than Earth’s moon, and Earth’s moon being about one forth the size of Earth, thus, Moiromma was perhaps a little over miles round; so 2000-miles of tunnels was a lot of tunneling).

As Git explored the interior for several weeks, he found while remaining in the area of Brutes Ville (above him that is), he found the walls of the tunnels, and caves were crumbling much more than beyond the village, as a result, he went deeper into the labyrinth of caves and tunnels. Along the way he found many old inscriptions from a lost empire, hieroglyphics on pillars, warn away for the most part, then he found the well, the Widows Well, a deep well with strange carvings on it, around it. He dropped some rocks into it, he never heard them land, but he seen red leering eyes, weirdly proportioned, it scrambled about, made him dizzy, then it hissed, and snatched him, the red eyes glomming into his, he wanted to yell but he couldn’t.

It was a two hundred pound spider; old as the pit perhaps: the spider had him wound up in its web tight cocoon, like ropes around him, it was useless to struggle; the pain he suffered was undescript, intense as the old widow, then tightened its grips around Git, to the point the old fellow dropped dead, just like that, and when it fell to the bottom of the well, a repercussion—shock, shook the well, and Git came unwound, and thumbing down with the cocoon rope, and as it reached the end, he got but a pump on the head, his feet kicking to the sides of the well slowed him down, and the jerking of the threads of the web-rope slowed his fall, and by the time he hit the ground it was no more than a thump.