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. "A real shame. Are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure!" Palin snapped.
"Well, give it your best shot, lad!" the dwarf said,
clapping Palin on the arm with his hand. "Here you go!"
He thrust the handle of the warhammer into Palin's hands.
Feeling the unfamiliar touch, the hammer's red glow faded,
turning an ugly, lead gray.
Palin looked around helplessly at his brothers. Tanin
regarded him gravely, his expression grim. Sturm averted
his head, his big shoulders heaving in a sigh.
Swallowing, licking his dry lips, Palin wrapped his
hands around the handle of the hammer, uncertain, even,
how to hold the weapon. He tried to lift it. A groan escaped
his lips - a groan echoed by his brothers.
"By Paladine!" Palin gasped. "I can barely move this
thing, Dougan! How can I throw it?" Leaning closer,
staring into the dwarf's eyes, the young man murmured,
"You're a god ... I don't suppose . . ."
"Of course not, laddie!" The dwarf looked shocked. "It's
a matter of honor! You understand . . ."
"Sure," Palin grunted bitterly.
"Look, lad," Dougan said, positioning Palin's hands.
"It's not that difficult. You just hold the hammer like this . .
. there . . . Now, you pick it up and began spinning round
and round in a circle
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