Dwalin and the Pearl

Chapter 4

We'd gotten everything moved to a hollow in the leeward side of the rocks just as evening fell. The dwarf woman Var had set the three new dwarves, her protégées Bofur, Bifur and Bombur, to work gathering wood and cooking dinner. Riki had doctored the lame ox as best he could, and fed the animals.

I'd assigned a pair of dwarves for each watch throughout the night. Riki would take first watch with Nori. Then the fat one-Bombur was his name-would be on second watch, paired with dour, trustworthy Zigur. I'd be taking the third watch with Bofur. Two of the others would be taking the watch after us, and so on. It seemed best to mix the dwarves I trusted with the ones I didn't know yet.

Over Bombur's fairly tasty stew, I learned that the trio had been miners before a cave-in had filled them with the desire to seek new careers. Apparently they were hoping to find a less potentially fatal form of employment. Not a bad idea, except that their new goal was to join the Army of the Iron Hills. I couldn't say as I'd found soldiering to be entirely risk-free, but hated to dampen their enthusiasm so I just wished them good luck.

Their first step toward a new life had been to sign on to carry goods for a pair of unsavory Dunlendings. Of course, that hadn't turned out the way they'd expected.

"None of us had any idea what those Dunlending bastards-begging your pardon, my lady-were up to," Bofur was saying, for about the fiftieth time.

"It's just Var," she said coolly. She looked calm enough, but I got the feeling that this conversation was turning in an uncomfortable direction. "And you don't need to worry about your language, Bofur."

If it had been me, I would have cut off this line of questioning double-quick. After all, she'd just been kidnapped and put through a harrowing few days, and it might be a bit soon to relive that experience. But Var hadn't put her foot down, and it was her call, so I decided not to get involved.

"How did you end up their prisoner?" Ori said. I could see him patting his pockets, as if looking for something to take notes with. "I wouldn't have thought-"

Var's face turned deathly pale, ashy-colored even in the firelight. It was time for me to step in, because this was not going well. We were still in a dangerous part of the world, and we were by no means out of trouble yet. She needed to hold together until we got to Bree.

I said quickly, "It doesn't matter, because it's over now. We're going to get some sleep, and start for Bree tomorrow. Ori, your turn to clean up."

But it was too late. Var had recovered her composure and was smiling at Ori. "Oh, I don't mind. It's natural for him to be curious. I was staying in an inn, The Leaping Stag, when they, um, when they burst in and killed my-"

That's when it hit her. She clapped one hand over her mouth and doubled over. Her sobs sounded like they were being wrenched from deep inside her.

"You little fool," I growled at Ori. I grabbed the small bottle of Aunt Nott's Mead I kept in my kit for emergencies and leapt to Var's side. I uncorked the bottle. "Here, drink this."

Aunt Nott's Mead is pungent stuff. It smells like nothing on Middle-earth, and one good mouthful will knock a strong dwarf flat. Var took a deep sobbing breath as I held the bottle to her lips, and reared back coughing. "Mahal, what is that?"

Tears were streaming from her eyes-a not untypical reaction to Aunt Nott's special brew-and she glared at me, more infuriated than distressed. I took the bottle away. "Feel better now?"

"I am perfectly fine," she said, coughing and wiping her face. "There was no need for concern." Of course that was a lie, but not one I was going to challenge her on. There would be time enough later on for healing. At least, that was how it worked for me. I nodded and stood up, relieved.