Dwalin and the Pearl

Chapter 6

The next day we had almost reached the South Downs in Cardolan, not too far from Bree, when we were attacked by bandits.

Things had gotten so peaceful, I'd almost forgotten what fighting was like-for days there'd been nothing to trouble us on our journey. The ox had recovered nicely, the road was reasonably smooth. We all got along.

Well, most of us got along. Var gave me the cold shoulder. Not that I minded. Hell, I expected that, having gotten caught watching her while she bathed. What I didn't expect was for Bombur, the cook, to ride up by my side for a chat.

I didn't mind him. He was fairly self-effacing, cooked well, and stayed out of my way. He was even good in a fight. I looked at his earnest face. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. Well, not nothing," he corrected himself. He had a soft, nervous way of talking. "I mean, just wanted to say that you shouldn't get discouraged. Don't pay too much attention to what Bofur says sometimes. About women not liking -well, about women only liking the young, handsome dwarves."

"No?" I asked as discouragingly as possible. I had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going, and I really didn't want to talk about it.

Bombur's face got red, but he plowed onward. He spread his arms wide. "I mean, look at me. I'm married, and we've got twelve young ones. Well, thirteen, if you count...But the thing is, you just can't tell, with women. And I think Var likes you. You just have to be yourself. Be nice to her."

"So do you want me to be nice, or to be myself?"

Bombur must have realized that this was a hopeless conversation, because he stammered out a few more encouraging words before fading back to join his brother and his cousin. I guess he meant well, but after that I felt gloomier than ever.

So it was something of a relief when about mid-afternoon a handful of tough-looking desperadoes burst out of the underbrush near a stand of trees, riding hell-for-leather toward us waving their weapons and shouting. They didn't take us by surprise, though. We reacted quickly enough.

I dropped my reins, grabbed both axes out of their holsters, and sank my heels into my pony, Harley. She leapt forward like the brave little nag that she was, even though she wasn't trained in warfare. The bandits veered away from my charge, only to meet Nori's knives and Riki's sword. Dori turned out to have a wicked way with bolos-a weapon made of three iron spheres, each dangling at the end of a metal link chain, that he whipped around his head and then threw at his attacker. Ori, bless the lad, did some damage with his slingshot.

Bofur, Bifur and Bombur produced a motley collection of tools, which they wielded to surprisingly deadly effect. Seriously, I'd have guessed that Bifur's boar-spear and Bofur's pickaxe would make dangerous weapons, but a cooking-ladle? Bombur accounted for several dented heads with that thing. I was impressed.

The strangest thing was that the so-called bandits didn't seem to be interested in the cart, which was where the gold was. Instead, they made directly for Var.

She had a dagger in her hand (one I'd given her the day before, not that it had earned me more than a nod of thanks), but her mule had decided not to join in the martial spirit of the moment. The beast had its ears flat back against its head, jibbing and backing away from the noise and commotion, tossing its head every time she sawed at the reins.

Dori and Ori were closest to her, but weren't able to keep all of the bandits off. One of them had circled round behind them. I saw him reach for Var out of the corner of my eye, just as I was dealing with an ugly rascal trying to stick a sword in my chest. I had half-turned in my saddle, shouting for someone to help her, when Ugly slipped under my guard and managed to nick me in the ribs with his weapon.