Dwalin and the Pearl

Chapter 15

If, by some caprice of Mahal the Maker, the road between the Tower Hills and the Blue Mountains had been caused to loop around in an endless spiral so that Var and I would spend the rest of our lives walking but never reaching its end, that would have been fine with me.

All the way through Eriador, up along the Lune River toward our destination at Ered Luin, Var and I talked, argued, and laughed. At night we made love, relishing our slow exploration of every inch of one another's bodies. I could touch her and make her laugh; stroke her and watch her shiver. It was magnificent.

Not a word passed between us about what would happen next.

But no matter how much we dragged our feet, at last they carried us to the settlement of the Durin's Folk in Ered Luin. Var seemed pleased to be back among Dwarves, and walked through the great central hall enjoying everything-the market stalls, the bustling crowds, the noisy taverns, and the stately facades of the Guildhalls.

But it was all too noisy for me. There was no escape from the sounds, the smells, the body-heat. Even the air seemed close and confining, although I knew the ceiling vault soared so high over my head I could not see it. I'd become accustomed to the vast blue of the sky and the wide carpet of green, and now the warmth and closeness of the dwarf halls felt suffocating by comparison. I gritted my teeth as people jostled against me while we walked through the marketplace.

"Oh, look at this, Dwalin," Var said, darting over to a weaver's stall. She stroked a length of red fabric stitched with gold thread, holding it up for me to see. The price tag was printed with a very large number. "What do you think?"

I shrugged. "Nice."

She rolled her eyes, a tiny show of exasperation that was evidently meant for me alone, and turned back to the weaver with a pretty pout. She put the fabric down. "Oh, dear! What a pity, but if my husband doesn't like it, I simply can't justify buying it."

"But I do like it," I protested.

Var frowned at me over her shoulder, her lips pressed shut.

The weaver, a snaggle-toothed old dwarf woman with a salt-and-pepper beard, jumped up from the stool she was sitting on and pointed at me. "But he does like it, Madam! He just said so. It's lovely fabric, very costly to make. Cheap at the price. It's your color, too. Buy it! Make that handsome lad smile when he sees you wearing it."

Handsome lad? My ears heated up with embarrassment. I never know what to do when women say these things. It's total nonsense, too. I'm 169 years old, hardly a lad, and have never been accused of being handsome-not even before I got the broken nose, the bitten-off ear, and various battle scars.

Var waved her hands in front of her face. "No, no, I can't. Seriously, I'm not interested."

I shook my head. Did she want it or not? "If you like it, buy it."

We weren't short of cash-Var had been managing our funds, and I was surprised to discover that we had much more money than I expected when we arrived in the Ered Luin settlement.

"You darling man!" Var rushed over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me. Then she grabbed my face in her hands and whispered, "Would you please shut up? You're going to ruin everything. Just...look disapproving. Scowl for me. Please?"

The weaver was shouting at Var's back. "For you, Madam, half-price! You'll never find a better deal. Oh, Mahal, I can't believe I'm doing this, my children will starve, but for you, Madam-just call me sentimental. I love to see a lady who treats her husband right. Half-price, my final offer."

Var went back to the weaver, and I scowled as ordered. I probably looked only half-disapproving, since I was mostly confused, but it was the best I could manage. Why was she making such a drama out of a simple purchase? I could have bought an entire armory of weapons in the time she was taking to buy a single piece of fabric that she hadn't even wanted until the moment she'd set eyes on it.