Dwalin and the Pearl

Chapter 18

Never ask a dwarf for marriage advice.

Don't ask a male dwarf-if he's anything like Gloin, he'll just say, "Never go to bed angry. Stay up and fight!"

And never, ever ask a female dwarf-if she's anything like Gloin's wife Fulla, she'll give you a long, well organized lecture with plenty of details and an analysis of applicable precedents. She made my head spin.

She said, "Listen to your wife. Bring her lots of gifts."

There was more, but I can't remember it off the top of my head. That's not a problem, though-Fulla made me take notes.

Gloin and Fulla lived in a pleasant home on a tranquil side street not too far from the Great Hall. They seemed happy together. Gloin's hair-trigger temper and tendency to shout at the least provocation didn't seem to bother Fulla at all. And whenever Gloin's gaze lighted on Fulla and the baby, he seemed to calm down a little.

Their baby son Gimli was a likely young dwarfling, barely old enough to bang his first hammer against his very own miniature anvil. His mother gazed fondly at him as she told me what a husband should do to promote maximum harmony in his married life.

I'd heard Fulla was a beauty, and she was: Raven-black hair, blue eyes and creamy skin, a lovely black beard framing her face and a full, sturdy figure with healthy muscles. She had that vibrant energy about her, a kind of natural glow that made you think that here was a woman who enjoyed her life. Zest-that's what she had. She made you think that nothing was impossible.

I raised the burning question.

"Oh, don't talk to me about that damned Quest," Fulla exclaimed. "Gloin and I had a battle royal over that one, I can tell you! We broke practically every piece of crystal in the house. Lucky for us we still had the pewter stuff from long ago."

She eyed the pewter mug I'd been drinking from. "Oh, Mahal, did you get one of the dented mugs? Gloin, I thought we were saving those for family use only!" She grabbed it away from me.

"I don't mind," I said, trying to take my mug back. "Ale tastes just as good in a dented mug."

"No! It's just not right." Fulla held it out of my reach. "I'll get you another one."

Gloin snatched it out of her hand and scowled at it. "What dent? I hammered out all the dents already!"

"It's fine," I roared. "Give it back and let me finish my ale."

Gloin handed it back to me. He didn't even seem to notice that I'd raised my voice. "Certainly, old fellow. Let me know when you're ready for more."

I turned back to Fulla. "So you no longer have a problem with Gloin going on the quest?"

"Of course I have a problem with it," Fulla said indignantly. "It's a crazy idea. But my parents came from Erebor. They never got over Smaug's desecration of their home. I know they would have wanted to see it taken back. Also, those crack-brains going with Thorin need an accountant, and Gloin's good at that."

She glanced his way. He puffed up proudly and said, "That's not all I'm good at."

Then the two of them traded a look that could have melted steel. She blushed pink as her generous bosom heaved, and he was breathing heavily through his nose. It was embarrassing as hell. I just wanted to find Var and...and...

Then Fulla was talking to me again. "Besides, Gloin assures me that there's a chance the dragon is dead or gone. And he's promised me that the Company is not going to confront the dragon head-on. They're just going to survey the situation from a safe distance."