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‘Tis a nice piece of work there, laddie!’ Skirvir threw back his hood and crouched down to watch the boy as he whittled. ‘Fiercesome creature though. Be glad you never had the chance to see one.’ He tipped his head this way and that regarding the form that was slowly taking shape. He was a craftsman, himself, though his preferred medium was quartz. He too liked to make small carvings of animals, many of which he gave to his younger cousins.
‘If you’re around this evening, you might get me and my cousins there,’ he said pointing to Bívor and Bávor, ‘to tell you the story of the great winged beast that stole our clan’s treasure and drove us from our home.’ He stood up with a mild groan and the cracking of tired knees; it had been a long journey since sunrise. ‘’Twas red, that beastie was. And he breathed fire out when he was angered.’ A smile creased the nearly hidden lips beneath the wild reddish beard. ‘Hobbit, it was, as tricked that odious and tricksome wyrm!’ His eyes crinkled and glistened from beneath his bushy brow. ‘’Pon my word, it was so.’
‘Skirvir! We’re dying of thirst here!’ cried Bávor, his hand on the handle of the door.
‘And hunger!’ growled Bívor, motioning for Skirvir to come along.
Skirvir nodded to the boy and to his younger companion. ‘We’ll see you later, eh? Looking forward to seeing how that piece turns out.’ He turned to follow after his cousins. ‘Oh, and remind me, if you will.’ He said turning back toward the Hobbit lad. ‘I’ve some pieces of my own, little animals like that. Perhaps you’d like to see them.’
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The trio of Dwarves stood in the entry way of The Perch and looked about in a favorable manner. Savory smells issued from the kitchen, and large mugs of foaming ale passed nearly beneath their very attentive noses.
Bávor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘Southern Star,’ he murmured appreciatively. ‘Ahhh, and Longbottom Leaf, as I live and breathe.’
‘There’s a table. Over there by the fire.’ Bívor led his companions toward it and motioned one of the servers over. ‘Couple of pitchers of ale, yes?’ he said to his companions as the server approached. ‘And a large platter of ham and cheeses and bread to wrap it in.’
‘And mustard,’ chimed in Skirvir. ‘And maybe we ought to make it three pitchers of ale. Been a long dusty road today.’
The other two considered the suggestion for less than a second and nodded in agreement.
Bávor leaned toward the server and spoke in a low voice. ‘If you could find us a bit of Longbottom Leaf, I for one would be eternally in your debt.’
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