Many minutes later, the child-snatchers pulled up short and dropped their victims on the ground. It was pitch-black outside and the young ones were terrified; a match was struck, and the scene illuminated slowly. Wyll, Cheeryup, and Orli each looked up, expecting to find Fibbhook and his gang about to do them in, but found themselves wholly mistaken. It was Crumble and his Dwarf brothers, looking down on them with a mixture of anger, sadness, and pity.
Orli’s father spoke first, looking at his son with daggers in his eyes. “What have you done, boy? What were you thinking? You have shamed us!”
The Dwarf boy said nothing as his father continued ranting. “We are not wealthy and take pride in work when we can get it. If you had been caught by the Halflings, we would be sent from their village, probably without our due pay. Then what, you little fool? And why are these Halfling mice with you?”
“Let’s turn them over to Mr. Dorro, who’s now the Sheriff,” grinned Wump. “He’ll put them in gaol. Or better, let’s give them to Fibbhook—now he’s a chap who knows how to get folks to talk.”
“It’s tempting, Wump, I won’t deny it. Orli, will you not tell your father what you were doing in Mr. Bindlestiff’s office? And why you were trying to break into his iron safe?”
“I won’t,” said the boy, not looking at his father in the eyes.
“My son, a lowly thief. Back in the Northlands, we’d bag you in leather and beat you with sticks and rocks. You’d think twice about thieving again. Maybe you’re the thieves that are terrorizing the village, though that is hard to believe.”
“We’re not,” growled Orli. “And let my friends go—they did nothing!” Wyll and Cheeryup had been mostly silent to this time, weeping quietly on the ground.
“Agreed,” said Crumble. “We don’t know their role in this and we don’t want to draw the ire of the Halflings. Two-Toes, Flume, and Magpie—bring them to the edge of Thimble Down and let them run back to their soft, warm holes in the ground. But you, boy, you will stay here with your Uncle Wump and I. We may not be able to find out why you invaded the boss’ office, but we can make you remember it for a very long time.”
At that, Wump pulled a whip from behind his back and smiled maliciously at Orli. The other Dwarves grabbed Wyll and Cheeryup and began dragging them back to the village.
“Leave him alone!” screamed the girl. “It’s wasn’t him—it was all my fault! Whip me instead!”
But a flick of Crumble’s chin told the Dwarves to keep going. For his part, Wyll shot Cheeryup a look of contempt, reminding her that this really was her fault—she bade them remain when they should have left the smeltery. The girl dropped her head in shame and began crying, knowing it was all too true.
In the distance they heard the snap of a whip, again and again. And again.