Dorro stared at the stout, filthy warrior. (Indeed, he originally thought it to be a male, though to be sure, instead of a full beard, there were only a few scraggly whiskers on her chin.) He turned to Crumble: “But you said Wump was unattached.”
“You may address me, Halfling,” said Aramina brusquely. “Wumpie was my first husband, but we were too different to make it last. He was a gem-lover, a rock digger, a cave dweller. Me, I longed for the outdoors and a life of adventure on the frontier. Hunting goblins is what I was made for. Poor Wumpie—he just wanted to count his gold ingots and dig and dig and dig …”
Wumpie? thought Dorro.
“How long has it been, Aramina?” asked Crumble.
“Oh, I left Wumpie nigh on twenty years ago. You ain’t changed much yourself in that time, Crumble.” Upon scanning the others, “And look at you, Flume, Two-Toes, and Magpie—you’re all fatter and much grayer, but really so much the same. We had such fun back then. Are there any others?”
“My son, Orli, is around somewhere, though I haven’t seen him today. He’s peeved at me for a family matter.”
“A son? Why Crumble, you romantic devil. Where’s his mother? She must have been a beauty!” exclaimed Aramina.
“Ah, she was. But we lost my Clodagh many years back.” Crumble looked wistful and sad. “It was a goblin attack while we were traveling between caverns—they got us in the open. Only half made it home. Orli never really knew her.”
“If I’d have been there, none of them goblins would have returned home with their heads attached to their necks!” Aramina’s face clouded over. “You have my deepest regrets, brother. And even though Wump could not live with a warrior-wife, I still regard you buffoons as my own kin.”
“And we feel the same, sister. But if you’ve come to Thimble Down to find Wump’s killer, you’ll have a devil of a time. This here is Mr. Dorro, who’s leading the investigation—he’ll tell you plain as day we have no suspects.”
“That would be correct, Mrs. Wump, if I may call you that.” Dorro was excellent at playing the diplomat. “We found your late husband with many broken bones, but no leads. It could be anyone.”
“We have our own ways, Master Halfling, and will conduct ourselves as we see fit. We are Battle Dwarves and answer to no one.”
“Now hold on, Missy—I’m Sheriff Forgo, and this is my town. No one goes about here with axes and swords unless I say so!”
“So, we have a Halfling with a spine, do we?” Aramina Wump laughed. “And a cute one at that. Look at that nice belly, though you need a little fattening up. If you could grow your beard out, Sheriff, you might pass for a Dwarf.”
Ignoring her, Forgo went on, “I will allow you to stay in our village, but there shall be no violence or intimidation. If I hear of anything, I’ll toss you out of Thimble Down myself!”
Aramina winked at Forgo and cooed, “I’d like to see ya try, handsome. But believe me, I will find me husband’s killer. And if I can’t do it with these fine fellows,” she said, gesturing to her troop of warriors, “I will summon the rest of my battalion and we’ll burn this rat’s nest to the ground. We were down in your southlands anyway, tracking a band of marauding goblins, so the rest of our comrades aren’t far away. And if comes to a show of force, I might keep you as my battle prize.”
She gave the lawman a downright scandalous smile, scratched her hairy chin, and walked off into the heart of the village, looking for food and drink. Crumble and his brothers followed, leaving behind the newly revived Sheriff Forgo, Dorro, and a crowd of awed villagers.
“Okay, Winderiver, why don’t you help me hobble back into the gaol and you can start filling me in on everything I missed. Seems like it’s going to be a lot!”
Dorro just rolled his eyes and held out an arm for the still-weak Forgo to grab.
* * *
So far, Wyll and Orli had made a good start of it. The night before, the runaways raided the library’s storage shed and came up with heavy blankets, some tools and fishing gear, and enough food to get them started. As planned, in cover of darkness they worked their way towards the river and spent part of the night huddled under low-swaying boughs of pine.
Though Wyll had some experience in outdoors survival, he wasn’t very good at it, as he recalled during the long sojourn from his late mother’s caravan to Thimble Down. He’d nearly starved to death more than once.
Orli, on the other hand, was a seasoned hunter—he’d been on many journeys with his father and uncles, living off the land, learning to build shelter, and finding food. To get going he next morning, the pair made a fresh start of it, devouring some jars of pickles and beets, and a loaf of mildly stale bread.
“I can bring us some trout for lunch I think, despite the cold,” said Wyll. “The water is cold, and the fish have gone deep, but I know where they’re hiding. It’s all a matter of going really slow with the bait and dragging it along the bottom of the river. I’ll give the line a few teases, and that should do the trick.”
“If you say so.” Orli looked amused. “I know nothing of your river-angling arts. If we fish at all, it’s in a subterranean lake, and our prey are hungry and willing. For my part, I’ll explore the shoreline for shelter and gather us nuts, roots, and snails—they can be rather tasty when you cook ’em. I’ve got my bow, too, so… Wait!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Orli espied something moving. Slowly he grinned. “I’ll be back later, Wyll. I think we shall be adding some fresh coneys to our supper as well. Happy hunting!”
* * *
Many hours later, the boys were in bliss. They were sitting in front of a fire, enjoying fresh trout that Wyll brought in, as well as a brace of rabbits, which Orli had cooked into a stew with various roots and herbs, and a few of the leftover beets from the morning. Orli also made a miraculous discovery—while walking along the shore of the River Thimble, he noted a weird wall of brush. He pulled the branches away and found a cave that was dry and warm; it must have been some lucky fisherman’s hideout during Summer storms.
“Orli, we can live here like kings all Winter! I can ice-fish and gather roots, while you hunt. And they’ll be no grownups around to tell us what to do.”
“Bless that thought, Wyll. I’m sick of fathers and uncles bossing me around. I’m my own Dwarf now and answer to no one. I only miss …”
“Who?”
“Me mum. I lost her when I was but a pup. But in my heart, I still miss her. She wouldn’t treat me like a dog.”
“Same here. My mother died not quite a year ago. She was an actor and very beautiful. Uncle Dorro is nice to me most of the time, but he gets cross sometimes and makes me do chores. And he’s got a horrible temper.” But Wyll chuckled. “Then again, so do I. Must get it from the old goat!”
The lads laughed at that, but both reflected on the fact that even though their guardians were tough, they also supported them and made their lives easier. But they couldn’t say that out loud yet. After a spell, they decided to go explore the cave further, just in case a boar or some foxes lived in there. They made torches, doused them in musk oil they’d taken from the library, and began creeping back into the blackness.
“A bit gloomy back here, eh?” Orli nodded in agreement.
“Not much further, I think, Wyll—it’s tapering off to the end, but … hold on a bit.” Orli veered off to the right, holding his flaming brand high. “Look, there’s a separate chamber back here. I almost missed it. I think we’ll have to squeeze through this fissure.”
The boys dropped to their knees and began wiggling through the small crack in the wall. Wyll shot through, but the beefier Dwarf boy struggled for a few moments. Finally, he got in and found his torch. “Do you see anything?”
“Orli, you ain’t gonna believe this, but …”
The Dwarf held up his torch and gasped. Within this chamber—measuring roughly twenty by twenty feet—they beheld every manner of object: plates and dishes, tools, piles of clothing, coins strewn everywhere, and just about every kind of household object you can imagine. It was only when Wyll noted a stack of shallow tin plates that he understood where he was.
“Look! These are tin pie pans. Pie pans! Orli, I think we’ve found the lair of the Pie Thief.”
The boys just looked at each other and smiled broadly at their coup.