But none of that really mattered to the outraged dwarf. He just wanted to do something, do anything, to stick his finger in the eyes of his captors. That was the way of dwarves, after all, and of Ivan beyond the norm for his taciturn race. It was better to head-butt your enemy, even if he was wearing a full-faced plated helmet, even if it was spiked, than to stand helplessly before him.
Determined, Ivan strode through the Pikel-made gap and down the forest trail.
Pikel sighed and moved to retrieve his sandals. Hearing a commotion beyond the lea, he merely shrugged yet again and fell back to the grass and stared up at the stars. Perfectly content.
"Never would I have believed that a dwarf could move a tree without using an axe," Innovindil remarked.
She stood at Tarathiel's side, on a low branch overlooking the lea, observing the brothers.
"He truly is possessed of druidic magic," Tarathiel agreed. "How is that possible?"
Innovindil giggled. "Perhaps the dwarves are moving to a higher state of consciousness, though it is hard to believe when you consider that one as the source."
Looking at Pikel and his waggling toes, Tarathiel found it hard to disagree with the last part of her statement.
The pair watched silently as Ivan stormed out of the meadow then patiently waited the few minutes it took for the struggling dwarf to be reunited forcibly with his brother, a trio of elves dragging him back.
"This could get dangerous," Innovindil remarked.
"We still can't be sure of their intentions," Tarathiel replied.
She had been pushing him all day to resolve the issue with the dwarves, leaning heavily in favor of escorting them to the edges of the Moonwood and letting them go.
'Then test him," Innovindil said, her tone showing that she had just found a revelation. "If he is a druid, as he seems, then there is one way to prove it. Let Pikel Bouldershoulder find his judge at Montolio's grove."
Tarathiel stroked his thin chin, a smile growing as he considered the words. Perhaps Innovindil was on to something, which really didn't surprise Tarathiel when he thought about it. Ever had Innovindil been the farsighted one, finding roads out of the darkest dilemmas.
He looked to her appreciatively, but she was eyeing the field, concern growing on her fair face. She nodded his way and bade him to follow, then hopped down from the branch and moved onto the field, where it looked like the confrontation between the yellow-bearded Bouldershoulder and the three elves might be about to explode.
"Hold fast, Ivan Bouldershoulder," she called, and the attention of all five turned to her. "Your ire is not justified."
"Bah!" the dwarf snorted, so predictably. "Ye're locking me in, elf? How'd ya think I'd take it?"
"And I am certain that if one of us went into your homeland, he would find himself welcomed with open arms," came the sarcastic reply.
"Probably would," Ivan retorted, offering a snort at Pikel, who merely giggled. "Cadderly's always been a soft one, even for a human!"
"Your dwarven homeland," the quick-on-her-feet Innovindil clarified.
"Nah," Ivan had to agree, "but why would an elf want to go there?"
"Why would a pair of dwarves walk out of a tree?" came the reply.
Ivan started to argue, but realized the futility of that.
"Point for yerself," he agreed.
"And how does a dwarf coax a tree to move aside?" the elf asked, looking at Pikel.
"Doo-dad," came the giggling response, with Pikel poking his thumb into his chest.
"Well, that is a common sight," Tarathiel said sarcastically.
"Nothing common about that one," Ivan agreed.
"So please excuse our confusion," said Innovindil. "We do not wish to hold you captive, Ivan Bouldershoulder, but neither can we readily dismiss you and your curious brother. You must appreciate that you have intruded into our home, and the security of that home remains above all else."
"I’ll give ye that point, too," the dwarf replied, "but ye gotta be appreciatin' that I got better things to do than sit here and watch the stars. Damned things don't even move!"
"Oh, but they do," Innovindil enthusiastically replied, thinking she may have found a commonality, a way to thin the ice, if not break it all together.
Her hopes only grew when Pikel hopped up and gave an assenting squeal.
"Some do, at least," the elf explained.
She moved closer to Ivan and pointed to one particularly bright star, low on the horizon, just above the tree line. She continued for just a
moment, until she took the time to look at Ivan and see him staring at her incredulously, hands on his hips.
"I think ye're missin' me point," he said dryly.
"True enough," the elf admitted.
"It ain't like we ain't been with elfs afore," Ivan explained. "Fought aside a whole flock o' them in Shilmista Forest, chasing off the orcs and goblins. They was glad for me and me brother!"
"Me brudder!" Pikel agreed.
"And perhaps we will come to be, as well," said Innovindil. "In truth, I predict exactly that, but I beg your patience. This is too important for us to make any hasty choices."
"Well, ain't that like an elf," Ivan replied with a resigned, but clearly accepting, sigh. "Seen one in Carradoon, gone to market to buy some wine. Took her time, she did, moving front to back and back to front across the winery, then course she bought the first bottle she'd seen."
"And that elf enjoyed the experience of the purchase, as we wish to enjoy the experience of learning about Ivan and Pikel Bouldershoulder," Innovindil explained.
"Ye'd be learning more if ye'd let us off this stupid field."
"Perhaps, and perhaps soon."
As she finished Innovindil glanced at Tarathiel, who obviously wasn't sharing her generous thoughts. She gave him a hard nudge in the ribs.
"We shall see," was all that he would admit, and that grimly.
Thibbledorf Pwent kicked a stone, launching it many feet through the air.
"Bruenor's expecting better of ye," scolded Cordio Muffinhead, the cleric who had accompanied the wounded back to Mithral Hall.
They had found Pwent and the Gutbuster Brigade camped along the high ground north of Keeper's Dale, the battlerager having gone back out after escorting the main force into Mithral Hall.
What a sight that meeting had been, with Cordio and the others waving frantically to slow down the insane charge of Pwent and his boys. The relief had been palpable when Cordio had at last been able to explain that Bruenor and the others were fine and were moving along a different and roundabout course on their way back to Mithral Hall, checking in with the various settlements, as a good king must now and again.
"If he's knowin' me at all, then he should be knowin' that I'm about to set off to find the fool!" Pwent argued.
"He's knowing that ye're a loyal warrior, who's to do what ye're told to do!" Cordio yelled back at him.
Pwent hopped aside and did a three-step to another stone, kicking it with all his strength. This one was much larger, though, and not quite detached from the ground, and so it hardly moved. Pwent did well to hide his newly-acquired limp.
"Ye got two camps to organize," Cordio said sternly. "Quit breakin' yer toes and get yer runners to Mithral Hall. Ye build a camp here and get one set up on the Surbrin, north o' the mines."
Pwent spat and grumbled, but he nodded and went to work, barking orders that sent the Gutbusters scrambling. That same day, what had been a casual camp awaiting Bruenor's return was transformed into a small fortress with walls of piled stones, perched on the north side of a mountain north of Keeper's Dale.
The next morning, two hundred warriors left Mithral Hall, heading north to join up with the Gutbusters, while at the same time a hundred and fifty warriors moved out of Mithral Hall's eastern gate and marched north along the banks of the Surbrin, laden with supplies for constructing the second forward outpost.