Chapter Text
Well, ain't we an intimidatin' bunch of warriors, all ready for a bleedin' suicide mission.
Suffice to say, Nori was not exactly impressed with the selection of Dwarves that would keep him company for goodness knows how long on this dangerous quest to kill a dragon so fearsome that it made Dori look like a kitten in comparison.
Leaning back against the wall, the star-shaped-haired Dwarf looked at the others, appraising them with a critical eye: there was Dwalin, a big, burly and beefy brute with whom Ori seemed rather fascinated, and the bane of Nori's life. Many a time they had run into each other, no matter how many times the thief tried to evade him. When he was not glaring at Nori and trying his best not to flush whenever he met Ori's gaze, the bald warrior Dwarf was speaking to his older brother, Balin. An intelligent yet pessimistic character was Balin, although Dori seemed rather taken with him.
“Now there's a decent Dwarf who can appreciate a spot of culture,” whispered the eldest Ri with a sigh. “At least I am guaranteed a companion with whom I can engage in intelligent conversation on this blasted quest. Pity there's only one of him.”
I fink you'll be 'appy with just one Balin, bruvver, thought Nori snidely.
His eyes fell on a Dwarf with flame-coloured hair. Glóin, he thought with delight. The star-shaped-haired Dwarf never missed the opportunity to create some mischief whenever dear Glóin was around. How fun it was to push his buttons by stealing one of the banker's coin purses, which were always full of gold coins, or purloining two or more of his silver hair-beads. And what dreadful temper-tantrums he would have! At least with Glóin on this journey, Nori was assured of getting some entertainment.
He was glad that Óin was coming, too. The healer was a feisty old thing with a witty mouth, made worse by his partial deafness, but compared to Dwalin, Balin, Dori, Glóin and even Thorin Oakenshield, he was easygoing and sharper than a boar spear. Plus, Nori rather enjoyed making bets with him, especially placing bets on Glóin and how fast he would react when an item of his was stolen.
Funny 'ow he almost always wins, the smarmy old codger.
At first Nori could not believe that Fíli and Kíli were also coming along. Struth, Dori 'ad a hard time tryin' to persuade Ori t'stay home, not that it worked or anyfink. But the thief could understand the reason why they wanted to come with. After all, what better way to have an adventure and reclaim a Dwarf kingdom with your good ol' uncle! And if the aforementioned uncle was okay with it, then far be it from the star-shaped-haired Dwarf to comment out loud.
Commentin' inwardly, on the other hand …
The two princes were talking to Thorin, and from where the thief was standing, he could clearly see the excitement shining in their eyes. Try as they might, they could not contain their gleeful grins nor could they stand still. No, they were all ready to go at the drop of a hat.
All in all, what a fierce group of Dwarves we are! All ruddy ten of us.
Hang on a tick. Only bloomin' ten of us? Ain't there anymore?
“'Ere, 'ang about, Balin,” said Nori, moving away from the wall towards the white-haired Dwarf. “'Ow many of us are there, then, eh? Goin' on this quest, I mean.”
“There should be thirteen of us – fourteen, if we recruit the burglar Gandalf told us about,” replied Balin. “Three more Dwarves are on their way to this debriefing.”
“Cheers,” thanked Nori, avoiding both Dori's glare and hiss (“So disrespectful you are, speakin' like that to such a dignified Dwarf like Mister Balin!”). “Do we know 'em?”
“Miners by trade, they go by the name of Broadbeam.”
“Broadbeam? Never 'eard of 'em.”
“Slightly more respectable than the kind of people you encounter in your line of work,” muttered Dwalin.
“Pity we don't see them kind of respectable people in your line of work, either,” retorted Nori, only to earn himself a none-too-discreet kick from his older brother. “Ouch! Watch it, Dori!”
Dwalin rolled his eyes, and Balin continued: “Anyway, they should be arrivin' soon. Thorin does not like to be kept waitin'.”
At that precise moment, a knock came at the door.
“Enter!” said Thorin.
The door opened slowly.
What in Mahal's name –?
The first thing that Nori's eyes fell on was the most peculiar-looking hat (is that even a hat?! Can you even call it a hat?!) he had ever seen in his life. Two brown flaps, like floppy dog ears, only it was lined with grey leather pelt, stuck out of the rest of the brown material that covered the owner's head.
Stone me, and 'ere I thought Dori made Ori wear the chuffin' most wonkiest hats!
His eyes travelled downwards. Underneath that brown behemoth was a pair of twinkling eyes the colour of blue topaz, and a twinkling smile. Chestnut-brown braids that curled upwards framed his face, and a moustache equal in colour also extended upwards as a result of its owner's beaming grin. An earring hung from his left ear (hmmm, not worth takin', then – it's all bone), and a scarf of red, blue and iridescent orange adorned his neck. His clothing was earthy in colour, but nothing about his form screamed wealth or anything remotely valuable that was begging to be pilfered.
Guess I'll 'ave to stick to Glóin.
But how surprised was he when the Dwarf opened his mouth.
“Bofur, at yer service,” he said with a bow.
There was something quite … musical about this Dwarf's voice. Nothing sing-song or childish about it. As a matter of fact, it was resonant and clear, smooth and altogether pleasant to the ear, like the notes on a flute –
Hang about, Nori, let's not get poetic now. After all, you don't know this bloke, so don't you get carried away by this character and his timbre, alrigh'?
Suddenly, a huge Dwarf stepped forward from behind Bofur (Bofur, righ'? I think that's what 'e said). His orange-red beard was braided into a large, rope-like plait that hung over his chubby front. His clothing seemed to be much poorer in quality.
“And Bombur, at yer service,” he squeaked (squeaked! A big 'un like 'im squeakin' like a mouse!).
Then, another Dwarf stepped forward, and what a piece of work he was! Wild black hair framed a dazed face, and an equally-wild blackish beard streaked with white hung from it. But what really caught Nori's attention was the blade of an Orc axe jutting out of the Dwarf's forehead.
Stone me dead, 'e must 'ave 'ad a nasty knock!
With a nudge from Bombur, the Dwarf snapped to attention and bowed as he said gruffly, “Bifur, ai-mênu duzhuk."
Khuzdûl? 'E's speakin' in Khuzdûl?
"I presume you are the one who cannot speak in the common tongue,” said Thorin, appraising the Dwarf known as Bifur.
It was Bofur who spoke.
“Oh aye, yer Majesty, my cousin's been talkin' like tha' fer a good many years since Azanulbizar, but he gets by, bless him,” he said cheerfully. Bifur nodded in affirmation. “He was once a miner, but toy-makin' suits him better, I do declare. He's been teachin' me the trade.”
Nori stared. Toy-makers! What in bleedin' goodness is Thorin doin', fannyin' about wiv toy-makers and signin' them onto this mission?!
“'Course, there's life in this lad yet!” continued Bofur, grinning. “He's keen to do his bit fer his King!”
“I see,” murmured Thorin. He looked at Bombur. “And you are the one who is a trained engineer?”
Bombur nodded, his skin flushing.
"Aye, he's a good 'un, yer Majesty,” chipped in Bofur once more. “Always had a brain fer that sort o' thing, when it's not thinkin' about food. He loves his food, Mahal bless him twice over. Never one to waste a thing, is our Bombur. My brother's been eatin' solids long 'fore he was teethin'!”
Cor blimey, does 'e never shut up?!
Thorin smiled kindly at him. “Well, it is a pleasure to have you three join this Company, and I must extend my thanks. After all, this journey will be fraught with peril, and no doubt it shall be difficult.”
Bofur beamed. “We're all for it, yer Majesty. Let tha' pithy-some dragon do his worst.”
Optimistic little tit, ain't he?
“Excellent. Now, introduce yourselves to your Companions before we get on with the debriefing.”
The three Dwarves, led by the hat-wearing Bofur, approached the others, and to Nori's eyes, it seemed that his fellow companions immediately warmed up to this trio. Balin, Dori and Glóin enthusiastically greeted big Bombur, asking about his engineering and cuisine knowledge (lawks, looks like a bright-red apple when 'e blushes like that!). Fíli, Kíli and Ori all stared in awe at the axe-blade in Bifur's forehead, whilst Dwalin acknowledged his fellow fighter from Azanulbizar with respect. And how pleased Óin looked when the wild-haired Dwarf signed in Iglishmêk after the healer asked him to speak up – and even Bifur smiled when Óin signed back.
But everyone, the thief noticed, was charmed by Bofur. His broad smile, his enthusiastic greetings, the richness of his voice and laughter, and his obviously good nature won them all over in the matter of seconds. Everyone, including Dwalin and Balin, was cracking a smile after greeting him.
But Nori was not impressed.
Nice guys like that, I don't give a toss. Too dull for my tastes. 'Specially ones wiv nothin' to their names.
He greeted Bifur and Bombur dismissively, and before he knew it, the hat-wearing Dwarf was standing before the thief. His smile was bedazzling, and the topaz-blue orbs were shining brightly, looking directly into the star-shaped-haired Dwarf's own fox-like eyes after looking him up and down. He held out a mitten-covered hand.
"Bofur, at yer service,” he trilled.
Nori stared at the hand, then looked up at the hat-wearing Dwarf. He frowned. “So I heard.”
Bofur's smile never faltered. “And may I ask yer name, sir?”
"Nori,” answered the thief, taking the other Dwarf's hand and giving it one firm shake. “At your service, too, I s'pose.”
“Oh, ye must be Dori and Ori's brother, then,” said Bofur. “That must be grand, to have two brothers. Mind ye, Bifur is like a second brother t'me –”
“I'm sure he is,” interrupted Nori, not at all keen to let this person ramble on. “But brothers can be bothersome.”
Dori glared at him when he heard that.
“To be sure! Bombur an' Bifur an' me, sometimes we drive each other up the wall, but at the end o' the day, we're family. From what I gathered from Dori, yer the middle brother, right? Middle-child syndrome is a terrible thing, and I would know, seein' as Bombur's younger an' Bifur's older than me. So I know where yer comin' from –”
Middle-child syndrome? Is this Dwarf out of 'is BLOODY mind?! And he don't have no idea 'bout me! He don't know me, the little plonker!
Luckily for him, Thorin intervened (thank you, Mahal!).
“Now that we are all gathered, let us commence this meeting …”
The Dwarves gathered around him as he spoke. Nori escaped, fleeing to Ori's side. Bofur's brother and cousin had rejoined him, and the trio stood next to Dori.
What a nettlesome piece of work 'e is! 'E better stay out of me way, otherwise I'll force-feed 'im 'is hat so 'e will shut up.
When the thief glanced in his direction, Bofur caught his gaze and smiled …
… and he winked at him.
Turning way, Nori felt his cheeks burn.
The twonk winked at me! Ho ho, 'e better stay out of my way now!
Unfortunately for the star-shaped-haired Dwarf, that was not going to happen any time soon.