|
All the while during the skirmish Malí had been hiding -- yes, hiding behind a large, rotting log. While her kinsmen fought, she had lain behind the log, reciting lists of all the major imports from the Elven kingdom and the revenue it had brought in. The list was not terribly long, but because Malí insisted on also reciting the lovely Elven names that had signed the goods in on the lists, her murmuring lasted well through the skirmish. Malí was not a fighting Dwarf. She had two hand axes, yes, but she'd never used them and never even held them before packing them for the journey. Malí was all about keeping track and calculating and making sure everything was perfect. Oh, and what a job I've done so far! Malí scolded herself inwardly.
Soon Malí had begun to wonder why she was so scared, for the sounds of axes and the whirring of arrows slicing through the air had become scarce. All Malí began to hear was name calling and every so often a punching noise came to her ears.
The skirmish was over before Malí could finish her list of panic, and she leapt up and followed fretfully behind the rest of the dwarves, meekly whooping and cheering war cries along with the rest of them.
|