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Dick
Dick heard the female elven voice speak from behind him, but he didn’t turn to look. His attention was fixed on the dwarf, and until Kuric had made up his mind as to whether he was going to murder them all or calm down, Dick wasn’t prepared to turn his back for a moment.
But Kuric only paused briefly, before pushing forward, with a rough curse which included them all. He brushed by the elf with his hand, but Dick received the full force of his shoulder and the innkeeper couldn’t keep his footing. He tumbled to the ground, sending the ale spinning from his hand, and for a moment, he lay as though he would not rise again. Cela was by him instantly, but she had hardly begun to offer him help to his feet when he struggled back up by himself, his face red with indignation.
Kuric had left the inn. He was visible outside the open door. Standing just within it stood the elf, asking for aid. Dick stood, trembling with trapped anger and the attempt to keep it down, unsure of what he should do. His mind tumbled over itself as he tried to remember what Tollers had said, and what the new elf had said, and he also tried to decide what he should do. Should he go after the dwarf, or should he leave him be. Should he let sheriff Woolyfoot know that there was an irate and insane dwarf on the loose? Should he actually patronize Kuric, and apologize, tell him the ring would be found again and restored to him, and the thief punished. Punished? For heaven’s sake, he didn’t even know who stole it.
Toller’s words became clear instantly. He remembered now and before he spoke to the new elf, he turned his eyes towards the young hobbit. A key was missing? Which key was it? No questions now, there was someone to be seen to. He walked forward towards the elf still standing in the doorway, uncertain of what she should do.
“I am so sorry,” he said apologetically. “What may I do for you? A room? Certainly. . . And you have a sister?”
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