THE DORI STORY

Chapter One

"That's two copper pieces, not one." A man told the short, gray haired dwarf beneath him.

The dwarf stared up, a perturbed glimmer in his eye as he stroked the precious coins in his hand. "Two?" he repeated. The man snapped his suspenders, and stuck his thumb in them as country folk often do. "That's business."

The dwarf scowled. "No. That's robbery. Forget it, I don't want them." And with that, he slammed the apples back into the box and walked off in a huff.

This spirited dwarf was known as Dori. You might remember him as being one of Thorin Oakenshield's companions, or perhaps you've never even heard about him at all. Either way, this is his story, and it starts when the dwarves still inhabited the Blue Mountains, long before Thorin's daring quest to reclaim Erebor. Dwarves age differently than humans, so the dwarves still look very much like they will in the future, except for Kili, Fili, and Ori, who are mere children.

"Aye, no apples, eh?" A jolly voice came from behind, grabbing the empty basket out of Dori's grasp. "Bofur!" Dori cried out in annoyance, snatching his basket back. "The way that—" Dori was about to say something bad about the shopkeeper, but he held his tongue when he felt the warm hands of his young brother Ori gripping his leg. "—That fiend charges for apples, you'd think they were a rare delicacy. Any ragamuffin can go pick apples. Why, if you swung a dead cat, you'd hit three apple trees. Two copper pieces for apples! Robbery! Pure robbery!" Dori went on like this for a few more minutes, and Bofur patiently listened, whittling away on his newest project. "Well, why don't you and the lads go and pick some then?" Bofur offered when Dori took a breath.

Ori's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, lets!" the little voice cried, looking up at his older brother expectingly. Dori pressed his hair down and winced. "I don't have enough time." he admitted, wishing he could reply differently. "Maybe we could tomorrow."

Ori's face fell, but Bofur picked up his chin and pulled his hat over the young dwarfs head. "Tell you what Ori. You run home and get Kili and Fili, and I'll take you." Bofur said. This offer was met with a delighted smile, and shy Ori ran off as fast as his little legs could carry him. "You always have to be the hero." Dori muttered jealously. "You'll get your chance one day." Bofur told him kindly, giving him a friendly slap on the back. Dori flinched away as if the blow had been painful. "I should say not. Me a hero! Preposterous. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get home. Goodbye. Have fun wasting your time whittling that chunk of wood and stealing my brother from me."

Bofur took no offense at the pathetic retort, and laughed instead. "Aye, I'll do just that! So long, Dori."

On his way home, the word "hero" kept creeping into Dori's thoughts. "I wish I could be a hero." He finally sighed, his heart leaping a little when he said the word out loud. It was hard being known as the "fussy dwarf with rich taste". Everyone teased him when he used his manners, and when he drank tea with his little pinky up, and when he slid his silver clasps over his beard. They said he was "a riot", but Dori didn't think so. He claimed it was his "fine breeding", and they were uncultured swine for not understanding.

But now as he walked down the dusty road, Dori was starting to wish he wasn't so finely bred. He felt lonely, and he had a suspicion that everyone in town hated him. That was untrue, of course. No one hated him (except for the shopkeeper when he discovered that his apples were bruised). It comforted him to feel sorry for himself however, but being a victim was far less desirable than being a hero.

That night, Ori drew a picture of Bofur, Fili, Kili, and himself gathered around an apple tree, smiling up into Bofur's jolly face as he told his story. When Dori found it, he was overcome by jealousy. "He never draws me." was his huffy remark, as he purposely set his teacup over Bofur's face. This was also untrue, because Ori had drawn him once. His very first drawing was of Dori and Nori arguing, and he drew himself in the background covering his ears and crying.

"You seem mad, brother." Nori observed from across the table. "Mad?" Dori snapped, crumbling his crackers into his soup. "Why would I be mad?"

Nori shrugged. "I don't know. You get mad at the weirdest things. Like last Friday when I said "confound it", and you were convinced it was a cuss word and had to look it up in the dictionary." Dori pointed his spoon at him threateningly. "Count your lucky stars it wasn't. There will be no language in my home."

"I know, I know. But come on brother, what's eating you?"

Dori sighed deeply. "I don't think anyone likes me." The eldest admitted, setting his spoon down for dramatic effect.

This reason surprised Nori, but he managed to conceal it. "That's all?" he replied blandly, "everyone likes you, Dor. I don't even know why'd you say such a foolish thing like that."

Nori's response rolled right off Dori, who had been hoping for a much more detailed explanation. "Perhaps so. But why do they like me?"

This question baffled him. He had never really thought about it before. "Well," he swallowed, anxiously glancing around the room for inspiration, "you're a good cook." he suggested, his gaze fixated on the frying pan that hung beside the fireplace. "That's all?" Dori choked out, bitterly disappointed. "People only like me because of my food?"

Nori mistook his brother's pain for pleasure. "Yes. Yes, your food is very good." he said with a content smile, congratulating himself on being so tactful.

That's when it happened.

Something very unexpected awoke in Dori's soul.

He suddenly felt courageous. Daring, even. He felt like he could travel the world by himself, or slay the greatest of foes. He was going to prove to the dwarves that he wasn't some fussy old dwarf who could only cook and clean. He was going to prove that he was a hero.

With this newfound courage, he decided that there wasn't any time to waste. On impulse, he flew out of his chair, grabbed his dusty old travel bag from underneath his bed, and started blindly throwing in clothes. "What are you doing?!" poor Nori cried out, horribly confused. "Leaving." was Dori's brisk response as he flung his bedroom slippers into the bag.

"You can't leave!"

"I can, and I am!"

"Not forever, I hope."

"Maybe." Dori said dryly, not really meaning it of course.

If Nori hadn't been a full grown man, he might've sat down and wept. His older brother was so dependable, and to see him abandoning them shook his world. "Where will you go?" the younger one said, as his brother stood halfway out the doorway. "Wherever the wind takes me." was his reply, and it sounded so heroic that he got chills whenever he replayed the scene in his mind.

This was the beginning of Dori's adventure, and his first step into becoming a hero.