First thing in the morning I was awakened by a tremendous racket, and for a moment I tried to remember what on earth it could be. It sounded like a wall had been knocked down between a tavern and the market without, for the house rang with shouts and clangs and laughter and a great deal of trampling up and down. Then I remembered – our guests – and sat up quickly.
Thankfully, I had slept fully dressed. I hadn't really thought about it, but there wasn't a very good chance of my undressing into my shift and bloomers before all of those dwarves. Even with a shawl, the thought never even crossed my mind. Tilda had done the same, and so I threw back the quilt and clambered out of bed, smoothing my wrinkled skirt and tugged my blouse to rights under my waist which was twisted frightfully.
Dwarves were everywhere, rummaging in the kitchen, poking about in the nets and dried vegetables that o'erhung our walls, and generally seeming to be everywhere. Their not being able to go outside makes it more difficult, because our house is rather small. Da was just awakening as well, and he looked as if he hadn't slept a wink.
"Da, what am I to do? Should I get breakfast for everyone?"
He looked around us, a little helplessly, his face a mirror of my thoughts. He reached up and smoothed some loose bits of my hair behind my ears and then muttered, "Whatever we have."
I nodded and smoothed my own hair with a handful of water (I didn't suppose I had time to rebraid it and hoped it looked halfway decent) before excusing myself through the dwarves and beginning to see what on earth I could cook for breakfast. We had potatoes still, so I set Tilda to peeling them when she came to help me, and cooked a great amount of barley into mush, adding the rest of Bain's dried fruit for some flavor. So I felt rather bad offering our guests only porridge and potatoes sliced and scalded in a hot pan, but they ate it as if it were the food of kings, and Bain gave them ale instead of the water we'd offered them last night. I do believe that the entire barrel is gone now. One of them helped Bain carry it up from the wharf room and seemed surprised that we kept only one on hand. I wonder what on earth we would need with more.
Fili, the blond dwarf who spoke to me last night, approached me as soon as they had finished, and gestured toward where his brother Kili was seated on the edge of my (embarrassingly) unmade bed, talking with Tilda, who was listening with round eyes. I hope whatever he was telling her is suitable and won't have her talking nonsense later, or worse.
"Sigrid, may I have a word with you?" he said in a low voice. The top of his head just reached my chin, but somehow I still felt small next to him, because he is so wide. I felt my stomach jump a little when he said this, and I hoped this was going to be something alright.
"Yes..." I told him. "Must it be kept quiet?"
He gestured toward Kili again, and said, his head near mine, "Do you know of anyone who is skilled with medicine in this town?"
I saw the halfling clumsily explaining something to Da and gesturing to accompany his words, and Da looked to be very preoccupied, so I simply shook my head.
"There is one, but he is called Percy, and is always at the beck and call of the Master. He also works as a porter at the tollgate, so there are many who go unattended when they are ill."
He nodded. "I see."
"Is someone unwell?"
"Wounded." I looked toward where Kili eased himself from the bed to the floor, crossing his legs with a grimace and continuing to prattle on to Tilda, and now Bain, who had joined them. His face was pale and drawn, though when animated in conversation it was easy to miss. I wondered what sort of wounds one could get on a simple journey to visit relatives, but I assumed he did not want to speak of it anymore, for he thanked me and soon joined several others gathered about the fire, examining the tongs and the poker, and talking of weaponry. I must go, because there is still a deal to do – the long and short of it is Da must have promised them weapons, but they are not pleased with the implements which he could provide – mattocks and pruning hooks and spears fashioned from pike-staves. They must have come at great cost, and Da is a little put out that they are not pleased, for there are no other weapons to be had. I must go to market and see if I can manage to buy some more food for supper – it will be a hard thing to explain why, and indeed, there are loiterers all over watching our house. It is an eerie feeling, and I don't like it one bit. Whatever the dwarves are up to is not what it seems.