Chapter Two: Nori, Ori, Dori
It was the sudden loud clamor – dishes breaking, shouts, stomping, high-pitched bleating – which broke out somewhere in his house that interrupted Beorn's carving. Throwing down his tools, the skin-changer went to investigate, a dark frown clouding his grizzly face. Following the commotion, he stopped in a doorway and stared for a moment.
Broken dishes were scattered on the table and floor. Sheep and dwarves were running about, several collisions narrowly avoided. The man's attention was taken with one sheep in particular, the poor thing bleating frenziedly, wildly shaking its head.
As the sheep passed by Beorn, in a flash he reached down, catching the back of the dwarf's collar, effortlessly lifting the creature from the sheep. Ignoring the way the dwarf spluttered and flailed about, Beorn peered curiously at him.
"What do we have here?" he rumbled. "My sheep are not ponies." His eyes narrowed.
"NORI!"
Beorn looked down to discover two dwarves at his feet. One, silver-haired with intricate braids, looked torn between worry and irritation. Beside him, the younger dwarf wrung his hands nervously.
"Sorry, Master Beorn! My brother wanted to see if the sheep's—" the young dwarf cut off at the loud cough from the one in their host's grasp. "He sneaked up on the sheep. He did not mean to frighten it so. Please don't be angry." He stared at the skin-changer with big blue eyes.
Beorn's frown started to melt.
"Please, sir, if you would be so kind as to let Nori go. He won't do it again!" the silver-haired dwarf fretted. "I'll keep a sharp eye on him. You will not have further trouble with him. Now—sir!" his voice rose in alarm as his host burst out laughing.
The man grinned at Nori. "Clever Fox," he said, tone brimming over with admiration, setting the dwarf down with his brothers. He will have to ask later what Nori did to his sheep.
"Thank you!" Ori beamed with thanks.
"Little Owl is welcome," Beorn replied, patting the creature on the head.
For a minute he watched Dori check Nori over, hands searching for injury, alternating between scolding and inquiring if he was sure he was alright. Without warning, the man reached out his hand and plucked up Dori who let out a squawk. Chuckling, Beorn cuddled the protesting dwarf in his arms.
"Fussy Hen," he remarked fondly, "you are funny!"