It was nearly dusk, and as Dwimmer rounded the gate he heard a strange thumping sound coming from behind the well that serviced the great manor house. He paused for a moment, then tread softly towards the sound, stopping only when he heard a gasp of frustration and quietly voiced oath. Peering around the well's stonework he saw the lass Fairlain seated on the ground, a large stone lying in front of her and in her upraised hand a smaller, rounded piece of granite. A pair of leather breeches lay upon the larger stone and had obviously been the recipient of both the thumps and the oaths. Fairlain paused, her hand still hovering in mid-air.
"Dwimmer?", she asked.
"I think ye've killed it lass," said the Dwarf, stepping into view.
The frown of frustration melted briefly into a grin, and she lowered the hand holding the smaller rock.
"They squeak..." she offered in explanation.
Dwimmer raised his eyebrows in mock horror at the pants on the ground, "Then hit them again, lass, I think I saw them move, as well!"
Fairlain put down the rock and, leaning back, dissolved into a peal of merry laughter. After a brief moment she quieted, putting a hand to her side as though even the effort of laughter pained her. Seeing the concern that passed over the dwarf's countenance she shook her head and, taking a deep breath, sat up and reached for the small stone once again.
"Have you come to see Milady?", she asked.
"Not this time...I've brought you something."
Dwimmer fished around in a leather satchel that hung from his belt, eventually drawing out a small, golden brooch whose seven gems glinted brilliantly in the last of the sun's rays. He gave it one last polish on the side of his robe before he handed it to her.
"Some Rukhsul had his paws on it, but I've cleaned it and reset the gems....better than new."
Fairlain took the brooch in her hand and considered it quietly a moment.
"I did not think I would see this again..."
"Milady says you are to take it up and wear it proudly....when you are able."
For the briefest of moments, an expression of deep ferocity passed over Fairlain's face, and her eyes flashed with an intense light that was born and fled within the space of a single thought. Dwimmer was somehow reminded of the tall warriors that guarded the gateway to Rivendell, but then as he looked again he saw only his little lass seated on the ground.
"I will not let him come here...He will not touch Milady. I will hunt him, first..."
Dwimmer's face became stern, and a frown crept onto his brow.
"No, lass. You'll not hunt anything...yet. There are others who will muck out that piece of dung and be happy in the task. You're duty is to heal and become strong. As for Milady-well, I've an idea she's more than we tend to give her credit for...He's the one who should run, frightened."
A stubborn look that Dwimmer knew well crept into Fairlain's sapphire blue eyes.
"Promise me," He said, summoning all his dwarvish stubborness in return, "Promise me you will stay here, safe, and wait until you are truly well. Or do I have to ask a mountain to come and sit on you?"
Fairlain smiled and stood, stooping to pick up the newly tenderized pair of trousers. Taking a resigned breath, she stepped over to Dwimmer and, leaning down, planted a kiss on top of the dwarf's head.
"For you, Dwimmer, only for you....I promise," she said, and turning to face the last rays of the setting sun, she walked slowly into the manor house.
