Once Upon A Contract

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 5: 𝕬 𝕲𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝕳𝖔𝖇𝖇𝖎𝖙

There was something about the Shire Dwalin found unsettling. He wasn't sure if it was the realization that the Halflings burrowed into soil instead of stone, or if it was the sheer amount of green, but the Shire was off putting. Now, typically when there was something that unsettled him to this degree, he whacked it with Grasper or Keeper and went about his merry way.

He wasn't about to do that in a place that apparently raised pickpockets and thieves according to Tharkun.

Dwalin wasn't stupid, nor was he an idiot. And while Balin might have gotten more of their father's brains then their mother's brawn like Dwalin did, it wasn't as if Dwalin hadn't learned his letters alongside his brother. It didn't come up often, but Dwalin was raised a noble too, right alongside the Durin heirs.

His craft might have been revealed as battlecrafting, but by no means was he stupid in the ways of politics or people. He couldn't afford to be, not when he was one of the Captain of the Guard back in Ered Luin. Not when he, like Thorin had to beg at markets of Men for jobs he could have done as a babe.

Dwalin wasn't stupid, he just pretended to be.

He knew he shouldn't judge the Shire with the mindset of a dwarf. He knew that this was a different culture then he was used to altogether, (the sons of Fundin weren't raised as diplomats for nothing) but the Shire simply look wrong. All hills and vaulted fields.

There were roads that were little more than dirt and rock thrown away from what looked to be perfect little rows of crop Dwalin could name. Every curve made his neck prickle and every step made him itch to place a hand on Keeper. The Shire was worse than the open roads. At least there Dwalin knew to watch for bandits and slavers. Arrogant and desperate curs who thought to make their fortune off the downfall of others.

Here, anything could be hidden away behind a hill or eyeing him behind those strict lines of hedges. Dwalin wasn't one of the longest lasting guards in the lower levels of Ered Luin just because he was the best at fighting. While that did help, Dwalin had lasted because he was the best at thinking ahead.

Dwalin didn't stand for sloppy guard work. Anyone could swing an axe or lynch a man. It took more to settle disputes before they reached the overburdened courts. It took brains to reclaim stolen property, track down missing dwarrow, or even know when to put aside petty grudges and history to give fair justice. In any other settlement, the dwarrow Dwalin dealt with on a day to day basis simply fell under the blade of the guards in order to get things done simply and quickly.

But, personally Dwalin thought there weren't enough dwarrow left for Dwalin to let good dwarrow die because the stomachs of pebbles rumbled with hunger and dams' cheeks grew gaunt in effort to stretch reserves even further.

Dwalin had never found fault with the growling of empty stomachs and he wasn't about to now.

Shaking his head to clear the heavy thoughts, Dwalin cast an appraising eye on the road before him. Night hadn't yet fallen, and even for the eyes of men, there was enough light to allow pebbles and homemakers to continue chores outside.

The unsettling thing about the scene was that as far as Dwalin could tell, there had been people labouring to finish their chores up until the very moment Dwalin had turned to look. To Dwalin's left was a basket of wet clothes under a half full clothesline. To his right, was what looked to be a scattered game of sticks.

If the hobbits had just scrambled for hiding spots at the sound of him clomping along the road, Dwalin would be hearing boots hitting the floor and furious whispers between parent and pebble. In his experience, even when circumstances and situations fell out of control faster than Dwalin could yell 'down,' curious pebbles would be poking their heads through the curtains. But Dwalin didn't hear a thing.