Writing about dwarves is fun, but quite easy in some ways because they are ready-made characters. All the development is done for you: everyone knows how dwarves behave. They can be humerous or heroic, or both at once. So I wanted a new challenge. The challenge I eventually came up with was, "Can you have a tragic love story with dwarves?". So I tried, and I'm still not sure. Judge for yourselves. Dedicated to all the dwarves in RFI, especially any female ones.
It's been pointed out to me that, whereas Calvi says dwarf women are not bearded, J.R.R.Tolkien himself states that they are. I'm not sure if I've made a mistake recording Calvi's words, or whether he intended a slight deception so as not to reveal too many dwarven secrets!
I've also had discussion with readers about other aspects of the story. I reserve comments on these other matters to the end, to avoid giving "spoilers" here at the start.
The Prancing Pony in Bree is a
pleasant place to spend an evening, especially with friends. Sometimes it is
quiet and you can sit down for a good talk. When it is very quiet Barliman
Butterbur often joins the talk himself. But other evenings are busy and noisy;
there is "atmosphere", and Barliman is then rushed off his feet with
serving good food and drink.
I remember a very busy evening, when
I was there with friends I have told you of before. Calvi (a kinsman dwarf),
Ottar (a man of Bree), Hamble (a well-to-do hobbit) and I, Brrokk Barrowbane,
had our usual table near the fire. We had to lean close to hear one another
because there was a thronging of other folk too. It was just after harvest-time
and many labourers had recently been paid well and were rejoicing together. A
group of men and women at an adjacent table could almost have been described as
"roistering". Well, they were eating, quaffing, talking loudly and
sometimes singing, but it wasn't proper roistering because they didn't have
axes. Still, they were obviously having a good evening.
These revellers were on the
whole good-natured, but sometimes things get out of hand and folk say things
they wouldn't when sober. Calvi had just made his way to the bar and returned
with newly filled mugs of ale. While passing their table he unexpectedly found
himself the butt of their humour. This is something a proud dwarf does not
willingly submit to!
We couldn't tell how the idea
started, but comments were made, some in low voices but eventually shouted
raucously. A young woman seated on the lap of her man, her cheeks reddened with
drink, started the group idea and drove it along:
"Dwarves, do they have
women?"
"Never seen any."
"Made out of stone?"
"Dwarf women have
beards?"
"Ahahaha!"
"Ask him."
"Maybe he doesn't
know..."
The series of comments dissolved
into general laughter.
"Oh dear", I thought,
"I hope Calvi doesn't massacre them!" I saw his shoulders square and
a gleam come into his eyes. But he knew that it would be unwise to start
violence in the Prancing Pony. His face darkened with anger but he quietly made
his way to us, set down the mugs carefully, then returned to the Bree folk and
stood motionless, gazing at them.
They were still laughing
uproariously, but under his stare they gradually subsided and eventually fell
silent. I could see them realising, too late, that it was an over-bold thing to
insult a dwarf. Barliman was looking across anxiously, realising that the
situation was volatile.
But Calvi spoke, in a low voice;
so low that those who wanted to hear him had to remain silent themselves and
listen carefully. This is what he said:
"You have boldly demanded
some of the closest secrets of the dwarves! Should I tell you what you ask? I
will; I will vouchsafe hidden things to you. Yes, dwarves know love. Shall I
tell you of it? I shall indeed, though it will give me no joy in the telling,
and the tale will still your laughter too unless you have hearts of stone."
"Yes, there are dwarf
women. They exist, and they are not bearded or made of stone; they are few.
Women among us are precious and guarded close, going seldom abroad if it can be
avoided. Marriages are also few, and so the folk of Durin grow ever fewer with
the passing years."
"I will tell you of a
female of my race, who I once met and who I long to see again, though I do not
have hope."
"I was far abroad,
prospecting in the hills above Evendim. On a cold day of winter it had snowed,
but the sun was bright and the sky was clear. I heard the sound of a fight and
the fierce snarling of a warg. Thinking to aid one who fought a warg, I
followed the sound quickly and, on coming through a stand of pine trees, I saw
a great black warg being held back by a dwarf who stood at bay, wielding a
wooden club. I sprang to the aid of my fellow dwarf and together we slew the
warg."
"I began to clean my axe in
the snow and spoke words of greeting; 'Calvi at your service'. I expected a
similar greeting in return, but instead I was startled by the sound of a
musical female voice, and still more astonished when the other threw back her
hood. 'I am Bede, daughter of Bodda', she said correctly. (Clearly, as an
unmarried dwarf woman living still in her father's house it was not to be
thought that she could state herself to be at my service)."
"I gazed at her, almost
forgetting the warg. Know now that we dwarves, from our making by Mahal, the
Vala whom you call Aulë, are simpler in mind and motivations than humans or
other folk. I think that in all of Middle Earth, there is only one other that each
dwarf can love, and when we see that one we know so immediately. If we never have
this happy encounter we remain unmarried. Dwarf marriages can be arranged
contrary to the design of Mahal, but the results are never good. Standing in
the bright snow with Bede, I knew that I had found my heart's only true object."
The common room of the Prancing
Pony was silent. There were looks of wonder on the faces of Calvi's hearers, mingled
with a hunger to know more.
"Gazing at the lovely Bede,
I was almost unable to speak", continued Calvi. "Her lustrous black
hair, rosy complexion and wide dark eyes seemed to fill all my vision. But I
forced the necessary words out. 'My heart is turned to you', I said simply,
wondering as I did so. The words seemed at once impossible and also
inevitable."
"'And mine to you', she
replied, to my joy. 'Always, and forever will it be so'"
"Does this seem strange to
you? A spoken transaction made in an instant and so of little consequence? I
tell you that it did not seem so to us. For a long while we simply gazed into
one another's eyes, until the cold intruded. Then our joy gave way to practical
thoughts, plans, and (in my mind at least) the first pangs of worry. But I did
not speak of my doubts; I turned to what we had to do. 'Let us skin this warg,
I said, and then I would like to come with you and speak with your father.'
Bede nodded, wordless now, and we fell to work."
"Eventually we were done
with the messy business and we made our way to the dwelling of Bodda, high on a
hillside above the lake. Bede told me that she and her father lived there
alone, her mother being no longer living. I bore the warg pelt as a guest-gift;
Bede carried the firewood which she had already gathered before encountering
the warg. My admiration for her increased when I saw the size of the wood
bundle she lifted without effort."
"Bodda lived in a small
stone hut with an adjoining forge, on a high flat space shielded from prying
eyes by trees. I do not think I would have found the place unguided. He
received me cordially, but glanced sharply from me to Bede and back again. The
happy look which Bede gave him told him all he needed to know about the reason
for my visit, but of course we could not yet speak of it. Bodda accepted
gravely the gift of the black warg-pelt and invited me to eat with him and his
daughter. At this I relaxed somewhat. I had not realised the tension in me
until it was gone, but the first hurdle was past: I was welcome in his
house."
"A fire was lit, and it soon
drove away the winter cold. We sat at table and enjoyed a good meat stew which
Bodda had already prepared, fine bread baked previously by Bede and some dried
fruits from my pack which were my contribution. Then Bodda produced a good
sized jug of ale and three tankards, and we sat to business. Yes, I know that
among humans things would proceed differently. There would perhaps be a long
clandestine courtship until finally I would visit the parent alone. But among
dwarves, Bede had to be present to hear and approve the negotiations."
"Bodda turned first to his
daughter as was right: dwarven women are precious and his first concern was for
her protection. 'I seem to perceive that Mahal has joined your heart with that
of our guest. Is it so?', he asked gently. I knew that if he found any
uncertainty in her I would be ejected from the house forthwith. But there was
no trace of doubt in her reply. 'Father, it is so', she said simply."
"Then Bodda turned to me.
'And you, Calvi, do you find that your heart is given to my daughter?' 'It is
so', I replied with equal certainty. Thus far the process was simple, but I
felt that difficulties would now begin, and Bodda's next question showed me
that I was right."
"'Is my daughter pleasing
in your sight?', Bodda asked me. I pondered my answer carefully, for this was
the point when I could praise her beauty with unstinting words. She would
treasure up these words and always remember them. 'She is', I replied. 'When I
first saw Bede, after we had slain the warg together, I saw that, although the
fur of the warg was black, it was not as black as the shining night of her
hair. The snow was white, but not as white as her perfect complexion. The
spilled blood was red, but not as red as the lips of Bede. The
Calvi spoke quietly with an odd
catch in his voice, his eyes almost closed, seeming to see again a scene from
the past rather than his present surroundings in the Prancing Pony. The woman
who had started the ribald questioning sighed. Everyone else was silent.
Calvi continued. "Then
Bodda spoke again, the question I knew had to come next: 'Would you take Bede
from my home to your own, and may I hope that you will pay me suitable
compensation?' Bede gazed at me, waiting for my reply. 'Yes, I would do so', I
affirmed. 'And in consideration of her great beauty I believe that I must pay
you very great compensation.' What else could I say? 'I will pay you gold to
the weight of six axe heads, or gems of equal value if you prefer.'"
"'Oh, Calvi', Bede
murmured, blushing. Six heads is the greatest weight of gold expected in this
transaction, and by this bold offer she saw how much she already meant to me.
Bodda nodded with satisfaction. But now I knew that I had to put a similar question
to him. 'Bede is, I guess, competent and useful', I observed. 'Indeed, she is
matchless', enthused Bodda. 'You have seen her gather firewood; you have tasted
the fine bread baked by her, but there is much more I could tell you. If only
you knew of her exploits in the forge: her tireless operation of the bellows
and her skillful hammer-work. She is talented in every way.'"
"So I asked the next
question. 'What then, will you offer as dowry for her to bring to the one she
marries?' Bodda looked fondly at Bede. 'For such a one I could not consider a
small dowry', he said slowly. 'It must be as significant as she is herself. I
would offer you gold to the weight of six axe heads'. Bede coloured again and
her eyes shone. 'That is a good offer from a generous father, and I accept it',
I affirmed.
"But now we came to the
difficulties which I had expected. 'As it happens, I do not actually have the
agreed quantity of gold readily available', Bodda said reluctantly. 'However, I
would see my daughter wed and I would like to complete the necessary business
quickly. I notice the coincidence in the two payments we have agreed: both are
for six heads of gold. So I wonder if you will help me in this way: I propose
that you lend me six axe-heads weight of gold. Then I will pay you the dowry.
After this, you can pay me the agreed compensation. Finally, I will repay your
loan. Having settled all this, we can immediately repair to the anvil in my
forge and I will speak the words of marriage for you both.'"
"Bede was smiling, but I
knew that things were about to take a turn for the worse. 'Alas, I do not have
six axe-heads of gold', I admitted. 'If only you were able to lend me the sum,
we might proceed in a fashion similar to your suggestion, but in reverse. Then
the wedding I long for could take place.' Bede frowned now, as she saw the
problem for herself."
"'Oh dear', mused Bodda,
'now I do not see how to resolve this. Perhaps someone else – but it would be
dishonour to borrow a dowry from a third party, even if it could be repaid
quickly. I do not know what to do.'"
"We sat in silence,
drinking our ale without tasting it for a few moments. There were no smiles
now. After a while, Bodda spoke, haltingly and reluctantly, almost as if musing
to himself. His words astonished me. 'Perhaps... perhaps we could note that the
agreed amounts are, er... the same.' He fell silent and glanced guiltily at me
and Bede. Bede's face burned crimson. Silence fell between the three of us. 'Go
on', I murmured reluctantly, 'I am listening'."
"Bodda spoke again, almost
in a whisper now. 'What I mean to say is, that the six gold... the same...
cancel out. No actual payment need take place, and yet the reality would...'
Bede sprang to her feet, an expression of anguish on her face. She cast her
tankard to the floor. 'Am I then so useless?', she cried, 'That you would just
give me away for nothing?'"
"I looked at Bede
helplessly and spread my hands. 'All your father means is...', I began, but she
interrupted. 'And you! Oh! All the talk of the black warg and the red blood and
the deep lake! Do you in reality think me so ugly?' Hot tears streamed from her
eyes and she ran from the room. Bodda and I sat in silence with our ale for a
long time, hearing her distant sobbing."
"Well, there was the
problem and there was nothing we could see to do about it. I lodged that night
in Bodda's house. In the morning, Bodda apologised to me for his improper
suggestion. I made my apologies to Bede for the offence I had given her and we
were reconciled, taking joy in the sight of one another once more. Then I took
my leave, promising that I would return to claim her as soon as I had made the
necessary fortune."
"Thus I live here in exile,
poor, gnawing my heart, as is my beloved Bede in her father's house."
Calvi made his way back to our
table and sat down to his ale with a scowl. At the Bree-folk table there was
silence, a few muffled sobs, even one or two tears.
"There will be no more
mirth among our neighbours tonight", stated Calvi quietly to us. "I
fear my tale has quite spoiled their party."
"But... but...",
stammered Ottar, "is that how it is? Are dwarves so... Are you really...?
I had no idea. Was your tale true?"
Now Calvi gave Ottar the stare. "Ah,
friend, you are not also asking me to reveal the deep secrets of the dwarves,
are you?", he asked.