The dwarf slapped the shaft of his battleaxe against his gloved palm and approached Radawen slowly.
”Who are you?” Radawen asked.
”I want to know where you have gotten that pony”, said the dwarf. ”I know that pony. It belongs to lore-master Gulim of Zigil-jâbal. I want to know why you have it. And I want to know why you, a woman with Gondorian accent coming from Gondor’s general direction, are heading towards Amon Hen with two ponies on tow.”
”Who are you?”
”We can talk about that later”, said the dwarf in his gentle, melancholic voice. Radawen turned to look at the woods and made a gesture like she was about to flee.
”Please don’t do that”, said the dwarf. ”You can’t run from me.”
”What are you going to do?”
”I’m going to get some answers from you.”
”I have no answers…”
”You want to go to Amon Hen. What for? Do you think you will find King Thráin of Durin’s Folk there?”
Radawen could not talk. Her eyes darted wildly about the surrounding woods and bushes.
”I happen to know that lore-master Gulim went to Minas Tirith”, said the dwarf. ”So I will hazard a guess that that’s where you’re coming from, Minas Tirith. Did Gulim tell you about Durin’s Folk and Amon Hen? Did you kill him to get his pony? What did Gulim tell you?”
Radawen finally made up her mind, let go of Rohiril’s reins and made a move to run away, but it was too late. The dwarf grasped a tight hold of her arm. Radawen slapped him across his bearded face. The dwarf was so astonished that he dropped his battleaxe. Radawen started running towards the open woodland.
”By Durin’s beard, what a cuff on the ear!” the dwarf muttered, tasting blood on his lips. Then he picked up his battleaxe and turned to look at the ponies. He grimaced, stifling the natural distaste he had for riding animals, untied Gulim’s pony and mounted it. It had been a long time since Deli had ridden a pony, but he was naturally better at it than most dwarves. He saw Radawens’s dark silhouette running uphill, trying to find shelter in the sparse woodland. Deli urged the pony to a gallop.
Gulim’s pony was not exactly a sprinter, but it was still much faster than Radawen on foot. Deli coaxed the horse to her side and leaped from the saddle, toppling her down on the ground.
”Help!” Radawen screamed. ”Help!”
But calling for help was pointless. There was no-one else around for miles. Deli sat on Radawen, holding his battleaxe in one hand and pinning her hands down on the ground with the other.
”Please, stay still”, Deli said in his polite manner. ”I don’t want to kill you.”
”You wouldn’t kill me.”
”Of course I would.”
Deli’s voice was thoroughly calm. Radawen saw the cold calmness in his eyes. She had known a man like that before, a man with calm eyes and quiet voice who had also been utterly capable of extreme violence when the situation called for it. She stopped struggling.
”Much better”, Deli said, releasing her hands. The dwarf was immensely strong in spite of his short stature. ”Please forgive me my heavy-handed approach, but you hardly left me any options.”
”Who are you?”
”It’s not important, but you can call me Deli. From Zigil-jâbal.”
”And why are you going to Amon Hen?”
Deli stared at Radawen for a moment and then smiled sadly. He stood up, still holding the battleaxe. He glanced at it. His smile died. When Deli spoke again, his voice was cold:
”If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you will not walk out of here alive.”
She stared at him as if he was a wild beast she had suddenly encountered in the wilderness.
”You won’t be able to get away with that…”
”Yes I will.” He stared at her with his sad eyes. ”We are in the frontier between Gondor and Rohan. If I killed you here, nobody would ever find your body.”
Radawen did not hesitate. She bolted up to her feet and started sprinting downhill. With amazing speed for a dwarf Deli caught up with her, grasped at her skinny arm and spun her around. He did not expect her to make a swing at him as she turned.
Radawen’s blow struck him on the temple and made him lose his balance momentarily. Another blow landed on his right cheekbone.
Radawen turned to continue her escape, but this time the dwarf hit her hard above her ear with the shaft of his battleaxe. The blow made her nauseous. The dwarf turned her around again and slapped her across her face. Again. And again.
”I’ll kill you”, Radawen hissed. Her face was smarting from the blows and her own tears.
”No you won’t”, Deli said. ”You will sit down on the ground and tell me everything I want to know.”
Deli watched her, the involuntary tears in her green eyes and the glowing face, her cheeks still red after his blows. The dwarf was utterly calm and expressionless.
”I didn’t kill Gulim”, Radawen said.
”But you have his pony”, Deli replied. ”So where is he?”
”Dead… but I didn’t kill him. We were ambushed in the Drúadan Forest. Orcs.”
Deli raised an eyebrow. ”Orcs ambushed you and killed Gulim, yet allowed you to live and be on your way? Why would they do that?”
”I don’t know”, Radawen said. ”I can’t explain it. It doesn’t make sense to me either. But that’s what happened.”
”Why was Gulim in Minas Tirith? What did he tell you? I assume you two were going to Amon Hen together… why?”
”You know that I’m not a brigand…”
”I know nothing”, Deli said. ”You profess your innocence, which might make you all the more guilty. I don’t know.”
”Damn you”, Radawen finally said. ”You insult me.”
Deli was silent for a moment. Then: ”Why do you want to go to Amon Hen?” Said in a quiet, demanding tone.
”Because I believe Thráin is alive. And that I might find him there.”
”And what makes you think so?”
”I just do. Instinct.”
”Oh no. You don’t travel from Minas Tirith to Rohan because your gut feeling told you so. Now tell me what I want to know so I can let you go.”
Radawen did not say anything in a while. Deli’s demeanor was gentle and his appearance oddly harmless, even endearing. And yet his tone of voice was sincere when he said he would kill Radawen if she did not tell him what he wanted to know.
”How do I know you will let me go?”
”Because then I would not have any reason to kill you.”
”You don’t have any reason to kill me anyway.”
”Tell me about Gulim”, Deli said softly. ”And Thráin. Do tell me about Thráin as well!”
