he bit the weapon's handgrip, holding it in his mouth, while he reached down to pull a small dart from his bandoleer.
"Oooof" Pikel howled when he noticed. He lifted a small log from beside the fire and uttered a quick chant, proclaiming it a "Sha-la-la," and charged for his brother.
Ivan calmly and deliberately set the quarrel in place on the crossbow, then took up the weapon, pointing it at the entangling branch. Realizing that the howling Pikel was too close, though, the yellow-bearded dwarf matter-of-factly lowered the weapon the charging Pikel's way and fired.
The quarrel hit Pikel's raised enchanted club squarely, the quarrel sticking home, then collapsing on itself. A blinding, concussive flash halted Pikel's charge, and left the stunned dwarf standing there, his beard and hair smoking on the right side, his right arm still upraised, but holding only a blackened stump instead of an enchanted cudgel.
"Oooo," the druid dwarf moaned.
"Yeah, and yer tree is next!" Ivan promised, and he put the crossbow back in his mouth, his hand going for another dart.
Pikel hit him with a flying tackle that became more of a flying tackle when the hugging dwarves flew backward, only to be pulled forward by the strong branch, and of course, to rebound backward again.
And so they went, bouncing back and forth, Pikel grabbing at the crossbow and at Ivan's pumping arm, and Ivan punching Pikel, though they were too tightly embraced for him to do any real damage. All the while, the stubborn branch held strong, and the two struggling dwarves only seemed to gain momentum on their back and forth and all-around ride.
They were nearing the highest point of one such bounce when Pikel's enchantment let go, sending a ball of Bouldershoulder soaring into the air, to land with a communal "oof"' and go rolling away.
They rolled past the fire, very close, and Ivan yelped when he burned the tip of his nose. They crashed through the lean-to Pikel had constructed, sending twigs flying. At one point, Pikel managed to wriggle away enough to begin casting another enchantment, so Ivan slapped his strong hand over his brother's mouth. Pikel promptly bit him.
It would have gone on for many minutes-it usually did when the Bouldershoulder brothers were involved, but a low growl from the fire pit stopped both dwarves dead in their roll, each with a fist heading in strong for the other's face. As one, the prone brothers turned their heads, to see a large black bear pawing at the hot vegetable stew.
Ivan shoved Pikel away and leaped to his feet.
"Praise Moradin!" he yelled as he looked around for his mighty axe. "Got me a new cloak!"
Pikel's shriek rent the night air and silenced every night bird for a hundred yards around.
"Shut yer trap!" Ivan ordered.
He rushed out to the side, spying his weapon, and heard his brother chanting again as he started past. Ivan expected to get his with another relatively harmless but ultimately annoying trick of nature.
When the excited Ivan had his axe in hand, he turned back to the fire ... to see Pikel sitting in front of the contented bear, resting comfortably against its thick fur.
"Ye didn't," Ivan moaned.
"Hee hee hee."
With a growl, Ivan lifted his arm and sent his axe twirling down to stick into the sod.
"Damned Cadderly," he bitched, for in Ivan's eyes, Cadderly had created a monster in Pikel.
It was Cadderly who had first made a pet of a wild animal, a white squirrel he had named Percival, of all things. Taking that cue, Pikel had become rather famous for the friends he had made (infamous to Ivan, who thought the whole thing quite embarrassing) at the Spirit Soaring cathedral, particularly among Cadderly and Danica's children. To date, those friends included a great eagle, a pair of bald-headed vultures, a weasel family, three chickens, and a stubborn donkey named Bobo.
And now a bear.
Ivan sighed.
The bear gave a soft moan and seemed to fall over, settling comfortably on the ground, where it started snoring almost immediately. So did Pikel.
Ivan sighed more deeply.
"I do not demand applause, no," the gnome Nanfoodle explained, his little arms crossed over his thin chest, one large foot tapping anxiously on the floor, "but it would be appreciated, yes!"
Standing at no more than three and a half feet, with a long, pointy, crooked nose, his head bald but for a semicircular mane of wild white hair that stuck straight out above his ears and all the way back around, Nanfoodle was not an imposing