Biggs and Smalls

“How many were there?” Biggs asked. 

“I counted nine.” 

“We should be able to get that down to four or five before engaging hand to hand. Want me to fire from the tree line while you charge?” 

“Aye, I don’t want any to run for the hill. If they get there we will have a whole mountain of them on us. We need to slay them quickly before they think they are routed and before they can run. If we can do this quickly enough, the rest won’t hear us or at least won’t think it was an attack.”

“And when they are dead?” Biggs wondered. 

“I say we drag them to this tree line. They might have stolen some things we can return to the town. Or who knows with goblins. They are always carrying bizarre trinkets. “

“Ha!” Biggs chuckled, “That’s so true. Ok, I like it. I’ll begin firing my bow from the tree line. Looks like they are only fifty yards or so from it. If I’m lucky I can drop a couple of them before you even get there. When you’re about to engage them I’ll follow up. Save some for me?”

“Don’t count on it brother,” Smalls smiled. Then they each hopped to their feet and made their way down the creek bed to close the last remaining distance between them and their goal. They were merely jogging this time, trying to limit the amount of noise they created but also needed to move faster than the goblins. 

It did not take much longer for the dwarves to reach the goblin party who was laughing and playing as they nonchalantly walked towards their home; feeling entirely safe so close to their den. A quick moment to assure one another that they would prevail and Smalls began running from the tree line as Biggs stepped into the setting sun and fired an arrow from his bow at the goblin in the rear of the group. 

The arrow twisted and turned and buried itself into the side of the unprotected and unsuspecting goblin, splitting its liver. The beast yelped and clutched his side. The remaining eight looked back at their comrade and another arrow took a second goblin in the back, piercing a lung forcing him to gasp for breath as he tried to reach the shaft.

This time the goblins looked around and they saw a charging dwarf armed with a pair of throwing axes with rage in his eyes and in every line of his countenance. The beasts pulled crude blades from their belts and prepared to meet their attacker foolishly believing it was only the one. The mistake allowed another of Biggs’ arrows to strike one high in the groin dropping it to the ground in wails of pain. 

Biggs drew his sword then slung his bow across his back and rushed to join his brother before there was no more blood to be spilt.

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