A few hours later the inn and Grey Havens was behind them, and the brothers were standing on deck of the midnight ferry that would take them across the water. Dori was using a whetstone to sharpen his blade while whistling along with the tunes from Nori’s flute. Ori stood some twenty feet away, leaning on the railing. He was looking up at the clear, star strewn sky, trying to remember the Lonely Mountain and the halls of his ancestors. He had only been a young boy when the dragon came, and did not remember much from that life. The Blue Mountains were his home now, but he knew how much this quest meant to his older brothers. Ori turned his head to look at them, when he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. Then several things happened at once, making Ori throw himself behind the big pile of wooden crates next to him. There was a loud crash and a sudden flash of light and the few people on deck started screaming and running to take refuge down below. The music from Nori’s flute stopped, and the flute fell to the wooden floor with a clatter, and Nori found himself with a hooded man holding a blade to his throat behind him. Another hooded figure walked up to Dori and spoke something that Ori could not make out, but Dori dropped his own sword and found himself in the very same situation as his brother. The crash and flash of light seemed to derive from a broken oil lamp a few feet from Ori, and it was now spreading its flames across the wooden deck. Ori peered out at his brothers from his fort of crates, wondering what to do. ”Where’s the third one?” one of the hooded men demanded of Dori. ”Who are you?” said Nori. ”What do you want?” said Dori. ”I want you to tell me where your brother is,” said one of the hooded men, slowly. ”And why should I do that?” Dori said with defiance in his voice. Ori found his slingshot under his cloak, and considering the risks, he took it out. It was the only weapon that would work if he did not want to reveal himself, and thankfully, the only weapon he was really good with. From his hiding place he could make out more hooded men, waiting to capture him should he show himself. Judging from the conversation there seemed to be a price on their heads, but Ori was unable to distinguish on who’s orders or why. He needed to free his brothers before anyone found and captured him. Ori loaded his slingshot with a metal ball the size of a chicken egg, and aimed through the slit from which he had been spying. It hit the man holding Dori clean on the forehead, causing him to fall and drop his blade. He did not get up. Dori did not waste any time, he lunged for his own blade and started fighting the other hooded men. Ori could count eight still on their feet, and after he had freed Nori from his capturer one went down after the other. It did not take long for the brothers to turn their would-be capturers into captives, and that was how Ori for the first time saved his brothers with weapon and not wit.
