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It
’
s
probably
because
they
do
live
such
quiet
and
orderly
lives
back
home
.
After
all
,
probably
the
first
thing
a
young
dwarf
wants
to
do
when
he
hits
the
big
city
after
seventy
years
of
working
for
his
father
at
the
bottom
of
a
pit
is
have
a
big
drink
and
then
hit
someone
.
The
fight
was
one
of
those
enjoyable
dwarfish
fights
with
about
a
hundred
participants
and
one
hundred
and
fifty
alliances
.
The
screams
,
oaths
and
the
ringing
of
axes
on
iron
helmets
mingled
with
the
sounds
of
a
drunken
group
by
the
fireplace
who
-
another
dwarfish
custom
-
were
singing
about
gold
.
Nobby
bumped
into
the
back
of
Carrot
,
who
was
watching
the
scene
with
horror
.
"
Look
,
it
’
s
like
this
every
night
in
here
,
"
said
Nobby
.
"
Don
’
t
interfere
,
that
’
s
what
the
sergeant
says
.
It
’
s
their
ethnic
folkways
,
or
somethin
’
.
You
don
’
t
go
messin
’
with
ethnic
folkways
.
"
"
But
,
but
,
"
Carrot
stuttered
,
"
these
are
my
people
.
Sort
of
.
It
’
s
shameful
,
acting
like
this
.
What
must
everyone
think
?
"
"
We
think
they
’
re
mean
little
buggers
,
"
said
Nobby
.
"
Now
,
come
on
!
"
But
Carrot
had
waded
into
the
scuffling
mass
.
He
cupped
his
hands
around
his
mouth
and
bellowed
something
in
a
language
Nobby
didn
’
t
understand
.
Practically
any
language
including
his
native
one
would
have
fitted
that
description
,
but
in
this
case
it
was
Dwarfish
.
"
Gr
’
duzk
!
Gr
’
duzk
!
aaK
’
zt
ezem
ke
bur
’
k
tze
tzim
?
"
The
fighting
stopped
.
A
hundred
bearded
faces
glared
up
at
Carrot
’
s
stooped
figure
,
their
annoyance
mingled
with
surprise
.
