You realise that you dont need to outrun the bears, only the Dwarf. Forgoing the yelling your good guy conscience is doing, you run harder, forsaking the dwarf.
However, the Dwarf surprises you by turning on his heel after a short run, whipping out a hand axe you never saw him carrying and attacking the first of 4 bears charging after you. The Dwarf, with a well aimed hack, splits the lead bears head right open. With a blood curdling battle cry, the dwarf leaps on the second bear. It isn't long before the dwarf and the 3 remaining bears and a whirling mass of fur, blood, bone, axe, beard, booze, clothing and swearing.
You yourself turn around and decide that the best way you can help is by throwing things. You grab handfuls of fist sized stones from the side of the road and start lobbing them at the bears.
Another bear goes down, brained by one of your stones. Shortly followed by another bear so cut up you cant tell its head from its arse. The lats bear, bleeding and limping, decides that this attack was too much hassle and hobbles off back to where ever it came from.
The dwarf, now thoroughly tired, trots over to the wagon with the last remaining barrel of dwarf booze. Using a knife, which you also didn't know he had, he opens a hole in the bottom of the barrel. Greedily he fixes his mouth over the opening and drinks deeply. In 1 minute the barrel is empty. With a burp loud enough to wake the dwarves in the most northern Hammer-Homes, he passes out.
You go and sit by him, and take stock of yourself.
You remember you are a:
Very Skilled Wrestler
Very Skilled Thrower
Skilled swordsman
Skilled archer
Skilled tracker
Above average survivalist.
You also remember boasting to the pretty tavern wenches that you have:
Good intelligence
Very good strength
Very good fitness
Good flexibility
Good agility.