[Annunfuiniel]

Vráin and Gráin sat by the campfire after the long day of travel. Vráin was playing with the fire – to his brother's great annoyance, how else. Gráin was just about to comment that luckily there was again a river close by for him to jump into in case his beard would catch fire when one of the elves of the company approached them.

"Selvren Anion at your service," the tall elf introduced himself. "Vráin and Gráin you are, so I have gathered."

The dwarves from the Grey Mountains were seldom in contact with the elves and Vráin had been burning to learn more about them ever since the brothers had joined Elentari's group of hunters. Gráin was more guarded but couldn't completely suffocate his curiosity.

"I have heard very much of Erebor and on occasion spoken a little with some of its inhabitants. You two and the rest are the first that I will ever get to know better. Perhaps you can share a bit with me about your lore?"

Vráin leaned forward and took a deep breath. Gráin gave him a sideways look and sighed: he knew those marks only too well. This turned out to be a night without rest, I see, the older dwarf thought, trying – unsuccessfully - to convince himself he was irritated. He couldn't help but grin.

"I'll have to warn you, master elf. Once my brother gets started with his stories your ears won't find rest for a long while."

"That suits me fine!" exclaimed the elf and burst in to hearty laughter. His voice was so full of warmth and pure joy that hearing it even Gráin had to laugh.

Vráin managed this once to bypass his brother's comment for he was too eager to ask Selvren about his weapons, especially his knives. Vráin's own throwing knives were indeed fine examples of dwarven craft but artless compared to elven ones. His eyes widened as he learned those sharp-edged weapons had once served Selvren's father and that they originated from the First Age.

"You were born in the First Age, then!? But that...that's a long time ago..." Vráin tried to count the years with poor success. "Compared to Men we dwarves live long and our lore tells about Durin the Deathless and six other dwarf fathers that lived in the First Age. But to live so long... Would think your head would just swell from the amount of knowledge and memories you must have stored during all those years!"

Gráin groaned and gave Vráin a slap to the back of his head. The elf's facial muscles jerked funnily as he tried to control his expression. Before the dwarves could get into more quarrel Selvren spoke, aspiring to earnest tone:

"I have never thought it like that. Maybe that's why we like so much to keep records – so we don't have to memorize it all but still won't forget anything as we can look up every detail from the books." He paused for a while and then grinned, his grey eyes flickering. "But now that I think about it... You may be right! I'm quite certain some of the very old elves have a bit swollen heads."

The dwarf brothers gave the elf a dubious look and that was too much for him. Soon the whole trio was under sway of an uncontrollable laughing fit.

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Gráin, Vráin and Selvren Anion had talked and laughed and talked some more while laughing. Finally, as the moon shone high and the stars had clearly moved on on their way around the Pole Star, the elf had to excuse himself.

"I would gladly listen to your stories till the dawn but now I have to consult with Elentari on our quest. Fair rest to thee, my new friends. May tomorrow give us a chance to continue our talk." And with that he was gone.

The elf had hardly stepped outside the circle of the fire when the brothers saw the next companion drawing nearer.

"Hello, Nalin son of Talin at your service."

Gráin and Vráin rose, introduced themselves and bowed low. Nalin turned out to be a merry fellow too and Vráin had a lively conversation with him – on throwing axes and knives, what else. Gráin had already spoken more than he was accustomed to and now he just sat there listening with one ear and giving occasional comments, mostly when Vráin said something which he considered to be disturbingly stupid – even for him.

Gráin looked around the campsite and saw the man from the Long Lake staring at the stars. He appeared noticeably uneasy and Gráin wondered what troubled his mind. Well, even if he was but scared there should be no-one to blame him. Danger shadows our road - only fool would not worry. Having thought that he glanced at his brother and rolled his eyes.

Vráin got suddenly distracted from the conversation he was having as he caught a glimpse of Alcyávëiel, one of the she-elves, climbing to a tree.

"First they ride those gigantic horses and now they climb trees? Queer folk these Men and Elves, that's what they are!" he commented to Nalin, gaining another slap from his big brother.

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The next morning dawned fair, the sky was cloudless and the sun was just rising above the forest in the east. The mists lay still thick on the world when the company was ready to continue.

"What is your plan for today, Milady?" the dwarf brothers heard Rowan speak up, and they waited for Elentari's answer, ready to go wherever the road would lead them.

[ May 23, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]