Dwaline nodded at Avalon and cleared his thought. Taking a deep drink of ale he turned his attention to John again.
"Cree, the elf who once was Avalons accomplice, has gone off to far off lands." He cracked his neck and leant forwards, "She went with an old friend of mine, Fáinu, who is cursed by a dragon. Or so he thinks. They are going to the grey mountains to seek a Dragon. Rumours have grown there of a fiery death that has swept the land. Fáinu in the hotness of his heart made it his business to go off in search of it, thinking it a dragon.
"Cree, who apparently had known Fáinu from a long time back, insisted on going with him. She knew it a dangerous mission and so did not let Avalon get caught up in it. That is how I read into it." Avalon nodded slightly. "And as for sticking my nose in places," sniggered Dwaline, "I have been doing that since childhood. Call it a hobby, or more an addiction now. Collecting news has always been my joy. But now I am old and rambling."
The Dwarf peered into John's eyes and smiled, "You wish to keep you’re history and identity secret? That is fare enough; many do the same for their own reasons. But this dream of yours..." John turned sharply towards Dwaline detecting some thing in his voice, "It interreges me. I may not claim to know the minds of men, or elves or even Dwarves. But I know one who does. Tell me of it and I shall tell him. Perhaps you shall know the meaning of it."
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