[Koobdooga]

The two Dwarves made their way to Ibun’s table. Ibun motioned for one of the servers to approach. ‘A pitcher of ale, if you please miss!’ he said as he gestured for Frór to take a seat. ‘We’ve got a lot of chin-wagging to do and our throats will get dry as dust.’

Buttercup came out of the kitchen with Frór’s order and looking about for him, finally spied him with Ibun. She placed his pork pie and salad before him along with a foaming mug of ale. The other server had by this time returned with their pitcher of ale and set it on the table between them.

Ibun picked up his fork and tucking his napkin into the neck of his tunic began eating again. Between mouthfuls he asked where Frór was bound; what brought him through the Shire. ‘As for me, Master Frór, I am bound for the Blue Mountains, just beyond the western boundaries of the Shire. It is said that a number of our kin have forges there. We have not heard from them in a score of years or more. It is hoped they are still alright.’