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"...O! We ride the roads of Dwarves!"
Éomeléo smiled. "And that, Dárin, is a song I learned when I was young. Don't you like it?"
"Aye, Éomeléo, 'tis a mighty chant, for sure. The folks back home would laugh, so they would."
He had sung to the Dwarf some ridiculous song about marching into the wilderness and hunting elk. It was a good idea for it lightened their spirits. They were still hopelessly lost and praying to find something, or somewhere, soon.
"I must say Dárin, I fear we have left them behind forever." Éomeléo sniffed, and considered his own hyperbole carefully. Then he heard someone yelling:
"Can't you hear us, you fools? Where are you? Why did you go and do such mischief?"
He looked at Dárin straight-facedly for a couple of seconds, then they both burst out laughing.
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