[Thenamir]

"Careful how much weight you put on that cart, Armin," Perin shouted over to his strongarm employee who was loading full casks and barrels onto one of several wains, "that's the one with broken axle we had to fix on the last trip, and I don't want to overload it until we can return to Dain's people for a proper replacement." Arminhemmar Bhekinsuda, 'Armin' for short, was a large, heavily-muscled man who barely grunted as he lifted the barrels from the ground and placed them gingerly on the wooden cart. He could probably have taken Perin's head off with just a twist-and-tug from one of his meaty, calloused hands, but Perin was usually right about such things, and thinking was not one of Armin's great skills.

Which was how Perin wanted it. He liked his employees big, strong, and honest, but none too bright -- Perin did not see any reason why he should teach his hard-learned secrets to those smart enough to become future competitors. And it was a good deal for Armin and the others in Perin's employ -- Perin was a fair man who paid them well and treated them better than they would have received from any other trader/haulers. And woe to the one who tried to cheat one of his men -- that one would usually wind up having a "conversation" with Perin about how many limbs the cheated employee would be permitted to rip from the cheater unless restitution was immediate and complete. Given the good pay, the fair treatment, and his willingness to defend them, Perin's employees were fiercely loyal, and Perin could trust them completely. A good arrangement for all.

Perin was now in Gondor, supervising the loading of goods to go back north destined for Laketown, and further north to the Iron Mountains...pipeweed and wines and cheeses, and case after case of that strange bean from south Harad from which black 'coffee' brew was made. 'Twas getting to be a popular item up among the dwarves of the Iron Hills, and it could be procured cheaply here near to where it was grown. The dwarves seemed almost addicted to the stuff, and they paid dearly for it. Especially since he had to skirt the south edge of Mirkwood to get it there.

Mirkwood. Yes, Mirkwood, he thought as he was rubbing his brow with his hand. Mirkwood was definitely getting to be a headache. Things were definitely not going well near to Mirkwood, and were not getting any better. So far he and his men had been able to beat off those who had tried to attack them, but the brigands were getting bolder, and larger in numbers. He preferred to leavea a wide berth between Mirkwood and his caravan, but that meant extra time, and the roads there were not in such good repair. Another broken axle was something he did not need.

Nevertheless, the short, burly trader had to make up his mind. They were scheduled to leave that afternoon...

[ December 09, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]