‘My stars, I think they are having us over for a drink!’ Tavaro smiled graciously toward the table where the four Dwarves sat, nodding his head in acceptance. ‘You do want to come, don’t you? I haven’t had the chance to speak with Stonemasters since I walked in the Grey Mountains years ago.’
The Elf wrapped his harp back in its covering and slid it into his pack. Shouldering the leather rucksack, he cocked his head toward the beckoning Dwarf his grey eyes on Hithadan’s face. ‘Yes? No?’
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