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Maron kept his mouth clenched as the dwarves debated amongst themselves. He had heard all of the stories about Mirkwood, and he liked Elves as much as the next dwarf. He would have gladly gone through their borders to ruffle their hair, but saying that would not get him far. That much he knew. An upstart dwarf would have little to contribute to the conversation.
Keeping his silence, he turned to the sky and looked up at the clouds some dwarves had been talking about. 'Hmmm' he thought to himself 'I dont know about that one, but to its left looks just like my anvil with a helm being shapen on it...' Lost in his thoughts, he didnt see a sharp stone in front of him, and he almost landed square on his crown. Wobbling ungraciously, he thought he heard a few chuckles from behind him as he caught his balance.
Grumbling, he set his gaze straight to the ground and kept walking 'Keep your wits, whats left of them Maron Sandbrace' he thought as he followed the group along...
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