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Dwarvish Racket
Thorgeleb swung a little northeast of the Dwarf-pack, and trotted along casually and silently. There was no question where they were; their travelling was loud enough to wake an elf from deep dreams.
Not that that took much, either, he smiled. Then he frowned, and looked down at the ring on his hand. Two weeks til his wedding day. Would he be back to the caves on time? He would never live it down if he missed his own wedding...
The idea of being called a latecomer for the next thousand years made him hope that the dwarves knew where they were going. Make sure they do not stray, the prince had said. Thorgeleb stifled a snort; everyone knoww the story of Thorin's part and how they got lost.
Suddenly, Thorgeleb wished he had volunteered someone else.
Līn
Aside from the occasional slap of branches across their faces, the cavilcade of dwarves trotted along contentedly and unmolested in the woods. Līs adjusted her beard slightly, when she thought no one was looking. It was dark enough in the forest that no one saw anyway.
She sighed with relief that she had not come to blows with a known customer. Thus far, she had avoided comitting any serious business blunders; she had only comitted... well... insubordiation and striking a commander. She sighed, and shot Balin a sideways glance. Hopefully he'd forgotten about it, or would soon.
Perhaps it would be best if she gave Balin a wide berth for a while. She edged away from Balin, a little, and drew closer to Ori, Flori, Marin, and Narin.
She turned to them, and said pleasantly enough, "Any scrapes?"
Marin replied, "Bah."
Flori said, "Hah."
Ori said, "Heh! Scrapes? From an elf? Sissy long-haired creamy-skinned pointy-eared..."
Narin could hardly claim to have no scrapes. "Nothing new, " he said.
Līn smiled, and they jogged on.
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