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Óin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a tree while his companions had a bout with the Elves. He had no wish to get into a scuffle with the denizens of Mirkwood. Besides, hadn't he said that going into Mirkwood was a bad idea? He surely had. It wasn't his fault that they had gone off into this forest. A forest was no place for a dwarf anyway. Nothing but trouble could come of it!
But trouble had come of it, and now his friends were in a bit of a fix. Óin had a feeling that the Elves did not truly mean violence--nothing that would leave scars too deep, at least--just a little mischief and fun for them. Typical of Elves, that sort of behavior. For all their talk of being the Firstborn, all their wisest-fairest-eldest bibble-babble, they really could be very juvenile sometimes. He rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, and slid his axe out of his belt.
"Baruk Khazad," he said without much vigor, and raised his axe, and joined the fray.
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