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[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The day wore on and the Dwarves passed through Dale and out through the plains south of Erebor, toward Lake Town. Haenir looked about him as they went at the rich land that had been wrested from the landscape after the fall of Smaug. The Desolation he had wrought was now little but a memory in song and the greyest of heads. The cultivation had been undertaken by the Men, for the Dwarves had – as always – dedicated themselves to harvesting the riches of the Mountain and depending on trade to bring them the food they required to continue their labours deep in the mines. It was from this trade that Haenir had, over many patient years of careful acquisition, been able to build his wealth. Like all Dwarves, his heart was fired by the thought of wealth, and his King was a rich gift-giver. So with every ring or gem or pouch of gold given him by his lord, Haenir had bought the produce of these fields to resell to the Dwarves of the Moutain. Usually, he would take only a small profit, depending on careful management to build wealth slowly but surely. But sometimes, during a season of scarcity, he would horde goods for a while until the prices had been driven so high that he could accrue huge gains. He regretted doing this, but the gold it earned him always quickly overcame his reservations.

His thoughts turned back to Dwalin. A deep and brooding silence had fallen between them as Haenir had considered the landscape – as well as other matters. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “I am a poor companion I fear. I have spent a quiet life – many would say a narrow one – in the service of my King, and I have never been given to much talk.” Dwalin assured him that he had taken no offence, adding “Rhûn’s too far for us to be talking all the way.”

Haenir considered this for a moment. “Aye, ‘tis a step of a ways indeed. And a dangerous one too, I deem, if half of what I’ve heard be true.”

“Why,” Dwalin looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes, “what have you heard?”

Again, Haenir took a moment to think before speaking. It was a habit he had picked up in his years in the Royal Presence. It did not do for people in positions of power to speak before considering. “Naught but children’s tales and the fanciful imaginings of Men I’m sure,” he replied. Then, to change the subject quickly, he looked back at the other Dwarves in the company and said, “At any rate, we’re an odd lot to be marching out on a venture such as this.” He shifted his axe to his other shoulder and shrugged his shoulders beneath his armour. “And how are you doing Master Dwalin?” he asked. “After that sprint you led us on at the outset I was afraid that we’d be carrying you before nightfall!” Dwalin laughed and assured Haenir that he was feeling quite all right. “Good,” Haenir replied, “I’m as eager as anyone to get to where we’re going, but I’m not too keen on the thought of running there as though the very breath of Smaug was singing my beard!”

[bilbo_baggins]

Aras woke before the others, but truly, the Elf did not sleep. Elves never slept, curious things.

While he was stoking the fire up from where it had died down from the night before, the Dwarf woke and the Elf came out of his reverie.

"Good morn to both of ye, my companions. What shall we do?"

Gortek rplied: "Well, lad. I believe we stay for a few days. My senses are as keen as yourn, and they say we should stay."

"I agree with our companion, the Khazad. I think we should make a more permanent camp here," said Raendin

As they had all reached a consensus, the Travelers set about doing, well nothing much. They had a while to wait.

Aras could see that both of his companions were slightly uneasy. He did not know what it was, though. He did not completely trust this Dwarf. And the Elf did not help matters, either. Both of them were not completely trustworthy.

He decided to try and break the proverbial 'ice', "So Gortek, what House or Mansion of Dwarves are you from?"

[Saraphim]

The silence dragged on and on for nearly a quarter of an hour. Nephril, who could stand for days in complete solitude was growing edgy about having to stand quietly with strangers.

Casting desperatly around for something to talk about, he noticed two maces strapped to the newcomer's back.

"Bestialan, is it?" Nephil said to him, causing the three others to jump in surprise.

Bestialan nodded slowly.

"Your maces," said Nephil, " A man named Corith forged them for you, did he not?"

Bestialan nodded again, confused and growing annoyed.

"He is my kinsman, and lives with me. He told me about your maces when he was forging them. He claimed it was the best work he ever did. What do you think of them? Do they serve the purpose that they were made for?"

[Esgallhugwen]

Nerin had already begun to seriously contemplate as to how he could carry his large share of treasure without difficulty, he would find a way. He also hoped there would be a large share of treasure for all of them or his planning would just be a waste.

I pray that will not be so, a wasteful thought is a sad thing , He looked around at his companions and realized he had never spoken since the journey began. It would be wise to make friends now instead of when things become difficult.

"But what to say?" Nerin almost whispered to himself, he wasn't much of a conversationalist, and at times found it akward to begin a conversation with somone else. Perhaps someone would approach the shy Dwarf and spark a little talk.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hænir turned to Dwalin and gestured back to the other Dwarves with a nod of his head. “They’re a quiet lot, aren’t they?”

Dwalin looked back in surprise and then turned to Hænir once more. “I suppose they are thinking about the journey ahead,” he ventured.

“Or perhaps their families behind,” Hænir replied. Dwalin shrugged and turned his attention back to the road before them. Hænir had marched out along this same road many times with his King and the King’s Companions, and always their journeys had passed quickly to the sound of singing beaten out with the rhythmic stamping of iron shod feet. This silent, almost brooding trek promised to be the longest he had known. Hænir had no family, and all the kin he knew were the Companions, now swiftly receding into the distance with the profile of the Lonely Mountain. His mind turned to the dangers that lay ahead of them. What kind of a Company will we be if we reach Rhûn like this? he thought to himself. If we can think of naught to say one another beneath the sun of our first day, then what shall we say to one another if things should turn dark? He had fought too many battles not to know the importance of friendship and trust in those who fought beside you.

Hænir had never been a leader and did not desire to start now, but he began to fear that if he did not try to meld the group into a true Company then nobody would. He turned to the Dwarf following just behind him and Dwalin. He was as shy lad, and Hænir had to search his memory for a moment before he could recall his name. “Nerin!” he said, as robustly as he could. “Why are you so quiet there? We are Dwarves, marching out to danger and treasure. We should be singing and talking merrily, not plodding along like Men set to work in the fields. Come, tell me, tell us all, what do you wish to do with your share of the treasure?” He raised his voice so that all could hear. “Come, all of you – what desires of your heart have driven you to this venture? Gold glitters and gems shine, but not for their beauty alone do we crave them. What are the things you wish to achieve with this bounty?” Hænir smiled to himself, thinking Treasure and dreams of wealth: if that doesn’t give them something to talk about, I don’t know Dwarves.

[Himaran]

Bali was instantly uncomfortable at the mention of treasure. There may be none at all, and it is all they can think about! He did, however, know that the dwarves needed something to talk about, so they could mingle and become friends. They were all young and shy, most on their first journey. It will be good to get their minds off home.

"I have always been a fan of making fine jewelry. Necklesses, mostly; but I enjoy working on rings as well. Ah... to have the skill of the elves, and craft those magic items. Rings can hold far more power than axe-heads, you know."

Nelin joined in the conversation. "Why rings and amulets instead of axes and knives? Weapons are far more exciting to build than gold cresents!"

Bali slowed his pace to match Nelin's, and patted the young dwarf on the shoulder. "Well, I have traveled a lot, and found that steel blades kill orcs better than gold ones. Besides, I hate to scratch up such good craftmanship, and there is little need to scrape a notch in a ring." He pulled his single-bladed, curved, Ereborian-style axe from the strap on his back, and showed Nelin the many scrapes along the pole. The dwarf's eyes widened: hundreds were visible.

"Once you're in a great battle, laddie, its quite easy," said Bali, winking. "And what about you others? What do you hope to make?"

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

He has been quiet for most of the trip, and it bothered him. Usually, Narvi would have been the first to crack jokes, or sing songs, or start conversations. But not this time.

Perhaps it was the thought of Rhûn. I have been through the greatest battle of the Third Age unharmed; now the name of some wild place disturbs me?

He decided to wander around, and listen for any hints of conversation interesting to him.

"Once you're in a great battle, laddie, its quite easy," said Bali, winking.

A talk about great battles! This would prove interesting.

As he slowly walked on to Dwalin, he didn't notice that the Dwarf was heedless of his path, and soon Dwalin bumped into Narvi.