The Green Dragon

[the real findorfin]

Fin grimaced as Amron was bodily flung into the kitchen by the Barrow-Wight. Both Donlammenion and Celeb looked away as well, all knowing how awful dishwashing could be.
“Unlucky,” Fin murmured, as the Barrow-Wight emerged alone.
“Cheep for Dwarin though,” Celeb smirked.
The dwarf innkeeper was busy examining the crack in the floorboards, where Don had ‘killed’ Esgalor earlier. “The cheek of it,” he murmured and rose from his knees.
The table where the quartet of elves was sat burst into laughter, but was silenced with a menacing stare from Dwarin and as his eyes strayed toward the kitchen door, they all turned away, suddenly interested in the beams of the roof above.
“That’s better,” he muttered and moved on.
As soon as he was out of hearing distance they burst out laughing again.
“I’m glad I stopped at the Green Dragon,” Fin commented, “where else would you get so many unusal elves, a dwarven innkeeper, an Umbar doing the dishes and a Barrow Wight in the corner.”
Fresh peels of laughter greeted this statement.