(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 55 - The First Piece - The Pearl

*Note - Thanks to Ori for this log*

** Real time is: Tue Jan 16 18:34:44 2001, GMT -7 ** Elendor time is: Dawn (0500) on Trewsday, 30 April 3022. In the Spring sky, Tonight the moon will be full.

Common Room, Twin\'s Toe Inn

This area, once full of tables for patrons, has been transformed into an open chamber with a raised platform of wood against a wall to the left of the door, right of the bar. There is a single large chair upon this raised platform. Lamps have been hung upon the support-columns about the room and from the rafters, casting a warm glow day and night. In the glow one can behold banners emblazoned with Dwarvish heraldry hanging around the walls.

Ori stands upon the platform before the great seat looking down upon Jormun and nods, listening to the dwarf\'s words. An old dwarf wearing Dain\'s livery stands upon Ori\'s flank with a wax-tablet, cutting runes as they speak. \"So, then, our warders sent into the shafts are back on full duty! That is good, very good to hear. Now, what of the patrols? Any noteworthy injuries?\" Besides a collection of knights standing at key spots about the chamber, Jormun seems the only petitioner to have arrived yet this morning.

\"There are a few whose wounds still need a little more care..\" Jormun replies with a clear voice, \"But no-one of them will be having troubles traveling, Father\". Jormun\'s face does as usual show great respect of Ori and he seems to have considered each word before speaking them. \"I would say that our peoples health is the best I have seen since the \'black\' day.\" Then he scratches his black beard a little, like to consider if there is more to add, but then he looks back at Ori.

Ori nods idly, scratching his beard, obviously treating the audience mildly. His eyes keep straying to the door. \"Very good, Lidskjalfsson. I assume you have some figures written up. You may give them to the scribe.\" As he speaks the doors open and two dwarves file in, stepping aside, one hailing, \"The Stonelundings are come! Lords Girithlin and Bragollach with entourage!\"

[Indilzar] Even as the door open the Man with the glittering grey eyes that is known as Indilzar Bragollach steps within this strange meeting ground by the side of the fabled herald of the South.

[Thorondur] And from the dawning outside, they come as they are called -- and with them they bring light, radiant light. Though they douse their lanterns beyond the door, the grave lords of the Dunedain, Bragollach and Girithlin, seem impervious to shadow, for they are the sworn and implacable foes of its dark master. The latter, Thorondur Edrahil, looks the part of an ancient lord of the Edain, clad all aglimmer in the gifts of the Elvenking: silvery mail and shimmering snowy robes. Beside the grey-eyed Black Knight, he stands aside, allowing their squires and others to follow.

Following behind the Knights of Amroth is the Blue-Squire Maernus. The man stands proud, even without the higher blood of the knights, holding his arms behind his back and glancing around the room he now stands in.

Giving a light bow to Ori, Jormun walks to a nearby dwarf, giving him a set of figures, in a low voice he instructs him, \"I want ... for those who will be too tired to walk. And then ... supplies in the Bundazanul wain, and dont ... And when we start ... let me know when these preparations are done.\" Then he sends the dwarf a smile, and turns around walking back to Ori\'s side. Here he stands just a little behind Ori, showing his respect.

Ori looks up as the Gondorian entourage enters in, and gently nods Jormun aside into the old scribe\'s care. He smoothes his beard as the Men file in, then booms out, voice large in this modest room of wood, used to immense chambers of echoing stone, after bowing in the two knights\' direction, \"Welcome, you, guests and petitioners, to audience with Dain, King Under the Mountain. Come hither and comport yourselves as folk of courtesy!\" Here he turns and nods to a dwarf standing station at a door in the back wall.

And so it is that after the fashion of his own High folk, in their own distant court beside the Sea, the Lord Thorondur bends forward in a solemn, respectful bow.

Then the grey-eyed knight Indilzar steps forth with his shining black boots beneath a dull click on the floor. He is silent, awaiting the words of the herald of greeting. Yet even so he bows by crossing his arms over his chest. and inclining his head in that style that he had ever used since learning it from his father long ago in the brief reckoning of Men.

Mimicing the two knights, Maernus bows towards the speaking dwarf. The squire moves slower than the other men, his right shoulder still bandaged.

[Dain] \"Make way!\" bellows a voice in the doorway, much too loud for this dim hour. The call is followed by the heavy tramp of heavy boots on the muddied entryway. Garbed in darkest black and bearing a tall axe with a glistening blade the dwarven knight proceeds into the chamber, making certain all have heeded his decree. Following him are two more like him, the only differences being the colors of their illustrious beards, and one between the two in the finest garb and soft boots. With no further anouncement they proceed to the front of the room and ascend the platform, the knights bowing to Ori. The finely dressed one - none other than King Dain - inclines his head to his advisor, then turns to take his seat. boots.

Indilzar turns and looks at the King Under the Mountain and then looks to Thorondur Girithlin, the pale-eyed herald. He says with a soft voice, \"That, must be the King.\"

[Thorondur] Only when the King Under the Mountain has made himself comfortable does the Herald of Prince Imrahil rise from hiw honourable bow -- and even then he stands at salute, hand on the pommel of his sheathed blade. Indilzar he answers with the slightest of nods, and no words.

Indilzar follows the motions of the Lord of the Heralds of the Southlands and is silent, a stoic figure as if riven in stone.

As King Dain enters the room, Jormun quickly bows for him, but he is not speaking a word. The knights too .. he gives a light bow of respect, then he smiles and take a step closer to Ori\'s side. Lifting his hand, he scratches his raven-black beard, but he keep quiet.

Ori steps back to stand at Dain\'s arm and says quietly, \"The one with the hair to match is the black knight of Dol Amroth, of the House of Bragollach. Imrahil\'s liege-men both, the one in flowing white is his Mouth, thane of House Girithlin. As the sketch you were given showed.\" in a voice only the King can hear.

Raising to his feet, Maernus also salutes the King Under the Mountain. The squire\'s salute slightly differing as his hand rests not on the pommel of his blade but upon the small of his back. The young squire does nto move as he stands in salute, though his eyes scan all of the Dwarves.

Dain looks out over the assembled and nods attentively, \"Very well. Miserable morning for being about such business. Fog is so thick I could hardle tell when my tea-water was steaming.\" Continuing for all to hear, the King rests against the back of the chair and reviews a small slip of parchment, \"Has Bundazanul presented his report for this morn?\"

Ori bows slightly with a smile and looks to the two knights standing below. \"Jormun Lidskjalfson has made satisfactory report, my liege. Your scribe has the minutes,\" and he beckons that one forward, takes his wax-tablet and presents it to Dain for his perusal. He looks again to the Gondorians. \"The King Under the Mountain will receive your petition. Speak, and be heard.\"

[Thorondur] First, there is the nod of Dain, and then the words of Ori. The cue given, the Lord Thorondur nods once more -- and again, silently -- to his counterpart. White Knight and Black, they share a glance... and the Lord Girithlin steps forward. In a voice clear and pure as the mountain springs, Imrahil\'s Herald says, \"We give you good greetings from Gondor, King Under the Mountain. May Aule the Maker forever uphold you and your heirs.\"

The Lord of the Bragollach, Black-Clad, Belfalan Knight Indilzar follows suit and inclines his head but allows his cohort to speak.

[Jormun] Smiling as Ori mention his report to the king, a spark of honor is seen in Jormun\'s eyes, but he keep standing where he is, in a respectful distance to the events, playing the observer. The smile of his face is however quickly turned into a serious drag over his mouth.

[Dain] The minutes of Ori and Jormun\'s meeting are quickly taken in as the humans make their attempts at polite greeting and are, after a brief moment of contemplative silence, acknowledged by Dain. \"The greetings from Gondor and the well wishes of its sons are with much honor accepted. We are at your service and that of your family. We are informed that you come to us upon an errand from your lord...more precisely, to ask of us a favor. Please, speak of this to me.\" He hands back the wax tablet to Ori with a nod of approval.

[Thorondur] \"Of course, Your Majesty,\" replies the Herald of Imrahil, yet now with a white-gloved hand he gestures aside to his brother-in-arms. \"Indilzar it is who knows the tale better than I. Lord Bragollach, if you please--\" And with that, Thorondur Girithlin takes a single step backward.

[Maernus] Stands easily behind the knights, watching the interaction between the dwarves and the men of gondor. Maernus\'s eye continues to scan the area, though his hand rubs his chin slightly as the Herald speaks.

\"By your leave Lord,\" says Indilzar Bragollach stepping forth, \"I shall tell you the tale of the woes of the South and the need of my lord Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth by the Sea.\"

The ancient and wrinkled brows of Dain wrinkle doubly and narrow, \"We trust such would be long and tiring in the telling for you, and so you have not our leave to speak in full tales of woe and the need of your lord Prince.\" He gestures to the back of the chamber which has over the past few moments begun to fill with dwarves and men of Dale. \"We\'ve many audiences to hear before even the fogs clear and the sun finds itself returning from its zenith. Be plain, and tell what it is you have come here to the north lands for, and should we be perplexed by your requests, we shall simply ask of you for explanation.\" The king smooths his beard against his chest and turns his head to the scribe, \"Golwi, are you prepared?\" With a nod to the affirmative from Golwi, Dain turns back to Indilzar and inclines his head, \"Begin.\"

Ori passes the tablet along as Golwi steps into his station, and leans in to murmur to Dain, \"Quite...talkative, these Stonelundings. Remember the staves I spoke of, the black knight sang them.\"

\"Then brief I shall be even as the day waxes,\" says Indilzar his voice rilled with the accent of the Men of the South. \"Thus it began a year ago, when proud knights and Ladies of court and the Prince in his panoply ventured forth on the hunt,\" says Indilzar speaking in a formal tone. \"To that hunt went many, and yea, even among those of kin to the Prince was Amrothos, the son of Imrahil, but a cub in the yard, a stripling in years...Coming to Morthond,\" continues Indilzar, \"we hunted that stag of legend, the White Stag of whom Seers of old said that good fortune would be found to the one who would catch him. Yet fortune is not what we found, for we came nigh the Stone of Erech in the Haunted Hills.\"

Grave and humourless, the tall Lord Thorondur stands, a step behind and a step aside from Indilzar, who speaks. Like a carven statue wrought in the long centuries of antiquity, in the Elder Days when Middle-Earth was free and the Shadow was fenced within Angband, he remains so.

[Indilzar] \"Thither,\" says Indilkhor\'s grey-eyed son, \"a creature of the ancient world caught and brought woe unto Amrothos, and bade us to bring to him the sword of Anarion, Anaril the Great which was said to have been lost in the days of the Siege of Barad Dur.\"

Dain taps a leathery finger upon the arm of his chair, \"We would know if Erebor housed such a blade, if that is what you came for. We have it not.\"

Jorin comes in through the front door.

\"Anaril?\" quoth Indilzar in amuse, \"Now indeed our hope waned until we met with the Lord Steward of Gondor. Denethor son of Ecthelion told us the tale of how the sword was shattere...\" Indilzar pauses, \"Nay Lord, for the sword was lost and broken, but this much is held true by our Lord Steward and the Wise, for also we spoke with Curunir, who is known in the Northlands as Saruman the White. He told us that the pearl of this blade, blue in hue was given to the Dwarves of Khazad-Dum in token for their part in the war against the Enemy and was taken to the North. From there, it somehow survived the wrack of Numenor and found its way into the hoard of Thror, most legendary of the Dwarf-lords of old save only those under the vaults of the Mines of Moria.\" Indilzar shrugs, \"Thus we come to you O king to seek out this pearl for we purpose to reunite the shards and save the Prince\'s boy lest he become damned forever.\"

Standing still, Jormun\'s head seems to slowly sink down... is he going to fall asleep? .. Suddently he gasps and for a moment it seems that he will lose balance, but taking a step to the right avoids the accident.. and he quickly look up again... was he sleeping?

Ori\'s gaze dances in amusement at the garbled lore the Stonelunding relates to Dain, memory of his people, in telling of his own worthy ancestors. He says nothing aloud, however, only places a hand upon Dain\'s chairback and murmurs down to him \"Thus the flower speaks to the stone of things before.\"

The grey eyes of Indilzar flicker upon Ori for a long moment. Then he looks to the King.

Dain\'s tapping hand stops its tapping as Indilzar finishes. Moving it to stroke his beard and scratch at his chin he muses a moment. Dryly then he says \"We know of this pearl,\" and his eyes move from one Gondorian to another, their gaze piercing, \"And we have it yet in our caches, even in exile from under stone, for it is to us a treasured and valued gift. What then would you offer us for its trade?\" His gaze rests on Indilzar, and naught bt business can be seen in his eyes.

[Thorondur] For his part, the fair Herald says nothing -- silent as the stones these Dwarves speak of, this Man.

From his position below the platform, Jormun smiles, he now seems perfectly awake as the situation begins to turn more interesting. But his face turns to stone again, quickly, and his eyes seek the Stonelundings, and his ears seek their answer.

Standing still behind the Knights, Maernus moves every few moments. He still pays utmost attention to the knights and to Dain. The squire does not speak, as yet, however he does not seem to ever come close to falling asleep.

For his part Indilzar looks sadly at the King for a moment and seems to be containing within him something. Yet he says, \"I have been charged along with recovering the sword of Anarion and to what value would it be among the Dwarves? For is not a gift such as this worth only that which a life may give? Yet if such would move you, then we could bring unto you pearls from the Bay of Belfalas if you wish and when our errand is done. Thus is your kindness paid in kind and with value as well, indeed, the Men of Gondor would long remember the King Under the Mountain and new trade and markets for that which you do so well: Axe, sword and metal wrought like fish\'s mail will all be welcomed to Gondor and freely I might say without tariff or tax.\"

[Jorin] In an attempt to disturb the deliberation inside as little as possible, the door to the common room of the inn is openned with extreme caution, and a short dwarf steps into the room. Peering into the lamplit chamber with squinted eyes, trying to adjust to the lighting, this dwarven herald is able to make out the positioning of each patron of the court and realizes what is going on. He clutches a scroll tightly in one hand and with the other he intercepts the door, keeping it from closing. The dwarven herald inhales deeply, ready to announce the new arrival to the court scene, but is politely interrupted with a slight tap on the shoulder. He peers over his shoulder into a face obscured from the court by his body and steps into the room quietly. A couple pairs of eyes look to the sunlight peering in the door, but for the most part those present are unaware of the new arrival. As the herald steps aside a new figure steps silently in. Thin patches and tattered ends of a deep green cloak show through the edges of the silhouette and the figure of Jorin Ashbeard, long thought dead clan Thane of Erebor steps into the room with out a word. A nod of understanding is given to the herald as the thane unclasps his cloak and drapes it over his arm, watching and waiting for some sign of recognition.

[Dain] The ancient king smiles, as though a grandfather to his child\'s children when offering them the prospect of gift for some small trifling errand of chore. \"The pearl you seek is set upon a crown we have reserved for special occasions and audiences with figures of import. Today it is kept amongst treasure I have brought from the Mountain. Removing it should certainly mar the crown beyond usefulness, but also deprive my heirs of a most prized treasure. While we trust that our line will survive without this magnificent specimen of the deeps, we would, should we surrender it to you, be deprived of a ceremonial crown. Perhaps you would consider retrieving for us one of similar fashion from the stores of the Mountain left behind? We could then claim the recompense you mention for the pearl itself at some later date, once the soul of your prince is reclaimed, should this agent of the undead, specter of the shadow even keep its word.\"

And still the Knight-Herald, the Lord Thorondur Girithlin remains silent. An Elf-Friend he may be, but thus far he has spoken little enough with Dwarves, for that has been Indilzar\'s business. Yet at this long moment of decision, a dark and slender eyebrow arches. He looks to Indilzar, for perhaps they will confer.

\"Great King,\" says Indilzar, \"If you may give us a moment to confer.\"

Dain nods silently before gesturing for one of his black-clad knights to the back of the chamber.

Indilzar bows and turns to Thorondur and begins to whisper softly to him...\"Thorondur, what do you think? It sounds easy enough, yet in truth there is something strange about this offer.\"

Now does Thorondur lean nearer the sound of his fellow\'s hushed voice, and listen intently. Slowly, he strokes his beardless chin -- and answers in kind, soft and careful. \"[Sindarin] This talk of a Mountain left behind... I would know of which Mountain he speaks. For do not the histories say Durin\'s Folk dwelt once... west of Lorien? And yet,\" Thorondur concludes, grim in tone as he is in expression, \"We must have that pearl, if his second crown lies beneath Mount Doom itself!\"

Indilzar looks grimly at Thorondur and says, \"[Sindarin] This is true, but we must give thought to the Men. I have spoken overmuch. Carry on our cause and see what Dain has to say.\"

Ori leans down as the knight of Dain\'s returns to the platform, as the Men confer in hushed voices, \"What say you, Lorvin? What dwarf of rank comes in with servant and is not announced?\" and the knight mutters up to him. Ori stands straight slowly, face carefully masked. \"Indeed. Well enough. You may take your post again.\" and turns back to his place at Dain\'s side, speaking quietly to him.

[Maernus] The squire stands silent as the knights confer. He glances towards the newly arrived dwarf, then back to the king of the Dwarves and his advisors. Maernus appears interrested in the procedings.

Suddently reconising the dwarf at the door, Jormun bows for him, and his face lights up. Then he starts walking toward Jorin, \"Welcome home Thane Jorin!\" The smile on his face is real, and again respect is seen in his eyes, in front of him stands a man he have learned to respect.

Then does Thorondur step forward once more, taking Indilzar\'s place before the King. And in that fair voice, long suited to such royal address, he says, \"Our hours grow short, Your Majesty, and we cannot fulfill this thing you ask today, nor tomorrow, or even ere the next winter comes, maybe. Yet--\" Here he places a hand upon his heart, this Lord Thorondur of a high and ancient race, and swears, \"The Men of Westernesse are no oath-breakers. We will swear it to you, and we will see it done, if you can part with this estimable pearl upon which the life of Amrothos rests.\"

[Dain] The look of impatience leaves the face of the King as Thorondur finally breaks his private conversation with Indilzar and addresses Dain. \"While we doubt not your oath, Stonelunding, none shall we accept. You shall take with you this pearl you so desperately beg of us this very day, a gift from us to your lord Imrahil. In return for our generosity we may in time accept gifts of similar treasure, but at this time we will ask no more of you and your kin than you save the young Amrothos and put this soul of the shadow back to rest beneath the hills. Is this agreable? You may confer once more provided you are brief in doing so. The fog already burns off the land - you have taken much of our audience time for the day already.\" He turns then to Ori, the demand for an explanation written bold across his face.

Without need of conference, the Lord Thorondur\'s eyes dart to Indilzar -- and then back to the King. \"We will accept your most noble gift, and your charge, Your Majesty and the Men of Gondor will not soon forget such generosity as the Mountain has shown. May Aule ever guide your hand, and Yavanna keep your table ever full.\" So saying, he bows his head gravely, and awaits the King\'s leave to depart.

The face of Indilzar suddenly looks relieved...

Staring forward into the room with an impatient expression on his face, Jorin moves his attention from the proceedings after the hailing of the dwarf Jormun. His discontent is evidenced by the solemn glare cast upon the chirurgeon by the thane. \"Jormun Hraefanskegg,\" whispers the dwarf to his friend, \"...it has been many months since I last looked upon your face. Too long. Lower your voice and entertain me. What has passed since I left? Why is the Uzbad here? I heard of the attack from the Bardings and made for an audience with the Uzbad at once. I have not slept in two days...but that is of less importance.\" The barrage of questions is dropped and all the curiosity and care that the Thane had had for the presence of the Gondorians is put aside. He peers at Jormun eager for information with bagged sleep deprived eyes.

Rising smoothly from the impromptu throne, Dain stands and bows slightly to the men in audience before him, \"We are at your service. Yours, and your family\'s. We shall see to it the pearl finds you safely before the setting of the sun. Go in peace.\" Retaking his seat, Dain turns to Ori, \"See that this thing is done with all formalities as well as record-keeping. What then is our next order of business for this morning?\"

[Thorondur] \"Our thanks, Majesty,\" intones the Herald of Imrahil, and with that -- and a gesture to his fellows, and his men -- he turns, and sweeps from the Inn. And so depart the Men of Gondor, given succour in their need by the King Under the Mountain.

Ori nods to Dain\'s unspoken demand, so long acquainted with his king\'s manner, and his words shrug, \"Did I not say it, my liege? My ears have heard that the son of Jhorin has returned to us out of long leagues of silence.\" He pauses as Thorondur speaks, and then, \"But now I think it is time the petitioners are made joyful.\" and stands silent yet again as Dain gives his assent and dismissal to the noble Men of the South. He bows as they turn and make their way for the next audience to step forth.

Indilzar turns and with a courtly bow follows the herald out of the Inn...

Bowing deeply towards the Dwarves, the squire Maernus turns then to follow his countrymen from the inn. The man takes quick steps to catch up to the knights, having not said a word in the procedings.

[Jormun] Quickly telling Jorin in a quiet whisper about what have happended in the last few days, Jormun looks worried at his Thane.. \"But what have happened to you? ... Why is that look on your face?\" Jormun whispers. \"It is because of these Stonelundings the Uzbad are here, they needed a gem I think, for healing someone - I dont know if I belive this.. I tell ye, if I knew how to heal with a gem... then..\" But Jormun suddently keeps quiet, not knowing what to say, seeing his Thane looking so strange.

[Ori] The scribe steps up as the humnans depart and referring to his slate, calls out, \"Hjal son of--\" only to be stopped by Ori\'s hand upon his arm. The elder bends to his ear and then steps back, leaving the scribe to clear his throat and begin again, \"Jorin, son of Jhorin, you are welcomed into the presence of the king. Speak and be heard!\"

Dain\'s head turns sharply towards the scribe at the name of Bundazanul\'s Thane, then he begins scanning the room for movement.

Stepping aside to let Jorin pass him, Jormun suddently seem worried about the situation, but he says nothing..

His gaze remains completely steady as Jorin absorbs every breath uttered by his kinsman, a wealth of tragedy taken in in only a minute. Shock. Shock and disbelief are etched upon his face as Jormun begins to get into the details of the drake attack and his experience in the disaster. In response to Jormun\'s inquiries, the thane opens his mouth to speak, reflexively, but nothing comes out. What kind of person would play such a sick joke? Jorin\'s thoughts are broken by his summoning to the mock-throne. Glancing over to the doorway as he turns he sees his herald with his back to the room, staring down at the his boots and shaking his head, obviously just having heard the details himself. Thane Jorin extends his hand to stay Jormun and paces solemnly over toward the dias, a singular horrified look on his face. Gathering all his emotion and stuffing them into the recesses of his mind, Jorin bows before the Uzbad, standing once more with an outthrust chest, displaying proudly the emblem of Bundazanul, what was once an emblem of great esteem. \"Jorin Ashbeard, Thane Bundazanul under his Majesty Dain Ironfoot, returned from the Western lands on errand forever at your service, my Lord.\" says the dwarf in a halting voice. \"I have much news to share with you, but if it is according in your generous will I would like to first hear of our home.\"

The white of Dain\'s beard seems to seep into the skin of his face. No longer is his skin ruddy and full of health, but pale and drawn at the memory. \"We are joyed to welcome you back to the lands you know as home.\" He looks Jorin up and down, \"You look well...it is good to see that the wilds are not so wild that one of our folk cannot pass them alone...we will be in the wilds soon enough...all of us. What is there to say? Our halls are no longer ours to dwell in. A cold drake, naming herself Scraevyrm, entered our halls to avenge the death of one of her vile brood. With her came the rest of that brood. Many fell amongst our folk...\" He pauses, and his face becomes even more pained, his speech even slower, \"Many of those were of your kindred, and your halls are little more now than a disaster beneath the earth. We do not know what comfort we can give you, or what kind words we can say to ease this loss. Know though that we all share your grief, none so more than your fellow thanes and ourself.\"

Ori echoes the king\'s sentiments, \"Indeed, Bundazanul, great is our joy at your return! Long have you been lost to us even Gimli Gloin\'s son, sent West these months a\'gone, returned empty-handed.\" he nods to his own thought, \"Great is the grief of the Bundazanul, that your kinfolk could not recount for you the full tale of our tragedy before you made your way to Us. More fanfare, perhaps, we might have mustered if rumor of your caravan had preceded you! ...But we have heard nothing of you, or your great mercantile venture...\"

[Jorin] Though his eyes still physically see the wise king before him, his mental vision is turned inwards. Jorin walks through the halls of his home. The faces of many of his lost kin are seen as he traverses his memory, some happy, but most dread and disgusting and fearful. Yet in reality he still stands motionless in the small man made walls of the inn, built on the very roots of his home like a doormat he can\'t step off of. The thane\'s sense fades back to him and still the eyes of the king focus on his, beacons in the night of his stupor. \"These...but...\" stutters the Bundazanul. He pauses. \"If you will humor me, I wish to see for myself what has become of the halls of our home...I also wish to hear what counsels you have made about our plight.\" Jorin fumbles through his pockets reflexively as he gathers his thoughts, searching for his pipe as he so often does in times of exasperation. \"If only I could agree with your observation, sire,\" he notes, \"...But the Wild is more wild than ever. All the journey home I had thought that the woes that had befallen me were my worst tragedies. Pheh!!\" he scowls.

[Jormun] A dwarf enters from outside the Inn.. he looks around for a moment, bowing for King Dain, but then his eyes fall on Jormun, and a broad smile forms on his face... \"I was looking for you, My friend have had a little axident at the fire, couldnt you come and look at him?\" Smiling back at the other dwarf Jormun nods, however he looks back at Jorin with a curious look, but then he heads out of the room. Duty calls.

[Dain] \"We do not think that prudent, Thane. Indeed, we think it unwise. However, it may be the only thing to settle your soul, and it may be safe enough.\" says the King, his tone grave. \"I will instruct the Lord High Warder to spare you scouts - your hird will not be enough, even if it remains intact. You have our permission only to look though. You will not attempt to retrieve any affects...your kin secured as much of your own estate as they could. Nor will you attempt to take vengance on our foes. Is this understood and agreeable to you, Thane?\"

Jorin nods in affirmation. \"Know that my estate is of little concern to me right now. I only wish to...To see. My vengeance will be a fury - when the time comes.\" he grimaces, \"I will abide by your request and witness the condition of my home. I thank you for your understanding, Lord.\" Jorin bows to the Uzbad and then again to Ori and notes, \"If it pleases his Majesty I would like to make my return to the camp before it gets too late. Doubtless my presence is already known, despite my direct route to see you, but it\'s important that I see my kin.\"

[Dain] The uzbad nods, pain still written blatently across his drawn face. \"We understand, Jorin. Go to your kin, and on the morrow or the day after go to see the ruin of our dear halls.\" He stands and bows to the thane, \"We are at your service. A good day to you and your kin.\"

Ori acknowledges Jorin\'s bow with a nod and says slowly, \"Your arrival was marked, although not heralded, Jhorinsson. No doubt your people here in camp are preparing your homecoming as we speak.\" and he measures the thane carefully, \"Perhaps your grief overbears you, that you do not wish to linger over this hint you give us of woes befalling you in the Wild. Do not be troubled! What has passed here has passed, for ill, alas, in this instance. It will grow no less painful in a day. Will you not abide then and share your tale with us?\"

[Jorin] With a nod of confirmation the thane turns to go, but pauses at Ori\'s response. \"I do wish to share with you my tale, both of you, but I\'m afraid I simply must tend to things before I return to talk of business, adventure, and politics. I will return or send word when I have satisfied the burdensome task before me. Good morning, and thank you again, lord.\" Finishing his turn he makes for the door, nodding to a few folk who acknowledge him on the way out. He says nothing to anyone of his concern at the king\'s appearance. Quite the departure from his condition as it was the last time he had seen him. The thane is gone with a burst of sunlight and a clanking door knob.