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Thread: The Khazad-dumish Inn.. Please watch your head coming through the door.

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It was an ugly night outside and Gimli needed to get out of the rain. He knew where to go, though he hadn't been there in many moons. He'd opened the inn years ago hoping to settle down. His days of clanking away in the mines and rescuing damsels in distress were long gone. What he'd really wanted was a nice place to rest his feet, and most importantly, drink large quantities of beer as often as he could.

He'd decided on a name that reminded him of good memories, hoping it would provide more in the future. For a while it did, but eventually he got restless and decided to test his fate for more glory. He'd left the inn in the capable hands of his friend Grondy and set out on his next adventure. To be honest he hadn't told Grondy he was going to leave, but he couldn't bare to say good by in person to his old friend, so he'd snuck out in the middle of the night while Grondy assumed he was sleeping under the bar as he usually did.

That was many years ago and yet here he was staring at that familiar front door.

He walked inside wondering if anyone would recognize him.




And Hullo!  Big Smile Smilie

OOC: I heard today about grondy and wanted to come by and pay my respects. This seemed the most appropriate place for me. Farewell my friend. I hope I'll see you again someday.

Welcome back, Gimli. I had to cry a bit when I read your post. Thank you for coming. The Inn needs you now.

Thank-you, Gimli. Tears are flowing as I post this. I can't think of a more fitting tribute to our old friend. As Amarie has said, the Inn does need you.

It had been many a year since the stranger had visited this particular town, but pushing open the door, his hood pulled up tight against the bitter wind, he entered the usually festive room. The mood within was sombre, many patrons quietly drinking their ale or wine. Pulling back his hood, revealing pointed elven ears, Val strode to the bar and ordered a frothy ale from the bar maid. Her eyes were red-rimmed, having shed many tears in the past few days.

The elf tipped back his head and swallowed a long draught of ale, remembering fondly the flavour and the many good times he had spent here in the past.

"To Grondy," he whispered quietly. "The fate of Man shall take you were I cannot follow. May Iluvatar watch over you and protect you."

Thorin pushed the door of the Inn and slowly walked in. Ordering a pint of meat he sat down deep in though. After a few moments he sang slowly and quietly a song in memory of his old friend. The inn would never be the same again without it's old and faithful bar tender:


May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh! How far you are from home

Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadows call
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now


Sighting, he raised and drained him mead in a last token of farewell...

"Agreed, Thorin. For Grondy." Eruheran muttered, raising his pint before drinking it.

"Where does this leave the inn? I think we should hand ownership to Thorin, does anyone agree?"

Odette walks in,the purple cloaked stranger from long back,and as she notices that Grondy is not there she feels sad like something familiar has ceased to be and sitting down watches the others mourn him in song and silence and whispered words.

For though she hardly knew Grondy she could feel the pain of their loss and as she sipped her wine whispering " To Grondy",tears were flowing fast under her hood.

But then she sighed and stood up and addressed the crowd "Come strangers,gathered together in pain and loss,let not grief get the better of us,for such a man as he would have swiftly found his way to the Havens and is now in peace and joy as before.So drink to his memory and all that his words have gifted us and be content in your hearts for there is no greater mortal mystery than passing the grey veil".


@Cheesy:What next?

Actually, Gimli_axe_wielder have been the owner of the inn since post #1, and Grondy has said this many times. This is also the reason why Grondy have  been serving "Gimli's Finest" and not "Grondy's Finest". Wink Smilie 

I always thought it was Halo_Black who started the Inn?

Maybe we should rename "Gimlis Finest©" to "Grondys Finest©" then?

Back in 2007 the database was upgraded which caused all the threads to become unanchored, the original opening posts being replaced with a random post from later. Although the first post in the thread (by Halo_Black) appears to have been made in 2007, the inn first opened its doors back in 2002.

The matronly dwarf stood up, wringing the hem of her worn travel cloak in her hands, and cleared her throat to address her fellow patrons.

"I didn't really know Grondy very well, but... From all I've heard of him, he was the best kind of fellow. And... and the way I see it he deserves to be known and recognized. Now, I don't have much, but this song's for him. Somehow it just seems appropriate."

Come by the hills to the land where fancy is free
And stand where the peaks meet the sky and the rocks reach the sea
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken is gold in the sun
And the cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

Come by the hills to the land where life is a song
And sing while the birds fill the air with their joy all day long
Where the trees sway in time, and even the wind sings in tune
And cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

Come by the hills to the land where legend remains
Where stories of old stir the heart and may yet come again
Where the past has been lost and the future is still to be won
And cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

Come by the hills to the land where fancy is free
And stand where the peaks meet the sky and the rocks reach the sea
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken is gold in the sun
And the cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

"To Grondy."

Fjorgyn cleared her throat and sat down again, discreetly wiping her eyes behind her tankard of beer.

Gimli_axe_wielder is now a mod for this thread. Now he too can update the list in the first post and clean up posts if needed. 

Thanks Valedhelgwath

Ammornil walks into the Inn, but something is missing. In his heart he realizes something is lost. And just then he understands it is not something, but SOMEONE that is not present. He is not where the old traveler is used to see him. They say the news travel fast, and the bad news travel faster. No drink tonight, for it is a night to recall past and memories will come brighter to the sober mind. Ammornil starts to sing a song of old:

Though here at journey's end I lie
In darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
Above all shadows rides the Sun
And stars forever dwell:
I will not say the Day is gone
nor bid the stars farewell!" (by J.R.R.Tolkien)

It is not a "goodbye forever", my friend. It's just a short parting. For we all shall come one day where you are now- among the stars. Rest in peace!

Ammornil walks out thinking: "I shall not return here soon for grief will come swift in my heart, and time is now only cure for this pain."

A strange hooded man walked up to the doors of the inn, slowly he pushed the doors open expecting to hear the joyful noises of the songs told to never end. Instead of hearing song, there was only silence and a few solemn words of a sad farewell. He walked in and sat down, feeling the mood grow over him. He knew the rules of the inn and felt the need to respect It's traditions. Slowly under his breath he sang a mournful song. He drank no ale for the unknown pain had filled him. 

It was a spendid evening, and Oerath had wandered enough, he wanted to drink, he wanted to sing. He wanted to write something new. And after a few drinks, he suddenly noticed that he was beginning to be drunk, but he still wanted to go on. And as minutes turned to hours, there was no way to stop, it's good to be drunk, even guardians can't always follow their duties and watch over mortals, they've to get wasted before they can continue their work, take a wooden flute, take a large pint of beer or a glass of moonshine, sing a song, or just play along, until the will of sleep commands you to fall, HE-HEY!

Have fun throughout the damn night! But remember to keep a strict line, and also remember to think about your limits and how far are you going to go with your drinking.

'Hey, bartender, let me have another' - 'No you drunkard, you've had enough!'

'No way, fellow, I'm just starting out, six pints of beer and a glass of moonshine to top of that!'

'Alright, since you're our best customer. Here you go!'

- Oerath. (Please, don't take me too seriously.. hic!)

Fjorgyn staggered to her feet and raised her tankard of ale.

"A king of drunkards, he is!" she slurred. "I got one for ya!"

"Down in the village streets
The air is full of wonder
Fair smiles greet
The crowning of the king...
Come hither, gather round
A joyous time's upon us
Trumpets sound
The crowning of the king...

Fast away the olde
Time too quickly passes
Shine the light of new
For the crowing of the king…
Come forth those who wish
For change and change becoming
Welcome with every breath
The crowning of the king…

Sweet is the hour and sweeter still
The time we spend together
Celebrate the noble will
The crowning of the king…
To sing and dance and sing again
With honor and with splendor
All from far and near-
See the crowning of the king!

Step to the dance of hope
Of courtly wiles and pleasure
As the star of the morn
Shines brightly for the king…

Pray thee lift the veil
From those who came before us
Merriment will prevail
For the crowning of the king…

Sweet is the hour and sweeter still
The time we spend together
Celebrate the noble will
The crowning of the king…

To sing and dance and sing again
With honor and with splendour
All from far and near-
See the crowning of the king!
Jesters spin and play
The laughter sounds like music
What a perfect day
For the crowning of the king…

Here in the village streets
The air is full of wonder
Fair smiles greet the crowning of the king…
Come and see the crowning of the king!"

She drained the last of her ale and climbed on a chair to sling an arm around Oerath's shoulders. Grinning widely, she placed her upturned tankard on his head and flung her arms wide.

"All hail the king!" she shouted before passing out and collapsing backwards off of her chair.

At the inn a dwarf with a brown, thick beard appeared. Wearing an apron the dwarf went over and adjusted (and cleaned) the sign above the door.

The dwarf then brutally hit the counter repeatedly with a broom. 

Hear ye all drukards, travellers and guests! I am Moori Bladeswinger, a very distant relative of Gimli Axe-Wielder. I shall be your Grondy... I mean bar keeper and what not here. It seems Gimli felt this place could use a woman's touch! 

Moori was indeed female. She continued with pride:

You may know me from many brave battles and perhaps especially from the Quest for the Straight Road, also known as Quest for the Gem! Well, I suppose you lot have not heard of that at all. All you need to know is that troublemakers will feel the cold steel of my axe.

She grinned and raised a mug og Gimli's finest. Cheers! 

Now... I wonder what song should I sing?

  I walk in withmy chest puffed out, snow and frost gathered on his locks and neatly fork-braided beard. I tell the servant at the door I have a pony laden with supplies and bags, many at the inn heard the jingling in the bags as the pony walked. A servant rushes up and takes my fur coat and pony, I reach into my breats pocket and I place a round gem in the servants hand. "Keep an' eye on my pony now." Isaid in a thick accent. As I walk to the bar I see the sign, I quickly grab my small golden harp off the pony before it is stabled, and begin to strum a few notes. Then I clear my throat in an "I have something important to say, and intend to start, fashion" to get the attention of the Patrons. I begin an old song in a deep and sad voice.....

"Far over the misty mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away ere the break of day,

To seek the pale enchanted gold.


The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,

While hammers fell like ringing bells

In places deep, where dark things sleep,

In hollow halls beneath the fells.


For ancient kings and elvish lord

There many a gleaming golden hoard

They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,

To hide in gems on hilt of sword.


On silver necklaces they strung

The flowering stars, on crowns they hung

The dragon-fire, in twisted wire

They meshed the light and moon and sun.


For over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old,

We must away ere break of day,

To claim our long-forgotten gold.


Goblets they carved there for themselves

And harps of gold; where no man delves

There lay they lay long, and many a song

Was sung unheard by man or elves.


The pines were roaring on the height,

The winds were moaning in the night.

The fire was red, it flaming spread;

Laid low like torches blazed with light.


The bells were ringing in the dale,

And men looked up with faces pale,

Then dragon's ire more fierce than fire

Laid low their towers and houses frail.


The mountains smoked beneath the moon;

The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.

They fled their hall to dying fall

Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.


For over misty mountains grim

To dungeons deep and caverns dim

We must away ere break of day,

To win our harps and gold from him!"

Then I gently set down my harp and quitly say to Gimli , "I'll take a pint, if you don't mind."


"Thank you, master dwarf for your song. It was often song in my youth, it is good to hear it again. Here's your pint, sir."

Having decided on a song, she made herself a tankard of Gimli's Finest™ and placed herself on top of a table.

"Esteemed guests! As you may or may not know, today would have been Grondy's birthday. This one's for you, Gondy!

We'll meet again,
Don't know where,
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
Keep smiling through,
Just like you always do
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away

So will you please say "Hello"
To the folks that I know
Tell them I won't be long
They'll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song

We'll meet again,
Don't know where,
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.

(written by Ross Parker and Hughie Charles)


Cheers, old dwarf! She raised her mug high in the air before emptying it. 

A small hobbit comes through the door and sits down next to the roaring fire. Warm and comfortable he orders a drink from the Innkeeper.

After being denied a drink he takes offense until it is explained all first timers must sing.

"Sorry, I can't sing." He announces and leaves the Inn never to return.

Odette notices a hobbit sneaking out of the door.Wondering if he felt out of place she walks out quickly behind him..calling.."Hey you fool of a Took,where are you going in such haste?Come have a drink with us,that might comfort your ugly little frown and get you settled..."

oh my  , forgive the intrusion, I have come to the wrong place. I was wounded you see, hit on the head and am just coming to myself. I will bow and be on my way. Peace to you all.

A week later

The skies were cloudy and the Inn quiet as Fornad slowly rode along the road to it, the packs along the side of his horse light and an unstrung longbow strapped across his back. He sighed heavily as he looked upon its familiar front doors again; doors which had been carved by Thorin, his old friend and brother-in-arms. He had not seen him in a while, though he had heard rumours of his exploits in taking back the mines of Khazad-dum from goblins while he was in Rivendell.

Still lost in thought, he gently pulled the reins to the right, taking his steed at a walk towards the trough at the front of the Inn. He dismounted and led her for the last few paces, tying the reins to a hook beside the brimming trough.

‘Drink, Falafel,’ he said, stroking the animal’s neck. ‘The road has been long.’

She quickly obliged, and after taking a deep breath Fornad opened one of the doors and walked in. A few elves and dwarves sat around, but none talked, and he could see no familiar faces.

‘I left this Inn some weeks ago,’ he said. ‘I was in Rivendell when I heard the news.’

His emotions threatened to fail him.

‘I’m sorry for the loss we have all sustained. I knew him but for a short while, but we were friends, and that is all that matters.’

He walked to a chair by the fire that seemed to have withered slightly, and sat down.

OOC: I want to get this thread started again - it is an institution and a part of the site that shouldn't be left behind.

Fjorgyn stumbles out of the corner she'd been tucked away in and plops herself down heavily into the chair beside the newcomer.

"This should be a place for laughter, cold ale, and good company - not grief. You would honour me if you would join me for a pint. I'm Fjorgyn by the way, don't know if we've met."

It was a dark evening. Crows were circling in the air. The atmosphere was more than gloomy, and if you would've been there, you could've almost felt the presence of death itself, but..

There was someone, who didn't want these kind of things to spoil his glorious evening.

Oerath was tired, very tired. He had been journeying from land to another, traveling onward without any hope of rest. He knew the signs, but it didn't matter, for you see, there's something that even wizards do need to go on, and that if something; is a good ale and a pipeful of hand-made tobacco.

And this time, he even remembered a place where to drink and rest.

The Famous Inn of Khazad-Dum. Oerath knew that it had always standed there, on it's firm position. It could hold any weather and proudly stand still, unlike most of the structures and buildings, and Oerath knew that there he could get all of the things he needed. A tray full of cold brewery ale, some good pipe tobacco and company of a few beautiful and lonely women. He had always followed those ideals. Life of a wizard isn't so easy as most of us would think.

And with looking up to the sky, into the sea of shining stars and darkness, he signed and said to himself: 'Well, I hope it ain't going to rain tonight, 'cause it would be a shame to walk there and back whilst being drunk as a delirious squirrel.'

And with that, he opened the heavy and dark-brown doors of The Khazad-Dumish Inn, and entered.

'I don't think we have met, but well met to you by any means,' replied Fornad with a brief smile. He looked up at the sound of the door opening to see a tired-looking man cone in. 'Hail, stranger!' he called. 'I must warn you, a song is needed before any food or drink is served to you. It can be anything you like.'

"OI! I know you! Didn't I crown you King of Drunkards once?"Come sit with us. I promise I won't pass out on you again. Well, not tonight anyhow."

They say that he looked a bit surprised at that moment, but that's not the entire truth.

Oerath had used to these kind of conditions and demands, and he found it quite interesting that people still wanted to hear some ol' and good tavern songs. And oh yes, he knew them all.

And as he came back to his senses, he shouted back at Fornad: 'Aye, lad, a song it shall be! I know quite a few and I also do carry a good flute with me, so, how 'bout it?'

Fornad didn't seem to hesitate, quicker than a bird spreads it's wings and flies away; he took two chairs and asked Oerath to sit down, but then he noticed the presence of someone-who-looked-oddly-familiar, and soon he remembered the name. It was none other than Fjorgyn, and as she came closer, Oerath spoke to her: Hey, Fjorgyn, ought to try and beat me in a old fashioned drinking competition, eh?`Anyway, have a seat, we've plenty o' chairs over here.'

Fjorgyn spoke something about greeting him already, but since Oerath hadn't heard her back then, he apologized and said: 'Well, all ye need to know, Fjorgyn, is that you're one hell of a woman. You drink like a beast and surely would've beaten me, if I hadn't been so damn thirsty! Haha.. *cough* .. Bleh.. am I getting old or somethin'..'

Neither of them had anything to say to this, so they only nodded and asked him to begin. And so our wandering poet, Oerath, opened his mouth and said: 'Heed me out, folks, 'tis be a good night to drink and feast, so, raise yer pints and I shall do so too. But first, I'll sing a song called: 'Folk of the woods.. And then I'll just.. ehm..'

Could you ever imagine, he fell off from his chair and fell asleep, but he still had a song to sing, so it was certain he didn't plan to lie there for too long.

The elf maiden pulled her fine wool cloak tightly about her and took a deep breath. The twilight of only minutes ago had given way to the blackening night and as if frightened away all the stars seemed to have vanished instantly from the now clouded sky.

The elf stood at the crest of the hill overlooking the inn she was seeking but at the same time was rather shy of entering. A war waged in her mind and suddenly she felt very tired and alone, emotions usually pushed to the back of her thoughts if they came to call. Twice the she-elf turned to go , but resolve finally winning against shyness the cloaked figure came lightly down the thick grass of the hillside without any discernable sound. As she neared the inn she beheld happy yellow light from lanterns pouring out into the small flowered walk way and riotous laughter and songs seemed to electrify the air.

The elf smiled to herself and shook her head. How different the sound from that of merriment and rejoicing in Imladris with her family and friends, or that of Lothlorien in the evening, the light tinkling of laughter and quiet talk high up in the simple but delicately decorated trees.

With a pat against the inner part of her cloak the elf woman took hold of the ancient handle of the inn and quickly pulled the door open and stepped in. The rows of tables and rough hewn benches were nearly completely filled with merrymakers from what seemed every part of Middle-Earth. Elves were few and they were seated at a long low table eating soup and bread and cheese and drinking from flasks that held their own almost magical drink. A couple casually looked over and seeing their kinswoman stood up and two came quickly forward. They greeted one another in low tones and the elf maid opened her cloak and showed the two greeters a small exquisitely crafted bag of a sort of velvety material , then untying the laces she drew out a small plaque made of mithril and painstakingly carved into was the figure of someone , name below and a series of precious stones , tiny and brilliant strewn across the mithril sky. For several moments the three examined and talked and then the two male elves looked about the room searching for someone who was evidently not there.

Just then the side door opened and Gimli , the inn's proprietor under the direction of of all people Val the highly respected Elf, came bustling inside shaking his dark cloak from the pelting rain which had started only moments before. He hung up the dripping garment and as he turned toward the tables of guests his wise but tired eyes caught that of one of the elves who was motioning him forward. He hurried over to where the three stood and the she elf bowed low before him then spoke to him briefly and handed over to Gimli the bag. Before Gimli could even respond the elf maiden had disappeared into the night. The greeters patted the proprietor on the shoulders and went back to their fellows. 

    .Gimli stood very still as his eyes now a little moist stared down at the content of the bag. Then with a smile and a sigh he hurried into the back of the inn and coming back brought a wide board out of wood, handsome and rich in color. This he hammered on to the wall over the great stone fireplace and reverently put the plague on the wood shelf. All talking ceased and those closest , those who were regulars gasped and stared at the plaque.

Gimli spoke "This you see in front of you is a plaque , made from the costly mithril, how obtained I did not ask, but as you see the likeness is of our beloved Grondy, the best friend and mentor any of us have ever known. And now whenever you come in feel free to lift your glass to the memory of someone so very very great. In fact,. drinks for everyone on me.There was a shout and a great deal of noise while each patron waited for his free pint. At last all stood including the elves and together shouted 'To Grondy, the Great, may his memory last forever in Middle-Earth. To Grondy, to Grondy came shout after shout.

Outside in the cold rain tears falling from her eyes to mingle with it upon her cloak stood the elf maiden.

She rubbed her finger tips, still sore from so much engraving. 'Yes to Grondy, our dear Grondy' she whispered before being swallowed up by the dark.








He woke up. But he didn't wake up like he usually did.

And at this point our poetic hero realized that he was lying on the floor of The Khazad-Dumish Inn, and as he rose he said to Fornad and Fjorgyn: 'I didn't know that I had drank so much already, hmm.. It didn't happen in this inn, 'cause I haven't even ordered anything.. Oh yes! I had a bottle of my home-made moonshine. It kicks ass, my friends! *cough*; that is for sure..'

And as he gazed around the inn, he saw a pianist in one corner, and shouted at him:

'Ey, lad! Play along, play along! Feel the words and transform them into music.'

And so he rose on a chair and began to sing. Fornad and Fjorgyn remained cautious, 'cause they now knew how drunk this wanderer really was.


Oerath's handpicked songs, number one, folk of the woods.


I bet you might have heard of them
Of the folk living in the woods
Singing their songs
Telling their stories
And dancing around the great bonfire

I bet you might have seen them
The folk living in the woods
There all rivers are flowing
The whole nature is blooming
And stars and moon are smiling and glowing
Even during the times of the great sun and the daylight

I bet you might have spoken with them
With the folk living in the woods
Where waterfalls are roaring
And soft winds are blowing
Where rain is falling, still the sky is never stormy
In the lands ruled by the mighty folk
In the lands where the day reigns over the night

I bet you might have drinked with them
with the folk living in the woods
Their distilled forest spirit is enough to warm your heart
but too much of it could even tear any man apart
They surely know how to dance and drink
and when the morning arises, they only say:


And the crowd was getting wilder all the time. Oerath knew he had hit the song perfectly, and now it was about time for the ladies to arrive!

Fjorgyn roared with laughter as she stomped her feet in time with Oerath's song. Raising her tankard high in one hand, she threw her other arm around Fornad's waist and dragged him into a lively dance. By some miracle she managed to keep her ale from spilling and drained the whole thing in one long draught even as she continued to dance.

She finally released her partner as the song came to an end and called for another pint of ale.

With a broad grin she jumped up on a table and started to sing, stomping her foot to keep time.

"I want a pint for each time some young fool calls me missus
And a pint for each fisherman fishing for fishes,
A pint for each long blade of grass in the meadow,
A pint for each lover who never quite let go.

I want a pint for each wooden tree in the forest
And each politician who waxes dishonest,
Each leaky ship that finds itself sunk -
Just keep bringing ale until I'm good and drunk!"

Laughing as she finished, she hopped off the table and gave Fornad and Oerath each a hearty clap on the back.

"Not bad for a song I pulled out of my rear, eh?"

'Not bad at all,' replied Fornad with a brief smile, still slightly shocked from the impromptu dance he had just been subjected to. It seemed years since he had last danced, and probably had been. He still wasn't the same after what had happened in the North.

"Now there's the smile I was lookin' for!" she told Fronad, flopping gracelessly into a chair, "You really ought to do it more often. Now why don't you tell old Fjorgyn what's got you so gloomy?"

'A tale months old now, and not worth telling,' he replied. 'I do not wish to dampen the spirits of the evening.'

Fjorgyn bowed her head in acceptance, uncharacteristically solemn. "I understand. I have a few such tales myself. But if I've learned anything from them, it's to take joy where you can get it." She signaled for more ale and handed him the fresh tankard, the merry twinkle back in her eyes. "So here's to stale stories and worthy characters!"

I want to get back involved in this thread. Is it alright if I start again with a new character?

It's good to see you again, Eruheran, my old friend. Of course you may.


Fornad nodded. 'Aye, you speak true words. A cold heart should not be met with cold feet into the bargain. Let us dance!'

She laughed heartily as Fornad swung her around the floor. She was surprised by his grace despite the obvious effort it took for him to allow for her small stature and knew they must look an odd pair. Oh, but it was fun!

When the song ended she leaned on a table, eyeing her partner and grinning cheekily.

"You know, I do believe I'm starting to like you, and I don't think it's the booze."

There was a strong gust of wind, and the door flew open, with one of the hinges slightly disjointed. An elf in a blue cloak walked in, before finding a table near the corner, and sitting down. He pulled down his hood, revealing his ginger hair which was down to his shoulders, and the fact he only had half of his left ear. 

"Aye, I'm a ginger elf with no ear and a mix between a scottish and welsh accent. Ye can do nutin' 'bout it, tho..." He explained to all the confused faces, speaking in his strong accent. "My name be Sulzeer. Cannae have a drink please? Lemon juice?"

Fornad nodded towards his partner, and smiled back. 'Don't get any ideas. I'm a married man, strange as it may seem, and my days of courting with every second girl I saw stopped when I left for the northern wilds.' He looked over towards the odd newcomer. 'Welcome! The tavern does seem to be a favourite haunt of the Fair Folk, even ones as... battle-worn as you. Have you read the sign? All newcomers must sing a song before anything is served to them.'

"Do I? I cannae move from a tavern to the other without some stupid laws..." He muttered. He jumped onto the table in a flash before doing a full recital of Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, before sitting down.

"Lemon Juice, please. Aye, that was a song..." He muttered, examining a slightly battered door to the left, which was marked with 'Cellar' and 'Don't Enter'. He moved a dusty old cloak from his desk and placed it on a hook on the opposite side of the door.

Fjorgyn sighed theatrically in mock sadness, trying (and failing) to suppress a grin.

"More's the pity," she said, "I suppose I'll just have to drown my sorrows in more of this very fine ale and find myself another potential victim. And look here, there's one now! Although... lemon juice. That's a mite queer even for an elf."

Still, she seemed unconcerned by his strangeness as she strode over to the cloak-racks and grabbed the newcomer by the hand, dragging the poor elf to their table.

"So," she said, resting her chin on her fist and looking for all the world like a gleeful child, "Regale us. What brings you here?"

Hello, names Sprodo. I'm a distant relation of the famous Frodo Baggins. For what it's worth. I've been traveling for the past three months. I got lost for some time, and I saw the lights from your inn, and heard singing. What's the price for a pint? Oh I see I must sing to you first. Well let's get this over with: I sing of love and pain. Life and death. Though not in vain. Good to live and good to love. Good to sing while still above. The ground will soon take us all. Back to the pot. The mixers ball. Laugh while you still can. And cry if you need. A hobbits life of love and pain be never in vain. -----------will that do? I'm very thirsty. And tired too.

A squat hairy dwarf walks in right behind Sprodo. His hair is mangled and his clothes weathered and ripped. He hears Sprodo's song and sighs because he knows it will be hard to match it. " I see we have to sing to enter this here establishment. Very well I'll sing ya a song.

I mine all day long

Once in awhile I'll sing a song

I sing of gold and riches

Enough gold to fill up my breeches

I dream of Moria in its glory

Yet until then you don't have to worry

Cause Mim the Petty Dwarf

Is here to sing you a song.

"There now where is your finest ale this dwarf is thristy."








Ah! Well sung Mim! Where are you coming from? Any news from the outside?

I come from the mines of Moria. All is well there, for now. Where do you come fellow traveler?

I am from The Shire.    But I took a trip to meet a cousin of mine.     I have been traveling for a few months now.     Taking shelter where I can. My cousin is no where to be found........I'm actually very worried.    I am not sure what to do next..... Has anyone here seen or heard news of a lone hobbit?   His name is Otto..... 

I have heard the name, but I have not seen the face. I will help find him though.

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