Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies

[TetNak]

Aerth nods, pulling back his hood. Underneath, his blond hair is tied back, covering his ears, but at this vantage, he looks far more odd than the did with his hood up. He is particularly pale, with piercing blue eyes, and golden blond hair. "Let me retrieve my gear, and I shall return to you." The large fellow does just that, reclaiming his bow, axe, and pack. He pulls along his chair, sliding it up alongside the hobbit and dwarf. "Apologies, I am Aerth," he says, bowing his head.

[Shurijo]

As Aerth pulls back his hood, the dwarf remarks, "Ah... Now I see why you hid your face." The dwarf laughs at his off-mark and maybe unpleasant comment as the stranger departs to get his gear. Of course, there's nothing wrong with Aerth's face as far as Borir is concerned. Other than joking with the man, he meant no ill words towards him.

Looking to Pipkin, Borir says, "I hope I didn't hurt his feelings. Those tall ones are too emotional and moody." Luckily, the strange looking man returns and slides a chair over to sit next to them.

As introductions begin, Borir boasts, "I am Borir, son of Norir, of the Longbeards of Erebor."

[TetNak]

"Hardly," Aerth says, looking at the dwarf, "I reckon that taking three steps to every one of mine would make one grouchy. Such a tiring business that must be." The man, at least, seems to have a sense of humor. "Well met, Borir, son of Norir."

[Trogdor]

"And I'm Pipkin Brandybuck, from Whitfurrows, Eastfarthing, The Shire." The hobbit bows. "At your service." He pulls a small leather pouch from his coat pocket and holds it out for Aerth to take a pinch. "This is Old Toby. I keep some around for special occasions, though it's hard to get, so I smoke it sparingly. I have some Southern Star and some Westfarthing's Finest that I use for my day-to-day smoking. They're not quite as good, in my opinion. But they're not bad either. I have an extra pouch of Southern Star in my pack that you may have with my compliments." He sniffs at Aerth's pipe and shakes his head. "That's Southbottom Blend, if I don't miss my guess. And I can't have a friend of mine smoking Southbottom Blend!"

[TetNak]

Aerth watches Pipkin talk and talk and talk and talk.

"Oh," he starts, then pauses, nodding a few times, showing a look of confusion, and shrugging finally. "I doubt it is even the quality of a Southbottom Blend," Aerth protests. He turns over his pipe and raps it against his palm, emptying it into his hand. Even with what the hobbit says, Aerth pumps the pipeweed back into his own pouch for later. The Old Toby won't last forever. Slowly, Aerth does reach out and take a pinch, placing it directly into his pipe. "I thank you greatly, Pipkin Brandbuck, I am unworthy of such a gift."

[Shurijo]

Borir makes a grunting gruff sound at Aerth's remark about being short. He simply nods at the man, offering his returned greeting. He then partakes to listening to the two go on about weed. He glances around the taproom and then back to his friend and Aerth.

[Trogdor]

"Nonsense," Pipkin replies. "Half the joy of smoking is enjoying a pipe with a friend. And I've been sadly without that half of that enjoyment since I left the Lonely Mountain. Certainly regaining half my joy in having a pipe is worth a little celebration!"

[Muskrat]

Wren is enjoying his ale as well as watching the crowd when he spots a familiar face. Leaning against the bar is an elf curiously checking out a hobbit who is engaged in a conversation with a dwarf. Wren weaves his way through the crowd and appears next to the elf.

Leaning in, "Hello Varuthil, hobbits are a lot smaller than I thought they would be..."

A brief smile flickers across Varuthil's face at Wren's words. "I must say, I was not expecting to see a hobbit at all. Now that I see one, I am intrigued. It is hard to believe that one of these folk played a key role in the downfall of Smaug."

[Eilandor]

"Well Varuthil, it seems great purpose can come in such small packages." Wren takes another swig of his ale, "How have you been, I have not seen you in some time."

[TetNak]

"I suppose that is true," Aerth agrees with the hobbit. He pulls his small tinder stick from his pack, placing the end within the candle's flames, then sets it inside his pipe. After a few puffs the weed lights afire, and to which Aerth smiles. "That is some fine stuff," he commends, "My compliments and thanks." He exhales with a satisfying sigh.