Fellowship of the Dice

By the afternoon they had reached the eaves of Mirkwood, and were resting almost beneath the great overhanging boughs of its outer trees. Their trunks were huge and gnarled, their branches twisted, their leaves were dark and long. Ivy grew on them and trailed along the ground.

The Hobbit, Ch 7, Queer Lodgings

Aerth has wandered the southern lands, among the Woodmen for a time, then to the Old Ford, then up through the Beorning Lands and stayed with Beorn for a time. As autumn has begun the Half-elf turned north eager to see Borir and Pipkin again. By the early days of September he had returned to the Easterly Inn.

Pushing open the door to the common room, the wanderer is greeted to the sights and sounds of the place. Children playing with the dog, hobbits arguing in the kitchen over spices, and the ring of of the simple forge out back.

Aerth cannot help putting a smile on his face as he walks into the inn. He missed his friends. They were the ones he had bled with, almost died with, and shared struggles of the lands over the last couple of years. He was pleased to be with Beorn and his people, but his companions never were far from his thoughts.

The half-elf looks very much as normal. His ears are covered by a head band, but he has a few braids in his hair now, which has grown even longer and sits passed his shoulders. His face is still smooth as usual. The man's green eyes look around, searching for his friends. He assumes Borir and Pipken to be here at the very least.

Borir's roar of a laughter beckons across the common room. To his side is Pipkin and Freir, "... And then I said, " the dwarf begins as he can't hold back his own laughter at his story and never gets to what he actually said.

Looking up from laughing, he turns to see Aerth enter the room. "Come, come. Grab a drink, share a tale!" He calls out to the man.

They typically morose fellow smiles when he spots his friends. "There you are," he says, walking slowly over to their table and sitting down his pack next to an empty chair.

"Good to see you all getting fat."

Aerth slides into the chair and sighs. He had been on his feet all day and on the road for several.

Borir slides his half eaten turkey leg, or at least what appears to be a turkey leg, over to the man. "Eat, I'll get y'a ale."

The dwarf heads to the back and tops off a new metal tankard with ale from a barrel, then the blows some of the head off the ale and tops it off again. Returning to table, he sits the tankard on the table in front of Aerth and asks, "Any news of the others?"

Aerth looks down at the turkey leg, then back to Borir, and finally shrugs. He picks up the leg and takes a bite. When the ale arrives, he takes a drink and sighs. "No, not from me. I have been with the Beornings over the last two months. I haven't heard anything of them." Aerth does not seem concerned as he wouldn't have expected to.

"Ah," Borir states as he somehow produces another mug of ale for himself from under his beard. "They had a nice warpig that I wanted to bring back to the inn. We could have used a nice strong animal to help plow some fields."

The dwarf looks over to Freir and then back to Aerth, "Blagh." He throws his hands up and his futile attempt to secure a warpig and then lifts his mug in toast, "To friends present and to come!"

Freir laughs, "I've told you Borir, pigs ain't good for plowing. We need ourselves one of their oxen if we want to have more fields plowed than just a garden patch. We need ourselves a good plow too. Now those merchants from Erebor that came through last month had enough iron on them, and I made sure to get it from them. Over the winter I'll make us a plow, but we need more than just a hog in here to pull it." He too is drinking and clanks mug with Borir.

"Aaaahh!" The dwarf refutes Freir's suggestion. "Those oxen ain't got the charm as a warpig." Borir then begins laughing as he smacks Aerth on the back and then continues with his loud and rolling laughter.

The other dwarf wags his finger at Borir, "How many times I gotta tell you, its just a pig, it ain't a warpig! That thing is made for bacon, not fighting!" He laughs and shakes his head, "Not that the Beornings would ever eat it, they got some soft spots for their animals I'll never understand."