Dourhand

Master Lóin, Son of Ladrun, Son of Sórrun, Esteemed among the Dourhands, was a great many years ago employed by his kin in carrying out a daring and mischievous heist within Thorin's Hall. Needing assistance in the completion of his task, he was aided by his son Lonfrik (Son of Lóin, Son of Ladrun, Esteemed among the Dourhands).

The aged dwarf lets the door clatter shut behind him, stopping just inside. His eyes squint, darting between the darker corners and edges of the room, causing the wrinkles on his temple to deepen. Satisfied no one was lying in wait, he marches straight forward to the bar, paying no mind to anyone he may bump into on his way.

Pointing a gloved finger at the man with the apron, he raises his voice. “Oy! You're the keeper of this inn, aye? I will need—”

It started about ten days ago. The beginning of a new adventure.
Up on my camp at Ost Barandor in the Brandy hills of Bree-land I encountered the most unexpected person.
Her name was Tarrah Gilaenah or ''Greywolf''. She came into the ruins unaware of my presence. If it was not for Fang then she would have entered unaware to me as well.
It was Fang who sensed her. But she was not alone.....
Her wolf Naerna.... was with her..
She of course on her turn sensed me so a stealthy approach had no use.

As I was marched off to the Boat, I thought of how I got myself into this mess in the first place.

Oh yes, it had started off when I had spotted an unusually large number of goblins heading for Kheledul. In a nick of time, I decided to follow, and got myself captured in the process.

And escaped.

I always knew they would come for me, send me off somewhere before executing me, but if I could at least play the bait and delay their actions, it could at least give the elves some time to prepare before the invasion would be launched.