Dwimmer huddled closer to the fire, casting a baleful eye upwards at the heavy, snow-laden clouds that threatened to dump even more misery upon his already frozen head. "Well, Wolf-men and Tundra Bears and Mammoths and Dourhands, what else do ye do for fun around here?" He glanced over to Fotri, who was shivering nearly as violently as he was. The white-haired dwarf looked up as he rubbed his arms in a vain attempt to warm them. "We take off our shirts and run down to the hot springs to pull the dragons' tails, then we bathe in the steam they make..." Dwimmer considered this a moment, then shook head. "Naw....try again." Fotri lifted an eyebrow, and muttered with a smile beneath his beard, "Khuzd tada ma ublûri zuzna, ma furukhî sakh ghelekh."
At that moment Thorth came lumbering up to them carrying a small cask under his arm. He was grasping three mugs in his stubby fingers, as well, but was making a good job of balancing all the items in his charge. "Achùshôm ganagifi ughlekh ya ghureg, nidif binghureg." He set a mug down in front of each dwarf as well as one at his own feet and with one swift, deft movement tapped the keg under his arm. Eyes brightened considerably as the mugs were filled and the aroma of dwarvish ale reached cold-reddened nostrils.
Just as he was about to take a long draught of the golden brew, Dwimmer heard a squawk and a flapping above his head. Looking up, he saw a Thrush circling above his head. "By Durin's beard...," he exclaimed, watching as the small bird circled lower and eventually came to light on his shoulder with a final "flap".
"What the...." , he began, then Dwimmer saw it. Around the bird's neck, suspended by the finest of gossamer threads was small golden leaf imprinted with seven stars. "Ah....". Looking at the bird, who was ruffling his feathers against the cold, he said, "You fly on back, my friend...tell Her I'm on my way."
