It was a quiet evening, everyone was away, most of them in Bree. Fiontann had just returned from Bree and stood on the bridge that leads to the Drunkards Study. There he enjoyed the view from the highest point of the homesteads, and the view of the inner part of the mountain. He stood there admiring the waterfalls and the rock formations coming from above and smiled to himself, thanking his benefactor, the old Dwarf in Khazad Dum.
His steps echoed in the yard while walking inside the Drunkard's Study, he walked in it with small and slow steps looking around as if it was the first time he was seeing it. His right hand touching and moving along every wall and pillar in his way, as if he was in a sacred place. He took a tankard from the cupboard and filled it with ale from the set of casks and made his way to his office, he wanted to smoke his pipe and relax a little bit. He sank in the chair and put his feet on the desk, he leaned back and started smoking, letting himself free and enjoying the taste of the pipeweed.
His eyes were closed and he was sitting there, only his mouth was moving as he was inhaling and exhaling the tasty weed, blowing rings of smoke every now and then. His thoughts were on forging, various weapons of all kinds and metals, revolving around him, some he saw in the rings of smoke that he was blowing. Slowly he thoughts went to his days in Moria, the damp air, the darkness, the pounding of the drums sounding an assault, the sound of the hammers as they fell on the anvils, creating armour and weapons and repairing the damaged ones.
Olthar was making some of the finest weapons that couldn't be easily broken, they were tough and deadly, no matter the kind. The Dwarf himself preferred war hammers. "Heavy and tough, one swing an' the Goblin goes flying over the deepest chasms." he was saying and Fion would laugh, imagining that. Fion opened his eyes to look around once through the cloud of smoke that he created around him and closed his eyes again, in his thoughts now was only one thing, a war hammer.
He opened his eyes and looked around, thinking of the next five days and most of all the final one, when the trap is to be set to captured the emissaries. Eventually he stood up form the desk and made his way to the lower part of the Study. His tankard was empty and he stood in the middle and looked at the two big barrels of ale that stood on the stage part of the house. Fion stood there motionless, trying to decide from which one he should drink when something caught his gaze on the wall inbetween. On the wall there was hanging a tapestry and above it there was something that did not seem right.
He approached the wall and took the tapestry down. A few pushes here and there and that was it! With those pushes he put first his left hand in some spots and then the right one and got a hold of something, he pulled it and nothing happened, he tries to push ahead or left or right and nothing. Eventually he pushes up and released the lower part of the "staff" he was holding. He pulled it and it turned out to be a war hammer, close to his size height.
He put the tapestry back and laughed loudly, his laughs echoing around the Drunkard's Study. He would cherish and use this war hammer from now on and thanked Olthar once again.
