Day 1
The four Dwarves were marching in the Vale of Thrain, leaving Thorin's Gate behind them. They were riding in a single file, the young Dwarf at the front wears a black and gold plated armour with black iron boots and a grey cloak with a double blade greataxe and bolts of lightning around it. His weapon, a greataxe, hangs on the right side of the pony he rides, always positioned ready to be drawn at any moment. Behind him rode an older Dwarf with greying black hair and a warhammer hanging on the side of the saddle, his tunic was a simple chainmail that has seen battle and a pair of black boots that seem newer than the rest of his clothing, his black hooded cloak completes the set. Behind him rode a relatively thin Dwarf, wearing a chainmail as well and grey muddy boots, the simple cloak on his back sat under his elegant bow and a pair of axes. In front of his right knee and hanging from the saddle was his quiver, filled with arrows. The last Dwarf was stout and rode on an equally stout pony, his plated mail made him seem even more round than he was but betrayed his strength as few could wear it and fight with it even among Dwarves, his warhammer hang from the side of the saddle and twin axes from his back, over a blue cloak, its colour matching the colour of his armour.
The white all over them gave its place to some green, but mainly brown as the area past Noglond towards Gondamon is almost barren with a few trees and bushes quite apart from each other.
-Do you believe that we will find them? asked the thin Dwarf in a conversational tone while preparing his pipe.
-Of course we will! Answered proudly Dindrik who rode at the head of the sile, his mohawk styled hair standing out in the white scenery.
-It's quite long since the last time that we got a message... continued the first Dwarf, making Dindrik turn around to look at him with the corner of his eye, an almost menacing sight as behind the eyes and on the shaven sides of his head he had an axe tattooed on each, an axe with three spikes on the other side of the blade, the two parallel scars running under his left eye added to the sight. The thin Dwarf nodded and said nothing more.
Day 3
The last Dwarven refuge was far behind them now and they were deep in Elven territory, but that didn't stop them from riding proudly towards the Gate out of Ered Luin. The Dwarf on the back turned his head to the left to look at the old fort of Kheledul in the distance and spat and swore, in a non discreet manner.
-Don't let it anger you, one day we'll take it, for now we have other priorities. came the older Dwarf's voice from ahead of him.
-We will but the more we let it the more those acursed Dourhands fortify themselves in it and it'll be harder.
-Nothing can stop Durin's Sons from taking their lands back, not even Smaug could. We paid a heavy price but we took it back.
-Move on, I don't want to encounter any Elves right now, I don't like them. said Dindrik, making the older Dwarf laugh heartily.
-But you've neve met any...
Dindrik stayed quiet and looked around, obviously hurt by the true words of his fellow.
Day ...
-What a jolly land, when I retire this is where I'll live. said the old Dwarf while the company went on along the roads that led to and from Michel Delving in the Shire.
-Why? asked the Dwarf in the back.
-Why? Because it's a peaceful land and one wants to live peacefully.
-I don't.
-Not yet.
-Not ever!
-You'll see.
-You will see!
-You're arguing like two Elven ladmaids over their reflections in a river! Who is more handsome than the other! said the thin Dwarf and blew some smoke from his pipe.
-Don't you dare say that! said the one in the back.
-It's true! answered Dindrik in a matter-of-fact way and nodded, looking behind him with the corner of his eye. The thin Dwarf laughed.
-Well, that still doesn't change the fact that when one wants to retire there isn't a place better than this.
-There is, replied the last in the line, Erebor, with Dale at its foot and the Lake-Town close at hand for fishing.
-I don't fish, I want to live quietly when I retire, maybe become a farmer.
That last sentence made the other three Dwarves burst in a loud laughter, making the Hobbits turn to look at them curiously, the old one shook his head before bowing it politely towards them.
A lot of days later...
The good mood of the Dwarves didn't change at all as they were reaching Bree, they kept riding in the same way and bickered and joked all the while...
-The last inn before we get into the forest and then into Lone-Lands. announced Dindrik, his gloved hand pointing towards the town that could be seen from the distance.
-Wrong, said the third Dwarf, there is one more inn in a village in the forest, The Thirsty Boar, almost in the middle, so we can resupply there before we reach that stinky Forsaken one.
-Good, we can stay in Bree for a couple of days then, or more, to see and wait for a message before we push on.
Everyone nodded and agreed and they kept going on.
Three or four days later...
-Now is the last inn then, that Thirsty Boar of yours. said Dindrik, pulling the hood up as the drizzle started, just right outside the Southern Gate of Bree.
-Yes. said the thin Dwarf.
-Good, I don't want to stay in this rain for a long time. Said the last one.
They kept riding and the drizzle became a thunderstorm, on their way there they discussed a few things, shouting to be heard due to the strong winds and rain. What they didn't see or hear was a Hobbit, walking down the road into Chetwood, he was drunk and staggering but still he could hide from them, for he had heard them and even though he was drunk his senses told him it was better to stay out of the sight of strangers outside of the Shire. In the Shire that he may never see again, where his farm is, his home, his love... But he has no emerald ring, so he has no love, so he is alone... In the rain...
The events that will transpire after this story are going to be RPed, where this ends the event begins.
