Jenn lay the quill down upon the table as she heard the sound of footsteps on the stone flags behind her. The wet ink gathered at the tip of the nib, coalescing into a small drip before falling down to splatter atop the wooden surface but she paid it no mind, instead turning to see who had come to disturb her writing this time.

Moinar stood on the hills over looking the snowy hills and trees of Ered Luin, in the distance he can faintly see the way-station of Nogrond. Gently puffing on his pipe that his great grand-father made him he thought about the past ten or so years helping Dwalin fighting of the Dourhands to crush the Longbears from Thorin's Hall and how a mysterious man named Eogan held so much sway over a Dwarf.. even if that Dwarf was possessd by a fell spirit by a Gaunt Lord from the First Age.

Coming through the wooden door to his fathers house he heard his father playing a ballad about Smaug the Golden capturing The Lonely Mounatains. One of his favourites. Moinar entered into the main room and found his father playing the tune with his Lute that his fathers, father gave him when he first told his grandfather that he wanted to follow in his footsteps as a Minstrel. Taking out his own flute he joined his father by the hearth and continued the ballad.