[doug*platypus]

At the far end of the common room, at a table near the fire, sat a lone dwarf drinking ale from a tankard. He still wore his deep blue travelling cloak, showing he that he was either not at home in this Inn or that he wished to remain a shadowy figure. The hood of the cloak was over his head, and only his long, hooked nose and his full beard could be seen protruding from it.

Not long after he had finished a well-deserved supper, some locals had sat down at a table within earshot. He had sharp ears for one of his race (which aided him in his profession), and the group seemed to make no great secret of what they were talking about. They were three humans of Dale. The woman he recognised as a smalltime blacksmith of the town. She had never seemed remarkable until today, when for some reason her smithy had been a hive of activity. As the dwarf had walked past it earlier on in the day, he had noticed that the smithy had more visitors than was usual for such a heated place of business (unless of course it were his home, Erebor or some other hall of the Dwarves). He had thought little of it at the time, but seeing her here again at the Rusty Hilt was surely more than coincidence. Something was going on.

The dwarf continued to sip at his ale, trying to appear inconspicuous as he listened carefully to the conversation. His ears perked up at the word "book", as they always did, and he hoped that his involuntary gasp had not been noticed. He cleared his throat and coughed several times, trying to cover it up. From what he understood, these three humans were looking for a book. No doubt a tome of great significance, a magnificent source of ancient knowledge, with beautiful lettering and full colour plates! He was almost drooling.

Shortly, one of the humans got up and went out the back. The dwarf had noticed him earlier on as the son of the Innkeepers. After a little while he came back. The dwarf snuck a quick glance in his direction, his eyes bright now like polished gems. The youth was now dressed as if for travel, and was standing behind his smith friend. Hammer and Tongs! the dwarf inwardly cursed his luck. He had been hoping for a good night's rest, but it seemed that at least one of the group wanted to leave that very evening. The marvellous book must be out of town somewhere, and no doubt the Innkeepers' son was all for leaving Dale as soon as he could. Understandably, for Dale though a fine town indeed, was hardly a fountain of excitement. The dwarf resigned himself to following after the group, even if it meant losing a bit of sleep. He started to drain his mug, and waited to see what the other humans would do.