Díra carefully removed two leather-bound cases from the saddle-bags before she let the stable-boy take the pony’s reins. “Be sure to take good care of him,” she said curtly. “He has had a long journey and a heavy load.” She strode up to the door of the inn, which swung open as a guest left. “Hey! Watch out where you’re going!” she snapped.
As she stepped into the Green Dragon, her eyes darted around the room. Without noticeable surprise, she recognized the Innkeeper and walked over to him. “Well, Dwarin, so this is what’s become of you – an innkeeper?! Not much profit to be made here in the province, I wager. Might have known that you were off on one of your ridiculous adventures again!”
Dwarin’s eyes brightened as he saw the plain, sturdy face and form of a dwarven female. “Díra!” he shouted, trying to grasp her hand.
“You just keep those bumbling fingers off my cases,” she retorted. “No one touches my fine tools or the wares that I have made. Just be a good fellow and get me something to eat and drink, will you? Travelling is hungry and thirsty work.”
She sat down at an empty table, carefully placing her cases between her feet before taking off her blue, hooded cloak and stretching with a sigh. My, it is good to be inside where it’s warm and friendly, she thought. But does there have to be so much talking and singing going on?
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'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure of your inquisitiveness, I shall spend all the rest of my days in answering you. What more do you want to know?' 'The whole history of Middle-earth.. .'
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