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Fugnrim placed the empty bowl of stew into the pile of dirty dishes waiting to be washed by the hobbit lasses. He dug out his pipe and was just about to fill it when the gruff voice wich could only belong to a fellow dwarf startled him. Feeling unreasonably nervous and almost droppin his pipe he turned to Regin.
"I will not bite." The newcomer said cheerily. Fungrim wasnt alltogether relieved. The company of his kin was a thing that made him nervous.
He was slightly relieved when Regin, instead of prying him about his past, congratulated him on his stoneworking and asked him to take the building of the common room fireplace under his supervision.
"Offcourse." There was a brief pause, before he added: "and thankyou for your compliment. I will see to it after a smoke and when more people are awake."
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Herein, it is said, the power of Ulmo was shown. For he gathered tidings of all that passed in Beleriand, and every stream that flowed from Middle-earth to the Great Sea was to him a messenger, both to and fro
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