Dwaline eyed John suspiciously, he stroked his long yet withered beard and then leaned forward. He placed both hands on the table and took a deep breath.
"Now listen here you," he snapped, "I know you're type. I've seen many like you. they try to appear friend and then jump upon you at unawares. What's you’re game?" John did not speak, but held the Dwarf's gaze for a good long wile before turning away. Dwaline glanced over to the window where Avalon had just hopped back in. She fluttered over to the tables and peered suspiciously at John and Dwaline, she detected some tension.
"I may be an old Dwarf, set in my ways, but I always like to be straight with people, and I expect them to be the same. If you have some dark agenda, then be off with you. I can still weald my axe with strength. Now tell us, what do you want with Avalon. I don't want anyone going hurting her again; she's had a hard enough life as it is.
"You don't mean any harm? Such words came even from the mouths of the Nazgúl, how could I trust you." Dwaline was getting carried away with himself and did not realise how scared Avalon was becoming of his sudden wroth. He was never a friend of men, and stayed out of their business, but always new he could often get news from them with cunning words.
Dwaline exhaled heavily and calmed down. He darted his eyes straight at John.
"I am sorry young man," he began, "I got a little wrathful there. It is not like me, but you understand, a traveller needs to have his wits about him. I've come to know many who have had ulterior motive and dark intents. Now, sir, I hope you'll forgive me, but I just don't believe what you are saying. I saw the way you looked at Avalon. Regret, fear, foreboding? One or all of those was in your face. Now tell me, if you will."
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