[Koobdooga]

-- Ibun and Frór enjoy a smoke --

‘Oh, I’d thought to take the East-West Road to the Tower Hills,’ said Ibun tamping down the pipeweed in his long clay pipe. He passed the pouch to Frór, nodding at him to fill his own pipe. Ibun plucked a length of straw from the sheaf kept near the fireplace and lit the dried stalk, transferring it quickly to the bowl of his pipe. A few good sucks, and the pipeweed lit with a merry little crackle, the smoke from it sending a fragrant streamer up toward the rafters.

‘Not sure after that,’ he said, leaning back comfortably in his chair. He extended his legs, crossing one booted foot over the other. ‘I think I’ll go on to Mithlond, to the harbor and ask about. Depending on what I find out I’ll go either to the northern or southern arm of the Blue Mountains. Hope there’ll be some sign of my kin there I can pick up easily.’

‘Ibun waved over one of the passing servers and asked for a refill of ale. ‘What about you, Frór. Have you heard any news of where the Dwarves dwell in the western mountains?’ He took a sip from his mug. ‘Perhaps we might travel together if you’re bound the same way as I.’