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Ciro smiled. He was feeling far more comfortable now. This old Dwarf, Ibun, was clearly an amiable companion; and Ciro was glad to talk and laugh with someone else. It had been so long since he had been in such a position. Still, he couldn't let his guard down. His new friend could, despite being slowed by ale and smoke, clearly see some things behind Ciro's eyes which had not been covered carefully enough. He had to fix his story.
"Khazad-dum!" he marvelled. "I have never been, though I have heard the glorious tales like any other Man of the West. It has been the Iron Hills where I have talked at length with Dwarves." He paused for a moment, and looked out the window. All he could see were green roads.
"I am from Arnor." Ciro continued. "But I travel extensively. I have contacts from numerous places in Middle-earth, and I am meeting this Southern Man here beside the Shire because our roads finally merge. We have business to discuss." Ciro took another drink and watched the hobbits hurry to and fro around the table. He thought to himself that he had handled this encounter well. Any mention of 'business' to a stranger was a sure-fire way of covering your bets. Ciro was in no way obliged to answer any questions about his 'business'.
"I come to you now from Rohan" he said. "More dangerous than I had thought it would be, down there. I was waylaid twice!" Ciro caught the glint in the Dwarves' eyes and knew that, with this promised tale of excitement, he had evaded the more piercing questions. He smiled at the memory of his adventures in Rohan.
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