[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The day wore on and the Dwarves passed through Dale and out through the plains south of Erebor, toward Lake Town. Haenir looked about him as they went at the rich land that had been wrested from the landscape after the fall of Smaug. The Desolation he had wrought was now little but a memory in song and the greyest of heads. The cultivation had been undertaken by the Men, for the Dwarves had – as always – dedicated themselves to harvesting the riches of the Mountain and depending on trade to bring them the food they required to continue their labours deep in the mines. It was from this trade that Haenir had, over many patient years of careful acquisition, been able to build his wealth. Like all Dwarves, his heart was fired by the thought of wealth, and his King was a rich gift-giver. So with every ring or gem or pouch of gold given him by his lord, Haenir had bought the produce of these fields to resell to the Dwarves of the Moutain. Usually, he would take only a small profit, depending on careful management to build wealth slowly but surely. But sometimes, during a season of scarcity, he would horde goods for a while until the prices had been driven so high that he could accrue huge gains. He regretted doing this, but the gold it earned him always quickly overcame his reservations.

His thoughts turned back to Dwalin. A deep and brooding silence had fallen between them as Haenir had considered the landscape – as well as other matters. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “I am a poor companion I fear. I have spent a quiet life – many would say a narrow one – in the service of my King, and I have never been given to much talk.” Dwalin assured him that he had taken no offence, adding “Rhûn’s too far for us to be talking all the way.”

Haenir considered this for a moment. “Aye, ‘tis a step of a ways indeed. And a dangerous one too, I deem, if half of what I’ve heard be true.”

“Why,” Dwalin looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes, “what have you heard?”

Again, Haenir took a moment to think before speaking. It was a habit he had picked up in his years in the Royal Presence. It did not do for people in positions of power to speak before considering. “Naught but children’s tales and the fanciful imaginings of Men I’m sure,” he replied. Then, to change the subject quickly, he looked back at the other Dwarves in the company and said, “At any rate, we’re an odd lot to be marching out on a venture such as this.” He shifted his axe to his other shoulder and shrugged his shoulders beneath his armour. “And how are you doing Master Dwalin?” he asked. “After that sprint you led us on at the outset I was afraid that we’d be carrying you before nightfall!” Dwalin laughed and assured Haenir that he was feeling quite all right. “Good,” Haenir replied, “I’m as eager as anyone to get to where we’re going, but I’m not too keen on the thought of running there as though the very breath of Smaug was singing my beard!”