^ ^ ^ ^ Erebor/ Lonely Mountain ^ ^ ^ ^
Do you get it. Do you get it, Burin said for the twenty-first time to Curin.
The miller stuck his face out, putting his lips out and he was expecting a kiss when along comes...
Yes, yes, we know,interrupted Curin.
You've explained it to us already enough times.
Well, then, why aren't you laughing, cried the exasperated red-beared dwarf.
I wouldn't keep on about it if I thought you had understood. See, here the miller was expecting ...
Stonehelm called out to his insistent bard.
Believe us, we get it; we get it. Now stop or you will forfeit that keg you've won.
Stonehelm's word was of course the final word. There were many in the group who in fact wished he had given the final word a little sooner, but who could really be the judge of that.
Everyone was strained by the need to catch up quickly with the elves and men of Dale; the King had pushed them hard yesterday. They had ridden until after dark and even with the racous, rough-humoured stories they had felt sores rising where none had been. Saving precious time for sleep, they had not stopped even to light fires for the meal. They had eaten in silence, cold dried meats, some biscuits, fruits, water only to drink. They would have been happy to have had a cook that night, running sores or not. And then they were up before dawn, wishing the ponies would show some signs of fatigue, but none obliged.
The sudden silence brought about by Stonehelm's command meant for the first time they could hear the Forest River running. Immediately, Frain called to his boys to straighten up, Glavin straightened his back, Hringa drew his pony up beside the King. Down the slope, where a small tidal pool of sand and silt spread out along the river, they could see the elves camped. One even 'halloed.'
Have they got pointy ears? inquired Burin. Stoneheld did not need to give the order. Curin swiped him across the face with a pony blanket.
Now would be the real start to the adventure.
[ October 03, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]