[Bêthberry]

That old, haggard woman who was approaching Oin and Finky was none other than Ruthven, who walked with a slower pace it is true and who seemed to favour one side. Yet the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth danced as her face broke out into a grin when she saw the two dwarves. Her pace hurried a bit as she held an old brown coat tight, as if keeping herself warm.

"Ruthven"

"Finky"

"Allow me" said Finky.

"No, me," said Oin, rising, pulling out a chair.

"But I saw her first," retorted Finky, jumpi.ng up and grabbing onto the other arm of the chair.

"I saw her second." Oin pulled the chair towards him.

"And it was by seconds." Finky pulled the chair back towards him.

A third voice commented. "But this is a first."

"It is?" held forth both dwarves at once.

"I've never had dwarves arguing over me," chuckled Ruthven, reaching the chair and beginning to sit in it as Oin dragged it over towards him.

The arm of the old oak chair bumped soundly into Ruthven's hip, knocking her off balance and into Finky, who tumbled over, taking the chair with him, but not before he had grabbed the tablecloth and almost brought down the tankards, pitcher and plates upon himself, had not Ruthven caught them in mid air, wavered, and plunked them back down on the table, where they sloshed their ale over Oin.

"This is a fine how do you do," complained Finkey.

"There's nothing fine about it," objected Oin, wiping his pants.

"Sssh now you two, settle down, before Aylwen fines the both of you," suggested Ruthven, taking hold of the chair in her two hands and holding it tightly as she placed it closer to the heat of the Inn's second fireplace.

"I never thought I'd get the mud off me," she said with a remembrance rather more fond than one would expect...

~ ~ ~ ~

Ruthven had been grumbling, perhaps even cursing, the muck of the alleyways of Edoras as she wheeled her small cart ahead of her. The thick mud and the heavy assortment of odds and ends weighing the cart down made rough going. She stopped, sweat plastering her hair and then chilling her when the brisk spring air blew around the corner. It had been another long, hard winter, the worst since the War. Indeed, nothing had improved for the poor of Edoras, although there was new feasting in The Golden Hall. She needed to finish this trip, taking the small wooden cabinet to the fishmonger's wife so she could collect the money owing her. In short, her ebullient mood which the tea with Bethberry had produced was gone. She was, in short, in a mood most foul.

She had grunted as she pushed at the cart, even calling it names, with little success, and that likely had brought the two dwarves around the corner, wondering what the commotion was.

"Here, let's help her with that cart," had said Finky.

"Why," asked Oin, following behind him.

"Why not?"

"We'd be butting in, and we'd best be on our way," intoned Oin.

"I'm not butting in," corrected Finky. "Here, let me take that handle," he offered to Ruthven.

She eyed the two, having seen them earlier at The Horse. Fine lot of good two argumentative dwarves would be, she thought..

"You'll help me with this cart?" she asked

And that was how it had started.