The Dwarrowdelf [RPG Game]

And of old it was not darksome, but full of light and splendour, as is still remembered in our songs.
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Sage of Khazad-dûm
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Behind the famed doors of Moria, lies a network of dwarven best kept secrets. Here you can truly indulge, IF you know the password. Should you guess the correct password you will be able to pass into Khazad-dum and enjoy some of the delights which await you. Will you enter the Moria Spa, crush a pint of ale with the Boozed Brawlers Club (BBC for short), take a Smoke in the Smoking Chamber or even enter the fabled Durin's Hall...

Rules
RP your approach to the Mirrormere and the doors where you will find a taciturn and battle hardened dwarf called Elbaic (played by Nerwen). If you guess the correct password you will be permitted to enter. Clues may be given and bribes are well received.
Free RP, enjoy, be nice to each other
Feel free to invent new areas to explore

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Axe tucked neatly into his brown leather belt, Thorin approached the Mirrormere. Night air blew his beard, creating a rustling sound as of hard boots through Autumn leaves. Noting the presence of a, rather rough looking dwarf, Thorin swiftly fixed him with a steely glint. He knw straight away what would happen. "Greetings my dwarf", he said. "I wish to access the chambers within, pray give me my first clue".
"

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The mirror mere was a sight to see, dark waters flashed a full spectrum of light onto the nearby mountain walls. It had been many weeks since Oro had last seen the water and like every other time he had peaked into the Kheled-zaram all he saw was his pristine reflection looking back at him. Black hair braided down his back, long thick raven colored beard with specs of gray beginning to filter through. He looked into his own deep blue eyes and saw no mystical future. Myth told of Durin the Deathless, son of Aule, had seen himself crowned in this lake. It was here that had encouraged him to first take the kingdom of Khazad-Dum.

Oro was wearing a fine blue robe with silver tassels, hood up over his head. On his back and arms he wore basic chain mail armor, with a pair of hand axes on his side. His thick battle hardened frame was about average height for a dwarf. Approaching the gate, he saw Elbaic standing before the gate, a fellow warrior and re-taker of the mines of Moria. They had fought on many a campaign together. Oro, boisterous as ever shouted, Elbaic, good friend, how are you today? “. He reached out a hand to shake the other dwarf’s hand, his many ringed fingers glistening in the torch light.

In his palm, he had a couple golden coins to loosen the tongue of the fellow dwarf, for Oro had been gone during the annual password change and did not know the new one, Elbaic could be a tough nut to crack and Oro did not want to cause a scene on his first day back in Khazad-Dum.

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Dagnead (the Dangerous) had a feeling today could be a very good day as he set out from home, provided of course he could find out the password. He did find it ever so frustrating that just as he remembered one password, it would change and he would have to start all over again. But this time he would be prepared, and he had about his person several trinkets and treasures to smooth the path.

So, with axe swinging at his hip, and his best boots on, he stomped his way to the Mirrormere, where he saw the password keeper, Elbaic. "Good day!" Dagnead called, grinning through his rust coloured beard in the hopes to warm Elbaic up a little. "How are you doing, friend? Is all well at home, keeping in good health?" and as he spoke he made as if to stumble a little and bent down briefly before Elbaic. When he straightened again a glittering gold brooch was on the floor at Elbaic's feet. "Ah my friend, you have dropped a bauble, wouldn't want you do lose it after all this hard work guarding the password" he said, with a wink.

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A dwarf of diminutive size and long white hair and beard trudged along muttering to herself. Her hair was in one thick braid down her back and her beard was in six braids. They were looking fuzzy and in need of a comb. Her mail was pitted and rusty in places and her toes were sticking out of her boots. In a harness on her back she carried an unusually fine battle axe with half-moon blades and a ruby mounted in a recess in the center. Several smaller axes of similar make were tucked into her belt. Either, she had been someone of importance at one time, or, she had lifted the weapons from someone who was.

She stopped and hiked up her belt before continuing her way until she reached the Mirrormere. She stopped and looked into the smooth water. She desperately needed a bath and considered peeling for a dip. A sound made her look up. Near the door was a small group of Dwarves facing a rather crusty looking Dwarf(Elbaic). She ran up, axes clattering, and listened in. She missed what was said over the sound of her own flatulence. Lembas never did agree with her.

She nudged a raven haired Dwarf, (Oro), and said rather loudly, "Hey I know you!"

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Elbaic was in a great mood. So far no-one had tried to get into the Halls that day. This made his job much easier because it required no effort to sit outside the Doors and look about darkly. He had, in fact, perfected the grumpy stare after so many years and was somewhat famous for it down below. Or was that infamous? He couldn't remember, but he knew that those young dwarf upstarts of the Brewing clan were always pointing and nudging when he went in for his ale. As he sat Elbaic hummed to himself, distinctly out of tune. Sometimes he brought little tasks with him to the lake's edge; a blade for sharpening, or some pipeweed to roll. Today, he was task free and therefore saw the first dwarf (Thorin) coming his way from a distance. Elbaic assumed his most rough and tough air, and waited. Upon approaching, this young upstart seemed to deem himself somewhat familiar to Elbaic, "I ain't your dwarf" Elbaic grunted. "And you can have your clue shortly, first you can stand there and have a think...". He winked and pointed to a flat bit of rock about 6 feet away from where they currently stood and stepped around the dwarf.

Behind this first visitor was someone Elbaic remembered. Here was Oro, a proper, well-meaning dwarf who knew how things were done. The dwarves shook hands and Elbaic stealthily moved tip from palm to pocket, "Will you be wanting down in the Halls then, Oro?" The old dwarf stroked his beard and with his left hand and drew from his cloak a slip of parchment ("borrowed" from the Kagam Khazads who were terrible at sharing), "Tell me the answer and I'll let you within". Upon the parchment was written: [Oro clue: I am the treasure of Erebor, what am I?]. Elbaic then ushered the dwarf to one side, as the clumsiest dwarf (Dagnead) yet to grace the cavern concentrated too much on his fancy words and fell at Elbaic's feet. The dwarf lifted an eyebrow at the gold nestling between the pebbles at his feet, "I can't bend down thar" he grunted, 'I am ancient, didn't you know? And I'm not your friend...not yet anyhow". He crooked a finger in what he imagined was a regal movement, but the moment was ruined as a dwarf (Dis) who had just invaded their personal space let forth what can only be described as a gust of flatulence. Elbaic blinked...this was a turn for the new!

OOC - I will give you a clue each. Bribes can be many many things...

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There was this little fluff of lacy looking Oak leaves at the edge of the Mirrormere. Its stout little trunk was barely visible under the whip-like branches and soft leaves. It was the sort of tree-like shrub that someone might pat because it looked soft, or they might dig it up and bring it into the halls to use as a Christmas tree. It had been sitting there for a long time dangling its snakey roots in the water. A Dwarf with a white beard and a thick white braid (Dis) gave off a foul smell, in a noisy fashion. The stentorian flatulence made the fluffy shrub thing move to get away from the smell. The water rippled from the movement. Golden eyes from under the round crown opened up. They studied the Dwarf. Her armor was rusting and her toes were showing in the toes of her boots.

The little Tree thing stretched her branches, and felt her middle. She was thicker than she remembered. There were also a lot more leaves. What had happened to her?

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Dagnead was momentarily taken aback by Elbaic's response, but the feeling passed as quickly as the gas from Dis's rear. "Ah, ahem, ugh, um" Dagnead spluttered and choked on the foul miasma and couldn't get out of the way fast enough. Taking the quickest way out he dove at Elbaic's feet, seizing the brooch and slipping it back into his pouch. Whilst resting on the floor, taking some deep breaths to remove the stench from his nostrils, he ruminated on another tactic to get access to the halls. "Say, Elbaic, if you are finding that being ancient makes reaching the floor a bit more tricky, you could always ask a fellow dwarf, such as myself, to help you with, for example, giving your boots a polish, and in return you could help your fellow dwarf with something they might be lacking in, such as, for example....access?" he said hopefully, looking up at Elbaic from the floor, eyes glittering.
Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

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Dis coughed and turned around. Well fancy that, I've actually blown a small tree away. "That lake thar stinks to high heaven. Didn't used to. They should drain it. You can get fevers from brackish water."

She was just observant enough to notice that this guard dwarf require some form of palm greasing to let them in. As she walked up she had seen him pass Oro a little slip of paper. The guard Elbaic seemed to know him. Alas Dis' days were so long ago and she had forgotten her dwarvish graces -and she looked more like a beggar than the dwarf she once was. All that remained of her former riches were her axes. The gems, mithril and gold were gone. What could she offer to get in? She scrounged in her pack. She pulled out a black bottle in the shape of a dragon and offered it to Elbaic "Orcish whatszit, I forget what it's called. Burns like heck going down but you can run for days after a belt of this."
The Dwarf formerly known as Mahal.

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The little Oak shook her crown. She knitted her leafy brows. "That was not the Mirrormere, ma'am. Then she coughed and tried the wave away the fumes with a branch. It's that brass band you are carrying with you under your rusty armor. Tarnished the silver, you did".

She produced from her leafy bosom a well worn pouch. She pulled out of it a glazed green bottle in the shape of a dragon's head. "Orc Bite. I think that is what you are looking for, is it not? Might banish any ill odors too." The little leafy doctor waved the bottle in her branches and held it in front Elbaic. "Could I get myself passage with this?"
Huorn of Fangorn

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Oghren

A small burp escaped the mouth of a Firebeard dwarf. Clad in a blue and green stained garment, Oghren struggled to stay on the road as he staggered to and fro. It was his day of the week to have his morning drink, his pre-afternoon drink, and his pre-pub drink. All in all, a regular day for the veteran dwarf as he attempted to enter Moria near the Mirrormere, as opposed to climbing on top of it and digging below. or spending a year traveling to the other side and drunkenly negotiating with whoever or whatever was there.

"Huh? People ahead?" Oghren mumbled as he walked nearer. He continued forward, and wound up taking a scenic route around the Mirrormere, until his feet accidentally brushed against the water.

"Sodding..." he muttered, realizing that his boots had gotten wet. He gazed over the Mirrormere, glaring at the reflection of a red-haired dwarf who's hair was all over the place.

"What are you looking at?" he asked the reflection, "I don't like the look on your very handsome face. Though... you kinda look like me don't you?"

After pondering for a moment, Oghren gazed up towards the door, seeing a group of dwarves and a shrubbery all offering assortments to the doordwarf.

"Stone... I think I drank a little too much before the main event. I'm seeing moving trees. Must be the wind, hehe. Awfully smelly though," Oghren said to himself as he walked closer to the door.

"Hey... err... Door dwarf person, you know what I mean," Oghren yelled at (Elbaic), "is the password 'cheese,'? Because it reeks over the smell of my own breath!"

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A coin offered, a coin taken. That was how Dwarven business worked. Bribes were a part of the culture, not some ethical deli a. It was how things worked in these halls. Surely as gold flowed through the smelting chambers below, so to did it exchange from hand to hand within those walls. After pocketing the coins, Elbaic reached into his pocket and procured a piece of parchment, which Oro unrolled.

”Ahh yes, hmm I see. Ohh well yes Ill be wanting into the halls.” flushed a bit, trying to rush through his memory what could be the treasure of Erebor. The answer to these riddles were usually not as straightforward as they seemed. Could Elbaic be talking about the Arkenstone? Or perhaps just gold? Or maybe even something abstract like the dwarves or the freedom from oppression?

Oro stroked his beard and then looked up at Elbaic ”I guess my answer would have to be the Akrenstone. He squinted, hoping that the most straightforward answer was correct. There were plenty of times Oro had been stuck standing before the door, with old Elbaic frowning at him, in that disapproving way. He sure hoped that wouldn’t happen again.

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Elbaic had never seen so much traffic! Didn't this require some sort of management? A flow system? Maybe some sign posts, ropes, little lights and dwarfs in tabards waving their arms around. So much possibility for expansion lay ahead of him if this popularity continued. In the midst of his entrepreneurial musings, the stinky dwarfette (Dis) and thrust a dark bottle under his nose, "Orcish whatszit, I forget what it's called. Burns like heck going down but you can run for days after a belt of this." she said, pressing it into his hand. Elbaic took it tentatively, as he wasn't sure how safe this orc stuff was and put it down gentle on the rock shelf behind him. He took a pause...and then picked it up and moved it another couple of metres further away. "Yer...offering is received." He grunt, "Now you receive a clue. And then you can give me yer name, and the correct answer and then I might let you inside for a bath. Which is apparently what you most need". Again, he dipped into his cloak and pulled out some parchment upon which was scrawled (Dis clue: On what day does the secret door to Erebor appear?).

His attention was then snatched by another bribe entering his circle of awareness. Elbaic had a bit of bride radar - he could sense good ones coming. This was not one of those moments. He peered, mystified, at the green, delicately leafed hand (Oak) which held the bottle and looked up in the serious and deep eyes of a Huorn. He gaped. He stared. He eventually found his voice, and coughed. " Yer can't buy passage. Tha's against rules. But you can buy a clue." This bottle went on the opposite end of the shelf from the first (because who needs that potential mix up) and he dug for another piece of parchment, one appropriate for such a visitor, and pressed it into the oaken hand, it read (Oakie clue: How were Ents created?).

Elbaic returned to Oro, who was stroking his beard in his thoughtful fashion. "Aye Oro" he said, reaching to shake the dwarf by the hand, "The Arkenstone indeed, the Heart of the Mountain, the light of all dwarf kind, buried beneath Erebor. So now" he gestured behind him, where the huge doors of Moria were stamped into the rock,"you can - " then, Elbaic saw with a sinking heart, a drunken dwarf weaving his way across the path. He extracted himself from the group and as he stepped towards the Firebeard he seemed to grow broader, stand straighter, develop muscles where before he was just old and wizened. As the dwarf (Oghren) proceeded to shout in his face, Elbaic laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and leant to the dwarf's ear. "Sit yourself down, brother" he said soothingly, "Maybe dip your hands in the Mirrormere, cool off, take in the view. I will see if I can get you an afternoon drink to get the dust off your throat how about that eh?"
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Oak accepted the parchment from Elbiac and unrolled it. She rustled off and settled near a rock. She fished around in her worn leather pouch for an inkwell and another piece of parchment. Her piece was in a poor state. She dipped her pen and started to write.

Ents are the most ancient of living things. Their origins are not unlike that of the Dwarves. Only the Valar that made them is Yavanna, and they reflect her love of things green and growing. When Yavanna discovered Eru's mercy concerning the matter of Aule and his Dwarves, she sought out Eru and asked him to give life to her Ents. Either the Ents were souls sent to inhabit trees or the Ents slowly took on the likeness of trees due to their love of trees.

Oak Scooted herself up the Elbiac again and handed her answer to him.
Huorn of Fangorn

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Dis saw her dragon bottle go up on the shelf. She would miss that little bottle as it had kept her going on many a long march. She had a tendency of making a nuisance of her self and and the sheriffs being called to clap her in irons. That's where the little black bottle came in handy. But she was home now and she had a little cache squirreled away in the old Morog halls that was worth more to her. She promised herself she would do her best not to bust up any pubs in Khazaddum. Her musings came to an end when Elbaic handed her a bit of parchment. She blurted: "The last light of Durin's Day!"
The Dwarf formerly known as Mahal.

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"What? You didn't like my joke. Hehe, I thought it was hilarious," Oghren responded to Elbaic, "maybe you're right though. There was this very... hehe... voluptuous dwarf in the Mirrormere that I'd like to look at more closely."

With that, he staggered closer to the Mirrormere, but before he could get near enough to look at this own reflection, Oghren promptly collapsed on the mud, and he began to snore. Passed out from alcohol yet again.

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Traffic was busy today, as Oro not only saw Oak the dwarf-friend huorn of Fangorn bustling by, and of course his good friend for many years, Queen Dis. He would have time to chat with both of them later, as he was still waiting on Elbaic. Patiently standing, iron shod boot tapping on the ground, He reached into his pocket and pulled out his long pipe. Throwing back his blue robe, the silver tassels shimmering in the light as they whipped behind him, Oro quietly began to pack the pipe.

It was then that Elbaic finally got to him, confirming that the Arkenstone was indeed the correct guess, “So now you can...” the stern dwarfs eyes darted off and he finished speaking mid-sentence, He quickly shimmied past the crowd of entrants and made his way to a dwarf that Oro had never met before. Elbaic seemed to grow his stature, like an animal preparing for a fight, before realizing that this approaching dwarf was inebriated to the point of incapacitation. With a mane of scorched red hair and a matching beard, this dwarf was presumably a Firebeard. He must have come a long distance to be standing before the gates of Khazad-Dum. But he was not standing for long, as Oghren slumped to the ground and collapsed in the mud.

The ebony haired Oro darted past Elbiac whose hand had been on the visitor’s shoulder and gripped the side of Oghren, turning him and attempting to pull him off the mud onto the dryer patch of rock to the side. ”Seems to be passed out.” he shook his head amused. Turning to Elbiac,

“I’ll vouch for him, perhaps you can help me get him inside to the guest halls and we can get him a bed to rest this off in?”

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The moment the words finished escaping from him, he knew they would not be received in the manner they had been intended. The furrowed brows, the eyes lacking a welcoming look, the face completely devoid of any smile at all. These told him he was in for some fun here. "I ain't your dwarf" Elbaic grunted. "And you can have your clue shortly, first you can stand there and have a think...". Thorin had no intention of standing and having a think. He didn’t need to. “Tell me, good sir,” he said reaching into his travelling pack and producing some Old Toby. “Would you like some tobacco to roll? The Shire’s finest, no charge. Perhaps then we could have a smoke and discuss clues”.

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Elbaic unfolded Oakie's answer with an eyebrow raised. His expression softened as he read what was written before him. He proffered her a hand "Varkin, dwarf friend" he said formally, "and welcome to the Kingdom of Khazad-dum. You may proceed into the halls, if you wish, and sample the delights of the greatest dwarven kingdom ever created, or you are welcome to stay here above. It is up to you" He smiled. His reverie was ended when the smelly Dis dwarf blurted out her answer, Elbaic composed himself, "Welcome, dwarf, to the finest of all dwarven kingdoms. You may proceed, if you wish, the Doors will open for you". Elbaic was about to pat her on the shoulder...but thought better of it. "Oro", he said, over his shoulder, "take this", he turned and handed the dwarf a small silver axe head, small enough to fit in a palm and jewelled. "If you show that at the guest halls they will let you leave him (Oghren) there, you can return it to me at any time".

Elbaic rolled his shoulders, shifting the stress and weight which came with his position and responsibility. The other dwarf, Thorin, seemed to have grasped the idea. Elbaic reached beneath his green cloak for his pipe, "Aye a smoke would go down well right about now" he said.
Family Stealtharm | Sil's #1 Property | Knowledge of a woman, pride of a dwarf | Khazâd ai-mênu!

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Oakie tried the bow in thanks to Elbaic. "At your service, as your people say. Many thanks you allowing me entry. This was my home away from home many years before. She slipped into the halls Her aim was to head into the familiar Morog Halls where her Doctor Office waited. She was wondering if it had been spoiled by goblins. She remembered the gems set in sconces hung on the walls that glowed with a warm light. This was how her office was lit. It was full of supplies she had used as a doctor for the Morog clan. She had to fan her face again. Once inside, though she was going to follow that white bearded Dwarf Dis. It would take a Dwarf to open most of the doors - exept the door to her own spaces. Hopfully the dwarf would lead her down the right passages.
Huorn of Fangorn

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As Elbaic was waiting for Thorin to start rolling the pipeweed and generally providing the goods as befitted the bribery of a door dwarf, Elbaic returned his attention to Dagnead who was taking a rest on the floor. Elbaic couldn't blame him, that Dis came with quite a wiff. The older dwarf scratched his nose, "Ye know Dagnead" Elbaic said, "I do not need my boots polishing, but I do need the answer to this. My memory is not what it was, I'm sure ye can understand". Once more, his hand subtly went in side his cloak and he lifted a slip of parchment from a pocket. Under the pretence of checking his shiny boots, Elbaic passed it to the dwarf and sat back with a groan. On the parchment was written, (Dagnead clue: What are the clans of Khazad-dum and their respective expertise?)
Family Stealtharm | Sil's #1 Property | Knowledge of a woman, pride of a dwarf | Khazâd ai-mênu!

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"Once, upon a time there was young dwarf," Balfur says to no one in particular. He has been alone for so long that he has taken to telling stories to whatever is around.
"This young dwarf was walking down this very road, if you can believe it. He came from Erebor, I suppose, hoping to make it big in the great halls of the Dwarrowdelf. Expecting it, too.
"Why, he had a belt of gold that shone like the sun. And an ancestral weapon that showed off his heritage. And gold! A whole pouch full of golden coins! And maybe some silver ones too, but that is of no importance. No, the important thing was that he was a rich youth hopin... expecting to make it big in Khazad-dum.
"
Balfur pauses for a heartbeat, a thoughtful frown washing over his dusty face.
"No, he deliberates, the most important of all were the dwarf's boots!"
The ponderous look disappears from his face and he chuckles while he wriggles his bare toes. How different is his situation now from back then! The boots are gone, the belt is gone, even the ancestral hammer has not survived the years of travels. His deep blue hood has faded to a weathered slate colour. His golden blonde, braided beard is now ashen and hangs in wild strands over his chest. His shirt is worn and tattered and instead of trousers Balfur wears a skirt that looks like it was improvised out of some sort of blanket and is held up by a piece of rope. The only item he carries is a stick. Just some branch he has picked up to help him find his footing.
As he sees the Stone of Durin, he murmurs: "the young dwarf probably guffawed openmouthedly at Kheled-zaram when he passed by. But he falls silent as he approaches the lake to peer at the dark waters.

He swallows hard as he looks up from the beauty that is Mirrormere. It finally gets to him that after all these years, Balfur is come home. And this time it is not some kind of nightmarish vision quest, performed in a stinky basement of a far-away inn. No, this time it is real. Awe for the dark waters and desire to rush homeward fight for but an instant within him. Then he turns away from the lake and hurries to the doors of Moria.
The first thing he sees, however, is a fellow dwarf (Ohgren), who is collapsed into the mud and seems to be snoring loudly. As Balfur approaches the figure, the reek of alcohol reaches him. He smiles; it seems some things never change. It is likely that other dwarves at the doors have this notion, because another dwarf (Oro rushes the aid of the drunken dwarf and tries to enlist the aid of a dour faced individual (Elbaic) who is stood in front of the gate. Seeing this dwarf, Balfur pauses for a moment. He has been described as dour faced in the past, but he is quite sure he holds no comparison to this specimen of dourness. In fact, he would go so far as to argue that the expression "a dour face" originated from, if not this particular dwarf, certainly their ancestor. Balfur cannot help but stare.
But after an instant he regains his agency and grabs the other side of Oghren. "Let me help you, master dwarf. He reminds me too much of my own predicaments." He breathes to Oro. Though his offer to help this fallen comrade is sincere, he also hopes to bypass whatever test this dourness incarnate has conjured up for the likes of him.
Some think to be strong is to be hard like stone. Others know to be strong is to endure like stone.

Melkor
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"Aaah," breathed Oghren as his eyes fluttered open. He yawned, as he tried but failed to feel his legs,

"Huh," Oghren muttered, "I swear those worked an hour ago."

Then his eyes looked at the blurry figure that was known as (Balfur). The red-bearded dwarf squinted, "Branka, you came back? No. No," he said at (Balfur), "Aren't you that.... Bao-Dur guy?"

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Ducky had a habit of wandering. He had lately taken to making wider and wider circles within Fangorn, and this time had swung out very far north and then west, after heading too far east. This had brought him to the Dwarrowdelf. How curious! It had been many, many years since he had ventured near dwarven territory. Would they even remember him? Dwarves had a well-earned reputation for playing things close to the chest. Very suspicious of outsiders, they were, and Ducky's natural associations with the air and water had never exactly endeared him to them. He wasn't sure (or couldn't remember) why dwarves disliked water so much exactly, but he knew they did. He would have to downplay the waterfowl thing while he approached.

"Hail, and well met! Ducky, at your service, Mr. uhhh" he trailed off, waiting for this stern looking dwarf to introduce himself. The dwarf appeared to be some sort of security guard or bouncer, so rather than walk by Ducky was attempting to ingratiate himself and receive permission to pass. It was the proper thing to do. It was a bit dangerous to say Mister to any given dwarf, if you did not know them, but so it went. How else would the greeting fit his Butterbur reference?

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Drifa had been on a long journey, living a solitary life. Things had changed and it was okay to be less clannish at this particular time in the whole of the world. She had encountered many folk on the road with the same kind of attitudes. But change had come and time had passed. She felt the need to be heading homeward.
Her walk past the Mirrormere brought back so many wonderful memories of her clan the Ankixogs, and the tent in the cave that stood in the Hall overlooking the Mirrormere. Peaceful memories she reminisced.
Finally she was before the Doors. She stood meters apart from the rest of the group that was there; all in front of the wall between two of the biggest Holly trees that had ever been imagined. It had been years and some of the dwarves that stood about were unrecognizable to her. She tried to recall the password that opened the doors, whilst eyeing the group. She felt stumped.
Spotting a dwarf she thought might be a cousin (Balfur), she spoke to him.

"Oi! Greetings! Drifa at your service! My how your beard has grown! Might the password be, you think, 'More Ale If You Please' ?"
The world was fair in Durin's Day

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