One
Walking through the front door of the Tall Tree Inn were two dwarves, Thorin and Dwalin, who were both tired from a hard day's work. Not too tired, however, to glare at and scare off any of the Men who dared to stare too closely at them. Taking a seat at a corner table, they each nodded to the inn keeper, one of their few friends in the city of men, who smiled kindly back to them before turning to one of the barmaids and telling her to prepare a room.
The table was scarcely light by one lone candle nearly at the end of its wick, and a chilling breeze was blowing towards them from an old window that would no longer close all the way. The spot was an uncomfortable and unfavorable one, yet they decided to sit there whenever they could, if only for the sake of having some privacy. Two mugs of ale were quickly placed in front of them by the bartender's wife with a swift promise to bring out some stew when it was finished cooking.
"Thank you, miss." Thorin grumbled before she hurried off, and the woman managed a half-smile in his general direction. The Men of this town were not fond of dwarves, so whenever one tried their hand at being kind to Thorin, he tried his own hand at showing his thanks. It didn't help too much, but it was better than scowling like an ungrateful child.
Thorin sighed, pulling off his leather work gloves and rubbing at the center of one of his palms. Dwalin eyed his motion as he too ridded himself of the gloves, taking a large drink from the mug in front of him. After giving a slight burp, he leaned back against the seat and frowned at Thorin.
"You're working too hard and too often. If you don't give yourself a break every now and then," he said with his heavy brogue accent, "your hands'll become as weak and useless as a newborn babe's."
With his heads till tilted down at his hands, Thorin scowled up at his friend irritably. He did not argue though, for Dwalin's words were true enough.
"How do you expect to make any coin then, your highness?" Dwalin asked smartly with a teasing smirk.
"Keep your voice down." Thorin hissed as he glanced quickly to the side to see if anyone was within hearing range. A few were, but those few also seemed to be buried either in their mugs of ale or the bosom of some wench. Undoubtedly, this establishment was not a decent one, and if a pauper were seen here, then he would certainly stay a pauper.
Looking back to Dwalin, the would-be king stopped fussing with his hands and let his arms rest upon the tabletop.
"You know as well as I the consequences of my stature."
"Aye; thieves and pick-pockets, the lot of them." Dwalin grumbled with a judgmental look towards the inn's patrons. After having another drink, the dwarf's eyes turned back to Thorin and he spoke.
"I wouldn't trust a single one to watch my pony for me. Though I don't think you should worry, much Thorin; it's doubtful that any of them are clever enough to connect the dots between you and your real identity. Nearly thirty years we've been in Bree, and not once have you been recognized. I would take it as a great offense if we weren't relying on their ignorance."
Thorin gave a scoff and picked up his drink, staring into the dull liquid before him with slight distaste.
"A great offense indeed." Thorin muttered under his breath just before bowls of stew were set before them. They settled into a comfortable silence as they tucked into their meal.
Dwalin couldn't help to think that this meal, like every other one he's had since Erebor was lost, would do much better with their friends and family around. Music, talking, plenty of laughter, maybe even a good brawl or two. Never dull, saddened moment was had when grog and gruel were presented before a gathering of dwarves, that is for certain.
Sighing in a downtrodden fashion, Dwalin tried to think of something other than the sadder aspects of their lives.
"Have you received word from the boys as of late?" He asked as he stirred his soup a bit.
Already Thorin seemed to lighten up at the thought of his sister-sons, and he found himself grinning while he told Dwalin of them.
He went into a long, bragging rant about how Kili had found decent business in hunting pheasants, foxes, wolves and such. He would sell the meats and pelts separately, which was clever since it made his earnings a tad greater. Then Thorin spoke about Fili and how well he was doing in his diplomatic studies, learning about the economy and how dwarven politics worked.
"Not only that, but it seems that he's caught himself a lass as well." Thorin said with a chuckle.
Dwalin's brow raised in pleasant surprise and guffawed along with Thorin.
"Now, that is some good news, my friend!"
Thorin nodded happily and pushed away his empty bowl.
"Aye. They plan to visit with Dis in ten weeks' time; hopefully Fili will bring his girl along with him."
Dwalin nodded in agreement.
"A treat that would be, certainly. Well, if you're finished with your food, I think we ought to get some rest. I've got to teach four lads how to properly wield a sword, and I know you've not yet finished those orders yet."
"You are right Dwalin, as per usual." Thorin pushed himself up from the table with a tired grunt and gathered the bowl and mug to take back to the bartender. It wasn't required of him to do so of course, but the bartender was letting him stay at the inn for a cheaper price than most customers, so Thorin figured he'd do what he could to make work easier on the man. Dwalin followed after Thorin with his own bowl and mug in hand.
"Here you are, Mr. Gray." Thorin said in his low voice, reaching above his head to place the dishes on the counter which happened to be simply too tall for dwarves. As always, the man looked in all directions with his bushy brows raised in search of the one speaking to him before thinking to look down. When he did spot the two cantankerous looking dwarves, the man named Mr. Gray smiled largely and leaned over the counter to have a better look at them.
"Ah, master dwarf! Thank you so very much for bringing your dishes back, I do hope that the meal was to your liking. Is there anything else you'll be needing tonight?"
"No, that is all—" Thorin started to say before Dwalin moved forward and placed his large hand on his friend's shoulder to interrupt him.
"Actually, I was wondering if you might do me a favor, lad."
Thorin gave Dwalin a skeptical look at the request, not too sure what he was on about.
"Oh, of course my good sir! What is it that you need?" Mr. Gray asked humbly.
"Right around four weeks from now my friend and I will be out of work. It would be mighty helpful if you kept your ear to the ground when merchants come round, see if they need protecting during their travels or anything of the sort."
Thorin's expression softened just a bit as he realized that Dwalin was right in looking for work early on. In the business of repairing weapons and training want-to-be soldiers, work wasn't always promised. On more than one occasion, they had either to find new occupations, beg for a meal, or starve to death. And dwarves don't beg anyone for anything under any circumstance, so that was not even an option in their eyes.
"I shall do just that, master dwarf. Always glad to help, I am! Now that I think of it though," Mr. Gray mumbled as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "there was a young woman the other day, a trader she did say she was, in search of either four Men or two dwarven escorts."
"Four Men or two dwarves?" Dwalin said in a less friendly tone—not that he ever sounded friendly in the first place. He scoffed. "That's a bit of a stretch, thinking that having four of them is the same as having two of us."
"I thought the same thing." Mr. Gray said with a kind laugh.
"If she's looking for the strength and knowledge of two dwarves, then she might as well ask for eight men."
Mr. Gray's smile slowly turned into a slight frown at Dwalin's offensive statement. Was Dwalin saying that Men were not only weaker than dwarves, but also less knowledgeable than them? He may have befriended Thorin, and he might be a kind man, but he was still a Man, and he would defend his race if he needed to.
When Dwalin crossed his large, scarred, tattooed arms over his barrel of a chest and gave a challenging look, however…he figured that he didn't really need to defend his race right this second.
Thorin, knowing that Dwalin was trying to pick a fight, was quick to step forward and gain the innkeeper's attention once more.
"Did this woman happen to mention when she next planned to travel?"
"She did say something about needing a couple of weeks to make preparations, but I can't quite remember her exact words. She does stay in one of our rooms though; perhaps I could suggest she meet you at your table sometime?"
"A fine idea indeed, Mr. Gray, thank you. Tell her to see us tomorrow night during dinner, if you would." Thorin instructed as he placed a handful of coins up on the counter with a brief, stiff smile. Before he could hear the innkeeper's response, he roughly grabbed Dwalin around the arm and dragged him away from the counter. Considering Dwalin's size and extreme dislike for being manhandled, it was rather impressive that Thorin managed to move the dwarf even an inch.
"Would you be so considerate, mister Dwalin," Thorin hissed through his teeth as he stomped towards their room, not bothering to look back at his companion, "as to not try and start a fight every single time we enter an establishment?"
Arriving at their room, Thorin unlocked and swung the door open before just standing there and waiting for Dwalin to enter.
"Oh, don't get your braids in a twist, little prince." Dwalin grumbled back as he walked into the bedchambers. Thorin only sighed with the shake of his head and decided to let the subject drop.
The room was small with two beds, one desk, one meek chair, one fireplace, one dresser, one mirror, one chamber pot, and one wash bin. It was windowless, as was requested, therefore lit only by a few dull candlesticks and the fireplace. The beds were large enough for the dwarves that they could have easily shared one with room to spare. While Thorin and Dwalin were close friends though, brothers in battle even, they certainly weren't close enough to sleep next to one another. They'd been staying there for close to three years by now, which wasn't hard to miss due to how lived-in the room looked; portraits of their siblings and parents were hung from the walls, books and letters were stacked on top of the dresser with blank papers and quills sat patiently waiting to be used, weapons were leant against the wall or lying underneath their beds. These were clearly not the lodgings of any short-term tenant.
Dwalin sat on the edge of his bed with a sigh whilst Thorin closed and locked the door, wedging a spare chair under the handle as he did every night—the back of the chair even had a groove where the doorknob rubbed against it.
"You're welcome by the way." Dwalin grumbled suddenly as he was undressing and getting ready to go to sleep.
Thorin's brow rose in confusion whilst he moved towards his bed.
"Whatever am I welcome for?"
"For finding you work to do once your orders are complete, of course." Dwalin said with a grin as if it were the most obvious thing in all of Middle Earth. "And it's work with a woman, nonetheless."
Thorin snorted as he picked his boots off and hung his jacket from the bedpost.
"You might enjoy doing business with women, Dwalin, but I much prefer working with men. Less fragile and obnoxious, men are."
"Aye, but not nearly as pretty." They both shared a hearty laugh at that.
