After the dramatic last chapter one would expect some suitable aftermath, like a goblin invasion of insane proportions to avenge the fallen, or perhaps a thrilling escape for the dwarfs, through unknown wilderness followed by merciless goblins and trolls. Instead, the readers had to settle for a peaceful continued passage down the mountains, except for a minor avalanche. It was all Runars fault, really. Ok, maybe not really. The two dwarfs were walking through a mountain pass a relatively warm afternoon. It was rugged ground, impossible to use the skis effectively. It was late in winter and the snow was getting heavy and packed. Runar was taking the lead.

-Runar, your skis are banging against your backpack. The sound may start an avalanche. Runar? Runar!?

-DON'T SHOUT, YOU'RE GONNA START AN AVALANCHE!

Heaps of snow began to glide down from the cliffs above, slowly gaining speed and dragging with them more snow.

-Oooops…said Runar

-You moron! Take cover!

-To the stone over there!

After the predictable logistical debacle a pair of stunted snowmen sluggisgly made their way back on top the rest of the snow.

-Mmmf, uff, gasp. Where are you Runar?

-Behind you.

-Aha.

-We can not go over the mountain so let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria.

-What are you talking about? Moria is miles away.

-Uuh, I don't know. The lines just came to me. Almost like I was reading a script of some kind. Weird.

The next day they made it down from the pass and into the lowlands again. The first stage of their plan had succeeded. They had penetrated deeply into the goblin lands and were ready to find some dignitaries and start spying and negotiating. The trouble was that they didn't really know whom to look for. Who ruled the goblins? Did anyone do that?

The goblins had spent a lot of effort after the battle of five armies on finding a new strategy more suited to the political situation of the area. After careful deliberation they came up with a quite sensible idea: hide under the mountains just as usual. To direct invaders away from their main bases and organisation…well, the goblin excuse for organisation – a slightly less chaotic situation than total chaos. Anyway, they decided to appoint some luckless individuals to official kings, emperors, counts and lords of all sorts, giving the impression that the orcs of the misty mountains were in fact ruled by feudal nobility. In order to maintain this illusion it was inevitable to give these mock kings some actual authority to sign agreements, lest other factions find out that someone behind the scene is the actual ruler. As anyone except the Rohan administrators could imagine, this system was the final blow against any pretence of order among the goblins.

Into this cauldron boiling over with political pranks and constitutional crisis, Runar and Halvdan trotted lightly.

Mere words are not enough to give the impression of civilization. One must employ a number of status symbols which signify that one has the time and wish to engage in fruitless and unnecessary activities. The goblins had taken this advice to heart. They had invented a large number of useless food, furniture, art objects and literature. Their court and nobility loaded themselves as well as they could with crown jewels and expensive outfits. Or did their best to do so.

Picking a well hidden spot, Runar and Halvdan spent several days spying on the road to Dains Halls, the easternmost goblin settlement. At last, their efforts were amply rewarded. A goblin court party featuring not only several lords but also a goblin emperor! The party was evidently meeting someone, a goblin coming from the east dressed in blue rags with a jacket worn over one shoulder and a silly hat. He was about to address the emperor, which was dressed in a grey coat and a black hat or crown. He was holding a sceptre that looked oddly similar to a gnawed-off bone, together with a globus cruciger orb which bore a striking resemblance to an orange.

The goblin lord began to speak.

-My lord emperor, I, ze Duc de Snagling, bring words. The scouts have cleared the way to Erebor.

-Good, prepare to attack.

-Very well. But first, I would like to ask: why do we want to invade the dwarfs in the first place? I mean zeir wine is made of the pipi of cows and zeir women all have big beards.

-We invade, Snagling, because ze dwarfs zink zey are so taff! Zey call us weeds and woopsies and unable to hold our liquor!

-With respect emperor, we are woopsies. We invented the tapestry, the sufflé and the sweet liqueur. We will be slaughtered the minute we mince up their hill.

-Do not despair. Et es my firm belief zat Melkor hates ze dwarfs. He will intervene miraculously and zend us a glorious victory zere on zat field of Erebor!

-Oh bravo monsieur! Love the uniform by the way.

-Oui, I zink it works.

-Oui.

A rock were suddenly falling from a nearby cliff. It landed with a great noise. The high dignitaries of the goblins clutched their hearts.

-OooOOoh! Hehe…

After seeing this example of the notable decrease in savagery of the goblin leadership, Halvdan became very thoughtful. He suggested that they retreat east a bit to have time to think. He then sent Runar to keep watch and alert him when the goblins seemed willing to march east. It took some time, during which Halvdan went through his bag of disguises. At last he heard Runar call.

-Halvdan, the goblins are approaching.

-Excellent! I have a superb plan which cannot fail and will result in the complete fooling of the goblins and neutralization of their will to invade us in the foreseeable future.

-Oh, good. What is it?

-Very well: The plan is, gosh I do surprise myself, to allow the goblins to come within fifteen metres and then, and this is the really clever and original part, then reveal ourselves disguised as a travelling dwarf couple. The sight of you dressed up as a dwarf woman will without doubt cause those goblins to belay every possible plan of troubling our people. As you heard they were quite repulsed by the thought of very bearded women. After introducing ourselves we will of course also offer them the famous dwarf wine.

-What dwarf wine? I have never heard of any such thing and we certainly didn't bring any.

-But we do have mushrooms that have started to rot and should be thrown away in any case. And we also have passed some lingonberry shrubs just recently. Those last-year berries should provide the appropriate rotten taste for the infamous dwarf wine, don't you think?

-Well…not bad actually! I just have one tiny modification.

-What is that?

-Since I am the diplomat and the one most experienced and authorized when it comes to negotiating with foreign peoples…

-I don't like where this is going…

-…and you are the master of disguise and mystery…

-No way! This was MY plan. I get to choose how it is carried out.

-…it is of course best if I handle the talking and YOU play the repulsive dwarf woman.

-Blast! This is no tiny modification; it is a total conversion and major overhaul! The main point was that you should play the repulsive bearded woman!

-But you still admit that my arguments are sensible?

-Snarl! You owe me one big favour for this Runar.

-Perhaps the dwarf wine will suffice? I promise it shall be yours as soon as the negotiations are over. Hahahahaha!

-That was not funny!

So the bold adventurers set off to change clothes and pick lingonberries and mash them with water and mushrooms best left unsmelled. When they were ready the goblin party had come conveniently nearer.

-Let's go, o great beuaty. Whispered Runar.

They strolled out from the trees. The goblin party stopped as if petrified. Indeed, the appearance that met them was as frightening as any gorgon. Halvdan's bad mood made him the most savage and terrifying dwarf woman figure imaginable.

-Hail, great goblins! Said Runar.

-Uh…hail? Said one goblin.

-We are so happy to run into you! I thought I would wonder about in this wilderness for ages and never see anyone. You guys come here often?

-Um, we are ze goblin court. We are on our way to commence the invasion of Erebor.

-Shut up! Said the goblin emperor.

-You're going to Erebor? That's great! We can tag along sure?

-?

-And you know, tell you what, when we get there I'm gonna show you the best taverns and inns imaginable. We've got the best wine you can think of! Just stick with me and you'll be cool. Here, try the wine I have packed. It's just a little but much more is waiting in Erebor, oh yes!

Runar handed over the "wine" bottle. The goblins were so surprised that they took a sip each before even realising what they had done.

-Eeeuuargh!

-Blaauurgh!

-"spit"

-What on earth is zis? Said the emperor, choking.

-The finest dwarf wine! It's great, isn't it? And when in the taverns, I'll introduce you to my wife's gorgeous cousins, still singles "wink" "wink". But you better hurry.

-You drink zis…I don't know what to say…

-Of course. All the time. But I am forgetting my manners! Halv…I mean Margit Capet! Let me introduce you to…didn't catch your name, sorry?

-Uurgh…Napoleoshnak. Emperor Napoleoshnak of ze goblin grande armée.

Halvdan stepped forward. He was in his worst mood ever. His eyes were close to shooting thunderbolts and his mouth clenched tightly, as if he imagined biting someone really hard. The general effect was terror incarnated.

-AAAAAAAAAHH! Said all goblins and routed.

-Do you think it worked? Whispered Runar.

-If not we better run very quickly. Those creeps are fond of light skirmishers. Or at least fond of wasting them on futile attacks against stronger foes. Whispered Halvdan.

The goblins had regrouped about fifty metres away and seem to be engaged in a serious discussion. The dwarves could not hear them but this is what they said.

-That was terrible! Mon dieau! Such ugliness. I shudder at ze very thought of it.

-And he said everyone looked like that?

-And ze wine! Disgusting would be too good for that hideous brew!

-What should we do then?

-We have to invade Erebor still. We just have to avoid getting close to them.

-But how? Our missile troops are crap!

-If we built light siege towers to use even in field battles?

- But if the dwarfs retreat we cannot catch them.

-But they won't retreat, just look how those two travellers almost embraced us. Strange people.

-What if…

-NO MORE! I can't stand ze thought of laying eyes on such monstrous creatures again! Or zat hideous liquor! We are not invading Erebor! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! LA COUPE EST PLEINE!

-Oui emperor…

-As you say monsieur…

And so the goblin court walked back and to the astonishment of ze dwarfs asked them to tell king Dain that ze goblins wished to cease hostilities and start trading. They also asked them to excuse the goblins who could not join them in the Erebor taverns but had urgent business somewhere else. Far away actually. Come to think of it, such a considerable distance away that it would be impossible to re-establish contact for quite some time. Ages. More than ages. An eternity in fact. No, longer than that. About the time it takes for even the most experienced of modders to find and eliminate all bugs in a newly released Total War game about the 18:th or 19:th century. OK, maybe not that long, but still an eternity.