Snake sat on the wall smoking a pipe. He was looking out over the land and back into fortress. He could see the battle, how the attack would effectively come. He knew the ways of Mordor's war. Snake took a long thoughtful draw from his pipe.

"From whom did you win the armor of silver-steel?"

Snake knew the voice and he smiled turning to straddle the wall. The dwarf stood there with his axe. Snake had seen many dwarves and honestly he was more for their company than the elves unlike the rangers.

"Glóin at Erebor." Snake took another draw from his pipe glad to have a break from his thoughts. Recognition and surprise spread in the dwarf's expression. "You know him?"

Snake waited letting the smoke curling out as he breathed.

"You speak of my father." The dwarf seemed flabbergasted. "You… You... Bah."

Snake cracked a smile. "Which of his sons?"

"Gimli. I am. You are that man who came from Dale?" The surprise passed and it seemed the dwarf knew a lot about his travels.

"Yes." Snake turned back to look out on the plains before the Deeping Wall.

"I heard you were dead. Hunted by the orcs of Mordor."

"Looks like you heard wrong." The smile reappeared in Snake's expression.

"No surprise. Good axe is all you need."

Snake let out a quiet laugh. He did like the mind of the dwarves. It was much more like his own stubborn cockiness than any of the other races. "Rather a sword. Leave the axes to the dwarves."

A call came up from the King's advisor and Snake turned to look down on the gathering people. Snake tapped out his pipe and slid off the wall. "We survive. I'll buy the first round."

Snake smiled at Gimili as he stood.

"You'll buy three." The dwarf called with their usual drinking cheer.