Dori leaned back in his chair as he took in a long breath of mint-flavored smoke from his pipe. With his eyes closed, he could not see the flickering of the flames before him, but he could certainly feel them. The warmth felt good against his skin, reminding him of his own hearth back in Erebor. Just a couple more days, he thought, and he could be sitting in front of it again with a nice cup of tea while listening to Nori and Ori bickering…

Wait.

That last bit wasn't right…

Opening his eyes, he turned round to see his brothers motioning angrily at two sets of stone dice on the table. "You're using you're weighted dice, Nori! That isn't fair!" Ori accused, doing his best to sound as stern as possible. Being the youngest of the three, however, made him sound anything but authoritative—at least to Nori.

"They are not my weighted dice! Why would I cheat at a game of dice with my own brother when I know full well he hasn't anythin' o' value to offer?" Nori snapped, throwing one of the dice at him. It hit Ori square in the forehead, making him scrunch his nose up and rub the spot.

'Durin's beard, they're at it again…' Dori thought, his eyes closing again. This time, however, it was not in peace.

Ori snatched up the die that had been thrown at him. "This is too one o' your weighted dice!" he argued. "I see the bits of granite you've stuck in the numbers!" He angrily pointed at the minute, white flecks inside the die's rune markings.

"You couldn't tell granite from gabbros," Nori growled, snatching it back from him. "You've never even worked in a mine! Mum made sure of that!"

"That's because mum saw my potential as a transcriber," Ori grumbled, looking away with a small, indignant pout.

Nori rolled his eyes as he gathered up the rest of his dice. "No, she just knew you wouldn't last three days in one of those nâshtagûl-"

"Language," Dori idly warned. "And stop your bickering. Nori, use your unweighted dice. You're not trying to swindle money out o' people here—least of all, your brother." He shook his head and sighed, smoke slowly billowing from his mouth and nose. "Why, if our dear old mother were alive and hearing the way you two fight…She'd knock you both upside the head an' make you scrub the floors."

"Sounds similar to what my mother would make my sister and I do." The brothers looked up in time to see Demelza coming to a halt at their table. With her, she brought a platter of food. "Here you lads are," she said, an apologetic smile on her lips. "Sorry it took a bit; we've just got a couple o' wagons of supplies here from Dorwinion, so the kitchen an' store room are in a bit of a tizzy."

Dori got up from his chair and dragged it back over to the table. "It's quite alright, Miss Demelza," he replied, smiling reassuringly. "This should do us quite well for now."

"Alright then," she said. "Just give us a holler if you're needin' anything." With a twirl of her skirts, she walked back into the kitchen once more, leaving the dwarves and a pair of old men as the room's only occupants.

After having stayed there for a full week, they had come to learn that such emptiness was highly uncommon.

"Bifur and Bofur are missing out," Ori spoke, trying to change subject with his brothers. "Where are they at?" He started to cut into the loaf of crusty bread, wanting some to dunk into his soup.

Nori shrugged, still feeling a bit sour towards him and Dori. "Probably in that run-down shack they're goin' to call a store." He slid his dice into a pouch on his belt, his brows furrowed slightly.

"It's a strong building," Dori interjected, throwing him a look. "Once they get it cleaned up, I'm sure it'll suit their needs." He sliced a chunk of cheese from the large wedge they had been given and dropped it into his soup bowl. "It's adds a bit more of a salty flavor," he told his brothers when they looked at him oddly.

Nori shook his head. "It's a gamble I wouldn't have made an' that's sayin' something," he told the other two. He merely ripped a chunk of bread from the loaf and split that in half. Between the pieces, he spooned a bit of soup before placing some cheese atop it. On top of that, he placed a wedge of meat and smashed it all together between the two pieces of bread before taking a large bite. "They're toymakers, not carpenters," he somehow managed to say through the mouthful of food.

Dori rolled his eyes. "Don't talk with your mouth full!" he dryly scolded. "Ori, have you been keepin' a record of our goings-on over the last few days?" he then asked, changing the subject once more.

"Yes, I have," he replied, fumbling with something on his belt. After a moment, he held up a small, leather-bound book. "All of it is in here, includin' the meetings we had just this morning." Flicking the book open, he thumbed through it until he found the most recent pages. "See?" He handed it over to Dori, who started to study it.

Nori leaned over, looking at it as well. "It seems that we'll be doin' most of our dealings with the Lightfoot family," he murmured. Sitting upright once more, he took another bite of his food before spooning some soup into his mouth.

"Indeed it does," Dori agreed. "As well as that Lady Guthwine…"

Ori, having heard most of what they were talking about earlier, paid them no mind as he ate his lunch. He did his best to not slurp the soup from his spoon, not wanting to disrupt the general quiet of the room at the moment. Truthfully, the work his brothers did bored him almost to tears. The only reason he had come with them was because he would be able to see how the humans of Dale lived (which was much different from the small villages near the Blue Mountains) and how much the city had improved since the war.

Hearing voices from the kitchen, he glanced up in time to see Warren backing his way into the common room, holding up one end of a massive oak barrel. As the other half of the barrel came through, he could see that a young man held the other end. He was similar to Warren in size and height, but the color of his eyes matched the bright green of Baylee's and he had dirty-blonde hair. Though, there was one notable feature about him that kept Ori from noticing the rest: Almost the entirety of the left side of his face was covered by horrible scarring.

"More t' the left," the man told Warren as they carried the barrel behind the bar. The two of them grunted loudly as they started to crouch down. "Watch your fingers!"

"You, too," Warren answered as they set the barrel down. Seeing that it was in its proper place and had no intent of rolling away, they grinned and stood up straight again. "Now, how many did ya say were left out there?" he jokingly asked.

The young man smirked as Warren set a large hand on his shoulder. "Eight. You told me to refill our alcohol supplies an' that's just what I did."

"And not a day too soon! By the end of the week, we would have been out of wine and, by the end of next week, we would have been out of ale!" He laughed, mussing up the younger man's hair.

He pouted and patted his hair back into place. "Now, da', when have I ever let ya down?" he asked, unscarred brow rising.

"It would appear that Miss Baylee got the short-stick in her family," Ori thought aloud, interrupting Nori and Dori's chat about what virgin ore would be best to give to which of their potential business partners.

Dori raised his spoon from his soup, a long, thin string of cheese rising with it. "Hm? Why's that, lad?"

He motioned to the two men, who were just ducking back into the kitchen. "That younger bloke is her brother."

Nori snorted, his brow rising. "I'd like t' know what they eat, then," he said, half joking. "Maybe if I ate whatever they did, I could get taller than Dwalin." He spooned more soup into his mouth before ripping off another hunk of bread. This one he put into the middle of his soup, using his spoon to mash it up.

At that, Dori and Ori snorted into their bowls. "You already are," Ori grinned. "But only because of your hair!" He grinned cheekily as Nori shot him a small glare, though he was able to see that his middle brother also wore a small grin on his lips.

Warren and his son came hauling in another barrel not long after. The dwarves could see that it was taking them some effort; as strong as Warren looked (and was), his cheeks were red and there were beads of sweat forming along his brow. Dori frowned and wondered why they didn't they have others to help? Surely the stable hand could have helped?

Waiting until they had set the barrel down, he called over, "Lads, would you like some help with those barrels?"

Panting slightly, Warren looked over at the dwarves. "I couldn't ask tha' o' you, Master Dori. You're a guest here!" He pulled a kerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe the sweat off his face.

Dori smiled reassuringly. "You're not asking—I'm offerin'. Now, with that said, would you like some help?"

With a small laugh, Warren nodded in defeat. "Aye, some help would much appreciated, Master Dori. We've got six more of these heavy blighters t' haul in."

"Should be easy enough," he chirped, standing. "Nori, Ori—let's go. Our lunches will still be here when we get back."

Just as a reassurance, both Ori and Nori shoved a last bite of cheese into their mouths, chewing it as they followed Warren and his son through the kitchen and into the inn yard. They were more than a little surprised to find three wagons packed neatly into the area. The largest of them was facing the door of the kitchen and the three dwarves could see why: It was filled with nothing but barrels of varying sizes, though none of them could be called small.

The stable hand, Dori saw, was busy unloading a different wagon that was filled with all sizes of crates and boxes.

"In you go, Ori," Nori said, hefting his brother into the back of the cart. "Roll us one of those big ones, aye?"

Nodding, Ori carefully turned the barrel onto its side before rolling it to the edge of the wagon. From there, Nori and Dori easily picked it up and started to carry it into the building. While they were gone, he readied the next barrel.

Warren felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked over, seeing his son wearing a concerned expression. "What's wrong?"

"Are they goin' to be alright?" he asked, his voice quiet. "I know dwarves are a lot stronger than men, but those are some damned heavy barrels."

"Ah, I wouldn't worry, Will," he chuckled. "Believe me—dwarves can lift far more weight than you can imagine. These barrels are hardly anythin' to them." He shook his head, still chuckling. "How many horses did it take t' haul this wagon?"

"Eight. An' all of them are on their way back to Ivsgard as we speak." He looked around, seeing Demelza, Wenna, and Galiene emptying out the wagon in the middle. The three women seemed to be ecstatic to have their imported goods in supply once more. Helping Peter was Gawen, the two of them making good time at unloading the third wagon. His brow rose, though, when he noticed someone missing. "Where's Baylee?"

"Galiene sent her to the market," he replied. Having regained his breath, he went over to the wagon, pointing to the smaller barrels. "Those ones please, Master Ori." He looked at Will. "She left about half an hour ago, so she shouldn't be gone much longer." As Ori handed him the barrel, he thanked him and waited for Will to get one as well.

"Ahh, that makes sense," he chuckled, following his father once he had a hold of the barrel. As they walked into the Tankard, Nori and Dori were coming back out. "An' here I thought she was just worming her way out of helping unload things."

Warren snorted. "No, no…she hasn't had t' worm her way out of anythin' lately. Though, she has been sneaking out durin' dead hours to go ride her horse." They carried the barrels behind the bar, taking them to the far end where similar sized casks already sat. "Your aunt an' uncle went with her the other day. It was nice, seein' them riding across the plains out there. O' course, they were only small dots from all the way up here…"

"I take it she's been bored without me here?" Will joked. He looked past his father in time to see Dori and Nori bringing in another one of the enormous barrels; their cheeks weren't the slightest bit red, nor was there any sign of exertion on their brow.

"I wouldn't say bored, but aye, she has been missing her little brother something fierce."

Nori nearly dropped his end of the barrel upon accidentally hearing their conversation. "Wait, you're Miss Baylee's little brother?" he gawked.

A laugh left Will's mouth as the two brothers stared up at him. "Aye, but only by a meager twenty minutes," he grinned. He then gave the dwarves a small bow. "Will Braddock at your service.

"Dori an' Nori at yours," the brothers chorused as they finally set the barrel down.

"Our younger brother, Ori, is the one out in the wagon," Dori added, brushing his hands off.

"A pleasure t' meet you, masters," Will smiled as the four of them headed back outside. "An' many thanks to you for helpin' us with these bar—"

"Will!"

Turning around, he was just in time to catch Baylee as she jumped towards him. Laughing, he used her momentum to spin her around in a circle, his brow rising. "There's the world's best big little sister!"

"When did you get back?!" she laughed, hugging onto him. "I was just in the market an' I didn't see hide nor hair o' any o' the traders!"

"That's because we crept in through the southern gates." He grinned as he hoisted Baylee over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, making her squeal in surprise. "Huh. You've lost a bit o' weight, 'Lee. Inn's been busy, then?"

She lightly kicked her legs and playfully hit him on the back. "Put me down, ya lout!" she laughed.

"Do I have to? You're so much lighter than those barrels o' alcohol!" He wrapped an arm around her legs, keeping them from flailing. "Anyway, is this how ya treat your brother after he's been gone nearly four months, hmm? Especially when he's gone an' brought you some presents!"

Her brows rose slightly and she looked at the back of his head. "Presents?" she chirped, ceasing her futile escape attempts. "Ya brought us presents?" Behind her, she could hear the Ri brothers chuckling at her reaction.

"You know ya didn't have to do that, Will," Warren told him, his brow rising.

Will turned towards his father, which meant that Baylee now faced the wagon. "What kind o' son, brother, an' nephew would I be if I didn't bring presents?" he laughed. His brow rose as he felt his sister suddenly pull away from him. As he turned back around, he was just in time to see her pulling herself atop one of the barrels. "Hey, I wasn't done with you!"

Baylee grinned, swinging herself up and over the ledge of the wagon just as Will tried to grab for her. "I'm not going t' be held prisoner on your bony shoulder!" she laughed, ducking behind one of the large barrels. She then blinked, finding herself looking up at Ori. "Hello, Master Ori," she chirped.

"Hello, Miss Baylee," he replied with a small chuckle. "I'm afraid I have to ask you t' move behind a different barrel—this one's about to be unloaded."

"I was wonderin' why you were up here." She crawled to the other side of the wagon. "Thank you for helpin' out."

He turned the barrel onto its side, hearing a bit of sloshing inside. "It's no trouble," he replied. "Dori and Nori are doin' most of the hard work…but Dori's the strongest dwarrow I know, so no doubt this is still easy for him."

Her head tilted slightly. "Dwarrow?"

"It's what dwarves prefer t' call themselves." It wasn't Ori who answered, but Warren. "It's how 'dwarf' used to be said, but over the years, Westron has changed an' evolved so that some words our ancestors used are either entirely forgotten or entirely different from what we speak today."

"That's quite right, Master Braddock!" Baylee and Ori looked at the end of the wagon, where Dori and Nori were waiting for the next barrel. "We've always preferred the way 'dwarrow' runs off the tongue more than 'dwarf', and so we continue to use it, even if Men and Elves do not. Though, I must admit, I'm rather surprised you knew that."

Warren chuckled, reaching into the wagon from the side to grab a small cask. "Long before I was an inn owner, I was apprenticed t' a dwarrow smith in Laketown. He taught me a lot o' things about dwarrowkind in addition to how t' work metal." He passed the cask off to Will before grabbing a second one, also handing it to his son. "Only reason I stopped smithin' was because my wife refused t' marry me until I found a less odiferous occupation!" he laughed.

Nori chuckled, his brow rising as he and Dori took the next large barrel. "Well, that certainly explains why a man o' your size is running an inn. Watch it, Ori—you nearly got my fingers there!"

"Sorry! It's hard t' see past something that's taller and wider than you!"

With the entire staff of the inn helping, it didn't take very long to get all the wagons unpacked, nor did it take much longer to get everything put away in its rightful spots. The Ri brothers, having finished help hauling in the alcohol supply, let out content sighs as they sat back down at their table. Though their soups were now lukewarm at best, they happily picked up their spoons and continued to eat.

Soon, Baylee came walking over, tying her apron into place behind her. "Papa would like me t' inform you three that this meal an' the next are on the house as thanks for helpin' us with the barrels," she told them.

"Oh, he needn't do that—it was our pleasure to help!" Dori replied, seeming just a touch flustered by the generosity.

"He said you'd say that an' also would like me to tell you he's not goin' to take no for an answer," she chuckled. "Now, is there anythin' I can get you three? Your mugs are lookin' a bit on the empty side."

Ori looked up at her, smiling shyly. "Could I get another bowl of soup, please?" he asked.

"Make that two bowls," Nori said, pushing his bowl towards her.

"Ah, make that three, actually," Dori said, adding his bowl to the lineup.

Taking the bowls and putting them on her tray, she then started to grab their tankards. "Three soups an' three drink refills. Anything else, lads?"

They shook their heads. "That should be enough. Thank you, though," Nori said. As she picked up the tray and headed off, he looked at Ori. "Do you want to place dice again?"

Ori somewhat pouted. "Only if you promise to not use your weighted dice."

"I promise." Pulling out a set of dice, he rolled one across the table to his younger brother. "See? Entirely shale, nothing else."

Plucking the die up, Ori gave it a thorough inspection, though it was unneeded. He recognized Nori's shale dice well enough—mostly because he had been the one to buy them for him. "Alright, I'm satisfied," he sighed, rolling it back. He opened a pouch and let his own set of dice roll onto the tabletop. His had been carved from petrified wood and given to him as a gift from Dwalin just some months ago. He bit back a smile as he looked them over.

"Do you want to start over or pickup from where we left off?" Nori questioned before shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth.

"New game." He tore a piece of bread from the loaf they were sharing before taking a small bite. "Since you're not going to be cheating anymore."

At that, Nori pouted slightly; of course, he had been winning the previous game. "Alright, a new game it is," he replied. "You roll first."

As he grabbed his dice and started to shake them between his hands, Ori saw a tankard of ale appear next to him. He looked up, intending to say 'Thank you, Miss Baylee', but he only got out the 'Thank you' when he saw that it wasn't Baylee who had set the drink down—it had been Will.

"You're welcome," he said with a smile. He placed down the other two mugs before standing upright. "Is there anything else I can get you or does my sister have you taken care o'?" he asked, his hands resting on his lips.

"O' course I have them taken care of." Baylee walked past him, setting a bowl of soup in front of Dori. "Ya know I don't let our customers go hungry or thirsty." She rounded the table, setting Nori's bowl in front of him.

"Aye, otherwise, you'd be workin' for the Empty Tankard across town," he chuckled. Seeing that the fire was getting low in the hearth, he moved to rearrange the coals and current bits of wood in it. Though spring was on its way, there was still a bit of a chill in the air.

Ori did his best to not stare at his scar; there were plenty of dwarves who bore similar—if not worse—marks to his, but it still boggled his mind how a human could survive such a wound. A dwarf he could understand; dwarves were hardy and not easily struck down by illness or infection.

"He got that in the war." Baylee gave him a small smile as she set his bowl down in front of him.

His cheeks turned bright red. "I wasn't meaning to stare," he quickly told her, looking shamefully down into his soup.

She gave him an understanding smile. "You're not the first, nor will you be the last, lad. Don't feel bad," she assured him, her voice on the quiet side for his sake

"Hm? You say something, 'Lee?" Will glanced over his shoulder at the group.

"Not a thing." She made a shooing motion with her hands towards him. "Just go on an' get back t' your fire building."

His brow rose and he chuckled. "Careful, or I might have t' put you on the chandelier there." Nodding at the massive, iron chandelier that hung from the ceiling, he stood upright and brushed some soot from his hands onto his pants.

She snorted. "Even if ya wanted to, you couldn't—you're not that tall."

"As true as that is, I can reach if I crawl onto one o' the tables." He wore a mischievous grin as he started to walk towards her.

"Don't you dare, William!" she laughed, darting backwards.

The dwarves laughed as they watched her hold her serving tray up as if it were a shield. They were a bit surprised by the way she stood, though; it was a proper defensive stance for someone using an axe or a short sword.

One of the old men, Abbot, called out, "Get 'er, Willie!"

"Get the broom, 'Lee!" Bill laughed. "Keep him at a distance!"

It was then Warren entered the room, a look of pain on his face. "'Lee, I need your help," he said. As she looked over, she could see him holding a bloodied cloth to his arm.

"Aw, but I was about t' hang her on the light," Will protested. Then, seeing the cloth, he frowned. "Blessings, da', what happened?"

"Was haulin' some stuff past the wagons and I guess there was a bit of wood sticking out," he explained. "Might want t' get some water boilin', 'Lee—this is going to need stitching."

She nodded, starting to head for the kitchen. "Aye. Do you want me to throw some athelas into it?"

"Hm. No. But do throw in some witch hazel an' chamomile. And grab a bit of honey. I'll meet you in our quarters."

Will watched with a small frown as his father and sister disappeared. Shaking his head, he turned around to return to the hearth. "Always getting into trouble, that man," he murmured. Gathering up more wood from the wood box, he knelt down in front of the fire and started to place the logs.

Behind him, Ori finally rolled his dice, watching as they traveled across the table before stopping. Adding up the total number, he declared, "Twenty-seven and holding." He then gathered his dice back up, sweeping them towards himself. Tearing off another bit of bread, he dunked it into his soup and let it sit a few seconds before popping it into his mouth.

Nori gave his dice a shake as he took a drink of ale, letting them go as he set the tankard down. "Twenty-one and rerolling three," he said once they had stopped. Picking up the three dice with the lowest numbers showing, he gave them another shake and let them roll. "Twenty-one and seven is twenty-eight."

Dori shook his head, watching as his brothers played their silly dice game; though, he was glad that no arguments about cheating were coming about as a result of this go-around.

He was halfway through his soup when the door to the inn opened, letting in a chilly breeze from outside. In came Bofur and Bifur, both looking exhausted and almost ghost-like thanks to being covered from head to foot in various types of dust. As both got closer, Dori could see they had bits of wood sticking out of their hair.

"You lads look like you had a rough day," he said, frowning. He watched as they plopped down in what had become their usual seats.

Bifur nodded; too tired to talk at the moment, he used his hands to 'speak' for him. 'Much work needs done.' He then let his head fall back against the chair's backrest.

"Well, you got t' get the place clean before you can do anything else I suppose," Nori said, rolling his dice again. "Ha! Twenty-nine!" He plucked up his ale and took a long drink as Ori shook up his dice and let them roll. "Ori, go order them some lunch," he ordered after they tallied up the younger's points.

"Why me?" he frowned.

"Consider it revenge for waking me up and makin' me go with you to the privy last night."

His cheeks turning pink, Ori got up from his spot and hurried towards the kitchen without further argument.

"The place is comin' along nicely, though," Bofur said, smiling tiredly. His mustache looked grey from all the dust. "We've got all the fallen debris off of the floors an' we've already taken the measurements for the new window. We just need t' find ourselves a decent enough woodworker t' help us."

At that, Will cocked his head, unable to help but listen in as he swept up the soot and ashes he had accidentally spread around.

"How much is there you need done?" Dori asked, his brow rising slightly.

"Hm…let's see: Parts o' the second-floor floors need replaced, the windows—glass and frames—need replacing…We most definitely need a new front door since Bifur ripped the current one off its hinges. We also need a new privy seat and a new roof section for the rooftop balcony," Bofur answered. He thanked Dori as he handed him some bread.

"And that's on top of us taking out a section of wall for a storefront window," Bifur added. "We also need t' find someone who can make a big enough sheet o' glass…" He thanked Nori when he was handed some cheese. "But first comes the wood work. That's the most important bit. Can't have a shop without a door…"

Dori nodded in agreement. "Aye, you don't want thieves t' get in with ease," he told him, subtly throwing a look at Nori. "What kind of doors do you suggest, brother?" he then asked.

"Some nice, heavy oak doors should do the trick," Nori replied with a shrug. "Oak or maple with a nice, sturdy dwarvish lock."

"I don't meant t' pry, little masters," Will interrupted, "but you said you needed a woodworker?" As he stood, he, brushed bits of soot and slivers of wood from his trousers. Glancing past them, he saw Ori come back.

Bofur blinked, his head tilting ever so slightly; how had he not seen that giant of a man behind Dori? "You must eat your greens…" he thought aloud as he gawked up at Will.

Will laughed, setting his hands on his hips. "Ah, it's just a trait I get from da'," he explained. "But, aye, about that woodworkin' help you'll be needed…?" He smiled down at them before dragging over a chair. He spun it around so that it was backwards before sitting down, large forearms resting on the backrest.

Bifur nodded. "As you heard, there's a lot o' work to be done," he said. "Doors, floors, windows…And that's not even including what comes after getting the building livable again."

Setting his chin in his palm, Will tilted his head curiously. "Just what sort of place did ya buy? If you don't mind me askin', that is."

"They purchased a three-story building on the main street," Dori answered; Bofur and Bifur's lunch had arrived via Demelza and they were already stuffing their mouths. "Their intent is to turn it into a toy shop."

"You haven't even been home two hours, Will, an' you're already trying to find work again?" Shaking her head, she chuckled and placed two fresh loaves of bread on the table, as well as some cheese. "You an' your sister, always trying to stay busy." Her brow then rose a bit when she saw how filthy Bofur and Bifur were. "Would ya two like me to ready you a bath for after your meal?" she asked.

"That would be lovely, thank you," Bofur answered with a tired grin. As she walked off, he looked back at Will. "So. What proof do you have o' your skills, lad?" Leaning forward, he huddled himself around his soup bowl and started to eat in an almost greedy fashion.

Will rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you're eatin' on one example," he replied, patting the tabletop. "Parts o' this place are other examples…Let's see: I built the doors, patched up the window frames, did a good portion o' rebuilding the roof…" He nodded towards the kitchen, "and all of the cabinetry in there as well as the sign outside. That's about it, really. The rest o' the stuff I've done is sunk with Smaug at the bottom of the Long Lake or having been burnt t' a crisp by that demon, sadly."

Dori cocked his head. "You haven't done any work around the city?" he questioned. He lightly smacked Bifur's hand as the dwarf was trying to eat his soup and his cheese at the same time –a rather difficult task. "Slow down or you'll get a stomachache!" Bifur half-glared at him, but did slow down his eating.

"I have, but most o' it has been in Bard's hall. Ever since I got these beauties," he motioned at his face, "folk have been a little scared of me, so work's been slow. Friends o' the family hire me once in a while, but only for minor repairs like a wobbly chair or squeaky door. As such, I've mostly been traveling with the trading caravans of late, providing some extra protection."

The three dwarves nodded in unison as they listened to him. Bofur thought over his words as he ate, letting his eyes wander about. Their first night at the Tankard, he had taken notice that the tables and chairs seemed to be of better quality than most inns he had stayed in and that the windows in his and Bifur's room did not rattle or let in the chilly night air –a sign that the building was well-cared for.

"My cousin an' I will certainly think about it, lad," Bofur said after some minutes. He was already convinced that he could do good work, but he knew it would be best to discuss such a thing over with Bifur first. "We'll let you know after we've had a good meal an' a good bath, alright?"

Will nodded in understanding, a smile on his lips. "That's fair enough," he replied. "Will Braddock, at your service by the way."

"An' Bofur and Bifur at yours!" the cousins chorused.

Less than an hour later found the cousins in the inn's male bathing room. It was nestled behind the kitchen and alongside the female bathing room. Curtains hung around the seven tubs, giving them plenty of privacy. Not that the two of them cared; they had bathed often enough around one another. As such, they had the curtain separating their tubs thrown back, making for easier conversation.

"The lad seems skilled enough," Bofur was saying as he had his head bent over the water, scrubbing soap into his hair. He learned a long time ago that it was vital to wash one's hair first, lest the water get too dirty. "After all, our rooms aren't cold at night, even when the fire goes out. And the furniture in this place is good quality. An' we both know the only use I can find for wood is for makin' toys. I'm lost on actual carpentry as I'm sure you are, too."

"Aye, he does seem skilled. But there's no tellin' if he's actually telling us the truth. I've known craftsmen who have lied plenty of times about the quality of their work so they could get the most coin out of a shoddy job," Bifur chortled, also scrubbing his hair and beard. His was proving to be a bit more difficult, as he also had a large, wiry beard to clean. It was no easy task to finger-comb the bits of wood and plaster from it. "Let's give him a bit of a test run before we agree to anything—make sure he's good and can keep up fairly well."

"That sounds quite reasonable. An' if he is good, he shouldn't have any qualms about it, either."

"But if he is as good as he says…well, then, we've certainly lucked out, haven't we?"

Unable to see thanks to the curtain of brunette hair in his face, Bofur blindly reached over the edge of the tub, his hand groping along the floor for the bucket of warm water meant for rinsing. "Seems that way, doesn't it? I guess we just got lucky when Dwalin told us t' come here." He found the rope for the bucket and grabbed it, dragging it over. It was a harder task than one would think; the tubs were human-sized, not dwarven, so he had to reach over quite far. "Dori, Nori, an' Ori asked for help an' they got it. We ask for help an' we get it." He poured the water over his head, but didn't use all of it –he still had to scrub his beard and mustache.

"We ask for ale refills and we get them, too," Bifur joked, grabbing his own bucket and rinsing himself off. "In all seriousness, though: There's a strong chance we may have to stay here for a few months. There is a lot of work that needs done…And even if we had a bit of extra help, it's not going to change the fact that it'll take time."

Bofur thought over his words as he leaned against the back of the tub. They would have to stay quite a bit longer than Dori, Nori, and Ori, who would be leaving towards the end of the week. Since he and Bifur were here to set up a permanent shop and not meet with potential business partners, it seemed they would have to live in the inn.

Of course, they had a home back in Erebor—in fact, they had quite the elaborate mansion thanks to their share of the reward for helping reclaim the mountain. Despite that, it would be a hassle to walk an hour every morning to come to work only to finish a long day of labor and have to walk an hour to get back home. Looking at Bifur, he could tell that his cousin was going through the same thought process; he was muttering under his breath about travel.

"I don't mind staying here," he then blurted out, starting to rub some soap into his mustache. "Good food, good drink, good beds, an' friendly people? What more could you want from a temporary home?"

Bifur, at this point, was scrubbing between his toes. "That is true," he mumbled. He took a mental note to take the time that evening to trim his toenails; they were getting uncomfortably long. "Do you think Bombur would mind? After all, it means he'd be left in charge of things back there."

"Nah, I don't think he'd mind. He's got Gerdi, Baraz, Berez, and Biriz to help him out if, for some reason, things go awry," he said, rinsing his mustache. "But one of us will still have t' go back and let him know what all is goin' on." Though, he was afraid about the amount of food his brother and his family (a beautiful wife and seven children, with an eighth in the oven) would consume from their pantry.

He had spent three days stocking that pantry.

Bombur better not have emptied it yet.

…He probably had.

"I can go," Bifur stated, not noticing the small frown that had come to his cousin's face.

Bofur shook his head, clearing it of thoughts of his brother and the pantry. "Aye, that'd make more sense. Knowin' me, Buruz or Grid will have me tellin' them stories while Sanna climbs all over me…I'd be stuck there for a week at the very least." Grabbing a cloth, he started to scrub at the dirt on his arms and legs. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at his left leg, inspecting the geometric bands of blue ink that encircled his calf. They had once been a rich, deep indigo in color; now they were about the color of a summer sky. "Goin' t' have to get this touched up sometime soon," he muttered to himself.

"Have what touched up?"

He held up his leg for his cousin to see, pointing at the faded blue tattoo. "It's faded. I'll need a touch-up on it before it gets any lighter."

Bifur squinted, scrutinizing the tattoo. He knew full well that all male dwarves (and some females) had them; they symbolized what clan they came from, what their jobs were, and even their prowess in battle. Quite a number of them covered his own body, many of them thanks to the large, deep scar in his forehead. Though, his favorite was an intricately-patterned star inked around his belly button—it didn't really have much of a meaning; he had simply wanted a star.

"Dwalin could retouch it for you," he replied at last. "He's one o' the best with tattoos."

"Of course he's good at doin' tattoos—he's done most o' his own!" he snorted. "Except the ones on that thick skull o' his. He had t' get Balin to do those ones." He now had his arms raised, inspecting the bands around his biceps. The inked skin, he saw, was still rather dark—a good thing, too, since those weren't even a decade old yet.

"Don't let him hear you say that or else he'd bash your skull in," chuckled Bifur. By now, he was scrubbing at his arms, the water around him turning a grayish white in color. He tried to not notice it; the color disturbed him. Of course, he had been dirtier during baths before, but those, at least, had taken place in a river or stream so the water flowed away, not remained around him.

Bofur snickered. "Then it's a good thing he isn't here t' bash my skull in. Don't think he could catch me, though…I'm faster than him." He grinned cheekily at his cousin.

Bifur wore a small smirk as he stole a quick look at the younger dwarf. "He's taller than you—he could easily catch up to you."

The cheeky grin disappeared and he rolled his eyes. "Oh shush, you."