^ ^ ^ ^Erebor/Lonely Mountain^ ^ ^ ^
Nodding his head in agreement and then bowing to Stonehelm, Hringa withdrew through a rear door, hidden behind a heavy, embroidered curtain. At the opposite end of the room, the two summoned dwarves entered and Stonehelm observed them closely. Here rode the hopes and aspirations of Erebor. Both men were strong willed, accomplished, tenacious. They had very different goals and aspirations, very different outlooks on life. Stonehelm did not doubt each dwarf individually, but he did hope they could put aside their different interests to ensure the success of the mission.
He stood up to accept their greetings and both Glavin and Frain bowed low, three times, each struggling to put aside their own thoughts with an appropriate measure of decorum.
Stonehelm addresssed them:
Glavin, your face looks like thunder itself, so crossed with frowns and anger. Do your eyes dagger me or some pain in that aching body of yours? And Frain, what crossed thoughts lie behind your cloaked, shrewd stares?
Stonehelm directed them to the large black oak table, ornately carved and strewn with maps, parchment, scrolls, even some delving tools and crafted wares. He seated himself but did not direct either dwarf to be seated. He decided to wait until they answered him. He needed to ensure that they would know how to answer a king without giving up anything.
[ September 27, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]