[Koobdooga]

‘The Great Gimli! Is that how he’s known among Men?!’ Ibun chuckled at the thought. ‘We know him as Gimli, son of Gloin, son of Groin. Of the line of Durin. A well-traveled Dwarf and a gracious host to those who visitors to The Glittering Caves, so I am told.’ Ibun pushed his empty bowl from him and sat back in his chair, mug in hand. ‘He was originally from the Blue Mountains, you know. Where we’re bound.’ He lifted his mug toward Frór. ‘I wonder if the Dwarves there recall his family? I’m sure they must. And will they know a son of theirs is now deemed –The Great?’

Ibun could see Farael blushing. ‘Oh, I’m only poking fun at one of my own . . . not you, you must know. What Men and Dwarves might think of as ‘great’ is most likely different, I think; though, the contact with Men I’ve had is less than the fingers of my two hands. We do hold him in esteem for opening up another place for his folk – the Glittering Caves. And even greater is our respect for the commerce he has grown between his realm and that of Gondor.’ Ibun’s eyes held a merry glint in them. ‘We Dwarves are smart enough in our own way – especially when it comes to lining our pockets and chests with the fruits of others’ labors.’ He chuckled at his less than affirming assessment of both Dwarves and “others”.

‘To answer your question in a more straight-forward manner – no, I’ve not met Master Gimli. But I’ve heard that King Durin, the seventh in his line (May it never fail!), has invited the Lord of the Glittering Caves to see Khazad-dum as we have restored it so far. So, perhaps if he has not come already while I am gone, then I will set my eyes on him at a later time.’ He looked in a questioning manner at Farael.

‘Now, you said you soldiered in Rohan, yes? Did you visit Helm’s Deep there? Or venture into the Glittering Caves?’ Ibun nodded his head slightly at the thought of what wonders those caverns might have and how the Dwarves there now might have made them even more fair with their skills. ‘That is a place I should like to see before my bones rest beneath the mountains.’ He sighed and recalled himself to the present surroundings. ‘But first the task King Durin set me must be done, of course.’

Ibun’s mug was dry by the time he’d finished speaking. He poured himself another from the pitcher and topped off his companion’s cups. ‘And you, Master Farael, have you set yourself the task of finding those bandits you spoke of. Or does your adventuring spirit have some other quest in mind?’