Durins Folk

Narali sat near the edge of the northern camp, where the watchfires burned low and steady rather than bright. Voices carried in quiet tones across the tents—healers finishing their work, guards changing posts, the soft murmur of those who had begun to remember what safety felt like. It was as safe a place as could be made in this land, and there were kind hands at work throughout it, shaping order out of ruin.

Read part 3 here.

In Echad Dunann, I heard deep voices of a company of dwarves accompanied by the sounds of hoofs of fine steeds. There at last, Master Raggolgrimbob was come with a company of dwarves and riders from Rohan.