The night was crisp and clear as Dwimmer trudged up the High road from the Emporium. He didn't envy that bunch of dwarves that had just come into the village. He shook his head; travellin' to Ered Luin after crossing the Misty Mountain...there were some folk who were just gluttons for punishment. Though, he thought, more often than not that was the way of it for a dwarf. He had hoped that they brought some platinum ingots with them. The Misty Mountains are famously rich with such ore, but there had been nothing this trip.
Dwimmer's pace slowed as he began to cliimb the steepest part of the hill. He looked across at the large house surrounded by trees. Merchant's house if he recalled rightly, but he had never seen the owner. A few people came and went that he had seen, mostly errand boys or armed men. Nothing that surprising if goods were being stored there. There was an iron brazier out front of it, a common enough thing for tradesmen; helps folk find where they do business. Tonight the brazier burned brightly in front of the Mercer Manor.. still no one about, though... strange.
Something lying by the side of the road caught Dwimmer's eye. He stooped and picked it up. It was a leather pouch such as held fine works of craftsmanship. He turned it over in his hands, his eyes squinting in the dim light as he tried to make out the image that was blazoned upon it. Suddenly he drew in breath sharply and began walking quickly towards the Manor on the hill. Milady should know of this, and if she had any mercy she would send Fairlain as an escort with those dwarves into Ered Luin. He clasped the leather bag in his hand, grasping it with a fist that closed tighter and tighter with each step. He had seen that mark before, only it had been burned into the breast of the one he loved as a daughter. If this monster had raised his head once again, He wanted Fairlain as far away from it as was possible.
