With a heavy sigh, Hilfar sat at his dinner table. He had finally packed all of his belongings, made preparations for the caravan and sorted all contracts. Quite content with himself he poured a tankard with his home-brew to the brim. He leaned back in his chair, and stared at a map of Eriador on the table. So he was going to pursue this after all. He loved and feared the ancient halls of Khazâd-Dum, there were so many tales told about it, and he was about to find out which tales actually held truth. Was Durin's Bane just a myth? And what of the orc legions.. He realized this journey may yet be his last one. Yet a grin appeared on his face, he had his trusted friends of Othrikar beside him and more! He had Thalamath on his side, and a new regiment of guards. Not to mention the witty Skaril, his grumpy father and the scholars.
Hilfar sipped from his ale and placed the tankard on the table next to the map.
He leaned forward and grabbed a quill, dipped it in ink, and made a dot on the map "Our journey starts here in Thorins Hall". He drew a line towards the river Lhun, and made another dot "Gondamon..". It was all but a familiar road, and now with Sarnur at bay, he did not expect any trouble.
His line continued through the elf lands. These lands were well guarded by the elves. Hilfar remembered his meeting with lord Curugirion during the trade banquet. A proud and pale looking elf, he then pleaded that Dwarf caravans would find safe passage through their lands. Lets hope that promise still holds.
He lighted his pipe and blew out some smoke over the map "that is when trouble may find us" he muttered. Hilfar took the latest tablet of Khazâdgund and read the part 'Dirty Dourbeards Strike again'. Hilfar huffed and puffed with the pipe in his mouth and shrugged "Nothing Thalamath could not handle". Hilfar drew his line further and stopped at Needlehole "perfect place for a restock and some hobbit food".
Then he drew the line further to Bree, and stopped. He never was that fond of that scruffy town, especially not with such a large caravan. They would draw a lot of attention, unwanted attention.. Hilfar realised that this may be the last place to buy some ale and supplies for the long walk ahead into the wild. Yet he must see to it that the stay in Bree must be a short one.
Onwards, he drew his line further into the wild lands. Far, very wide circle around Mithrenost, a place he never wanted to see again in his life! Up until the quill reached the last bridge. Here Hilfar murmered and pondered again "more elves". These elves were different, what alliance we had with elves of the havens does not hold for the elves near the mountains. Hilfar did not know them, not even met them, what to expect? Will they let us through? If not we have to go round for miles, through the lands of the nomadic wild men. Hilfar was determined to seek an audience with the elves "Everyone has his price, even elves..".
He drew his line further down until his map stopped. He should have bought a bigger map! Moria was not even on it. Hilfar grumbled and emptied his pipe, blew out the candle and hopped to his warm bed.
