Longbeard Tavern

A large, cozy space opens up before you, a natural hollow in the rock turned
into a tavern. Two openings lead out, cloak racks of cherry and brass attached
to the walls beside them. A long bar of mahogany wood lies along one side of
the room, assorted cups, mugs and flagons neatly lining the wall behind it.
Upon the other wall is built a recessed fireplace, a shaft drawing
most of the smoke up and out of the way. Across the space are set tables,
simple and sturdy, meant to be used daily. The smokey atmoshere is comfortable
and pleasant. Warm light fills the chamber from the fireplace and torches in
iron sconces upon the smooth walls. The place gives an impression of simple
comfort. Leaning against the wall in one corner near the bar is a younger
dwarf who looks sociable.

Ordin
 
	At range of your eyes, you see dwarf. He seems a slight bit shorter
than the rest of the dwarves these days, but his solid and bulky purportions
make up for this. He's a well matured dwarf, with long grey hair, parted at the
very top, and dangling past his shoulders. His beard is just as grey, with
hints of brown and black, stumbling down past his large belly, braided and
drably decorated with strands of hemp and grey silk which blends with his beard
nicely. His blue eyes are set deep under his wrinkled face and bushy and wild
eyebrows. But of all the features on his face besides his beard, his nose
stands out the most; standing large and red from the icy and frostbitten
climates it's weathered. 
	He wears an old drab grey burlap cloak, worn and torn enough to hint
that it has obviously lived out many a storm and battle. At the top of the
cloak, are two draw strings for the hood. They are decorated with cobalt and
amythest beads, and are briaded much like his beard. Underneath this cloak, he
wears a thick black tabard, unmarked by any crest or by any banner, but by rips
and tears, which have been stiched up as best they can. And underneath this
tabard, slight hints of worn leather and chain links. This tabard is held snug
to the armor by an old brown belt with a bronze buckle. To the right side of
this belt sits a large leather pouch, carrying many of his traveling
belongings. To the other side of this pouch is his weapon, with many inhumane
yet just deeds lingering at it's blade.

Gumbart

You see an old dwarf. His hair is grey and long; his beard looks a bit shaggy.
Two braids have been waxed and stretch back to his ears. The piercing black
eyes are sunk deep within the wrinkled face. 
Gumbart is simply clad: shiny black shoes; baggy brown trousers, a khaki jacket
with several prussian blue patches; a nice little red felt cap. 
Around his neck, Gumbart is wearing a thin chain with a copper halibut on it.
The fish is the size of a coin; it has a fine silver lining and five small
rubies set on it. 
On his right hand, Gumbart is wearing the only jewelry you can see on him: a
small golden ring. 
Under his coat, Gumbart is carrying a short broadsword. You may see it or not,
depending on your inclination, because Gumbart hides it under his cloak
whenever possible. This short broadsword seems to be of Easterling make. It has
a plain, black grip and a heavy blade about two foot long with two nasty hooks
on the back of the blade.

***** Erebor Time + Weather Service ******************************************

** Real time is: Fri Aug 13 07:35:16 1999, GMT -8 **
Elendor time is: Mid Morning (about 9 AM ) on Hevensday, 18 February 3018. In
the Winter sky, Tonight the moon will be waning gibbous. 

****************************************** Erebor Time + Weather Service *****

In from the stairs enters a lone bulky old miserable dwarf. His face is worn
with worry, and his words more sour and quiet than normal as he slowly
approaches the barkeep and leans in closely, "somethin' strong, if ye will..."
Khulain's eyes widen at such a request from the old warder at such an early
hour, but he's quickly silenced by a burning look from Ordin. With a grunt the
old man makes his way to a nearby small table and barries his face in his arms.

Khulain brings Ordin a drink list.

Laughing and cheering, two dwarves come hopping down the stairs: Gumbart and
Ardin, his business partner. Gumbart, the elder of the two, walks to the bar,
and shouts, "Two big ones, Khulain! And a hearty breakfast, if you please!" and
slams down some coins. Ardin is grinning widely and follows Gumbart to the bar.
Ardin is much younger; his dress is much more elaborate than what Gumbart is
wearing. The two dwarves put their heads together, whispering and laughing. As
breakfast arrives, they eat and continue their merry conversation. After
finishing, they finish drinking and soon Ardin gets up. "I have to go now,
Gumbart old friend." he says. Gumbart says, "Ah, I'm glad it is settled, Ardin
my friend. Behave yourself and come see me tomorrow afternoon, we'll visit Dale
and I'll introduce you to my partner." Ardin laughs and leaves Longbeard
Tavern. Gumbart leans back with a satisfied grin wrinkling his face, rubbing
his hands.

Ordin growls before he raises his head to hear such noise at this hour of the
day. Finally he rises to see Gumbart and growls once more, this time louder
than the last. Khulain finally arrives with Ordin's strong brew and a worried
look upon his face. He's known Ordin for some time, almost as long as Ordin has
been a warder. Slowly the barkeep sets down the drink, all the while keeping
his eyes on the old warder. Ordin grows impatient and snatches it from the old
barkeep's hands, spilling fractions of it's contents this way and that. But
ordin slows his arms before he takes his first swig of the strange brew, with
mist swirling off the top, obstructing few into the tankard to see even as much
as what color the contents is. Slowly he takes his first sip, which only
slightly phases him, enough to extract a jolt and a flash of his eyes across
the room. Slowly he sets it down, with a stare directed at Gumbart's back.
Khulain pats Ordin on the back as he makes his way to serve another customer.

Gumbart turns around and leans at the bar, letting his gaze sweep over the
assembled mid-morning patrons. There is a self-confident flair to his movements
and a sparkle in his eyes, making him seem younger than he truly is. He grabs
the remains of the hasty breakfast he had with Ardin and looks for an empty
table. A lot of dwarves are still here, having a late breakfast, smoking and
drinking coffee. The endless babble fills his ears and his smile widens. Some
of the assembled dwarves give Gumbart a short nod or an appreciative glance.
Gumbart seems to bask in the natural attention he is drawing to himself. As he
sees Ordin staring at him, he grins. Unfazed by the sour regard of the warder
and the warning glances by Khulain, he swaggers over towards Ordins table, a
bottle of milk and a plate with butter, honey and bread in one hand, the rest
of the ale, a plate with the sad remainders of scrambled eggs and bacon in the
other. He nods at Ordin and says, "Good morning and well met, Master Ordin. May
I share this table with you?"

Ordins eyes follow the happy dwarf all the way to his table where he says
nothing, only retrieves his tankard and the misty brew and gulps down a
dangerous portion of the vile liquid, which would make most nomral men hack and
cough until they passed out. Only a slight guesture of pain graces the old
warder's face as he finally speaks in a low, hardly intelligable voice, "aye,
have a seat, old merchant." Ordin's eyes dart back and forth from an open chair
and to Gumbart's jolly face with anger and worry acting as one.

Gumbart pulls the one remaining chair back with his foot and deposits all he is
carrying on the table. Keeping his eyes on Ordin all the time, his motions seem
unnaturally fluid for a dwarf his age. In response to Ordin's angry stare, he
tries his innocent grin, at first. As no such reaction can be culled from
Ordin's face at this time, Gumbart hesitates just as he was about to break some
bread. He puts the bread back on the wooden plate and considers. "Something has
changed for the worse, it seems," he says, his manners all changed now: he
seems calm, apprehensive even. Delicately, deliberately slow, such as not to
disturb the tense silence, he reaches for the bottle of milk, drawing it back
to him. "Is there anything I can do for you, Ordin?" he says in a low voice.

Ordin turns his head and shifts his body to the side as Gumbart makes his final
desent to the table. He watches as the tavern fills beyond capacity and words
can hardly be heard, just to the point as where most easedroppers would
consider their skills to be useless. Even lip readers would consider it a lost
cause. The old warder swings an arm over the back rest of the chair and turns
his face slowly towards Gumbart and quickly turns his attention to his tankard.
Moments later with a final glance at his slowly diminishing brew, and speaks
once more in a low voice, "It would seem that Master Toran, my commanding
officer has taken ye'r side with this whole ordeal..." The old warder lifts his
drink again without pause, finishing off the very last of it without the
slightest flench. In good time he calls for another one, and the barkeep only
shoots a suspicious stare and pours him a lighter drink.

Gumbart bites back a grin and fixates the bottle of milk he is craddling in his
palms. Time passes as he digests the news. After some time, he looks up again,
trying to read Ordin's unmoving face. "Master Toran has agreed? That is news
indeed. And I am glad for it. Is this the issue that is worrying you?" he asks.
After a short pause he continues, "I would like the entire company to go of
their own free will. This will be a dangerous journey and we all know it. I am
not fooling myself, we might not return. But were would we be if Thorin
Oakenshied had not braved all odds and reclaimed these glorious halls? He faced
the dangers of Eriador, the orcs of the Mountains of Mist, the elves of
Mirkwood, and the dragon of Erebor. It was a gamble and he won it. My quest is
also a gamble and I pray Aule will let me win it."

Ordin's face even more blank and unreadable than before as Gumbart talks. His
faces bears the scars of battles, years of worry, death and bitter victories,
and more scars seem to consume him as words spew from the old merchants face.
The words are a harsh reminder of the danger. His expression slowly becomes
readable; an expression that something has been taken from him, ripped from his
very flesh and twisted and mutilated and finally dragged across the streets
only to be laughed at by the townsfolk, while he sits helpless. His anger
reaches it's final point, as to where it almost disapears, and only the worry
shines through. Slowly Ordin leans in and says in a low and raspy voice, "When
I see ye'r face, I don't see a hero, I don't see Thorin Oakenshield, I see a
pathetic, greedy little merchant, only wanting for himself, so don't compare
yerself to such a grand figure as Thorin Oakenshield!" only a flash of anger
shows through but quickly dispates as he leans back, "It would seem that a few
warders have decided to join your 'cause'. I only join in for their safety."

Gumbart listens calmly, trying to second-guess the true meaning of Ordin's
words. Only when named a pathetic and greedy merchant does Gumbart flinch.
Carefully, he weighs the different words, measuring the disgust and anger on
the one side, and the promise for help on the other side. The knotted brows
smoothen again; the deep furrows of concern melt away. A fire has been
rekindled, it seems, as the wrinkles around Gumbart's eyes start to tell
another story, a story of gold and treasure, a story of quests fullfilled and
goals achieved, of danger overcome and strength unbroken. Carefully measuring
his words, he says, "May the light shine on our path in the shadows to come,
may the strength of our warders carry us to our goal an back. I am glad that
the word has spread and that support amongst the warders is ours. We will be
all the stronger for it. The strength of the warders adds to the glory and the
promise of our undertaking."

Khulain finally arrives with the old warder's new, and less violent tankard,
which does not steam, or bubble, fizz or scold the hand at the mere touch.
Ordin looks up with slight disapointment, and at the same time with
understanding. With the first gulp, more disapointment grows on his brows. In a
much calmer tone than before, and without any eye contact, "however, my warders
shall act under my command, and shall turn back with me at any moment I
declare. I expect that all of my warders, as well as myself shall be well fed,
and well paid for such an endevour as this. Also," The old warder shifts his
weight to one side as he reaches to his belt to withdraw a small parchment and
slide it across the table, "these are supplies we expect you to gather for our
journey, as ye shall be paying for it, ye can keep all that we don't use.
Mainly clothing for the harsh weathers we'll be braving, extra food, wagons,
ponies and things of the like." With a low and scolding voice, he finishes his
requests, "and finally, I expect that any of us to die on the trip be brought
back to this mountain, or may Mahal haunt ye'r every step!"

Gumbart takes the parchment offered to him and pulls it across the table,
glancing it over. In answer to Ordin's demands, he nods and says, "It shall be
as you say." He looks back down to the parchment in his hand and starts reading
it more carefully. He nods from time to time, as he finds items he thinks
obvious, he ponders some of the other choices but says nothing, and finally
starts turning the numbers around, mulling the possibilities, trying to assess
the costs, thinking of the dangers ahead, the weather, fell beasts, men, elves,
orcs. In the end, however, his thoughts turn back on the reward and the golden
sparkle in his dark eyes returns. He starts playing with the parchments,
looking at the assembled patrons. He says, "I assume you know were we are
heading by now? We'll use the old road agross Mirkwood, Men-i-Naugrim. I'll
bring some jewelry along for elves, should we meet any. And I'll have a story
prepared."

Ordin nods to everything said all the while keeping his eyes fixed on his
tankard. His interest falsely appears to slip from Gumbart to the drink in
hand, until finally he speaks, "to be sure our stories are the same, I expect
you to brief my warders on this before we leave. I would also like a map of the
route we take, all before we leave, of course." The old warder takes a long
drag of his ale and finally asks, "I don't believe I've heard yet, at what time
do we leave?"

Gumbart grins at sarcastic undertones in Ordin's last comment. "Aye, I'm still
gathering support for the cause. I've met some interesting cousins in
Emyn-Engrin on my last trip to Buhr Mahrling, and they expressed interest in
coming along. When Master Arwin comes around for the next time, I think we'll
have all assembled. I expect another month or two of wait, therefore." He
jumbles the numbers around in his head again and continues, "By that time, the
snows will have melted and travelling will be much easier again. If we can
until the spring floods have come and gone, we should be able to travel fast
and return before the beginning of autumn rain."

Ordin nods his head as he digs for coins and places them on the table, not even
bothering to finish his ale. "Very well, then, merchant." He begins to stand,
"I have duties to tend to, an I expect you as well. Do notify me with any
further details, you should find me here, and here only, do not search me out
in me chambers or barracks. Gooday if you have nothing more."

Gumbart nods at the warder. "Aye, I'll be glad to have you on the quest. I wish
you a good day." He waves and turns his attention back towards the rest of the
room. As Ordin turns away, a triumphant smile creeps agross his wrinkled face
and he has to bite back a feral grin as Ordin leaves for the stairs. As soon as
Ordin is gone from view, however, he shouts for some ale and slaps more coins
on the table.